French la Vie

What to Wear When Riding Motorcycle

To protect your head wear a helmet:

Grab a pair of red boxer shorts

pull them down nearly covering your eyes.

Next, take a pair of socks, preferably a matching color to your “helmet”slip them on as gloves.

Not seen in the above photo, though an important part of the rider’s attire,

is to take off the protective chair leg felt pads and add them to your knees and elbows.

Then take your earphones slipping them on so that the head part becomes a shield for your eyes.

You are ready to ride.

Shoes not required inside.

That is how we roll.

 

Wishing I Could See Her

Another Day

…still here, more or less in the same place. I had no idea that a lung infection could take this long. Little by little, I am feeling better but not 100% myself. Have any of you experienced this before? From your messages, many of you have had asthma or know someone with asthma. I had a blood test and an x-ray. My blood results are promising; my x-ray shows an infection in my left lung. The doctor says it just takes time to rest. I don’t think I’ve ever slept this much.

 

 

My mother is doing remarkably well. A few days ago, she returned home; she stayed with my brother Mat and sister-in-law Shelley. My brothers and their wives did a beautiful job caring for my mom, her home, her garden, and her well-being. She is so loved. My brothers had her bathroom and entrance redone to suit her needs. I asked her what she thought, and she said they did an excellent job, I had no doubt. Thank you so much for all your messages regarding my mom and for asking how she is. Indeed, Your attention added to her health.

 

A Photo Stirs Memories

Going through a box of photos, I came across this one from the early 80s — my dad, my brothers, and a childhood friend. I sent it in a text to my brothers, and this is what they had to say about the photo:

“I remember that day riding motorcycles with those goofballs! On the way up, dad passed all of the other pickups. I remember looking over at the speedometer. It was at 100! Dean was driving an old yellow Chevy and was the hardest to pass. Marty taped a beer to his handlebar, and it sprayed all over when he opened it! Cussing was so cool to hear.

That was the day dad was photographed jumping that was later put on a t-shirt. 1983 or 4…” Brother Zane (50)

 

“It’s funny. I just told George (my brother’s son ) the story of that picture last week, hoping to see it again someday. It was a lot of fun; I rode with Dean up there in that yellow c10….” Brother Mark (58)

 

“Yeah, Rob Stinger took that photo, and I think there may be a version with him in it as well.  Classic Marty…always the smart dresser. He also wore willows high school purple football pants that day with dad's lace-up motorcycle boots. He made such an impression on Stinger.  He also tells the story of the beer tapped to the crossbar.  We cherished that day as it was the first and the last time that group ever rode as one. “ Brother Mat (60)

Indeed, my dad and my brother Marty would have something to say. Unfortunately, they are not here, but man, their memories live on.

I thank "Family love" for that.

 

 

French la Vie 2023 Dates

 

Hello!

I am a Franco-American married to a Frenchman and have lived and breathed the French lifestyle and brocantes for over thirty years in Provence. 

I am passionate about old things and enjoy sharing my experience and connections with others. When you come along on a French la Vie, you will meet like-minded people who create with and collect antiques. We will be inspired by visiting private homes, shops, and studios in the Provençal countryside. Meeting the French in their intimate, off-the-beaten path to shop and dive deeper into the French lifestyle.

This truly is a one-of-a-kind journey.

 

 

 

 

French la Vie Brocante

Dates for 2023

Brocante adventures in Provence.

Four guests - maximum:

April 18-25th 

May 3-10th

May 24th-31st

June 27th-July 4th... Sold Out

September 5th- 12th

September 26th - October 3rd

October 12th- October 19th Sold Out

 

 

 

Includes:

Eight days and seven nights

Private room shared bath.

In my home.

Includes to and from transport from Marseille.

It begins on the first day at 11 am and ends at 8 am on the last day.

All transport within our stay.

All breakfasts, cafe breaks, and dinners.

(lunches are not included, though; we will dine together in my favorite places.)

Visits to private homes, studios, shops, and brocantes
At least 19 various addresses.

Guidance translations, negotiating,

And with packing and sending purchases home.

---

Does not include

Travel insurance

Airfare

Health insurance

Lunches 

Nor packing materials or shipping costs.

 

 

 

Cost

4000 Euros

2000 Euros non-refundable deposit

And final 2000 euros non-refundable deposit a month before starting date.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We will wander through villages often on cobbled streets,

though we will not be climbing steep hills,

nor thousands of stone steps.

Nevertheless, you must be able to keep up with the group.

Please bring your smile and positive attitude to share with others.

 

 

 

We will stop by two Provençal markets that will fill your senses!

Color, fragrance, a landscape of texture and taste.

Honey, Lavender, Provencal tablecloths, Cigalles, Olives, Linens, Baskets, Wine, Cheeses...

 

 

 

Private Tailored Groups

If you would like to organize a private group, it is possible too.

No matter the size of your group. 

I can create a unique tailored group for couples, a group up to six, and for larger groups,

I have teamed up with Red Shed Tours with their Provençal and Brittany travels.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One must be in good physical shape and able to walk and carry their purchases on average 5000 steps daily. 

