Nowhere else other than Aix am I able to live so completely in the moment. Perhaps it’s the 35-minute walk each morning down narrow streets to the international school at which my students are studying. It leads me past street signs with exotic names (we live on Avenue d’Indochine), past a restored chateau built for an…
Slow-lane travel demands neither backwoods destinations nor dirt roads. You can even carve slow-lane space in crowded cities and within yards of tourist throngs. That’s because slow-lane travel is about pace and state-of-mind, not place. We were reminded of this once again today after Kathy, our grand-daughter Devon and I climbed the steep staircases from…
I confess. There have been times in the last week that I’ve craved life in the slow lane. This morning, after breakfast with my host family, after two hours planning a seminar, after lunch with my students, after a seminar in the park and after a visit to Aix’s cathedral, I arrived there. By myself. …
It’s a giddy feeling, almost like looking forward to a college reunion when you’ve heard an old girlfriend is on the list of those coming. More than once during this long and bitter New England winter, I’ve endured by scrolling through our stash of photos of Aix-en-Provence, triggering memories of sunshine; of shades of pastel…
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This article was written for and first appeared in the Christian Science Monitor SAINT-PIERRESVILLE, France — Gerard Barras scribbles as he talks. On yellow sticky notes, he draws an organizational chart outlining the tasks the 47 workers at his wool cooperative, Ardelaine, carry out in the mountainous countryside two hours south of Lyon. He jots…
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