#beach house menton

[househuntingscotland]

3 bedroom house for sale on Mentone Avenue, Portobello

Asking price: £365,000

[aretis]

📍Nice,French Riviera,France 🇫🇷

Here's why it should be at the top of your list!

Things to do in Nice:

Promenade des Anglais – Stroll along the famous seaside boulevard.

Old Town (Vieux Nice) – Explore the narrow streets and colourful markets.

Castle Hill (Colline du Château) Enjoy panoramic views of Nice and its surroundings.

Marc Chagall National Museum Discover the works of the famous artist.

Place Masséna – Visit the central square with beautiful architecture.

Cours Saleya Market - Experience the bustling flower and food market.

Port Lympia – Wander around the picturesque harbour.

Parc Phoenix - Relax in the botanical garden with exotic plants and animals.

Mont Boron – Hike for stunning views of Nice and the Mediterranean.

Lunch at Le Plongeoir.

🚗Day-Trips from Nice:

1. Monaco:

Just a short train ride away, Monaco offers glitz and glamour with its famous casino, the opulent Monte Carlo district, and the Prince's Palace.

2. Cannes:

Known for its international film festival, Cannes boasts lovely beaches, a charming old town, and a glamorous waterfront promenade, La Croisette. 30 minutes by🚊

3. Antibes:

Antibes is known for its old town enclosed by 16th-century ramparts, the Picasso Museum housed in the Château Grimaldi, and the luxury yacht-filled Port Vauban. 20 minutes by🚊

4. Eze:

A mediaeval village perched high on a cliff above the Mediterranean, Eze offers stunning views, quaint streets, and the exquisite Jardin Exotique. Accessible by a short bus or train ride followed by a hike or a local bus up to

the village.

5. Saint-Paul de Vence:

This famous art village is known for its art galleries, picturesque streets, and historical charm. 45 minutes🚗

6. Menton:

Often referred to as the "Pearl of France". 40 minutes by.🚊

7. Villefranche-sur-Mer:

A charming coastal town known for its picturesque old town, vibrant harbour, and stunning beaches. 15 minutes by.🚊

🎥@zenwander

#visitnice #frenchrivieraplaces

#traveleurope #voyaged

#frenchriviera #southoffrance

#travelfrance #cotedazur

#frenchrivieralife #frenchsummer

#summereurope

#beautifuldestinations

Bonjour France 🇫🇷

[lsundarinfo]

Exploring France: Top 10 Must-See Attractions

France, a country renowned for its rich history, stunning landscapes, and vibrant culture, is a treasure trove of unforgettable experiences. From iconic landmarks to charming villages, France offers something for every traveler to marvel at. Whether you're drawn to majestic castles, world-class art museums, or picturesque countryside, France promises to captivate your imagination. Here, we present the top 10 must-see attractions in France, each offering a glimpse into the country's timeless beauty and cultural heritage.

1. Eiffel Tower, Paris

No visit to France is complete without seeing the iconic Eiffel Tower in Paris. This architectural marvel, designed by Gustave Eiffel, offers breathtaking views of the city from its observation decks. Take a leisurely stroll along the Champ de Mars, picnic in the shadow of the tower, or embark on a romantic evening cruise along the Seine River for a truly memorable experience.

2. Louvre Museum, Paris

Immerse yourself in the world's largest art museum, the Louvre, located in the heart of Paris. Home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the enigmatic Mona Lisa and the majestic Venus de Milo, the Louvre is a must-visit for art enthusiasts and history buffs alike. Explore its labyrinthine galleries, marvel at ancient Egyptian artifacts, and discover masterpieces spanning centuries of artistic expression.

3. Mont Saint-Michel, Normandy

Perched atop a rocky island in Normandy's picturesque bay, Mont Saint-Michel is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of France's most iconic landmarks. Explore its medieval abbey, wander through winding cobblestone streets, and admire panoramic views of the surrounding coastline. Be sure to visit during low tide to witness the ethereal beauty of the abbey reflected in the shimmering waters below.

4. Palace of Versailles, Versailles

Step back in time to the opulent era of the French monarchy with a visit to the Palace of Versailles. This magnificent château, once the residence of Louis XIV, is renowned for its lavish gardens, grand halls, and ornate furnishings. Explore the Hall of Mirrors, stroll through the manicured grounds, and marvel at the spectacular fountains and statues that adorn the estate.

5. Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris

Experience the awe-inspiring beauty of Notre-Dame Cathedral, a masterpiece of Gothic architecture located on the Île de la Cité in Paris. Admire its intricate façade, climb the towers for panoramic views of the city, and explore the interior, which houses priceless relics and stunning stained glass windows. Although undergoing restoration after the tragic fire in 2019, Notre-Dame remains a symbol of Parisian resilience and cultural heritage.

6. Provence Lavender Fields

Indulge your senses in the fragrant lavender fields of Provence, a region known for its breathtaking natural beauty and picturesque landscapes. From mid-June to early August, the rolling hills of Provence are blanketed in vibrant hues of purple, creating a mesmerizing sight that is sure to enchant visitors. Take a leisurely drive through the countryside, stopping to photograph the fields and sample local lavender products along the way.

7. French Riviera, Côte d'Azur

Experience the glitz and glamour of the French Riviera, a sun-soaked stretch of coastline dotted with glamorous resorts, pristine beaches, and chic boutiques. From the vibrant city of Nice to the glamorous principality of Monaco, the French Riviera offers endless opportunities for relaxation and indulgence. Lounge on the golden sands of Cannes, stroll along the promenade in Menton, or explore the charming hilltop villages of Eze and Saint-Paul-de-Vence.

8. Château de Chambord, Loire Valley

Journey to the enchanting Loire Valley and discover the fairytale-like Château de Chambord, the largest and most extravagant of the Loire Valley châteaux. Built as a hunting lodge for King Francis I, Chambord boasts a unique blend of Renaissance and French medieval architecture, with its distinctive double-helix staircase and sprawling grounds. Explore the royal chambers, wander through the vast forest, and marvel at the château's imposing façade.

9. D-Day Beaches, Normandy

Pay homage to the bravery and sacrifice of Allied forces with a visit to the D-Day beaches of Normandy. Walk in the footsteps of history along the sands of Omaha Beach, Utah Beach, and Juno Beach, where thousands of soldiers fought and died during the pivotal World War II invasion. Visit the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, the Memorial de Caen, and other poignant sites that commemorate the heroes of D-Day.

10. Gorges du Verdon, Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur

Escape the hustle and bustle of city life and immerse yourself in the natural beauty of the Gorges du Verdon, often referred to as the "Grand Canyon of Europe." Carved by the turquoise waters of the Verdon River, this breathtaking canyon offers unparalleled opportunities for hiking, kayaking, and scenic drives. Marvel at the towering limestone cliffs, crystal-clear lakes, and verdant forests that make this region a haven for outdoor enthusiasts.