We will not be climbing steep hills,

nor thousands of stone steps.

Nevertheless, you must be able to keep up with the group.

Please bring your smile and positive attitude to share with others.

 

 

Sending your Treasures back Home

Whether your purchases are souvenirs filling your suitcase, boxes full of smalls, or home furnishings

We can help you manage to send your parcels back home. 

We have plenty of options at various price points depending on your needs.

We have connections for shipping boxes to containers.

Nothing is too big, too small, and nothing is impossible except sending the Eiffel Tower.

 

 

 

For more information or questions, don't hesitate to get in touch with me at:

coreyamaro@aol.com

and or follow me on

Instagram 

Facebook 

My personal blog 2005 -

Finally Feeling my Feet on the Ground

It has been a rough several days with a lung infection and Asthma. But this morning I feel I have made a turn! I want to get up and get going. But I will be mindful of the week behind me and give myself this day to rest with grace. Even though one of my favorite brocantes is happening as I type. I know I am feeling better when my adrenaline is negotiating with my common sense. Health, and the freedom of choice is everything without it the road ahead can be insurmontable.
Thank you for your prayers and messages this last few days xxx

This photo was taken last week when Chelsea the wee ones and I went to a Bubble Pop Art Show. 
Gabriel didn’t like it. It was overwhelming to his senses. The music, the light, the sets… I found it fabulous but through his tender eyes it was overpowering sensory overload.

How Long Does it Take...

 

Fifth day.

When I woke up the new day felt promising.

A happy rush flowed over me.

Deception soon followed when I got up or tried to talk.

Exhaustion in five minutes - with relief back in bed.

Thank you for your prayers, messages, concerns...

My posts might just be photos until I have more strength.

The flowers above I took last summer while trying a portrait lens as you can see the flowers are disoriented, some of the stems do not connect to the blooms.

A representation of how I feel.

Still in Bed

The wonders of taking a bath, washing one’s hair, 

then slipping into a freshly pressed night dress.

Renewal.

But boy did that zap me.

Each day is better than the previous day.

 Thank you for your messages and prayers.

Plus, I am sorry to hear that many of you suffer from asthma too. Does it ever go away? 

 

Late Onset Asthma

Not feeling well.

I do not have Covid 

But severe asthma.

Thank you for your messages.

I believe I am on the mend.

But it will take some time.

As some of you know I lost a deep love to asthma...

The haunting memories are not far from me.

 

The Sound of Music in France Tonight

Today is the fête du musique in France. Anyone and every one can make music however and wherever they want. Be it singing from your balcony, or an entire symphony in a parking lot.

 

Every corner, rooftop and vacant lot is filled with sound. Whether you live in a remote village in the Pyrenees, on a mountain top in the Alpes, or in the heart of Paris tonight there will be music until the wee hours of Solstice.

 

If you do not sing, or play a musical instrument, or belong to a band you can listen to others, or bang on lids, or blast your favorite music on loud speakers, or if you are like me your running nose can be a tuba, your hacking cough can be a broken hip-hop recording, your watering eyes causing you to wring out your blouse can be disturbing raindrops, and your sneezes an opera singer gone mad in an echo chamber. 

I caught a cold from Papioca. I am never kissing her again. Never. No way. 

Do You Believe This?

 

Isn’t this a lovely thought.
I could think maybe grandchildren?
And people I will love, and that hopefully will love me in return.

 

Thirty Years Ago

 

And Yann’s take - 

Happy 30th Birthday Sacha!

Sacha you make my heart swell with love,

You amaze me how wonderful you are,

and my arms ache to hug you today!

 

Heatwave in France and Knee Socks.

On a blistering hot summer day

Gabriel decided to wear knee socks.

Because that is what three year olds do.

 

We watched a group of men jumping into the canal Saint Martin. It was very tempting, the splash of the water, the hot Sun on the pavement, the lack of air… tempting. 

 

We tried to stay cool.

We had ice cream.

France is having a heat wave. As I grew up in the Sacramento Valley hot days in the summer was very common I didn’t like those days back then and I certainly don’t like them now. The only difference - my cousin’s pool - And that was a big difference, a wonderful difference, memory filled, highlight of summer days.

But heat waves in France are uncomfortable especially in Paris. 
But not if you are three with knee socks and a teeter totter.  

And cherries.

 

 

 

What Makes a Person French?

What makes a person French?

What makes a person an American?

Is it because of birth in that country?

I was born in the USA and lived there for 29 years. I have now lived in France for 35 years. I became French a few years ago, so I am Franco-American.

 

When I first came to France, I spoke maybe five words of French. Back then, most French people I met did not speak English. It was torturous going to the grocery store, getting a haircut, or at a dinner party; living in France with only five French words in my pocket was maddening.  It was hard to fit in without speaking the language. Immediately, I understood what it was like to be a foreigner and how one can be perceived without speaking the native language.

