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What have I missed? What should i see on my next trip? And the Rafflecopter question: What French City would you like to visit and why? Because I want to see the Millau Viaduct which had not been built last time I was in the area. I love bridges! Hi, Martha! Thanks so much for visiting and commenting. I just looked up pictures of the Millau Viaduct, and indeed it is an impressive feat of engineering, a fascinating sight. I might not succeed with all the climbing required, but I would try! Yes, I agree completely. I loved your review of this book, Lucy.

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Personal and experience-centric. I enjoyed your own stories and photos as well. Thank you, Jane! You might also enjoy a charming, well-illustrated and hand lettered! This sounds like a fabulous and really in depth look at France. I just got done one reading Seven Letters from Paris and it made me want to jump on a plane with my hubby! Thanks for pinning to our Travel the World in Books reading challenge pinterest board.

I hope you added it to the europe book review linkup too! This was from last year? How could I have missed this? This sounds like such a fun read and really inspiring to travel … Thanks for reposting this year! You are commenting using your WordPress.


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100 Places Every Woman Should Go - 9781609521417

Those who do it must do it" Jeanette Winterson. Some of my best friends are fictional…. The Fictional Home About RSS. The Perfect Lingerie, Paris chapter 7.

It encourages women to do something special for themselves, to visit Paris and shop—not extravagantly, but caringly—for themselves. This is only one of many chapters that are about a type of experience to be sought, with no particular address but many enticing suggestions of where to find it. Hearing the music of heaven at La Sainte-Chapelle combines experience with location in a perfect marriage. The rainbow-lit environment of the stained glass feeds the eyes as the concerts performed there feed the ears, the mind, and the soul. I like very much how she broadens this choice to include opportunities to hear sacred music at any of a number of churches and abbeys.

DeSanctis savors her food experiences and offers luscious descriptions of them throughout the book. In this wise chapter, she urges the woman traveling to keep a food itinerary, noting down for future reference those planned and unplanned stops for food and drink that yielded memorable tastes, sights, smells, and textures. Delivery in Days. See our Delivery Charges section below for a full breakdown of shipping costs for all destinations.

Category: European Travel Guides. Told in a series of stylish, original essays, New York Times travel bestseller Places in France Every Woman Should Go is for the serious Francophile and anyone who loves crisp stories well told. Like all great travel writing, this collection goes beyond the guidebook and offers insight not only about where to go but why to go there.

What eight year-old girl would not become infatuated by a country whose morning tradition was a chunk of melted butter held together with wispy strands of pastry? Sure beat a jelly donut. The food, or the fantasy of it, got me curious about France.

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The Places in France Every Woman Should Go (Now!)

But it was the women who held my attention. I was transfixed by my junior high French teacher, Mrs.


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  • I raced through the slim novel Bonjour Tristesse , which had two reasons to enthrall me. New England, I concluded, could not produce such a worldly creature although Jean Seberg, a pixie-haired actress from Iowa, played her in the film version.

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    Above all, there was Audrey Hepburn, who was not even French, but British and Dutch, and yet her spirit, grace and demeanor came to define Paris for me. No one had ever accessorized a cherry-red suit with an ice cream cone, but Audrey did, walking the banks of the Seine with Cary Grant. Paris widened her eyes—she said so in Sabrina —and then she opened mine. But a much more important recipe. I have learned how to live.

    And then I did, too. At dawn, I saw the Mediterranean for the first time from the train, and the coming morning was reflected on the silvery sea. At the station in Nice, I waded through the aromas of tabac brun and strong coffee, and outdoors was greeted by wide avenues that sizzled in dry, crackling heat, the scent of jasmine and lemon, and glimmering villas with wrought iron balconies overlooking the Baie des Anges.

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    I spent mornings torched by the sun at the market on the Cours Saleya, where I pressed the rough hides of sweet melons to determine their ripeness, and swooned at the profusion of pastel yellows and corals in the baskets of peaches. I had eaten many strawberries in my life, but in Nice, I tasted one—a real one—for the first time. As for croissants, there was no comparison between what I had baked at home in Boston and what I tasted in France, especially when served with chocolat chaud and fresh apricot jam.

    Eventually, I dared to untie my bikini top. I came to realize that most of all when I finally got to Paris that summer, when I counted centimes for a bottle of Badoit at the grocer near my hotel, or ambled through the Jardins des Tuileries in the evening. I was at ease, comfortable, bien dans ma peau. I was at home there.

    I listened to it again and again. Its message resonated: Not just me, but every woman belonged in Paris, and to miss out meant missing out on life itself. France was not just my ideal; it was a universal one, a rite of passage, the place we were where we could both escape ourselves and find the power and grace to be ourselves. It was one piffling ocean away, and returning there as soon as possible was the best reason I could think of to squirrel away my paycheck from my job at the faculty club.

    Those heightened, instantaneous emotions we feel in the city of Paris hold true for the rest of France. The country opens its arms to us, understands what women love, takes us in and bathes us in starlight that seems to burn brighter over Mont Ventoux or the Pont du Gard than it does at home. It cultivates our sophisticated and sensuous sensibilities and insists we accompany them with champagne. Of course, we love the perfume, to scan the market for the best deal on fresh figs, the hollow clack of cobblestones under our heels, the citrusy scent of gorse blowing across a field in Normandy.

    We gasp at the beauty of the bridges over the Seine and always feel at home when we stop in the middle of one to gaze down at the cottony wake of the Bateaux Mouches. We love the mountain air that refreshes us in the Alps, and the nighttime clouds that eat the stars over the Breton coast.

    We love to slow down, and France requires us to do so.