Scents of Provence-- May 2008

Scent, the strongest sense to humans with just a hint brings a person to a memory. Prevalent, consuming, and inspirational are the scents of this small soap shop of Provence. With wild flower fields of endless site, this southern region is plentiful in fragrant ingredients for luxurious nights in. 

I slowly and gently hold the lavender bar in my hand, colored of a muted violet. As the smell hits my nose, I am there: fields of wild lavender panoramically, the sun pressing against my profile, petals tickling the back of my knees, and the essence of Provence on my sleeve.

Next, I lift the fawn shaded soap, smelling of bees’ honey and almond. The taste invites the sensation of freshly harvested honey and crisply roasted almonds swirling in my mouth. I wish to smell like this: heavenly.

Before I start to just admire these products from afar, I pick up my last soap: as white as cotton. I am in an exotic flee market of freshly pressed garments or in the safety of my mother’s laundry room just after a folded load emerged. As I entice my nose, I see the fresh balls of white combining to create this enchantment.

I linger for a while in this shop, this particular one for no more reason than the colorful pottery donning its exterior. As I step back out into the mediterranean air, I, just with a hint, taste the last remembrance of perfume. It is no comparison, however, to the real world outside its shaded door. The colors and the simple air of this place are enough to make me leave the precious retreat of the soap shop.

Cassis, France-- May 2008

My pale feet touched the smooth warm stones that served as sand, and the water crisply ran over my legs. A sense of undisturbed bliss cleansed my thoughts like the clear water at my feet. I remembered to take deep full breaths of the untainted air as to never forget this moment. The beach was French, with over bronzed topless women and men of every age donning Speedos.

The port in Cassis, France

The photo I took that day still hangs in my thoughts, just as certain senses spark a revitalized memory. We took many photos that balmy spring day, wanting to freeze in time our ecstasy. I am jumping in the air, wavy hair flowing, arms spread, birdlike, and my feet are well off the stony platform. I am unrecognizable, shaded by the angle of the unwavering sun; the only recognizable feature is the gold of my hair. The blue water is my backdrop, saying how far I am from home, a sacrifice to feel more connected to the world. And with that picture, our mission was accomplished, a moment was created, never to be forgotten, frozen in time.

Hours later, with daylight evaporating over the mountains, we walked up the windy streets of Cassis, catching the last shuttle back to Marseilles. As I stepped onto the aged bus, I noticed my once fair feet had a warm glow, touched by the sun of the Mediterranean…

Cassis, France: during one fine spring afternoon.

Taking it back

I received some wise advice today. The man who informed me of the secret to eternal happiness had heard it from a woman, whose name is irrelevant. She had just won a prestigious award, and she hoped to inspire the youth: "The greatest chance of achieving eternal happiness is to do what you love and are passionate about. This will create a map to what you seek," or something along these lines.

The above topic came up after receiving a blunt and daunting question: "Megan, what do you want to do with your life?" As the questioner pierced into my eyes, I felt the urge to compose an answer that showed intellect and vision. However, I went with my gut, or rather my heart: "In my perfect world, I would want to travel the world and write about it." Due to my "perfect world" statement, was I lectured of the capabilities of my life and the control I must have over them.

This is where the newly created blog comes in. I am on a journey to write about all experiences that seem monumental or influential in my life. I want to write about travel. Oh, the places I will go. However, as I thought of this daunting task, I realized the mass quantity of experiences that have led me to this point in my life. As a twenty-one year old, I have lived in Paris, France for nine months, been to many other countries in Europe, and have seen a decent chunk of the United States of America. To start from this very moment and go onward would be stealing from the past. Thus, I shall, in my next few entries, write of times and joyous experiences that have long since past. These moments, only before preserved by photo, will be given new light through this blog, my words.