It was only natural that I should speak French as I was living in France. Learning a new language, especially later in life, was a challenge. It was as if I was climbing Mount Everest in sneakers.
When going to a shop I would ask if they spoke English, I would receive a firm, « Non. » the first words I learned had to do with food. I carried a pocket-size dictionary because buying sour milk, and not cream dies not taste the same in tea.

Over time, with trial and error, tears in patience, I began to speak and be understood. Not perfectly, but well enough. And then a shift came into place; the French began to speak English to me the minute I spurted a French word.

Years ago, I would have kissed their feet and hugged their faces. I would’ve talked 1 million words a minute to have a conversation in English. But now, I continue to speak in French, refusing to speak in English unless their English is superior to my French. The challenge of Mount Everest taught me endurance, I am not on the top and never will be, but I am not surrendering now. Maybe pride is in my way?

Yes, I have an enormous accent. 

Does an accent dictate that you don’t belong?

 I am often asked, » Where are you from?«  and it usually continues that I am not a tourist, that I have an accent “comme meme,” and do I like living here?

The simple answer is I was born in California. But it never is that simple; thirty minutes later, the person knows my entire history that I am an American living in France bla bla blah.

I am a curiosity.

As Sting sings , “Be yourself no matter what they say. Oh I am an alien, I am a legal alien.”

In a time when refugees and immigrants are in the world’s conversation, it is a poignant question. Nationality, citizenship, birthright, economics, protection, fear…

It is all wrapped in a lump.

 

 

Language can define us, as well as customs and the color of our which can be an uneven judge.

  At the brocante I asked how much for the French flag. The dealer said, « I cannot sell it to you because you’re not French, and the flag has to remain in France. » I smiled and said, « I live here, and I am French. » And before he could say, «But you have an accent. » I answered, “I have an accent; isn’t it charming and deceiving?”

He sold me the flag.

 

 

The French Dining Thing

During the French la Vie retreats we do more than just go to brocantes…

Not only do we fill our suitcases, boxes, and whatever else we can stuff antiques into we dine, oh boy do we dine! France has an abundance of all things and a delicious food culture, but you know that.

 

Grand Marnier soufflé, chocolate eclairs, tarte Tatin, brioche, Opéra, Paris-Brest, macarons, pain perdu, apricot tartlette, mousse au chocolat…

 

 

One sweet thing after another.

 

Most of the time, the groups who come would rather shop than eat I kid you not. Sometimes, going to a restaurant, which is planned, is changed by a group vote to grab a bite and go on to the next brocante.

How many brocantes can we stuff in one day?

How many delicious meals can we forego to do so?

None. We do it all.

 

 

Drinking rose while at the brocante.

 

When we grab something to eat trust me when I say it is still delicious, remarkable, wonderful, and worth every single little bit, even when it’s just pizza freshly made out of a pizza truck with a wood-burning stove.

 

 

The cafe scene is a must. Seriously, how can you come to France and not sit at a café? But there are cafés and then there are cafés, and when you live here you know which ones to go to. I like the ones that still have tablecloths on their tables and have that old romantic atmosphere or the extremely simple, untouched ones that make you feel like you’ve gone back in time.

 

Yes, that is one of the most beautiful champagne buckets I have ever seen filled full with glass wine stoppers that look like ice cubes. So original.

 

 

The food culture in France doesn’t just stop with the food it includes all the elements that go along with dining. The tablecloth, the grand serviettes, the faïence dishes, silverware, tabletop decor… The list goes on and on. The tabletop decor can be found at the brocante, just as I have said about the beaucoup, beaucoup French antique linens that could cover the planet if laid out. In France, it is not unusual to have an apéritif dish and entrée dish, dinner dish, a salad dish, a cheese dish, and a dessert dish, and that is for one meal. Then times that amount of dishes by centuries of French cuisine: Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I dare say French antique dishes could if laid out cover the solar system.

 

French antique blue confit pot.

 

You might think I’m exaggerating but actually, I think the tabletop decor and France could cover the universe. At least the Brocantes are loaded with dishes, glassware, silverware, and everything else that involves dining.

 

Food lovers in France go way back.

 

And stemware, I have to say something about French antique stemware…

At the Brocante if you took all the stemware lined them up there might not be a wave left in the oceans.

And we won’t even talk about French wine.

 

During the French la Vie we are fortunate to dine in private homes. When I travel I always wonder what is behind the door, if only I could go into someone’s home and see how they live —well during the French la Vie that comes true. Everyone who comes finds that to be a highlight: To go into people's homes and share life even if it’s just for a little bit with the French.

 

 

Am I tempting you to join me?

 

 

 

 

 

And Now He is Three

(Text an photo by Chelsea)

When you have a child you inherit a visual gauge on life as it shows you how fast time goes by, and how a child can develop, grow and become. The visual gauge subtly reminds us to be reflect, to be grateful, to be aware for the time we have and had.

Three years how can it be? 

