Author Archives: besspatti

Miromesnil We’re Moving In!

  We’re moving in! Actually, it started a year ago. I helped a friend, judy, with her garage sale when she was selling her house. She gave me a book called Gardens of  France. I wrote down ones I’d like to … Continue reading

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Afternoon in Giverny

Bleary eyed, the world is glossed over—I’m having a genuine Impressionist moment. Blues dissolve into yellows and greens reign. The truth is, tears blur my vision. I can’t believe I’m here. Giverny, a short drive north of Paris. Well, truth … Continue reading

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Paris Paris

Paris Paris Where to begin? At the metro. We started the day heading for Notre Dame. Parisiennes are like gophers. They tunnel thru the underground on the their way to work and play on the very efficient Metro—layers of more … Continue reading

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As We Leave the Ground

September 29, 2015 San Francisco, CA The seat belt clicks and I stash my book into the magazine pouch in front of me. The luggage compartment squeaks and rattles as travelers jostle their baggage to make room overhead. Newspapers crackle, … Continue reading

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Palapa on the Beach

Palapa on the Beach Outside San Jose Del Cabo, Mexico January, 2015 “Palapa on the Beach” the ad read on the Airbnb website. “Off the beaten track, just a short drive outside the city.” My fantasies were off and running. … Continue reading

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Snug in my Sleeping Bag

  2 AM  Playa de Coyote’ Bahai de Concepcion Mulege, Mexico Snug in my sleeping bag, I lie here resisting the thought of getting out of the tent and walking to a place to pee. It takes a herculean effort … Continue reading

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The Year of Traveling Dangerously

  I’ve been thinking that fear is like the crust on a bowl of French Onion Soup. If you don’t break through, you can’t enjoy the yummy center. When we told friends and family that we intended to drive south … Continue reading

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On the Road Again

Travel writer, Pico Iyer, is one of my heroes and teachers. He wrote: “I feel successful when I come back from a trip somehow not myself. I remain awake nights unsettled by what I’ve seen. The postcards, receipts, and the … Continue reading

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