Driving in France for Foreigners:

Exploring France by car offers the freedom to discover its hidden gems at your own pace, from charming villages to scenic countryside. However, it's essential to familiarize yourself with French driving laws and regulations before hitting the road.

International Driving Permit (IDP) for France:

To legally drive in France as a foreigner, you'll need an International Driving Permit France (IDP) in addition to your valid driver's license from your home country. Fortunately, obtaining an IDP for France is a straightforward process that can be completed online.

Here's a step-by-step guide to applying for an International Driving Permit for France online:

[mortraveling]

5 Places to Visit Before They Get Crowded

5 Places to Visit Before They Get Crowded Europe is full of hidden treasures beyond the classic tourist destinations. It's high time to visit them before everyone else does. As beautiful as they may be, Venice, Nice, and Santorini have in common the fact that they are crowded tourist cities that often offer a reality quite different from the perfect vacation destination portrayed on Instagram. However, there are equally stunning destinations in Europe that are still unknown to many. Menton, France The coastal city of Menton capitalizes on its colorful house facades and the typical charm of the French Riviera. Palm trees, gastronomy, and the French Riviera... We're not talking about the very popular cities of Nice and Cannes, but about a small hidden town on the French Riviera: Menton. Located near the Italian border, it seduces visitors with its typical French charm and microclimate. Due to its protected location, Menton is the warmest place on the French Riviera in winter and boasts over 300 days of sunshine per year. It's no wonder that Menton is also called the city of Lemon. The mild climate is particularly conducive to citrus cultivation. Whether it's a visit to the baroque old town, a walk along the seafront, or through the blooming gardens, Menton is a real gem. Antiparos Island, Greece If you love Greek islands, you've probably heard of Paros. But have you ever heard of its neighboring island, Antiparos? Unlike Paros, it's less crowded and has a much more peaceful pace of life. With its fine sandy beaches, crystal-clear waters, mystical underwater cave, and the capital and only town on the island, Chora, Antiparos invites discovery and relaxation. The island is accessible after a short boat or ferry crossing from Paros. Dinant, Belgium Crossed by the Meuse, the charming little town of Dinant invites visitors to all kinds of water activities in summer. Planning a city break but not sure where to go? Why not make Dinant your next destination? Located an hour and a half's drive from Brussels, this small Belgian town looks like it's straight out of a picture book. The colorful small houses, cliffs, and the Meuse make Dinant the perfect backdrop for photos. This refined little town allows visitors to taste local specialties, admire the view from the cable car, and enjoy summer water activities. The region around Dinant also invites hiking, cycling, and castle visits. Ksamil, Albania What looks like Saint-Tropez or Capri is actually the Albanian town of Ksamil: crystal-clear turquoise waters, immaculate beaches, and paradisiacal landscapes make Ksamil the ideal place for a summer vacation away from the crowds. To reach the place, the simplest way is to go through Corfu. After the one-hour ferry crossing to Saranda, it only takes a half-hour bus ride to reach this earthly paradise with typical Albanian hospitality. Nerja, Spain Just 45 minutes from Málaga, the most popular tourist destination in southern Spain, is the coastal town of Nerja, on the Costa del Sol in Andalusia. Sun, sea, fresh fish, wine, and flamenco are on the menu in this former fishing village. Nerja has more than beautiful beaches to offer. Its old town with its Andalusian-style cobbled streets is full of whitewashed houses. Whether as a day trip from Málaga or a vacation destination, Nerja is definitely worth a visit before it gets too crowded. via Blogger https://ift.tt/3fClsAv May 08, 2023 at 06:21PM

[t-o-m-hollands]

T H E

P A R I S

C H R O N I C L E S

Warnings: Smoking, drinking and smut in the other chapters. This is set in Nice in the 1950’s, I have never been to the French riviera and I wasn’t alive in the 50’s, so probably a very inaccurate description of the place (also at times simply just made up).

Summary: Newly divorced you decide to travel to the Riviera and spend the summer in the house you and Timothée have inherited. After a very successful art exhibition he comes down to join you. Things should be easy, but they aren't.

Themes: Artist!Timmy, period piece (1950's).

R E A D

P A R T

O N E

A N D

T W O

H E R E

***

Menton - July, 1953

Menton, the most easterly town of the Côte d'Azur, belonging to the Arrondissement of Nice. It is located practically on the French-Italian border, the influences of both countries clear in multi-coloured houses, the decorated windows and in the sixteenth century bell tower.

The beaches are rocky but wide, and in the summer season packed with vacationists looking for an escape from the city; to lay their bodies down and soak up some sun, breath in some fresh air and occasionally to dip their bodies into the ocean in an attempt to escape the heat and cool down.

There’s a village square, in the middle of which a fountain; made in a century in which people still believed in dragons. From Bentwood chairs you can sit back and enjoy a meal, or a simple cappuccino, al fresco; as you watch the occasional hopeful tourist throw a coin into the fountain, making wishes with sanguine smiles. Or perhaps play a game of chess with a stranger.

On a cobbled-stone street nearby a market is set up each morning in a belle-epoque building, inside of which cheese, fish and meat are sold, and outside vendors are selling fruits and vegetables on wooden tables covered by green cloths.

Away from the pastell-coloured village and the expensive resorts and hotels by the beach there are steep hills, where most of the Menton locals reside. Some houses small and quaint; others almost obscene in their obvious wealth.

One of these houses is called Villa Marguerite

***

From the villa you can see the ocean spread out in front of you, almost recklessly big and bold and blue. Behind the house; acres upon acres of lemon trees, the bright yellow and green hues creating sharp contrasts to all the surrounding blue. There’s a garden too, emerald green grass and cedar trees that with rain will spread its heady scent all over the property; some mornings it is the first thing you smell.

The morning sun shines upon the terrace and you lean back in your wicker chair and sip on your morning coffee. Music is coming from the kitchen radio, only a few meters away.

The day lay planned and untraveled in front of you with all its horrifying possibilities. In a few hours Timothée’s train will arrive at the station and the upcoming reunion fills you with equal parts anticipation and terror. You had offered to meet him there, as his train arrives. You can picture it in front of you, standing on the dusty station under the scorching sun, eyes on the railroad track before you, awaiting the first sign of the train. You’d wear something nice for him, a white sundress perhaps; to show him that you are still the young sweet girl he fell for in Paris – that the colossal weight of a wedding ring on your left ring finger has not left you changed. You can picture what he’ll show up in, paint-stained jeans and white t-shirt. It will be awkward at first, it must be after all these months apart. But you’d conquer your fear and you’d hug him, pull him tight against you and breath him in; the familiar scent of him, the irresistible and unplaceable mixture of turpentine and smokey whiskey and of Paris.

