Sylvie's Rebirth

I just bought a ticket to go see Eric Clapton in London at the end of May. He has been with me — figuratively — all along this transformation so some credit is due to him and I don’t think there’s a better way to pay homage than to go see him in concert. But London?

I have never been known to act impulsively and this all feels as if I am a teenager testing life’s boundaries. At any moment, someone will slap my fingers and say: ”How dare you show no reserve and not set aside more for the future! We’ll show you…” So far, it’s been nothing but successive episodes of good fortune and I’ve been sharing my luck with my daughters. Am I dreaming and will I wake up destitute? I hope not. Actually, I know I won’t.

Since I’ve been back from my trip, I have lived every day with passion and an insatiable appetite for discovery and experience. Could I have been deprived of it until now? Fifty-five years is a long time… It doesn’t really matter. Now is the time for action. I’ve had a successful start to my consulting business and the food concept I’m launching is being well received. I have the luxury of time to figure out what will keep me happy in the future.

I’ve also learned that I have a lot more energy than I had before. I always look forward to my 5:00 am swim, I run up the stairs to my apartment, I even had an all-nighter and I wasn’t all that affected by it. I shop for clothes and find that everything fits me so well as before, I would never have found anything I love.

If I sound giddy, it’s because I am. People have actually said that I glow! I don’t necessarily think this blog is the place to always be engaged in profound thoughts. I simply wanted to share with you all how happy I am.

Until next time,

I had good intentions, I swear… Yesterday I went to my first Zumba class. I can only stick to exercise routines I enjoy and it sounded like fun so I thought I’d give this a trial. In case you don’t know, Zumba is exercise that is said not to feel like a workout as you dance your way to fitness to the beat of Latin music. That’s all good and fine when you have rhythm. But I quickly discovered that I am extremely, and I mean extremely, deficient in this area.

Nonetheless, I stuck with it for the entire hour. And, I also realized that other women in the class suffered from the same ailment although all I was choosing to see were the superstars like the ones I imagine populate gyms all across America. By the way, the image above is not of me, it’s a stock photo. I have not grown my hair that long and have not lost that much weight, but you just wait…

The entire enterprise was intimidating to me. You see, I’m not one to frequent gyms. My favorite form of exercise is swimming. With swimming, all you have to face is the stare between the locker room and the moment you get in the water. After that, no one looks at you or talks to you as you complete laps after laps. It’s such a peaceful form of exercise, not unlike meditation. Ohmmmm.

I think I heard it said that you learn just as much about yourself from small lessons than you do in time of crisis. It’s only a matter of how much you listen to that little voice inside of you. I will continue with Zumba and see what I discover when doing something outside my comfort zone.

The photo above is actually from Jekyll Island, where I spent the last day of the trip with old and new friends. Seems almost like a lunar landscape. There has been so much beach erosion that trees ended up being part of the beach and died. The rocks were placed there to stop erosion but the driftwood remained.

Although this trip was one of discovery (of self and of country), it was heartwarming to see the friends I had not seen in almost seven weeks. Matt and I would take daily walks in the morning and got caught up with what had happened in each other’s life.

I have known St-Simon Island from two or three trips over the past 17 years or so. This time, the new and slimmer me got to discover it on a bike. If you remember, I told you I had practiced bike riding in Ocracoke but I wasn’t expecting this ride to be 15 miles. But I did it and the guys almost did not have to wait for me!

We went to Jekyll Island and this being a first for me, it was interesting to see how the wealthy lived back then. The entire island was really a winter resort for captains of industry. We took a self-directed tour and walked the grounds. We also had lunch at the Club, in the original dining room. I had a dainty lunch of a salad trio (chicken, tuna and shrimp) served over slices of fried green tomatoes. Delicious!

Me with left to right, new friend Chuck and old friends George and Matt

But the gastronomy did not stop there: we had diners at a place called Mullet Bay (and no, there wasn’t a mullet to be seen), Bonefish, and a lovely restaurant called Coastal Kitchen where we had a view of the harbor.

Finally, the last time for checking out of hotels came on Wednesday and I must admit, I was happy to be coming home. This trip has changed me for the better: I now consider life choices I’m facing for how they help me have a purpose. What that purpose is, I still have to find out. This trip also helped me understand that life is about courage and I hope to have the courage to live a purposeful life. That’s also my wish for you, dear readers.

Now that I am back in Atlanta, I commit to explore those two concepts (purpose and courage) in great depth. Both are a requirement to reinvention and that’s the journey I embarked on a few months ago. Should you be interested, keep coming back to the blog. I will be posting weekly ‘meditations’ for lack of a better word.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read those posts and my gratitude to those who left me comments or sent me emails. You have no idea how nice it felt to know that I was connecting with the world.

