Why France?  All those frenzied people in the streets, protesting the loss of two years' retirement benefits, all those threats from Bin Laden--what else?  O yes, that volcano last summer (Really?  A volcano?  Yup, in Iceland, remember--it trashed air itineraries for a month)  Why the hell would anyone want to go to France?

 I swore I wouldn't go back. 

 But then, but then, I remembered the wine I couldn't get anywhere else, certainly not in the U.S.--the local rose served at my friend Stefan's cafe in Auvillar.  And the food, the fresh delectable fruits and vegetables in season, never any preservatives, and the seafood, and the sauces--

And the company--Odette, in her 80's, with the face of a rose and spirit of a Resistance hero; Madame Dassenville, who treats her pet turtle (Madame Tortue) like queen of the universe.  And the stories in the ancient cobblestones, and the roses, bigger than a child's head, and the poems, the poems.

Everywhere, poetry!  So I'm going back in May, and will take another group of poets with me.  They will return with booty--fistfuls of poems, boxes of sea salt, hand-made lavander soaps--

Want to know more?    http://www.vcca.com/main/vcca-international/vcca-le-moulin-nef/programs/...

Allons-y!  Marilyn