There have been nights you’ve woken up gasping for air, where your hands have searched in vain around you in bed, panic-stricken, looking for the familiar frame of a lost lover. Every time, upon realizing that he’s not there, you would fall back against the mattress, and with deep breaths force your lungs to accept air. You’d close your eyes tightly shut and perhaps it was a trick your brain played on you, some devilish scheme – but in those moments, when you needed him the most you could almost concoct his scent out of thin air, could almost smell him, almost feel him lay beside you. There were times you would have sworn on anything holy you could feel the warmth of his body beside yours.

You had suggested to meet him at the station, but he had turned your offer down so firmly it had bordered on rudeness.

In the passing months since his department from London you had shared two brief, silence-filled phone calls.

One of them early one morning in May, just as the lilac bush burst out in bloom outside your window, the scent of them heady and intoxicating, and the missing weight of a diamond ring on your left hand still a strange sensation. Still you lift the phone; asking the operator for a number in France. You had called up his studio to inform him that you had moved out of your soon-to-be former husband’s house and were now taking house in Mayfair, in case he needed to reach you. Timothée´s voice had been tense and hoarse, as if he had just woken up and was not happy about it. In the background a woman had laughed.

The second time he had called you, in the late hours of the evening mid-June, just as the magnolias had set in bloom. You had informed him that you were planning to go down to Menton the following week, to start with the process of going through your aunt’s possessions. He in turn had informed you that his exhibition was to finish up on the 15th of July, after which he planned to travel to Nice by train and thus arrive the following morning. You had then offered to meet him at the station, to show him the way to the house at his arrival, which he had turned down. The tone of had been curt and the conversation short.

And that had been your only contact since that day in London. Before coming to Menton you had gone to Paris, to sign some papers and go through a few objects in your aunts’ apartment. You had not informed Timothée of this nor had you visited him.

Now here you are, weeks later, awaiting his arrival; foot tapping nervously against the floor, eyes fixed without seeing, mind recklessly wandering. Soon he’ll arrive at the station and you try not to connect that fact with the terrible sense of doom that’s been growing stronger in your stomach these last few days. But it seems undeniably connected.

Doom, like things have already been set in motion, the faiths decided; beyond your control or demand.

You feel ungrounded, restless and unbound; like the light morning breeze can sweep you away at sea. Trying to get a hold of yourself you focus your eyes only to see the endless blue sky above you or endless blue sea in front.

The sense of temporariness, of insignificance, of irrelevance in the grand scale of things washes over you and nausea settles in the pit of your stomach. Sitting up straight in your chair, force your foot to stop stomping the ground, you close your eyes and inhale slowly.

From the open window kitchen, you can still hear Louise, your aunt's maid, playing the radio. The French pop tune playing is unknown to you plays but she signs along over the sound of cluttering plates and running water. Upon your aunt’s death had ended up unemployed and in search of a job. She had written to you in London, asking for a position, and you had taken her on.

A sea gull screams somewhere above and from your neighbour’s house you hear children playing.

The sun is warm on your skin; the stone floor warm beneath your feet.

Feeling calmer, you open your eyes.

but still all you see is blue.

***

Timothée travels to Nice by train with a third-class ticket.

The compartment is unbearably hot. He tries to lay as still as possible on the hard bunk bed, afraid that any movement will make him warmer. Trying to ignore the sweat forming on his brow he focuses on the rhythmic pace of the train moving underneath him, wishing it would lull him to sleep but all it does is leave him with a vague feeling of nausea. His fellow passenger in the bunk bed below is in the bathroom next door, violently vomiting and the retching sound is coming through the thin walls . The light above his bed keeps flicking, every other second leaving the already dim room, with its dark oak panels, in complete darkness.

And dying for a cigarette.

He’s hot and sweaty and he thanks his lucky star he turned down your offer to meet him at the station. The thought of seeing you again after all these months, no doubt radiant in the sunlight, like an angel in waiting for him; and then him, wearing sweat-soaked rags that’ll no doubt smell of bile and dust and liquor.

He’s glad he turned your offer down; wants to make a good impression on you, to show you that he has changed, that he’s no longer the penniless painter; that he has made a success out of himself. The exhibition had been an incomparable success, Le Monde had put him on the front page and Le Journal du Dimanche had written an entire feature on his use of the colour blue – which they had been dubbed “as revolutionary as Picasso’s blue period, making the viewer see the colour in a new light, almost as if for the first time. Never before have I’ve seen blue look so isolated and lonely”.

He wondered if you had seen it. He wants you to have seen it, to be proud of it; of him. To know, because you had to know, that it was all for you.

But lately fear had crept up on him. Like mold it had grown from a single thought; slowly and steadily until it covered everything, until it was a certainty he knew as well as his own name; a fact poisoning his every breath.

What if you didn’t love him anymore? What if, after all this time and suffering you found out that, actually, without all the hinders standing in your way you didn’t actually find him all that interesting.

He would be forced to go on his way, certain in the knowledge that you no longer loved him; instead of the current status quo of endless possibilities of the untraveled road, where anything can still happen. Where there is still hope. It had crossed his mind, the thought of just not going. To stay in Paris and paint and dream; safe in the knowledge that at one point the most beautiful woman in the world had loved him. Never having the possibility of that changing.

But it would be a cowardly thing to do, and whatever else he was he was no coward. But he also knew that there was no use pretending, he was not the same as he was when he met you. How could he be? He had been a planet, knocked out of its orbit, forced to find a gravity anew. And he had, it had taken time and pain and more self-discipline than he knew he had in him. He had dusted himself of and gone on with life. But when you left Paris the first time had felt safe in the knowledge that you loved him.

If you were to reject him now, it would only be because you found him lacking; disappointing.

The stranger retches in the bathroom again and behind closed eyelids Timothée can still see the flicking light. He pretends it’s a blinking star.

Lately he’s been reading less Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Dostoevsky; switched them for Nietzsche, Sartre and Aristotle. This new world of science and philosophy opening up a whole new world for him. It had set his mind to ponder about love and religion and of the whole galaxy too; about his place and role in all of these things.

Every day, several times over, he had wanted to call you. To tell you about his discoveries, read you abstracts from his books and ask your thoughts on it. He wanted to know what you made out of all these subjects, to hear where your opinions differed from his. He wanted to argue with you about them.

Yet every time he picked up the phone to call you, he had put it down again. He had felt silly, calling you about such mundane things. Didn’t want to bother you in your grief. He knew, had bought each new glossy copy of the Tatler with a shameful face, that you were going through a difficult divorce.

He didn’t want to complicate your life any further.

The stranger comes into the compartment again, groans loudly and shuts the door with a bang behind him before throwing himself down on the lower bunkbed.

“Fucking hate trains” he states.

“You don’t say” Timothée answers dryly. It’s stifling hot in the compartment and the other man has brought in the strong scent of bile back with him to mix with the stench of sweat.

The train takes a sudden turn and the man below groans loudly again. Timothée hears how he fiddles with something and then the click of a lighter. He asks the man for a cigarette and the he kind-heartedly hands him his entire package of Lucky Strikes. Perhaps as an apology for the smell.

