Marzipan piggies and fruits in Nice.
If you'd have asked the 16-year-old me — shortly after touching down in Nice for my first trip out of the country — where I'd be living at this point in my life, I probably would have pointed the baguette I was lovingly clutching in the direction of southern France.
So I'm feeling quite spoiled to find myself in France again this week, so soon after a bubble-filled trip to Champagne last month, for some friends' wedding. Much to my chagrin, my plot to find a crumbling Provençal farmhouse in need of my TLC has not panned out.
But here's a postcard snapshot of some of why I love this country and what I've been eating. After clocking many miles in a teeny rental Mercedes from Nice to Aix-en-Provence, up through the rocky hills to Saint-Remy de Provence, past the Luberon mountains to Orange, Suze-la-Rousse and the fabulous Chateau des Barrenques for the wedding (with some of the best wedding fare I've ever tasted), down to Marseilles and Saint-Tropez and, hugging the Mediterranean over the cliffs, back to Monte Carlo.