My second and last day in Savannah revolved around dead people. Don’t be frightened, I do not see dead people but I did learn a lot about them.

The evening before, I took a friend’s advice and signed up for a ghost city tour. Not in a trolley as you may imagine but in a hearse. Yep, a hearse… It’s customized to comfortably seat eight people. I learned of the ravages caused by Yellow Fever and also of the horrible treatment endured by young men at the hands of pirates. I also learned of a judge who had no hesitation in letting his own son die so his reputation wouldn’t be tarnished. An entire 90 minutes of nothing but ghoulish details. Wow!

The next day, I took a long walk and spend quite a good amount of time at the downtown cemetery. I found out about the French army involvement in fighting the British army, hence my declaration of Southern citizenship… I also went to the Bonaventure Cemetery, located outside the historic district. There I was reminded of the connection between religious rituals and art. Many, many statues seemed to be original commissions. I brought a lunch of fried chicken and enjoyed it while being kept company by the crypts and headstones. The conversation just wasn’t much…

I leave you on this for today. I am back in Atlanta and will post the last blog of the trip featuring St-Simon Island and my reunion with Matt, George and John. If you will indulge me, I am considering continuing this blog for a while, possibly until my 56th birthday next year, when I will have completed Sylvie’s reinvention or rebirth.

I was driving from Charleston, feeling about the South like a teenager with a crush. True, coming from the North, I’m what you’d probably think of as a Yankee. But as I learned more about its history, the South revealed itself as a place where the French had a significant influence. So, here you go: I’m a self-proclaimed Southern Belle.

There’s an honesty and a simplicity about the South that is disarming. But don’t let that fool you. The South is also complex, dramatic and oh, so exhilarating… Someone once said that the light is different in the South. I would argue that it’s in the air. The smells, the light, the sounds… Everything feels deeply human. Everything connects.

Having listened to my friend Keith Bruce the other night reminded me how much I favor Rock n’ Roll over other genres. It was born in the South. I have been listening to rock music for the past five weeks on satellite radio, including a lot of Eric Clapton, a Brit who embraced southern music beyond Rock n’ Roll. I also connected with the food at a much deeper level. It’s all about how much of yourself you put on the plate. I’ve always maintained that my cooking style comes from a generous heart. Heart and soul. That’s what I’m talking about and that’s what you’ll find plenty of down here.

Today, I’m in Savannah. I took a lovely stroll around my hotel, bought earrings at the SCAD Shop that were too expensive but oh, so beautiful and so expressive of the new me! I picked up stuff to eat at a market and had a picnic in one of the squares. I just sat down and let the mood take over me. Just as I have done in Venice, I want to have the memory always available at any time. It’s not your usual style of travel but it works for me. Even though I’ve consulted travel books, I don’t need to learn everything about a place. Somehow, I always stumble on information that matters.

Let me leave y’all with another one of my metaphors: the South is Live Oak with Spanish Moss. It has strength, cachet and ‘parasites’ but all together, it’s a thing of beauty.

I think the new me is going to get a tattoo… Just kidding, or maybe not…

I have spent the last two days in Charleston, SC. This is my third trip and every time, I love it more.

To a great extent, the first day was spent in a very similar way to how Matt, George, Pascal and I had done back in March 09. With one big exception: I was alone and it was quite warm.

I had been asked to check on two galleries to give Mia a sense of what the market was like. One of the galleries is where Mia’s friends Scott Burdick and Susan Lyon are represented. The other is the Robert Lange Studios where Mia will have two pieces exhibited the first week of November. The event is part of a large art walk/fine arts weekend in Charleston. I will be attending this for sure.

Fast & French

For lunch I went to a familiar place that is better known as Fast & French and had the special of Seafood Creole, with bread, cheese and fruit. Just like in France. From her accent, I detected that the hostess was the proprietor and I was right. We exchanged a few words in French and I came to find out that she was from Paris and had done her Master in Fine Arts at Concordia University in Quebec. A small world…

I walked around on King Street, the main shopping street, and stopped at one of my favorite stores, Le Creuset. And I fell for yet another pot that will be delivered home. But the most interesting is the conversation I had with the young man helping me. Turns out he and his wife are from Charlotte. He works another job at Whole Foods in addition to this one and graduated from Johnson & Wales in Charlotte. Many of you dear readers may not know that I had considered attending J&W in Charlotte. We discussed at great length the explosion of the food scene in Atlanta and the dining concept I’ll be launching when I get back. He recommended the place I had lunch the next day: Cru Café. One of the gems I alluded to in the title. There, I had a sweet onion bisque followed by a salad of duck confit, arugula, glazed pecans and a mountain of delicate onion rings for lack of a better word. Yum…

My trip ended with a visit to a Mt-Pleasant restaurant, Iacofano’s, where I went to listen to a friend of mine, Keith Bruce (Matt, George and Pascal, Keith is the musician we listened to in Folly Beach). Keith played and sang many of my favorites. I think he’s very talented but he’s too humble to admit it. My dinner was excellent and the conversation felt as if we had been friends for a long time.