The rest of journey is spent chain-smoking cigarettes until the late hour, the compartment a fog of smoke, until he finally falls into slumber somewhere after Lyon.

The next morning his travel companion, looking rather worse for wear but relieved that the train has stopped at last, helps him with his luggage as they depart the train.

A strange feeling of having been reborn settles over him as he blinks up at the sun, his eyes adjusted from the previous dark dimness of his coupé. The station is dusty and oven-hot but he strives forward through it, bag with his belongings slung over his shoulder. Just as he expected he’s arrived sweaty, with ruffled dirty clothes and a stench of bile and sweat lingers on him. It had most definitely been the right decision to turn down your offer to meet him at the station. And so, instead of looking for a taxi to take him to the great big house on the hills he makes his way down the cobbled streets in quite the other direction.

*

There’s nothing like the ocean to wash away the sense of filth. With a gasp he breaks through the water surface and forces large gulps of fresh air down his throat. The water is cyan in shade and the surface glitter under the sun. He wades his way through the water and back to the beach, sending a silent prayer that the posh hotel he’s snuck into won’t notice that he is in fact not a guest paying hundreds of Francs a night for the luxury of a private beach, complete with white sunbeds and linen-clad waiters ready to service your every whim, but in fact just a common free-loader.

The small rocks are scalding hot and under his bare feet but he makes his way through the white parasols and sunbeds, careful as to not disturb the suntanning guests, his shabby bag slung over his shoulder.

“I’ll be damned!” An American voice roars out and Timothée stops dead in his tracks, heart beating painfully in his chest; as if he was an animal, knowing he was about to be caught in the hunt. “If it isn’t my favorite painter!”

Slowly he turns around.

Underneath a white parasol, sprawled out on a sunchair; broad-shouldered, blond and suntanned, lay William.

Fuck.

William stands up and moves closer to him. “It is you! Man, what a surprise!” he bursts out in his thick American accent and claps him on his shoulder. Timothée just stands there, still with the feeling of being caught; trapped. William just smiles at him. “I was just going to grab an early lunch, care to join me?”

The hotel restaurant is situated on a terrace, making the most of the ocean view, azure blue sea glittering under the sun. The beach is full to the brim with suntanned bodies, sipping drinks under big white parasols. They’ve both changed out of their swimming trunks, William into a nice white day suit, freshly pressed of course. Walking behind him onto the terrace Timothée feels especially shabby in his worn linen trousers, albeit he’s currently wearing his only items of clothing not covered in paint splatters.

They are seated by the railings, a small white clothed table. They order margarita pizzas and beers. They small talk, filling up the blanks since they last saw each other.

Timothée tells him of his work, the successful exhibition, his newfound love of Nietzsche. About his reason for coming to Nice. William in turn tells him of how he changed his mind about returning to America, how he’s fallen in love with the Mediterranean, how life here has inspired him so much he’s taken up writing. In fact, he has already written most of his first book, and it is set to publish at the end of summer. He is now looking for a house, some permanency for the first time in his life. He will settle down here, he tells Timothée in a solemn tone.

Timothée well recognizes the signs of a man trying to escape from himself. He doubts very much if William is the type to ever settle, has no doubts in fact that next time they’ll speak William will have taken up an instrument set to join a band, or learn a new language ready to move country yet again. Timothée knows a drifter when he sees one.

But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to warn the other man about the uselessness of attempting to outrun oneself, doesn’t advise him to instead make peace with the past and himself; knows that there is no use, that he'll find this out for himself soon enough. So instead he smiles, lights the last of his Lucky Strike´s and orders them some more beers.

They drink and talk, dream really, far into the afternoon as the sky changes from bright blue to nuances of powder pink and lavender. They dream up scenarios for William’s future; a summer spent in sunny Nice soaking up the sun, before setting to Capri in the autumn to work on a new book. They decide he should take a break in the winter to go skiing in Saint Moritz before returning to Nice in the spring, to finish up his book.

More beers are ordered, and subjects discussed, but when a longer silence takes place William leans back in his chair, a shy look on his face that makes him look more boy than man.

“So” he begins, and Timothée’s interests are piqued. The terrace is full of people by now, taking a late lunch or simply enjoying an afternoon drink, waiting for the sun to set and the real party to begin.

“So?” he offers, pressing the other man to continue.

William clears his throat, cheeks flushed, and not purely from the day spent in the sun. “So, you’re going to see her now?”

Timothée is not surprised by his question, had expected it since he told him why he was here, had expected the subject of you to arise. It felt inevitable. The subject of you too big to ignore.

“Yes” he says, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray. They’d bought new ones from the waiter many beers ago, the crystal cut ashtray between them filled to the brim with stumped out cigarettes.

“Yeah should get going soon really, she was expecting me this morning.”

Silence for a heartbeat, as the sky turns red, the sun almost setting.

“And it is true, what they’ve written in the society pages? She’s getting divorced?”

Timothée, not knowing what to do with his hands, lights yet another cigarette; even though his throat feels too dry; too tight. “Yeah” he manages to get out.

Silence again. William is keeping his eyes on the setting sun, seemingly lost in thought.

“Mind if I tag back with you to the house?” he says eventually. The words come out almost superiorly. Yet Timothée senses the fragile vulnerability under the arrogance. “I’d just like to say hi to her” he then adds in a softer tone. “Our last goodbye…” he trails off for a second and something like regret flashes in his clear blue eyes, “Look, I treated her abhorrently and I’d like to put things right, it’s the least I can do”.

And who is Timothée to deny either one of you that?

*

The ground is slightly unsteady under his feet as they stand outside the hotel, waiting for the taxi the porter had ordered. He had, perhaps, had one too many to drink. He sways from one foot to the other. It is just past midnight and he should have gone home hours ago.

And maybe he shouldn’t arrive at your first meeting in months, the first meeting post-divorce, absolutely wasted. A knot ties somewhere in his stomach.

And, he thinks as he slides into the backseat of the taxi, maybe he oughtn't to bring your ex-fiancé with him to said meeting. An ex-fiancé who had broken up your engagement days before the wedding, left you pretty much at the altar to marry someone else instead. Your first love.

The knot tightens harder.

He watches the city, now dark and full of people, pass by outside the window. As the taxi goes up the hills he tries to focus on the ocean outside; now the darkest shade of blue. The moon is yet to make an appearance to light up the evening. They drive up a final curve and finally Timothée can see it. The white house atop the hill is large and neo-classical in style, with painted mint-green shutters, currently open wide to let in some evening air, and up the white walls magenta colored bougainvillea climbs.

The lights are on and Timothée feels light-headed. He blames it on the drinks. He blames it on the day spent under the beaming sun. He blames it on the long journey there and the fact he slept so badly on the train.

He blames it on anything other than the fact that he’s starting to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have come here tonight. If perhaps he should have stayed at the hotel, sobered up and after a good night sleep come here; bunches of casa blanca lilies in hand and a forged reason for his lateness on his lips.

