Tom Stoppard and Me are NOT dead

Tom WHO? you may be asking....

Did you see the film "Shakespeare in Love"? He wrote the screenplay. The riveting play "Invention of Love"? His. The historically groundbreaking 1966 "Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead"? Also his. I could go on...

Suffice to say that Mr. Tom Stoppard is one of, if not the, most famous contemporary playwright alive today (with the exception of my friend Roberto). At 71, he is still producing big critically-acclaimed shows.

I went to see the most recent show of his "Rock and Roll" on Friday night with my friend Philippe. This show has been on Broadway just this past year (after its premiere in London). It was the opening show for the new season at the Theatre National de Nice, where I have been a subscriber for 7 years now. Now, like any former theater major and avid theater-goer, I've seen a lot of Stoppard - but this was my first Stoppard in French! A big epic show, spanning 3 decades and focusing on the "Spring of Prague", or what was the crushing of an attempted revolution against communist oppression in Czechosolovaki in 1968.

The absurdism of "R & G are Dead" is the touchstone for much theatrical analysis - the two low-level characters from Shakespeare's Hamlet develop into their own right and inadvertently tell the tragic prince's tale from a different view. But this Rock and Roll play, written 40 years later by the same man, was historically interesting and still Stoppard. It is set against the backdrop of the development of rock and roll music, specifically Syd Barret from Pink Floyd, the Stones, and the Czech group Plastic People of the Universe who were instrumental in the overthrow movement and were imprisoned many times.

At the curtain call, the lead actress disappeared in the wings and hauled out Daniel Benoin, the artistic director of the theater and the show's director. He took a bow and then held up his hand for the applause to stop, which it did. He pointed to house left in the orchestra, just below my view, and announced "I would like to say that Mr. Tom Stoppard is with us this evening... Tom, if you'll stand."

I clutched Philippe and practically fell over the balcony railing. Could it be? Tom Stoppard in the living flesh, just below little old me? I could have spit on him (which, needless to say, I did not, nor did I want to - but he was that close).

Instant goose bumps, just to be in the same room with a playwright giant like that. What a mind, what a creative mind, all those stories and dialouges he has told! I was truly awestruck.

The curtain calls ended and Philippe and I slowly made out way out and down and thru the lobby and out of the theater. This theater is up on a huge raised plateau, facing the Modern Art Museum which I featured in my mother's day posting. There are fountains and sculptures encircling it. People mix and mingle outside. I looked to my left and there he was off to the side, Tom Stoppard with a female companion, having a smoke. Not a soul was approaching him. I said to Philippe "Stand back. I'm going over there." "What?! You're NOT!" gasped Philippe. I leaned into him and said, "Like Big Sam says in Gone With the Wind, 'Horse, make tracks'". Philippe rolled his eyes and said "Is there any situation where you DON'T find a quote to insert from that godforsaken film?" And with that, I marched right over and stuck out my hand, looked Tom Stoppard in the eye and said "May I?"

We shook hands and had a nice little chat for 7 or 8 minutes about the theater, the director, going to the theater in French, etc. The woman turns out was his agent. I said, "If you don't mind me asking, how is it that you are here this evening?" "They asked me to come" he said matter-of-factly. "Simple as that?" I said. "Simple as that", he replied.

And that is how I shook hands with a great creative mind. Of course I've replayed the conversation a million times, mostly what I should have ASKED him, what I would have liked to have asked him! But the moment was so unexpected, and I was in such shock, that in many ways the whole conversation is a blur - I was so nervous and also very conscious of wanting to seem composed and not-too-intrusive.

But wow! What a thrill!

How the Other Half Lives

Readers may remember a post from last May when our little family spent a long weekend near Avignon in a country mansion, courtesy of Michael (if you don't know who that is, then you don't know me as well as you should). I remind readers that this is not a hotel at all, but a privately owned property by an American family. They donate stays at it to charity auctions. Michael enjoys bidding. If you don't remember the old post, click here.

This past wkend was a reprise. Michael was there for 2 weeks, but most of the other couples had left by the time we arrived, save one, Tom and his wife Carol. Tom also worked with me and Michael. I haven't seen him in 6 years!
We drove up on Friday in the late afternoon, and joined the group at dinner in nearby Carpentras (famous for strawberries). They had been on a wine-tasting tour that afternoon.

Saturday morning:
The breakfast room, comes with it's own highchair.

That lovely lady in beige linen is one of the staff arriving with my teapot, as every morning.