My next blog will feature a few thoughts I had while driving from Charleston. There may even be a few pictures as I stopped in Beaufort, SC. A real pretty place.

Picking up when I left Ocracoke, my next stop was Beaufort, NC. I passed through large areas of wetlands. Beaufort is a pretty town with charming historic homes but nothing more than a few restaurants near the harbor. So, I continued on to Wilmington to spend the night.

Arrived late in Wilmington so I decided to stop at a chain hotel. At this point in the trip, I have seen what I believe is the best of the beaches and my budget is getting tighter so I look for value and comfort. The next morning, I headed out to do a load of laundry. There I met a woman who shared with me her travel anecdotes, which I found fascinating. Turned out that she and a friend traveled to places without a planned itinerary and took turn in deciding if they should turn right or left at forks in the road. Together, they found covered bridges in Pennsylvania and on another trip, ended out gambling all night in Atlantic City as they arrived there on the weekend of Miss America pageant and couldn’t find a room. This woman (we did not exchange names but connected nonetheless) proceeded to tell me that when folks in Wilmington want seafood, they go to Calabash. So that’s where I went. Beck’s called to me - This is it! - and it is right out of the 50s. The lunch special is $5.95 for two choices of fried seafood with fries and coleslaw. I picked flounder and shrimp even though the deviled crab intrigued me. Oh boy, was I delighted! As I said before, this was pure fried perfection!

After a lunch that left me mildly uncomfortable from feeling so full, I drove through what is called the Gold Strand and I saw nothing really golden about it. Myrtle Beach felt like miles and miles of outlet malls, amusement parks, and golf course. Yikes!!!!

That’s it for now folks. Next blog will be about Charleston, a city I love. No beach outings for a few days as I crave connecting to people and culture.

After the ‘experience’ discussion, I bet you’re all ready for pretty pictures. First, let me retract a statement I made earlier: Delaware does not have the prettiest walking beaches. The Outer Banks do.

I spent a total of five days in the area and could have easily stayed another month. As I hoped for, the beaches were deserted even though it had been less than a week since the infamous Labor Day weekend. In Ocracoke, I walked six miles every day and I came across five people max during my entire stay.

If I were to settle in the area, I would probably look at Rodanthe or Avon. Both are ‘sandwiched’ between areas that are part of the National Seashore Park, but there is access to everyday life necessities. On the other end, Ocracoke is more my cup of tea from the standpoints of the island’s culture and the natural beauty. The only issue is that no matter how you look at it, you need to take a ferry to get off the island. Lonely Planet, in its description of Ocracoke, mentions that if there ever were a cessation movement in the Outer Banks, it would originate in Ocracoke. It has a hemp store, galleries and a lot of people travel around in electric golf carts or bikes. There is one police car and I saw the officer chatting with visitors at the ice cream place. They had to build a pasture for the wild ponies living on the island because they were disturbing life by chewing on the laundry hung on clotheslines. When I asked a gallery owner how life was once the summer was over, she told me “It’s great! We get to catch up with each other and with laundry!” Who wouldn’t like that kind of town? That’s why I’ll be back.

I stayed at a hotel Lonely Planet highly recommended, the Blackbeard Lodge. It was as promised convivial but most importantly, it was safe and cheap. The picture at the top is of the larger-than-life statue that greets you in the lobby. My kind of man.

I went for my second schooner ride and unfortunately, the wind was a no-show but the captain of the Windfall was so interesting in telling all of his five passengers about his life and life in general in this part of the country, that we did not mind having the engine bring us back to port. I also went for a bike ride. My first in over 30 years. Matt had threatened me with renting bikes in St-Simon so I had to practice. But as they say, you never forget how to ride a bicycle or is that something else they say that about?

The weather was splendid the entire time and on the last day, I had my wish: stormy weather. I included a few images I shot on sunny and stormy days.

The next blog will be about a short stop I made in Calabash, NC and experienced pure fried perfection.

Lighthouse at Cape Hatteras - I climbed all 214 steps to the top.