And he definitely shouldn’t bring William with him.

Something twists painfully inside him and he feels a bit sick. Because he knows William is your first love; but what if he’s your greatest one as well. What if the two of you after reuniting again, found that there were still love there. You both had divorces in your past now, you both had money, and freedom. What if William wasn’t just your first love, but your greatest one?

He definitely shouldn’t have brought him here.

He watches with regret settled deep in his bones as the taxi drives away, and William is walking up the pebbled path to the front door. So Timothée takes a deep breath, throws his duffel bag over his shoulder, and forces his feet forward.

They ring the door and surprise hits him for the second time that day, when the door opens and Aunt Marguerite’s maid Louise stands there, wearing the usual look of disapproval as she takes in the state of him.

She sniffs with disgust. “You are late” she tells him with a stern tone, before stepping aside to let him enter. “Madam is on the terrace”. He drops his bag on the floor as she leads the way through the house, William at his heel. His feet feel like cement, but he keeps forcing them forward.

The first thing he sees as he steps out onto the terrace is the moon, now high in the sky, casting its reflection on the water below. Then, on a sunbed with your face towards the ancient blue spreading out in front of you; not directed to him. He sees you in the moonlight, curled up underneath a blanket, a glass of red wine beside you. The only light on the terrace the moon and candles, lit up around you.

Without turning to look at him you say, in a voice painfully familiar, “was beginning to give up on you. Thought you’d missed the train”.

“Sorry” he says, and it surprises him how calm he sounds; because he’s pretty sure something is exploding inside his chest. “Got a bit distracted.”

You turn to him then, a half-smile on your face that freezes immediately upon seeing who is standing behind him. Painful silence falls between you, heavy like a wet blanket, while the ocean roars beneath, its waves crashing against the rocks.

“Wills?” Your voice sounds so vulnerable it makes him want to weep, to go hide; to ask something holy for forgiveness.

“Hi baby” William answers and Timothée nearly whimpers, wants to look away but can’t seem to turn his eyes from the scene in front of him.

Your eyes are big and glossy in the moonlight as William moves closer. Nausea rises in Timothée’s stomach as he watches William sit down on the sunbed beside you; hands clasped before him like a schoolboy in church.

“I’m sorry” he begins, “this must come as a surprise to you but…”

“Excuse me” you interrupt him, voice cold but your vulnerability clear as it. “I think I will retire to bed. You can stay over if you wish, Louise will prepare you a room. We’ll lunch tomorrow.”

And all either Timothée can do is watch as you stand up, spine all straight and head held high as you walk past him, not casting him a single look as he hangs his head in shame.

*

Timothée blinks slowly into the bright light; confused as to where he is for a moment. He blinks a few more times, his lasting impression; white. White sheets, white walls, white lilies on his bedside table, white wooden floors and white curtains moving in the breeze from the open balcony door; outside of which azure blue sky. Then,

Menton.

You.

He groans, burying his face in the pillow. The pain in your eyes as you walked past him the night before; eyes brimming with carefully held back tears. Why, why, why on earth had he brought William with him? Why hadn’t he just told him no? Surely it wouldn’t have been unreasonable to turn down his request to force his way back into his ex-fiancé’s life?

But he wanted you back. And Timothée had handed you to him.

“Fuck” he groans.

Despite his protesting, heavy limbs and sore head he stands up and moves through the room, to the gilded mirror by the antique dresser. Slowly he blinks back to his miserable reflection. A skinny man, with unruly, dark curls and anxious, wide eyes, dark circles like bruises underneath them. He thinks of William; tall and golden and broad shouldered enough to carry the weight of the world on them. And rich enough to own it.

He wants to hurl.

Instead, with the determination of the already damned, he moves through the room, knowing there is nothing left to do but face the day; and the consequences of last night. Finding a pair of clean linen trousers and white shirt he pulls them on with fumbling hands. Rooming through the pockets of the trousers he wore last night, carelessly thrown over a wicker chair, he finds the package of Gauloises he bought at the hotel the previous night. He puts them in his pocket, he is going to need them. Feeling like a man walking up to the gallows he steps out of his room.

Louise, who’s in the kitchen preparing breakfast, huffs in displeasure when she sees him.

“Yeah, yeah” he mutters, “I know”.

She pulls up her blonde hair and ties it in a knot in her back, seemingly doing her utmost to ignore him, but he’s pretty sure she’s just doing it for the opportunity to sneakily give him the finger.

Out on the terrace you sit by the table, reading. Wearing a white silky thing, your hair wet from a bath, pearls of water falling to the ground as you move to flip a page in your book. You are bathing in the morning light, covered by it; and maybe it’s just to Timothée’s eyes but everything else seems to fall into shadow.

Walking more assuredly than he feels, somewhat comforted in the fact that William is not yet up, he takes a seat beside you at the table. You flip a page in your book, and you don’t look at him. A seagull screeches in the sky, but otherwise the world remains quiet.

“What are you reading?” he asks, though feeling it is a trivial question in the midst of everything. He feels foolish, trying to ease into conversation with you, when all he really want to do is apologise; to take your hands and tell you that he’s sorry.

“The Odyssey”

“You like it?”

Your eyes don’t move over the page, but you don’t look at him either; instead fixated on the page in front of you.

“Yes” you say eventually. “But I find the prose hard to get used to”.

“Well” he says fishing in his pockets for his Gauloises, “personally I prefer The Iliad. There’s a feeling of doom in it that stays with you, like their fates are already set out for them and they can’t escape it. They’re left to just live their stories out”. He brings a cigarette to his lips but soon discovers he’s forgotten a lighter. He swears under his breath, the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Then something silver reflects in the sun, right before his eyes. You’re reaching out your hand to him, and in the palm of your hand lay a cigarette lighter. Gratefully he takes it and lights up.

“Thanks” he says, trying to hand it back to you, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s yours. Apparently, my aunt had it ordered for you before she passed. I was going to give it to you yesterday.”

Timothée feels as if he’s been punched in the stomach. He lays down the cigarette and looks down at the silver lighter. It’s beautifully crafted, old fashioned in a good way and thoroughly stylish. Marguerite through and through. He turns it in his hand and sunlight reflects from its perfect surface. Only then does he notice the engraved text, in cursive writing; “Fuck Picasso”.

He breaks out in laughter but feels a simultaneous need to cry. To lay down on the floor and weep. He misses her, would do anything to hear her scold him for his behavior again. To have her tell him that he is being defeatist and to keep trying; keep fighting for what he wants.

He looks at you, and he can see the same conflicting feelings reflected in your glossy eyes.

“Le petit dejeuner, madam” Louise says, putting down the tray with coffee, bread, brie and fresh fruit on the table between you. She sends Timothée a scorching look as she does so.

Once you’re both sipping on cups of coffee you clear your throat. “She did leave you the Picasso painting as well, you know”.

Timothée nearly drops his cup of scorching hot coffee in his lap. “Sorry?”