Superhero Brocanteurs

The AMAZING FOUR, Patricia Conte-Lynch, Barbara Willis, @Gloria McKinnon, and Vintage Supply Co. True brocanteurs! Three of them endured not having their suitcases for the ENTIRE TRIP, one of them had their flight canceled losing a day of our adventures together, we endured a heatwave, a van that wouldn’t start after dinner far from homebase and yet none of them lost their focus or joy! Brocante Truehearts! Also a shout out to Valarie Gerlach Jolly for introducing me to Patrica, Barbara and Jeanette. 

I have found many wonderful things at the brocante but nothing compares to the joy I have found in sharing this experience together with others.

French Antique Guessing Game... I Know What this is. Do You?

We spotted this clever thing while out brocanting with the French la Vie. 

As I knew what it was I had to ask you if you know what it is?

----

We wouldn't use it now.

But it certainly came in handy for the high-heeled.

A practical gadget.

Let me know what you think it is in the comment section.

----

 

 

Lavender Fields

French la Vie… Good Friends, Good Finds, and a Crazy Goof

 

Doing the brocante scene with other passionate brocanteurs. Buzzing conversation about what we have found, what we have seen, what we have missed, what we have learned, and where we are going next. It is refreshing and a deep gratitiude to share after years of covid restrictions, aggressive politics, gun violence and war. A breath, a true breath of fresh air. 

 

Photo by Patricia who is with me on the French la Vie.

 

 

Barbara and Gloria

This is the fourth time joining me on the French la Vie.

I think that means that they LOVE the brocante

Maybe just maybe as much as I do.

AND they must really like hanging out with me.

No, I did not bribe them to join me.

 

 

Jeanette and Patricia

These ladies, the four of them literally can shop without dropping.

Our van was literally one stuffed potato. Packages everywhere:

Under our seats, on our laps, bulging out of the trunk, no room to move your legs, nor turn your head...

Happy, happy, happy place smack dab in the middle of the van stuffed with brocante heaven.

These women have shops, and or give classes using antique textiles.

this is how they wanted their French la Vie Adventure to be:

Brocante FULL Throttle.

I am more than thrilled to step on the pedal, at full speed.

 

 

 

 

 

And then our driver finds E.T. to bring us back to reality.

Good laughs.

good friends,

good food,

full van,

deep sleep,

ready for tomorrow.

 

 

French la Vie Adventures in Brocanting this Week

 

The group is here!

All four of them have been with me before

so we have the same passion, or some would say craziness for the brocante.

I hope to post photos but our days are long and full and delicious.

What do you look for at the brocante?

 

 

 

 

Who is Telling the Story

Life Continues

Do you see three loved ones?

Gabriel is so full of intention not to drop falls or spills. His strawberry ice cream is calculated and we wonder how is that?

 

 

Very soon he will be three. 

A boy, a stick and the ocean of possibilities.

 

Look who is standing. One step leads to another.

Cherry Jam Memory: A True Story

Yesterday, my friend Arnelle and I picked cherries as I started to make the jam I remembered a post I wrote about making cherry jam years ago, 12 years ago to be exact! Oh, man. Do any of you remember this post?

Wish me luck.

Photo and True story by: Corey Amaro

How to Make Burnt Cherry Jam:

Pick 25 pounds of cherries from your neighbor's tree.

Buy 15 pounds of sugar, and carry it home for the exercise.

Sterilize fifty-plus jars with their matching lids,

Let them air dry on crisp clean linens on the kitchen counter.

Pit the cherries, don't worry about your cherry-stained hands and nails (lemon juice and nail polish will correct the mess.)

Do not use pectin-  Cook the jam slowly, stirring now and then for several hours.

In the middle of cherry, jam-making decide to go to the market to buy fresh produce for dinner.

Ask a seventeen-year-old son, who knows diddly-squat about making jam, to turn it every five minutes or so.

Don't hear him say he is studying and cannot be sure to turn the cherry jam.

Trust him, even though he is telling you not to.

Go to the market.

An hour and a half later, call home to check on the cherry jam...

Listen to your son tell you that it is sticking to the bottom, and smells like it is burnt.

Have your mouth hit the ground alongside your shopping bags? Cry, "WHAT?"

Come home to a perfumed kitchen.

Look in the two large pots and notice the burgundy red cherries are now black.

Grab a wooden spoon, and stir the jam: Feel that the bottom of the pan as if it were competing with rough pavement.

Cry.

Cry again! Then get mad at your son, even though you are mad at yourself.

Put some cherry jam in a bowl, and run over to Annie's house. Have her taste the jam.

Watch your friend lie between her teeth.

Listen to her idea, "Don't throw it away. Bake something with it, it might surprise you."

Go home and bake a cake, add burnt cherry jam as the filling.

Serve after dinner with cold whip cream.

Have the family and guests eat it.

Cross your fingers that your guests don't die.

Listen to them ask for seconds.

Shake your head in amazement.

When your son asks, "What is the filling?"

Pitifully respond, "Burnt Cherry Jam."

Mona Lisa's Lessons

Photos and Text by: Corey Amaro

The Louvre has a painting that attracts the world, it is a show stopper, it is. The small painting is of a woman, it hangs alone on an enormous wall. Directly across from it is a massive painting, the size of a large house with a million people in it.
The contrast alone is worth a peek.
Though few notice the striking difference.

