Fondation Maeght

I'd never heard of these particular collectors, but Aime and Marguerite Maeght amassed an impressive collection of modern art that included Bonnard, Miro and Braque. They housed them all in a charming building by Jose Lluis Sert, which was a collaboration between the Maeghts, the architect and the artists whose works it would house,

The drive up was beautiful because of the rocky cliffs and formation on view. We first drive to Vence. I like such a lovely town that we decided to park. End of the charm. The municipal parking lot was underground and just too damn small for me to get the car in and around. So, we decided on a driving tour of the center of the city!

Just before the foundation, there was a restaurant with a terrace that overlooked the valley. Plus, it had parking! Book it, dine. It was roadside cafe quality with a relaxed staff and "southern" hospitality. I had a spinach salad with artichoke hearts and cheese. It was good but enormous. Ira had the melon and Parma ham combo, which contained what appeared to be an entire melon. Somehow, over the course if a leisurely Sumer lunch, we consumed that and shared a pizza. My good rose wine helped no doubt.

The foundation was a delight. Almost at every turn I was excited by either the architecture, the sculpture or the art. Even the patrons were fun. Two French guys chatted with me because they had seen me at the Villa Nouailles yesterday. We're apparently on the same tour of modernism!

We drove home full of excitement and proceeded to take a long nap, then strolled around Juan Les Pins. Crowded with shops, many of them beachy and tacky, there are so many people in cafés and bars and restaurants. We chose one that was in the shade. Our waitress tried to read my tattoo while she took our order. I had whiskey and Ira ice cream as usual!

 We had asked our hotel to make us reservations at a promising seaside place, Cap Riviera. The food was marvelous and our dining companions and we enjoyed the sun setting over the bay.

They gave us a mousse of beet for the amuse, and it was so sweet and perfect. Ira was eating lightly so he didn't have a starter, but my warm octopus salad was a creamy marvel, with capers! Ira joined me in hue he eating department with a verrine of crab and grapefruit, like a seafood parfait. I had the spaghetti with lobster. I've been eating such rich food I'll get gout skin. The lobster was flavorful and plenteous, almost every forkful of pasta came with a morsel of delicious lobster meat.

We washed it down with a bottle of rose wine, Chateau Sainte Roseline.

Dessert was pineapples with coconut ice cream for me. Ira had three boules of ice cream, chocolate, coffee and lemon. It was good, he said, but not the equal of the place in Carnac, which is the Tour de Glacé leader.

Luckily, the hotel is close as we rolled our way slowly home. We watched les jouers de boules (or pétanque, as I'm not sure which nomenclature they use here). Earlier in the evening, it was old men with stately throws. Later on, younger men took their place in the square and they all crouched in their delivery. A function of age or fashion, I wonder.