Reluctantly the corners of your mouth twist into a smile. “You never read the full version of the will, did you? She gave the Picasso to you. Said you were the only one who could possibly appreciate it”.

He snorts with laughter again, and again it comes with a sting of grief.

“You sure you don’t want it?” he asks, because a Picasso is no ordinary gift and he feels as if he’s stealing it from you; you who actually were related to the woman.

But you just shake your head, a small but sincere smile on your lips. “I got the Monet”.

“Bloody landscape artist” Timothée teases and you laugh. This is an old joke, an inside joke, one that has made you laugh before. Your laughter feels familiar and warm and he wants to pull you closer to him, feel your skin; warm from the sun, against his.

“You are just jealous” you tease back, and your eyes; the same colour as your aunts, sparkle in the sunshine. “You have never been able to paint a landscape”.

“No” he says, reaching for a stem or green grapes, “I’ve never found a landscape more interesting than a face” he adds, pulling the sweet fruit from its stem and placing it between his teeth; slowly biting down, relishing the taste.

He wants to say, ‘there’s nothing I’d rather paint than your face’, but swallows the words along with the fruit. He watches your face as you look at the sea; hair still wet against your now slightly rosy cheeks.

“Good morning” says a cheerful, though somewhat raspy, American accent.

Timothée turns and sees William walking towards you. He’s all tousled blonde hair, white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top; showing seamlessly endless amounts of suntanned golden skin. Styled with a Rolex watch and bare feet he’s all Hamptons; all American.

Timothée looks at him and thinks Paul Newman would be proud.

He picks up and finally lights his cigarette, using his new treasure.

William sits down by the table, leans back and sighs. “Gonna be a beautiful day” he announces to them, as if the weather was his to rule. Timothée watches him in the morning light, all golden and decisive. He thinks of Zeus, of power and of glory.

You gesture for Timothée’s cigarette package and he picks one out and hands it to you. Leaning closer, closer and closer still; your face so near that he can count each of your eyelashes if he so wishes, your arms nearly touching his. He lights you up. All the time he can feel William’s watchful eyes as he observes the two of you.

Louise comes out with another cup of coffee and places it in front of William before heading back to the kitchen. In the silence between them they can hear how she puts on the record player, the tunes of Chopin floating out on the terrace. Timothée meets your eyes and you both smile.

Flashes of memories from another life, you and him in Paris in his old studio. Dancing in the evening, hips pressed together as you’d swayed gently from side to side, your chest pressed to his, feeling so close it was as if you were sharing breaths. Or you posing on the carpet, naked in the afternoon light as he attempts the impossible; trying to recreate the loveliness and complexities of you. A Herculean task. All the while Chopin played in the background.

“So what are we all doing today?” inquires William and Timothée breaks eye contact with you. Maybe he is imagining it, but he thinks there’s a harshness behind Williams' forceful cheerfulness.

You enter into conversation with William, all small talk and politeness, as Timothée smokes his cigarette and looks the other way.

*

“Can I talk with you?” William asks, his hand around your wrist, holding you in place. “Alone, I mean.”

Your plates have been cleared, the coffee cups stand empty and William has reached over the table to take a hold of you. Timothée, who’d spent most of the breakfast in silence, his face towards the sea, playing with silver lighter in his lap, now stands up. “I’m off to explore the village” he says with a tone of indifference. But there is something strained about the way he’s holding himself, a tenseness in his shoulder, a frozen look on his face. It is in the way he refuses to look at either you or William as he walks away.

You watch him leave before gently pulling your hand away from William’s. “I must say, it is a surprise to see you here, Wills”.

William doesn’t hang his head in shame or embarrassment but keeps his clear blue eyes on yours.

“I didn’t know that you were here in Menton, that’s not why I came here. But I did go looking for you, in Paris”. His voice never shakes, neither does his hands. He is as steadfast as you remember him from school. Ha had been taller than everybody else, towering over them all. He could easily have been awkward, already standing out with his American accent. But he wasn’t. William had been born with a sense of self-assurance most could only dream of. Dubbed arrogant by some you had felt admiration.

Your school had been set up in two buildings, one for the boys and one for the girls, and separated by a field. Most classes were taken separately, the only times the genders had mixed was during meals and announcements, or on special sports days.

You can still remember it so clearly, when you fourteenth year old set your eyes on sixteen year old William for the first time. It had been on the football pitch during a friendly start of the term game. He was new to the school, a head taller than the other boys and no one seemed to be able to take their eyes off him. It was clear that he was unused to the game, having grown up mostly playing American football, but he soon got his head around the rules. You see it so clearly in front of you, how he had made his way through the defence, his long legs carrying him through in quick strides, before scoring his first goal; the whole crowd going wild. He was a natural talent, as soon you would learn, he was in most things. He took on the world with a natural ease, assured in his belief that everything would go his way.

At the end of the match he had stood there, arm slung around the shoulders of his fellow comrades, all grinning from ear to ear. They were the victors of the game; the heroes of the school. William in the middle, head slung back in laughter, almost radiant in the late September sun. He was and always had been golden, had always seemed more than human to you, almost godlike in being. The other boys had certainly found him so, the only exception being Freddie Fairfax and his friends, who never had a kind word to say about their fellow student. However the rest of the boys had soon made William their unelected leader. The king of god on mount Olympus. His eyes had met yours in the crowd of admirers and just like that - you were done for.

When he had asked you to the school dance, mouthed crooked in a smile and hands unstirred; so unlike the nervously trembling boys, you had said yes. The other girls had envied you and when you walked into the great hall with him he had taken your arm in his and kissed you on your forehead; told you he thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. You had felt chosen; blessed even.

And when he had asked you to marry him, down on one knee like a gentleman and with a hand that didn’t shake with nerves, you had said yes. Had thought that had settled everything. That you would marry the man you loved in front of all your friends and family, securing a financially stable future for your parents. You’d go on a honeymoon, a world tour perhaps, and later; children. After having found the perfect family home in Kensington, among all your friends.

Alas, that was not to be. No wedding, nor children or home had come along. Instead, heartbreak.

And you had fled, humiliated, to Paris.

“Yes” you say, feeling unable to look away from his blue gaze. “Yes, Timothée mentioned that. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you, I had already left for London by then”.

“Yeah” he says, corners of his lips turned up in a smile, but his eyes filled with something more like pity. “To marry Freddie Farifax”. And then he’s on his feet, moving around the table and before you know it, in Timothée’s chair. He leans forward and grasps your hands in his. They feel warm and steady, whereas yours are cold and shaking.

“Babe” his voice is like a gentle breeze. “Babe, look at me”.