Mona Lisa smiles back at them. If I were the other paintings at the Louvre I would be jealous.

 

My cousins and I went to the Louvre, through the side door where there is never a line.

You are allowed to take photos, as long as you do not use a flash.

McDonald's is one of the restaurants located underneath. I wonder what Marie Antoinette would say about that? "McDonald's in *my house? Pink milkshakes?"

Mona... she just smiles, though no one knows for sure what she is thinking about.

Leonardo da Vinci painted a woman without jewels, lace, or notable wealth. She is painted soberly, frontal, with smokey eyes, and straight hair is worn down.

Mona masters the marketing game. With her hands folded on her lap, she looks straight forward, and the corners of her mouth go up. The paparazzi do not impress her, she has remained the same without botox or stripping.

An art a few starlets have yet to learn.

A never-ending crowd constantly gathers around Mona Lisa. They barely look at the painting that they have come far to see. Instead, they weave through the crowd, lift their cameras above their head and snap a shot. Then bringing their camera down for a closer view to see if they got it, if so they walk away.

Wherever they stand, Mona looks straight into their eyes and holds the poise.

Most people who come to see the Mona Lisa stand longer in the line waiting to come in than they do in front of her painting.

McDonald's knows that secret...fast food.

A picture is worth a thousand words.
Mona Lisa knows all about that.

"Do you not see that, among human beauties, it is a very beautiful face and not rich ornaments that stop passers-by?… Do you not
see beautiful young people diminish their
excellence with excessive ornamentation?…"
-- Leonardo da Vinci

If we give time to unfold what would we see?

I stood in the Lourve, watching people taking quick snapshots of the Mona Lisa with intrigue.

 

Photo after photo, one after another, click and go.

Slam, bam, thank you, Mona.

In the rush, it felt gross.

I felt like a victim of my lack of culture.

I should stop and pay attention more often, hold time in stillness as something divine in itself.

 

The Louvre is powerfully beautiful.

I am saturated in a heartbeat every time. Even though I warn myself before I step foot inside to regard one thing in-depth, such as brush stroke, or to find the signature, or find the hidden spot in the paintings, as a way to help me to stay focused. I am nevertheless saturated.

Beauty is powerful, killing me softly.

So we take it in as we can.

A little bit at a time.

Seeing without knowing.

Holding out for a long shot view,

Gratitude for the glimpse into a world waiting for us.

She smiles.

She waits.

She is there.

Beauty can escape us simply by not waving a flag.

Though when I slow down

beauty blooms again and again,

layer after layer,

peeling back to the truth.

Simplicity and facing one another.

 

Mona Lisa

1503 -1506

20 7/8 inches by 30 inches, oil painting on wood.

Painted by: Leonardo da Vinci in Florence, Italy.

Presently in the Louvre.

 

Holding Mona Lisa in a freeze-frame and not in one's inner eye.

Art, beauty, and a poetic lifestyle take time.

They are not fast food for the hungry soul that does not take time to digest.

Oz in Provence

 

Down the road where I live there are fields upon little fields of poppies.

Not California golden poppies, but red poppies.

Poppies are spontaneous.

Their colorful petals spread out like a picnic blanket over the fields.

One can guess but never be certain where poppies will appear.

 

 

 

This year I saw my first red poppy on February 27th.

I like to take note of things like that.

In Provence, there is a saying that says, that the first time you see or do something of the season, you are to make a wish.

 First poppy, first strawberry, first homegrown tomato...

 

Do you make your wish on the first star of the night?

 

 

 

Poppies in Provence, are one of the first splashes of spring color. Later will come the purple lavender, and yellow sunflowers.

If you are lucky, you might see all three against the Provencal blue sky. 

That is when you know you are in OZ.

Menu Translations

Translated menus in French to English are always a favorite. Certainly, they remind me of how my French must sound when I speak. I am going to start collecting favorite translations I should have started years ago when translation apps weren't available and fewer people spoke English because their translations were off the chart funny.

The menu reads, "Chocolate cake with runny heart, and a coop of vanilla ice cream."

 

How to Dress Like a French Woman

How to Dress Like a French Woman:

-First and foremost, throw away uptight.

-Of course, own one of everything in black, plus know the fashionable color of the season, and have it in your wardrobe too: This year it is citrus colors with hints of bright pink.

-Learn how to tie a scarf.

-Stuff your pockets with confidence in your beauty, and walk knowing you are worth a beaucoup bucks.

-Smoke without shame.

-Wear matching sexy, jamais boring, ni basic white, undergarments.

-Dress in a flouncy floral 1970s dress with tennis shoes.

-Have a "day" perfume and an "evening" perfume, make it your calling card.

-Dress for the occasion, wear leather pants to the grocery store, and always have champagne in your refrigerator.

-Celebrate your femininity, breasts are more than two lumps.

-Add a twist to the ordinary: Jeans, lace top, leopard print high heels. Do not be afraid to express yourself.

