My French Romance

In 2014, I was dating a lovely French woman who was living in Montpelier, in the South of France. She invited me to come and spend a week with her in her flat just outside the city center. In a whirlwind move of pure spontaneity, I booked the tickets and flew to the tiniest airport I've ever been to--where there was only one plane that could land and take off at a time. The weather was hot and the one room airport felt more like a laid back bus terminal.

My girlfriend's cousin picked me up in her little brown Renault. She couldn't speak much English at all and so we communicated by playing each other different songs from her CD binder and singing along enthusiastically. I attempted a few grade school sentences in French coupled with English words and wild hand gestures. We smiled at each other enough to signal that we were friends and liked each other. The countryside spilled out around us in wildflowers, and rocky, arid mountains dominating the horizon. I learned they were the Pyrenees.

When we arrived at my girlfriend's apartment she had surprised me by preparing an elaborate and classically French meal that she had set up on a little table on her balcony.

She was wearing a pretty sundress, with a matching hairband pulling back her brunette locks. She was effortlessly beautiful: a vibe it seems so much of France exudes. The whole thing was so sweet and thoughtful. It turned out she had gone out of her way to prepare lots of little details and gestures that struck me as romantic and tasteful. We took our time eating, drinking wine and relaxing. Her cousin bid us adieu and we listened to the cicadas in the trees, caught up with each other and discussed a plan for the evening when we determined to drive down the the nearby town of Sete to see the sunset and have a late meal.

Sete had a little chairlift to get people across the Marina. There were plenty of seafood restaurants, tiny coves and sandy beaches spread out along the pristine French Rivera. We even skinny dipped in the water at one particularly excluded rocky outcrop we found along the road. We topped our evening off with some crisp white wine.

The next morning, I was awakened to a fresh baguette from the local boulangerie, alongside a myriad of delicate breakfast pieces that really touched my American heart.

We spent about three to four hours just "having breakfast", in other words, relaxing, reading the paper, discussing world affairs, being romantic and sipping cup after cup of the strong, bold and perfect coffee. I can still taste the "realness" of the butter on that fresh bread and the careful sweetness of the fresh juice (present as a tribute to my Americanism). Then we hashed out a plan for the day, which was to promenade around Montpelier together.

I bought a few shirts at some French boutiques, my girlfriend discussed how she wanted to own a very expensive fountain pen one day. I got a bit "hangry" because nowhere in the entire town sold food between the hours of 1pm and 6pm, unless you wanted a croissant, a glass of wine or an espresso.

But the architecture, the hot Mediterranean sun and chilled vibes made the city completely irresistible. That evening, my girlfriend prepared another beautifully displayed meal that once again enforced the sentiment that the love is in the details.

Notice how there is even a separate little pot for the salad dressing that is, but of course, homemade.

For dessert we had homemade chocolate souffles, that I possibly ruined by not stirring them correctly...and the thickest, most whole of all whole milks. It was delectable and sinful.

The rest of the week consisted of more or less the same combination of things, long languid breakfasts, slow strolls along the avenues of Montpelier or Sete and spontaneous romantic trysts. We had glasses of palate watering white wines, robust reds, but never more than two glasses at the time because the wines were meant to compliment the meals not to get you intoxicated. Everything had an order but not in a regimented way, in a non-nonchalant fashion that implied casual elegance and a n'est-ce pas.

The people of Southern France know how to live life with passion and appreciate the details. That is why they are so romantic. They are genuine and wholehearted, but appreciate kindliness, patience and neatness.

If you go to Montpelier, I highly recommend you stroll through installations in re-purposed cathedrals, contemplate life while gazing at the sparkling sea and appreciate the art of getting lost.