You look up from your clasped hands and back into his blue eyes, at the moment more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

“I should never have left you” he continues, voice sweet and tender and barely louder than the breeze. “I was bewitched. I know, I know it sounds stupid but I just lost my head about Linda. I was a fool, a goddamn fool. I realized as soon as we left for New York that who I really wanted was you. It was like waking up from a dream. She was just such a lovely thing, so carefree and - no please, listen” You had tried to remove your hands from his but he kept a firm grip around them. Slowly he moves one of his hands from yours, up to your face to cup your cheek. It’s tender, and it feels like it had always felt when Wiliam touched you - the same feeling you got when you lay sunbathing; kissed by the sun. A mild breeze through the trees and the scent of him, citrus and cedar, hits you like an embrace from the past.

At fifteen, a few months after you first set eyes on him, he kissed you. Calmly, with a hand cupping your face; just like now, he had kissed you until you felt tender and starry eyed. It had been in the library, in the row furthest down, a copy of Anna Karenina sticking into your back as he pressed you against the bookcase.

He had smelled the same then, as you stood on your tip-toes to reach him his arms surrounded you.

He had smelled the same in baronessa Digby’s guestroom during her annual ball. After hours spent dancing, pressed up against one another he had snuck you both in there and on the bed showed all there was to know about love in its physical form. Flashes of memories come back to you of his body above yours, muscles defined and body almost golden in the candlelight, pressing you down onto crisp white sheets. The scent of lemon and cedar everywhere.

He had been gentle and patient, moving in and out of you with steady, slow thrusts at first, deliberate and calm in all his movements. His hands were steady the whole way through but you were shaking all over.

“I should never have left you” he repeats, and you can feel the shame coming off him in waves, see the regret in his eyes and in the furrow of his brow. “You never should have had to marry fucking Freddie, the piece of shit”. Something thunders in his blue eyes.

“I’m not angry with you William. I felt hurt and humiliated when you left but it’s all in the past now, so if it is my forgiveness you’ve come here for you can have it”.

“It’s not,” William says, almost before you’ve finished speaking. “I mean, I’ll gladly take it but what I want is you.” All you can do in response is stare at him and he laughs, almost bitterly, before continuing “to think, that had I not made such a massive ass of myself we would have been married now. We would be happy. I can still make you happy, baby”. He makes the last word sound like a prayer. He strokes your cheek.

“Make me carefree?” you ask, and you swear, you can feel the ocean move in protest in your lungs.

“Yes, just give me a chance and I’ll make you the happiest being on earth”.

You look into his pleading eyes. Part of you wants to say yes, because part of you still loves him. Part of you is still that fourteen year old girl, enamoured by the school hero. But you know now, have come to realize with time, that William never has, and never will understand you. Not you as you as you really are How could he understand someone so different from himself? A godlike creature whose hands never tremble, who has thunder in his eyes and whose love burns bright; but also quick. Would you choose a life with him there would be other Linda’s. Other infatuations, there was bound to be, even if he would always make his way back to you.

But though Wiliiam’s hands never tremble they know nothing of steady.

“William” you say, finally untangling your hands from his, “Will I’m sorry but it’s too late. I have already moved on”.

William leans back in his chair, a deep sigh escaping him. “Yes, yes I was afraid of that. The painter boy seems to have stolen your heart quite thoroughly, hasn’t he?” You don’t answer and William digs in his pockets for cigarettes.

“I see” he mouths out round a cigarette, brows furrowed in concentration. He brings his own silver lighter to his mouth to light up and it reflects in the sun, like bolts of lightning. “Still” he adds with a voice smooth as honey, leaned back in his chair; breathing out smoke between you, “well, he might get to keep the real you but I won the painting. Quite the consultation prize”.

***

When Timothée steps back into the house, several hours later the clouds are dark and heavy with unshed rain. The world feels charged with energy, as is the way right before thunder. Louise greets him with her usual disapproval at the door before simply nodding upward, uttering the single instruction, “upstairs”.

He makes his way through the house, dark and quiet in the late hour, up the stairs and drawing room. It is a large room, with wallpapers of navy dyed silk on which several paintings in the modern style are set up. Heavy oak furniture outlines the room, decanters of whiskey and cognac and any other liquor that could be wished for on one of the tables and in the middle of the room two elegant white sofas facing each other.

On one of them you sit, a martini at the table in front of you, next to an enormous vase of casa blanca lilies. The whole room smells of them.

Not knowing what to say, where to start he walks past you, across the room, to make himself a drink. Pouring himself a generous measure of Laphroaig, which he drowns immediately, before pouring himself a new one. Dutch courage.

“William gone then?” he asks, staring down at the amber liquid in his glas, hating how casual he sounds.

“Yes, he went back to his hotel”

So the supposed love of your life was only temporarily missing then. Timothée squeezes his eyes shut, clutching his hands around the table, as if to stop himself from whimpering. He feels pathetic and weak. Opening his eyes again, the room dark around him he walks to the sofa and sits down opposite of you.

Outside he hears the first few drops of rain.

“So you two patched things up then?” There’s a forged cheeriness to his voice and he hates how disingenuous he sounds.

For a few long seconds he is met by a silence so intense it makes the hair on his arms stand up. Then it really starts to fall outside, the sky opening up with rain, the clapping sound of it as it hits the roof like thunderous applause.

“I’ve decided to let the past be the past”. You’re so calm and collected; so cool and unfaced. Yet he can sense that you are holding onto yourself with an iron grip, not letting go an inch of your own feelings or reactions. It reminds him of the way children clutch their hands around objects they know they shouldn’t possess, determined not to show what they are hiding.

He takes a sip from the whiskey, the smokey smell of it mixing with the heady scent of lilies. So this was it then. He had ruined his own chance of happiness by bringing William back to you. Timothée had not been to compete with Freddie Fairfax and his money and title, but he had always known that you had not married that man out of love, and that had made the blow on his feelings less hard than if you had simply preferred Freddie; chosen him. But with William it was a different matter. You did not need to be with him out of any necessity. If you had chosen him; then it was because you loved him.

“Well, good on you” he says, drowning the rest of his glas. “Sweet of you to forgive him, you know, after basically leaving you at the altar and humiliating you infront of everyone you know. Really, it’s big of you”.

“Yes, me and William had a lovely chat this morning” your voice is cold as ice. You’re on the sofa, spine straight and shoulders tense, taking a large sip from your martini. “He told me about a poker game the two of you had in Paris. How you paid your debts with a nude portrait of me".

Lightning strikes outside and for a brief second the whole world goes white, like the flash of a camera, before once again leaving you both in shadow.

Timothée is dumbstruck; can’t get out a single word. He wants to protest, to deny it, but there’s no use. He’s never been a liar.

“How fucking could you?” The venom in your voice feels lethal, as if he’s injected it like poison and it’s making its way through his system.

And here comes the thunder.

“I trusted you with that painting and you let him fucking have it! My ex-fiance has a naked portrait of me because of you. I knew I couldn’t trust you, I knew it! It was all too good to be true. You just wanted me because you knew you couldn’t have me, because you knew it wouldn’t last. I was just a conquest you would get a few nice paintings out of!” You’re shouting now; unbound and full of rage. Unable to stand still you’ve gotten up, pacing the room.