-Aim for an imperfect detail, matchy-matchy is too catalog. French woman have the art of negligence in their style.

 

-Sit straight, hold your head up, guard your tongue, and admire other women.

P.S.

The scarf thing, if you cannot tie it without stress, just unbutton another button and call it a day.

____________________________

Spent the afternoon soaking up Babou and Papioca! When we said goodbye Gabriel cried and hugged me tightly,

“Vavie why are you going?”

Chelsea and family were leaving for vacation. 

I spoke softly to Gabriel,

”We can be happy and sad. Happy cause you are going on vacation and sad to say goodbye.”

with that we hugged.

Love feels so good xxx

When You Come to Provence

 

 

If you come to Provence take time to be time to let Provence get under your skin and into your heart. Provence is a place to wander, taste the countryside, soak in the sounds, and follow your thoughts until they are just a mountain of softness and valleys of delight.

Provence is spread out like a quilt of many colors starting with the sky and everything between it and the blue sea, from the olive trees, vineyards, tiled roofs, confit pots, cigales, and rosé, and rows of lavender and stone walls.

Let me lead the way come I will give you a key to open the source of sweetness that is Provence.

 

 

Opening hideaway places, and visiting private homes and artist's studios.

 

Discovering the history behind antiques, culture, and the Provencal lifestyle.

 

 

 

With time to wander in places worthy to paint and feel poetic.

 

 

Sip Champagne in the middle of the afternoon while the cicadas sing.

 

 

 

Impromptu picnics, and moments to just be in the moment.

 

 

To go to as many brocantes as you would want without worrying about how to take your purchases home.

 

 

Meals with my friends, meals at restaurants, and at my home, where the feast is friendship.

 

 

 

To be inspired.

 

 

Throughout every moment to be surrounded by happy places.

 

 

To feel at home in a foreign land.

 

 

 

 

 

Where history connects you to a never-ending story.

 

 

 

 

Under a tiled roof, comfy-cozy wonder goodness.

 

 

 

Transportation provided, I wish it were this,

with a linen canopy and fluffy, oversized pillows to soften the bumps.

Transportation so you can enjoy the scenery without reading a map, or missing a turn.

 

 

 

May Poppies,

June Lavender,

September Grapes,

October, pumpkins,

Everyday beauty to discover.

My favorite time of the year is anytime there is a brocante.

 

 

 

I am planning 2023 dates for the French la Vie.

But first, if you have a group that wants to join me (four people)

or if you want to do a private couples visit let me know

so I can set the dates for you before planning other dates.

 

 

 

Please share.

And if you are in Provence just come by and say hi!

French la Vie Brocante Adventures

 

 

 FRENCH la Vie dates for 2022 and very soon 2023

One place remains open for 2022

The dates for the French la Vie 2022 filled quickly there is one place that has come up.

We are going to have fun and I bet you won’t want to go home.

xxx

The dates for the FRENCH la Vie 2022

I look forward to sharing the love of antiquing and more adventures with you! 

 

 

April 21st - 27th, 2022 FULL

May 24th - 31st, 2022 FULL

June 10-14th, 2022 FULL

September 6th - 13th 2022. one place remains

October 6-13th 2022 FULL

Dates for 2023 will be announced soon.

4000 Euros for one week in Provence includes:

Private room shared bath.

Breakfast and dinners included.

Helping with packing purchases and arranging to post.

Transport to and from the airport, and our travels within France.

2000 Euros non-refundable deposit to secure your place.

The final non-refundable payment is one month before arrival

 

Dates for 2023 will be announced within the week.

 

 

 

For more information email me at

coreyamaro@aol.com 

 

An Announcement: My Nephew is Going to be Married!

My beloved brother Marty and my sister in law's youngest child, Jack is marrying his

long time love Jordan in October 2022. I am so very happy for both of them.

Wedding bells.

My brother Marty certainly is smiling.

 

Twins in Antique Nightdresses

 

We found a pair of recently dyed navy antique nightdresses.

Mine is in cotton and Cindy's is in linen.

Nightdresses in white are very easy to find at every brocante.

I wish someone would dare and pay me to find 500 in a month.

What makes these two so unusual is the oversize eyelet sleeves.

We bought and modeled them.

Cindy is such a fun-loving person modelling is my new gig.

 

``

Living the Joy of Shared Happiness

How many brocantes did we go to each day?

Three or more.

How many villages did we visit?

At least two a day.

Do you have to buy to enjoy the brocantes or join you?

Only if you want to there isn't any obligation. If you come with your group we can tailor it to your desires.

How many are in a group?

Maximum four per group unless it is a private group.

Do you have any dates available?

Two people backed out in September so I have two openings

September 6th to the 13th, 2022.

Dates for 2023 will be announced soon.

 

My new friends.

I am going to miss this bunch!

They loved the brocante maybe more than me!

No, just teasing. But seriously close.

 

(Photo by Cynthia.)

Why not have oysters at the brocante.

As long as I do not have to have oysters that is fine with me.