Note the copies on the Int'l Herald Tribune on every other chair. Also what you can't see are all the little side buffet tables holding lots of other yummy breakfast things, including meats, cheese, eggs, cereals, fruits, jams and honeys and other spreads, toasts and fresh breads and of course, croissants and pain au chocolat.

That first morning, Estelle hollered out "Paille!" which means "a straw" as she fancied one to drink her juice. The woman serving us breakfast couldn't find any. 30 minutes later, another staff member arrived with straws of many colors for Estelle. Now THAT'S what I call catering to your every whim.
Here's another item on the property that was produced to amuse Estelle: A motorized 4x4 that she could drive all by herself.

Here's Michael chasing Estelle in her "voiture".

This is Jamie and Estelle and Basil, the dog of one of the staff, who occasionally comes to the property.

Did I mention there was a cheese plate?

Saturday the others went out for a jaunt to nearby Gourdes and we were served lunch on the terrace while Estelle napped. It was rough.

Saturday evening, the property manager arranged for a bilingual babysitter to come take care of Estelle (in addition to the staff already there) and a chauffered van arrived to take all our party to Les Baux de Provence, about an hour away.

Les Baux is a famous perched medeival village.

It happenned to be their annual medieval festival that very weekend. Things we hopping. There were people everywhere walking about in garb. I was too timid to photograph them front-on, so here are just their backsides!



Posing at a lookout point

More streets

Here's a photo of our group in front of the top-notch restaurant we were invited to that evening (by the absent owners of the property we were staying at). When I say top-notch, I mean it. "Oustau de Baumieres" is top of the line in the Michelin guide, the Bible in France for restaurant ratings. From left to right - Sara, the manager of the estate, who is American and her Italian fiance Eilia who is an antiques dealer and whom she met while outfitting the mansion with antiques after the original renovation 7 years ago, then of course Michael and Jamie, Carol and Tom, and us.

I could say a lot about that whole experience, but suffice to say I have never, ever, been in anyplace like that, and I'm guessing it will be a VERY long while before I ever am again. The cuisine was breathtaking, the service stunning, and the champagne sublime. My foie gras melted in my mouth. As did all the other courses. And there were many.
We got home at 1:30 a.m., after I entertained everyone in the van with "Write your Own Autobiography in 6 words" game that my sister Joan introduced to me. Seeing as many of the riders had had their share of wine, there were some autobiographies that had us all roaring. I think the chauffeur thought all 8 of us were nuts.

Sunday morning, while the rest of the house slept in late, our little cherub had us up and about. And yet isn't is SO MUCH easier to drag yourself out of bed when you know a delectable breakfast feast will be served to you in lovely surroundings and you never have to get out of your chair? Why can't every morning be like that?
After eating our fill, we went on a little walk into the village of St. Didier. Here's Estelle enjoying fountains and bubbles.


Why the rubber boots on a sunny day, you may ask? The girl won't take them off.

Sunday after naptime, off we skipped to nearby Isle sur la Sorgue to join Michael and Jamie who had been antiques-shopping. This town was featured in last year's post, but here are a few shots as we experienced it differently with Estelle being 15 months older than our last visit:


For example, the Merry Go Round saw a lot of action from us this time:

I just about threw up on this thing. Notice it is the "American Truck"

Sunday evening we went to dinner in a charming restaurant that we could even walk to from the grounds of the property. And Monday after breakfast we packed up shop and left. But here are a few shots of the interior:

Our bedroom (which I managed to never get a photo of, crazy!) had a new bathroom added on as part of a recent addition. It's a jungle bathroom, complete with a monkey.

And hand-painted bamboo walls. And below is our private dressing room in between our bathroom and bedroom.

The parlor and piano, which I am proud to say I did tinker on.

The living room and fireplace:

Part of the master bedroom.

And part of its bathroom, for Her

And here's the other master bath, for Him
And if you want to read in the bathroom, you can lie down here:

Or just go out into the other bedroom

Or just go sit in the library.

If you need a towel, no need to panic.

Another bedroom

And yet another bedroom. There are 2 I didn't even get photos of, ironically the one we stayed in last year, and the one we stayed in this time!
Don't fall down the stairs after all the reading!

Here we are, on our way out the door from Narnia and back to Kansas. I mean, Nice.
All joking aside, it was great to see Michael and the old gang again. How lucky we are! Ya da di di di da da.......

Stand and Deliver

Most people know I teach, and that 8 of my 10 siblings also teach. Neither of our parents were teachers, per se, though my mother certainly has taught by example and Dad taught you whether asked or not.