You never saw this coming but I’d like to discuss Experience Design as a topic. I’d like to focus on one B&B I stayed at in particular. I’ve nickname the place “The Post-It Inn”. Stay with me, I’ll explain soon.

I had reserved a room online and there was a minimum of two nights and the price wasn’t cheap so my expectations were high. I had “mapquested” the address and it seemed a bit odd as it was on the sound side of the island as opposed to the more familiar seaside lodging I had stayed at before. As I arrived, the location was not the only thing that was unusual. One of the innkeepers showed me to my room and after giving instructions on how to use the TV, continued to say that breakfast was at 8:30 and that was pretty much all I could ask. No bottle water or Happy Hour to conclude an afternoon at the beach. Nothing. That was abrupt after the lovely time I had had in Cape Charles.

The décor felt fake. Ceilings were all pine and so was the woodwork. The walls were treated to a faux plaster finish in warm shades of ochre and orange. A four-post wrought iron bed, a leather chair and Chinese armoire for the entertainment center completed the décor. It was tastefully done but you know me, “faux” anything doesn’t appeal to me. This felt like the owners had just won a makeover on HGTV…I prefer the genuine quality of the colonial décors I had encountered before even if colonial is not my thing.

In the morning, the woman who served us breakfast was complimented on a particular chair that was in other guests’ room. She proceeded to say she had found it at Sam’s Club. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a furniture snob and I admit to having more IKEA furniture than I’d like. My best advice would have been to leave her guests in mystery and just say thank you.

Maybe I’m overly sensitive about experience but that entire episode got me thinking… Below is a collage of the Post-It notes that were in my room alone. More could be found throughout the house. Experience is what you sell at a B&B and the design is crucial. When designing an experience, adding what could be perceived as features (like cable TV, etc) becomes a liability if it is counterintuitive. You either trust me as your guest that I’ll do the right thing or you find a way to explain to me, either verbally or with something more permanent than a Post-It, how the sophisticated technology you’re providing is going to make my stay more enjoyable. Just don’t treat me like a child.

I’m not stating names as it looks like my fellow guests thought the place was wonderful. And the owners know where I live… That’s why I’ve obscured or covered anything that could give the exact location away. I promise the next blog will be filled with superlatives. Ocracoke Island at the southern part of the Outer Banks is everything people say about it and more. As my daughter Véronique would say: “I’ve fallen in love with a city”. Except that in this case, it’s an island.

I’ve not totaled yet the number of capes I will have visited during this trip but I have been thinking about the metaphor a cape represents. It’s a boulder of rock that advances in the sea, courageously – as much as unanimated objects can show courage, it’s a metaphor folks – withstanding the elements at their most furious or, in the opposite, resisting the gentler but repetitive motion of the waves. Through it all, a cape never tires.

The reason this comes to my mind is a conversation I had with two gay men, David and Sheldon, I met in Provincetown. We stroke a friendship immediately and at breakfast, the next morning, I said something like that life is about courage. It was obvious that it resonated with them as they proceeded to tell me how much life had been difficult and called upon all the courage they could muster. I told them that many of the gay men I know are probably among the strongest and most courageous men I know (of course, the men in my family – and a ‘future boyfriend’ I hope – being the first exception to that rule). It looked as if they felt understood and I felt great from having done some good.

As I arrived to Cape Charles, I had no other particular objective than to have a nice and safe place to start the next segment of my journey. But it is there that I stumbled upon another example of everyday courage. The courage to go after your dreams. The innkeepers of the Cape Charles House, Carol and Bruce Evans, related to me a story that sort of hit home with me. About 18 years ago, Bruce had arranged for an anniversary trip to Cape Charles for he and Carol. The weekend getaway was set at a bed and breakfast and the first night there, Carol and Bruce kept the innkeepers up until very late talking about many things including running a B&B. Well, a few months later and against their children’s advice, they purchased the first home they were showed with the plans of opening their doors a few years later. Unbelievably, Bruce was offered early retirement and they opened Cape Charles House a few months, not years, and a lot of hard work later. To the readers who know me, doesn’t it sound familiar?

This overnight stay was a discovery and not only for what I learned, but also for how pleasant my stay there was. I had a very pretty room with furniture hand-painted by Carol’s mother. The conversations on the porch were the most relaxing and the breakfast outstanding. I felt I had come back home and experienced southern hospitality at its very best. This place is a true gem.

Next post will be about the Outerbanks. Finally… I think you’ll smile at some of what I’ll share with you. It looks like Internet access may be spotty unless I find another Starbucks so don’t concern yourself if I don’t post anything for a couple of days.