La Vie en Rosé

Today’s the day I leave for what I can only describe as the trip of a lifetime. I’m headed to France for three weeks of vacation. You heard me. Three whole weeks (I know)! I’ve been fantasizing about this trip for a long time. I’m spending the first two weeks in the south of France with one of my best friends, Estelle. We’ll be staying in a little town called Golfe-Juan (between Nice and Cannes) at what was once her grandmother’s apartment—the place she’s been visiting every summer since she was a child. We have no plans other than to sit on the beach and drink rosé. Don’t hate me, although if I were reading this, I’d probably hate me (to hell with Sutra 1.33—cultivating an attitude of friendliness towards the happy can be such a tough practice). I then fly to Paris for the last week of my trip where I’ll be taking some cooking classes and meeting up with Billy for a romantic rendez-vous in our favorite city.

Traveling to France always feels like coming h(om)e. My love affair with France started when I was just ten years old on my family’s first trip to Europe. We did the whole pre-packaged tourist special—three days in London, three in Paris, and two in Amsterdam—complete with a tour guide who carried a big red umbrella, which we were instructed to follow everywhere. From the moment I stepped foot in Paris it was love at first sight. I adored the French culture, language, and food, but mostly I just loved their way of life.

The French understand the art of living, something I would come to understand five years later when my family returned for an epic three week road trip through the French countryside. It was a trip we repeated for two consecutive summers. Those two adventures completely changed me and I’ll be forever grateful to my parents for packing us all into a Volkswagen bus and exposing me to a different perspective on life. I later returned to France on my own to live in the Loire Valley for eight months during college. I stayed with a French family, studied at a French University, dated a Frenchman, and worked in a French bank. I learned how to speak the language fluently. It was in France where I really found myself, and I vowed to return to that place as much as I could. Little did I know at the time that yoga would eventually become the tool to help me cultivate, refine, and connect with that same place inside of me.

I have kept that promise to myself. For me, coming to France reminds me of who I am. As someone once said to me, “Chrissy, your soul is French.”

This trip is my way of reconnecting to the rhythm and art of French life. I’m so excited for the alone time—for the space to be myself, by myself. I love my man and my life, but it will be refreshing to spend some time on my own away from my everyday reality. I’m looking forward to seeing the world through rosé-colored glasses.

And yes, I meant rosé.

Hope to see you back here soon. À très bientôt!