Having just learned of the very very sad accidental shooting death of my old St. Mike's professor, Prof Reiss, it gives an opportunity to look at the influence of teachers. I have been thinking about all those students who each have individual memories and connections with a teacher like him, and who will grieve his loss.

If politicians have power, what is it that teachers have? Promise, perhaps, promise instilled in students, to hold them accountable, get them to think critically, and encourage them to continue.

Here's a little story:

Monday night, for Thomas' bday, we left Estelle with Oana our sitter and went to the movies. We took Nice's new tram to go to the cinema. On the platform, there was a Japanese tourist trying to buy his ticket from the machine. A nice French woman helped him. Thomas and I were talking, me to him in English, he to me in French, as we often do now. Suddenly, a man behind me said to me, in a clear American accent "Can I put a 2 euro coin in this machine to get my ticekts?" "Yes", I responded, and Thomas proceeded to help the man get his tickets after the Japanese/French duo cleared off, speaking to him in English. The tram simultaneously arrived, and we got on. Once I boarded I looked for the man, and saw him with his wife, struggling with luggage and other packages maneuvering in the tram car. I approached them to make sure they knew they needed to "validate" their tickets in the machine on board. Now, in the light of the tram car, the man was facing me and I saw he had a windbreaker on that said "Harpoon", Windsor, VT. "HEY!" I said. We got to talking. Turns out they had been renting an apt for a week, had come home that afternoon to find the place had been robbed. Money, jewelry, etc, stolen. They were going to a hotel. They were pretty shook up, understandably, from the experience. But turns out the guy had gone to UVM, graduated in 1964. Now retired, they live in Florida.
We arrived at their stop, and we got off one stop early to help them with their bags and show them where to go to their hotel. "Where did you say you are from again?" I said "Well, Jericho, but really my parents are from the Northeast Kingdom, do you know where that is?" "Yes, I'm originally from Massachusetts but my parents sent me to St. Johnsbury Academy in the late 50's. I graduated from there in 1960." I said "Do you remember any of your teachers?" "Of course, Prof Pierce", he said. "Great skier, great teacher".

He is referring to Cedric Pierce, my dad's best friend and best man, and for whom my brother is named. This man, Peter Weiss, was genuinely moved to know that Bruz, as Dad called him, had just passed away last year after a long battle with Parkinson's. 48 years later, this man remembers his teacher, and broke out into a big nostalgic grin when talking about him, even after being robbed in a foreign country.

I'd wager no politician has that kind of power.

La Rentrée

"La Rentrée" is the French word that is used to describe going back to school in December. It's an official meaning, with a capital L and a capital R. In America, every school system decides what day is the first day. Not here. The entire country starts on the same day. This leads to, in my opinion, bedlam everywhere you look. But they are used to it so everyone just grumpily plods along that first week, traffic jams and long lines and hyper kids everywhere.

3 weeks after D-Day, I can barely keep it together. Everybody wants to learn English. Now. Everybody wants articles about je ne sais quoi translated. Now. Let's just say there's a reason why I haven't posted since Saturday!

Sunday we had a big American-style brunch with friends Emma and Florent, recently married this summer on the same day as my niece in America thus we couldn't attend their wedding. We enjoyed looking at photos of their ceremony and honeymoon (La Reunion and Ile Maurice - hmm, ring a bell, i.e. where WE were supposed to go before a mosquito epidemic thwarted us). All in all, a great visit over colored pancakes, syrup (bien sur!), bacon and poached eggs on English muffins, and for dessert, lemon meringue pie (I didn't make that, Emma did).

That afternoon Thomas took Estelle to the park and ran into our friends Helen and Jocelyn and their son Mael, who came back for tea and playtime since the weather was ominous. These are our friends who have a boat in Egypt (see the link to their blog on the sidebar).



Before they arrived from the park, I was home alone working on a translation when I heard some music from the street. Here's a video of the rando Spanish trumpet guy. Loved him! The video is so-so but the audio is pretty good. At the start he is picking up the money I had pitched at him from 5 stories up off my balcony. Also please note the dog at the socca restaurant who decides to accompany him. Olé!


In another news, Thomas celebrated his birthday on Monday. Turned the big "31". St. Mike's friends are rolling their eyes saying "she always did like a younger man". Hush up. As my aunt Becky says "Marry older if you marry for money, that way they die before you. Marry younger if you marry for love, then you die at the same time." She was joking because she married an older man whom she loved a lot, but it's a great saying and I whip it out frequently to defend myself. Plus I think one of my sister-in-laws would agree that it has no foundation!

