Did we make a mistake?
I don’t know if it’s hormones or the excitement of being in my beloved France, but I was up again at 4 AM this morning, unable to go back to sleep, yet not cursing, but rather embracing and accepting my insomnia. It’s no use fighting stuff like this. And anyway, who wants to sleep when in paradise? Plus, I may be on ‘vacation,’ but I have a pretty hefty workload waiting for me these days – nonstop.
So here I am, after nearly three hours of pounding away at the keyboard for clients (mostly cleaning up the mess of writers who don’t bother to even use proper capitalization) and, in a way, wishing I could devote 100% of my time to what I love most – writing about food, wine, travel and France. Don’t get me wrong, I love the freedom that my work affords me, but there are certain aspects of it that have me re-evaluating life a lot these days. In an ideal world, I would be able to make a living only from my creativity, but it often feels like I invest an awful lot of time to other people’s business and neglect my own craft. And for that, I only blame my fears.
Last year, after nearly two years of research and preparation, I decided to call off the whole moving to France thing, opting instead to stay firmly put in my comfort zone. The thought of selling the house and heading into the great unknown again unnerved me. That, and the estate agent who said the house prices had dropped significantly. If I would have carried through with our plans, however, perhaps I’d be headed with a group of cooking students to the market right now to shop for ingredients for a cooking lesson. And after that I would be working on a cookbook or shooting a cooking film with my husband. Who knows? I’m praying for guidance – and bigger balls.
Speaking of markets, we drove to Bédoin yesterday in search of culinary inspiration, but arrived much too late (around noon), which is a big no-no when visiting a French market in a pretty town at the height of tourist season. I wrote about this for the September issue of Reader’s Digest, so look out for that article and you’ll understand what I mean. Suffice to say that instead of scoring plump tomatoes and fragrant strawberries, the only thing I ended up doing was carrying my dog so that he wouldn’t get stepped on and snail-pacing along a sea of heads slowly baking under straw hats. So much for the market. And so much for a pleasant wander.
Nevertheless, the drive there from Vaison-la-Romaine took us over winding roads up hills covered with olive trees and vineyards. Feasting my eyes on these magnificent landscapes had me in raptures again.
It’s at moments like these that I turn to Hans and say that I think we may have made a mistake. Like me, he is also a creative (photographer, artist and filmmaker). What happened to all those plans we made? To that deep desire to inspire and be inspired? Does it get more inspirational than this?
It’s now 7:07 AM. I better go get myself together. There’s a market waiting downstairs. And there are more long talks to be had over coffee or pastis …
PS: The fruit you see on the table, where I just wrote these words, was courtesy of Hans. When he spotted a fruit stand at the side of the road, he pulled over without hesitation. About two kilos’ worth of apricots and cherries — and it’s going to disappear very quickly.