Yann was our chauffeur! My hero.

 

Even considering the delicious lunch was three hours long, we are having an ideal time!

Though all of us preferred to be out and about. The extra-long lunch was due to Mother's Day in France.

Thankfully, the meal was worth the wait, and the company was like being with old friends.

 

xxx

 

 

 

 

 

Filled Full

 

Our senses are filled full

with inspiration

creativity

 new and renewed friendships

shared meals

discovery

learning

simply by experiencing Provence through the lens of the brocante.

to travel by this means is to engage in conversation

by holding an old object in one's hands and asking 

how much?

then the story unfolds and often a connection is made.

I am so grateful that the brocante dealers I have met over the last thirty years living in France

have opened their arms, homes, studios, warehouses, and addresses

for me to share with my blog readers and those who join me on the French la Vie.

 

The French la Vie would be just another sightseeing/buying experience if it wasn't for the connections I have made at the brocante and if those wonderful friends didn't open their hearts and friendship to me to share with you.

I am grateful for the brocante journey!

 

Poppy Stop

Poppies in France 

come in May

I knew we would find a field 

and we did.

After poppies come the lavender

and sunflowers.

 

I have so many photos to share of our brocante adventures

but little time to post and write.

But I will soon 

 

xx

French la Vie Brocante Bug Bites

serious situation 

brocante bugs are attacking

buyers are unaware. 

 

 

refreshments for those who have been bitten 

so that they might honor their new friend.

 

 

instigators

We met at a brocante over 25 years ago. 

`

 

Bitten badly

 

 

happiness is a side effect

 

 

so are wonder and awe

 

years of living with thé brocante bite

It still feels new and going strong.

 

Horrific

How 

many

more

before

there 

is 

a change!?

French la Vie

 

Our French la Vie Brocante journey started off with a perfect day. We visited four places from Marseille to our home.

The women feel like I have known them for years but have literally just met. That is what is so awesome about this experience

is the bond that is created for a passion of seeing beauty in the ordinary, and sharing the joy in discovering history and culture while at the brocantes.

 

We came to our home and each guest settled into their rooms.

The sweetest compliment, "If today were the only day of our time together it would already be more than I expected."

 Here is to showing these four lovely women a wonderful week. I am so honoured to show them my haunts.

 

Now off to bed as the day comes early and we have many people and places to go!

Follow my stories on Instagram or French la Vie Facebook for more photos.

 

Pottery and roses from my friend Mo.

our home is ready to welcome our guests

the roses are fading too soon

tbe light in the dining room won’t click on

our fridge is full of French fresh 

and the champagne is chillin’

beds are made scented with lavender

our visits are planned

the van is ready

my head is hitting the pillow and will wake to the start of a wonderful long awaited journey

with Michelle, Terri, Dina and Cynthia.

French la Vie!

 

Recharged and Ready for the French la Vie

Yesterday we spent the day with our friends Laurie-Annya and Ian. A wonderful day just hanging out in Cassis the time went by happily as we recharged our batteries, danced on the square, went out on the blue sea, and watched fireworks light up the sky.

Thank you for the photo Laurie-Annya!

 

 

 

Third Time Around

When I was a teenager I found box of baby girl clothes tucked away in the hallway closet. I asked my mother who they belong to but before she could respond I already knew the answer. Those baby clothes had been tucked away since I was a baby. As the oldest and only daughter my mother kept those clothes assuming her next baby might be a girl. But four boys later those clothes were forgotten.

When I came to France I brought my baby clothes with me. Chelsea wore them and now Olivia is wearing them too.

 

Brocante Count down----

 

The countdown to the French la Vie brocante adventure starts on Tuesday! Hasn't it been a long time coming? 

Four women will arrive ready for the hunt, when they leave another four arrive.

I told them to pack light. That this isn't a fashion show so bring as little as possible.

I have been getting things in order: The bedrooms, the itinerary, the grocery list...

The brocante, the hunt, the fun, the reason to be,

is the easy part.

Yann is taking time off to drive and be my assistant.

He is superman!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Secrets in the Attic Part Two

The other day I wrote about being so immersed in looking through boxes in an attic

that I didn't even react when a rat fell on my shoulder. Recalling that moment now causes me to shudder 

and honestly want to vomit. I have a serious addiction to old things. 

 

Judy, a longtime reader of French la Vie sent me an email regarding my blog post.

Judy's story sharing did not disappoint. I asked her if I could share it with you ...

 

"Mice, rats, and spiders would do me in no matter what the treasure was.  Add a bat to the mixture and I would probably faint.  Once when my sister was alone at her Montana home, her dog alerted her in the middle of the night that there was a grizzly bear outside.  She got her gun but she keeps the shells in her living room 2 steps down.  She miscalculated where the steps were in the darkness and fell to the floor.  She felt something swoop over her head.  When she reached the lights, she saw a bat on the beam.  She went to the closet to get a broom to try to swat at the bat and a mouse ran out of the closet.  She spent the rest of the night in a chair where she could see the bat, see outside to make sure the bear wasn’t going to break in, and scanned the floor for the mouse.  Of all the creatures, she was most afraid of the mouse.  We grew up on a farm and saw mice often, but never liked them.  (She only keeps the gun for protection.  Bears have been known to break into houses though it is very rare)."

