Our hotel was also a gallery full of great paintings we couldn't afford...this was a favorite

It now seems long past, but only two weeks ago we were shuffling along the narrow cobbled streets of La Rochelle, France.

About 2/3 way down the Atlantic coast, La Rochelle is an ancient harbor with a well-preserved center. 

The town definitely has it's share of tourists, but it seemed most of them were French, with a handful of other Europeans tossed in. Our wine-happy American accents were the only ones we heard the whole trip, so it felt like we were off the normal path a touch. 

Connected by bridge to La Rochelle is Île de Ré, a long island of beaches and villages - we didn't get there, but I think it warrants another trip (with the surfboard in tow).

strawberry season

Anya fell in love with France from the first time she set foot there. Regardless of where we go, she says there's a special feel to it.

There's good reason this country repeatedly tops the various happiness or quality of life indexes that are periodically released. People seem happy and mellow, appreciating good food and friends. And that's pretty much what we did while we were there with our friends, Jimmy and Sarah. 

Anya and Bump Bucholz

We didn't go into a museum. We didn't take a tour. We wandered the old streets and the harbor side until we were hungry or thirsty...and then we ate and drank. Even with Anya's abstinence, the wine bottles were stacked in our room like sand bags before a rising flood. 

The area has a deserved reputation for shell fish, so we picked up a bucket of mussels at a local market and feasted in our room one afternoon. 

harbor side

the entrance to the old harbor