I have no photos of a birthday party because it poured rain, but we did get a sitter that evening and go out to the movies at least! And ate, of all things, mini pots of Ben & Jerry's, which are for sale in the movie theater. I held court at the counter telling everyone within range just exactly where that ice cream came from. I thought they'd give it to us for free. Nope. But did get several extra napkins.
However, here is a video of some happy birthday wishes (to themselves) from the party we had been at on Saturday afternoon. No quiet times with this bunch. Yowza.

The Birthday Party

Another weekend, another birthday.
Today was a party for the 3 other kids at Estelle's "nounou", Cathy. These are the 3 kids that have been full-time with Cathy for 2 years. Up to the recent start of the school year, Estelle "filled in" whenever one of the 3 wasn't there - a few mornings here, an afternoon there, etc. Now they have all turned 3 and this means going to school full-time (welcome to France).
Marie, whose grandfather hosted the party at his villa, no longer sees Cathy at all since she started school. Carlo, the Italian, goes to Cathy's everyday after school at 4:30 (yeah, no getting out at 2:45 in France!) and all day on Wednesdays (remember, so elementary school on Wednesdays in France). Mila's parents have opted for the half-day only, and so every day at 11:30 when all the kids go home for lunch, she goes to Cathy's for lunch and stays for the day.
These are a lot of choices. I have no idea what I'll do next year for Estelle. Cross that bridge later!

Here's Estelle enjoying the swing in Marie's Papie's yard.
The point is, Estelle loves these 3 kids, and all 3 of them turn 3 in September, so it was a big joint party. All 3 of them are also only children, so there are some sharing issues! Estelle was the model of perfection, of course!
There were gifts for everyone. For those of you that remember my gaffe at Christmastime with this same crowd (i.e. everyone gave presents to Estelle and all I brought was cookies), you can bet your bottom dollar I was not to be outdone THIS time. I came armed with a gift for all three of them AND cookies. Not just any gift - personalized photo frames with their names on them in 3-D and a photo of the 3 of them together that I had taken this summer at Cathy's. Everyone else's presents were toys essentially, and nothing educational. And to my EXTREME pleasure one of the kids' parents didn't bring a gift for Estelle thus I felt vindicated.


There were cakes galore. I sampled everything, bien sur.


We realized how nice it is to have a yard!

The Circus has come to Town

Sunday morning out little family went to the circus. This is the same circus went to last year, in a different part of the city. They offer open rehearsals for just 2 euros per adult - a big break off the regular price. And for a 2 year old, 30 minutes is just about the limit for sitting still. We went with Ines and her parents.

Here's Estelle's face when she saw the zebras:
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Whatever Estelle did, Ines did, and vice versa. So if her Daddy holds her, then my Daddy has to pick me up too......

And some big smelly elephants

Inside the show, a real Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom going on....

These girls truly enjoy each other.

Two Saturday nights ago was the annual festival on the Port of Nice. This was like a different kind of Circus, but, really it WAS a circus. The entire port is turned into a pedestrian zone, with a funky parade and a yummy food festival. Music and kids activities, etc. Then at 11 p.m. the big dance parties were to start. One of the biggest attractions at the start of the event (7 p.m.) is the Chef's Village. There are several stands and you pay 5 euros at any stand to have an individual portion of their one dish. These are not your local burrito houses - these are top-notch restaurants, including the ultra-famous Negresco hotel... We tried and enjoyed things we would never normally eat. Risotto something with saffran and something, anchoive blah blah blah and a sprig of god knows what floating around on a poached egg with creamed sole, vegetables stuffed with pureed something. It was fun.

Look closely and you'll see this ain't no American chew-chew festival - it wouldn't be French if you didn't have tables with white tablecloths and candles set up.

We had brought good old rice and peas from home for Estelle. We shared a table with some elderly people and their daughter (who herself was at least 55) and they were definitely in a different economic bracket than us. As a result we had the luck to have them offer us some of the things which they had bought so many of they couldn't eat. They were taken with Estelle but quite discreet about letting on just how taken they were with her. "How old is she?" the mother kept asking me. "Quite well behaved, quite well behaved." she would repeat this. Everytime she said this she'd push another portion of something our way. Then I brought out the big guns and told her I was one of 11. Always good if you want the entire table's conversation to stop. You know, they stop with their wine glass halfway raised to their mouth and say "Comment?" (this is another way of saying Excuse me?) 38 years old and I never get tired of it.

We were on our way home by 8:15, and watched the huge fireworks display from our balcony while Estelle was fast asleep.


Lots of weekend fun!