Judy Wilcox

Readers Photos Shared

 

I love when people send me photos of what they have created or used the old paper that I have sold or given to them.

"Corey, 

Well, after years of having those wonderful French papers you gave me, I FINALLY found a “card” pattern (most cards aren’t 10 1/2 inches X 14 inches!)

I like them well enough to use them.  The background and the foreground(of course) are from the papers; the 2 ladies in the middle ground are copies of dress patterns

that my mother kept; the rest are things found here and there.  Thank you. Rachel"

 

 

"Hi, Corey,

 

I promised that I would send you a photo if I did anything with the French stamps you sent me.  I used them in a display of things on my dining room sideboard with some old letters and other things I love.  Stamps are little works of art and the older ones are so evocative of an era and a place.  Thank you so much!  ...

 

Love,

Debbie"

 

🌸🌸🌸

 

 

 

The Gift of Acceptance

 

 

I wonder how my mother is?

How does she do it?

How does she not complain or at least feel sad about how her life has changed.

But no.

 Recalling her daily ritual those little ordinary things that she did.

Such as picking a small bouquet from her garden for her kitchen window.

Baking cookies and pies.

Feeding her chickens.

Spending time in her garden.

Helping others in any way that she could.

She says she is fine. That healing takes time.

I hope that a ton of all that she is rubs off on me.

Saying Something

 

 All those little things that say something that words fail to, or actions deny.

All those little things that let us know that the moment is right,

that we are on to something good, that it is okay, that we will be alright.

The way the morning light reaches into our bed,

the way the hot water runs down our bodies in the shower,

the way the church bells ring just at a time when silence needs to be broken.

The way a strawberry tastes or a daffodil springs yellow into the darkness,

or the way a kite string plays in the wind against a cool blue sky.

The little things that speak a message out of nowhere that we want to hear.

 

The way written words, even those in nature's songs

connect us to the unheard story within our being:

How can I describe it?

How is it when the soul is stirred...

A song on the radio,

Several words strung together in a poem,

How the leaves dance even though tumbling down,

and the blossoms burst through the ground,

Oh, and the softness of shadows playing before us.

Nature's ballet.

 

 

 

Watermelon Seeds

 

 

While threading the needle to sew Sacha's worn jeans I asked Annie if she had any tender memories of living during World War II? If there was any light in that dark passage. Anything that reminded her of beauty when life around them was so unfair and off-balance.

 

 

 

 

Annie kept her eye on the thread and needle, "Of course, there were tender moments, we had each other. Our family moved from Marseilles (which was heavily bombed) to our country house. We were lucky to have a garden, my mother planted lentils. We had plenty to eat. We exchanged food from our garden for other things we needed.

 

 

 

Annie went on to say that during that time she was barely twenty and pregnant with her first child.

"One of my activities was to walk down to the village and exchange some of our produce

for whatever my family might have needed.

 

 

 

On the other side of the village, there was a man who grew watermelons. Whenever he saw me in the village he would race back to his garden to give me one. Can you imagine how wonderful it was to have a watermelon? It was such a rare treat. They were not very big, but they were sweet, and you know I have a thing for fruit. Mon Dieu, I prefer fruit over bonbons. 

 

 

Whenever, he would give me a watermelon he would say, "This is for your baby. Your baby needs to taste sweetness." I was surrounded by such generosity. I think being pregnant brought out the best in the people around me. Seeing my big belly gave them hope, made them reflect on the wonders of life... or something like that... instead of the hardships of war."

 

 

I would lug that watermelon, the supplies I had exchanged from our produce, and my big belly to the river. The river is on the outskirt of the village, Annie's home was on the other side and up a steep hill. Then, I would sit by the plantain tree, you know the one at the end of your street, and I would crack that watermelon open, grab the heart and eat it. Funny, after all these years, I can recall the watermelon juice running down my face. It didn't bother me in the least. It was a luxury, sweet juice running down my face between my breast to my pregnant belly.

Note: This is one of my favorite stories of Annie's. When Annie she told this story I felt transported to another time when her memory was living, and her body was young and ripe. It showed me Annie and how she was full, ripe, sweet, and with many seeds of hope.

Happy Birthday, Annie.

Secrets in the Attic

 

Up in an attic, secrets are told tucked away in boxes, stuffed in baskets, locked in safe boxes,

buried in forgotten letters, or left aside without thought by someone who never came back.

I enjoy going through things in attics, not so much the dust, nor the little creatures that pop up without saying hi.

There is usually a discovery or two, and stories that follow are worth the mice, and spiders who claim the empty space as their home.

Have you ever had a mouse run up your leg?

I had a rat fall on me, yeah I didn't even scream as I was way too into a box of old papers to notice.

 

That is when I realized I have a serious addiction.

But then you already knew that crazy factoid about me.