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Thursday, December 8, 2011

Chapter 35. Riviera R&R


I was surprised and touched to see how the Riviera people expressed obvious grief at the loss of our President.  We all had heard news and seen newspaper pictures of the February Big Three Conference at Yalta and been a bit shocked to see how fragile the President looked.  He, General Secretary Stalin and Prime Minister Churchill, together with the British and American Fleet Admirals and the RAF heads met in the Crimea for that second of three Wartime Conferences.  Its purpose was to discuss Europe’s post-war organization.  (Our President himself represented our Air Force since it was still part of the US Army, not a separate Force.)
I found the emotional openness of the southern French noticeably different from the constrained emotional expression of most people in the Alsace-Lorraine area where the lands had alternated between French and German domination for many generations.
After a hearty breakfast I began preparing to enjoy the waters of the Mediterranean and sunning on the beach.  The water felt freezing to my toe.  I forgot about jumping in and all week never even got wet.  Nevertheless the sun shone every day and was wonderfully warm.  There were a number of optional trips―to perfume factories, to Nice and to Monaco—but not for gambling.  The food was superb everywhere and didn’t make me feel guilty for eating off the country.  Our elegant, high rise, very modern hotel dining room was like eating at the Waldorf in New York.
But my most lingering memory of the week’s adventure is the day that one of the officers I had met sitting with a book on the sunny beach suggested that we take up an offer from a local fisherman to try our luck with a fishing pole on the Mediterranean Sea.  Fairly early in the morning the peasant-like fisherman showed up with a small row boat and nothing but 2 tree limbs about 3 feet long for fishing poles, each with a line and hook.  With qualms we Americans climbed in and off the Frenchman started rowing out to sea.
We looked around for bait.  “What do we use for bait?” the pilot and I pantomimed.  “Nothing,” the boatman pantomimed back, shrugging his shoulders.  Very soon, not far out from shore he motioned that we should drop our lines, only some 2 or 3 feet long, over the boat’s edge.  Wham!
Within seconds each of us landed a fish, each bright colored, but not the same shape, different kinds of fish.  Into a bucket the fisherman unhooked our catches.  Over and over again we repeated the motions.  I’ve never seen such variety and beauty in fish—every shape you can imagine, each with its singular pattern of markings.  No gamesmanship there, but such a satisfactory “fishing” experience!  In a short time—maybe less than an hour—our little bucket was full.
Back at the hotel the officer and I discussed whether we could possibly eat those little beauties.  None was over 7 or 8 inches long or wide, most even smaller.  When we questioned the chef to see whether he could fry them, he agreed immediately.
Would each of us remember the shapes of the little beauties caught on our own hook even if the coating fried them brown?  We truly wondered.  Only our hearty appetites for fresh-caught fish, long un-tasted since state-side, saw us through as we bit into those handsome creatures of Mother Nature.

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