“You knew it wouldn’t last?” he answers with a sarcastic laugh, anger shouting through him as well now. “You made sure it you mean? You used me as some sort of escape fantasy because you felt lost and trapped! The princess and the penniless painter. Those were just roles we played. You just wanted to feel desired again and no one has ever desired you as much as i have, but as soon as Freddie fucking Fairfax came along you dropped me, and guess what? I could have lived with that. I understood it even. But you made your way back into me, gave me hope, and now you’re fucking leaving again with fucking William!" He’s on his feet as well now, standing just feet from you. "So yeah, I’m sorry I gambled away the painting, that was wrong of me but don’t make out as if I’m the reason this can’t last when you have always been the first to leave. You have always been the first to leave!”

Lightning like a flash, capturing the hurt look on your face, burning it onto his retinas forever.

“You can say that all you want but you've had one foot out the door for a while, haven’t you? You never called or wrote after you left London. And when I called you early that morning there was some girl fucking giggling in the background! I had to go back to Paris this spring to sort out some of aunt's things and I didn’t go to visit you because I knew there was gonna be someone else there!”

And here comes the thunder again, louder than before.

“Oh that’s it sweetheart, jealous are we?” his tone is low and mocking and your eyes are burning into his. They seem to sparkle in the dark and though adrenaline is shooting through his body he can’t help but he can’t help thinking; that this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you; unbound and unleashed. Despite his anger he’d like nothing more than to lean in and kiss you.

But he is angry, and so he continues in the same, low tone, “and you accuse me of having one foot out the door? Ye get jealous of some model coming in to have a painting done - who I’ve never even touched - but I have to watch your husband parade you on his arm at the opera? And be a spectator as you and fucking Wills reunite?”

“You’re the one who brought him here!”

“I know!” he shouts. Both your chests are heaving with anger, the air loaded with thunder. He takes a step back from you, runs a hand through his hair in frustration and sighs. “I know” he repeats, defeated now. Walking away from you he crosses the room and throws himself down on the sofa, his head in his hands.

Outside it keeps raining.

You sit down on your old spot on the sofa again, hands in your lap, cool and collected once more. “I have not gotten back together with William. I’m sorry I made you believe that. I’ve simply decided to forgive him and let the past be the past. That’s all”.

Timothée lifts his head up, something like hope blooming in his chest among all the despair. “Yeah? Well I’m sorry about the painting, I really am. In my defence, I didn’t know he was your William until after”.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I asked him to get rid of it”.

“Nevertheless, I am sorry” he looks you straight in the eye as he says this, wanting you to know the sincerity in his apology. “Do you want me to leave? I can go back to Paris tomorrow”.

Silence, then thunder once again, though this time further away.

“No” you say in the end, still in that cold voice, but you sound genuine when you continue, “no please stay. It is your house just as much as mine. Stay as long as you want”.

*

“Please, let me paint you again?”

Rain in July is a rare thing in Menton. Nevertheless, a storm had raged the night before. You had often heard the expression the calm before the storm, however you had always found the aftermath of storms all the more fascinating.

“No” you answer him, flipping the page in your book; Anna Karenina this morning.

Timothée is standing by the barristrade under the golden mimosa tree, trying to capture the landscape beneath him. He wears a frustrated, nearly pained look on his face as he stares at the canvas. You can hear his groans of ill contempt.

���Fucking hate landscapes”.

“That is your vanity speaking. You know you aren’t very good at it and so you hate it. Like all men you hate the things that make you look less than average". On the page in front of you Vronsky has decided to pursue Anna, despite knowing that she is a married woman.

“I’m not vain” Timothée mutters, like a petulant child. “I don’t like landscapes because they are ever-changing, just when you’ve managed to get the precise shade of the sky it has already changed into something else entirely.”

“But faces change all the time too. I’d say there’s as much variety in a face as it is in a landscape” you argue. Looking up from your book you observe Timothée. The mimosa branches hanging down, it’s golden flowers framing his head like a halo, the impression strengthened by the morning sun shining through.

The sweet, succulent scent from the tree, reinforced a thousand times with last night's heavy rain, hangs around them like an invisible cloud.

“You’re just defending landscapes because your precious Monet couldn’t have enough of them”.

“He painted people too”.

“Yeah, but he wasn't as good at is. Maybe he too was vain”.

”Monet never used black, did you know that?” You say, apropo of nothing. “And for a while Picasso only used blue. Do you think this is how they’ll define you one day? In a textbook, a picture of a portrait of me - and underneath it written in black on white: Portrait of a girl unknown. For this period in the artist's life he refused yellow. Is that how they will define you?”

“I don’t refuse yellow anymore.” He’s stopped painting now, but faces away from you, looking out at the ocean. You see his fingers twitch for a cigarette.

“Maybe not, but you don’t see blue in the same way. Neither does anyone else if Le Journal du Dimanche, I saw what they wrote about your exhibition, congratulations by the way.” His back is very still and you keep going. “What was it they wrote? ‘As revolutionary as Picasso’s blue period, making the viewer see the colour in a new light, almost as if for the first time. Never before have I’ve seen blue look so isolated and lonely’?”

You can’t explain even to yourself why you are doing it, why you are antagonising him. It is petty and it should be beneath you but like a child you try to goad a reaction out of him.

“You made me look at all colours in a different light.” It is a quiet confession, sincere in its simplicity. His hands are clasped around the brim of his chair, like he’s trying to hold himself very still. “You made me listen differently as well, I could never hear the beauty of Chopin until you played it for me. And the scent of lilies will always remind me of you. You made me feel different too, different from anybody else. Like I had been reborn into a new body, with new feelings. A new purpose. Even the air in my lungs felt different; cleaner somehow.”

You don’t know how to respond to that; feeling as though all malice has been sucked out of you like poison from a snake. Perhaps there’s nothing to say.

“Let me paint you one more time”

“No. Why don’t you just hire a model instead?”

“I don’t want another model, I just want to paint you”

“Well William’s still at the hotel if you’re planning to gamble it away after”.

Maybe all bitterness hasn’t escaped her yet. Timothée takes up his brush and goes back to his canvas. For a few long moments everything is silent.

Then, in a quiet voice he speaks. “Why didn’t you go back to William? I saw how much you loved him, when you first came to Paris. I remember. But if you’ve decided to forgive him, and if there’s still feelings there, then why not?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you to be happy”.

You throw the book on the table, close your eyes and lean back in your chair. “I’ve always figured that the world can be split into two; that people are either like birds, or like trees.”

You can hear Timothée dropping his paintbrush again and had you had your eyes open you would see his curious eyes as he watches you with open adoration.

“You see,” you continue “some people are drifters, and other settlers. Some people grow roots where they stand, trying to reach as far down into the earth as possible in order to feel secure. They are steady and they grow but they never change and they never change their outlook on things. And when they have to move, they have to be ripped out by the roots and it hurts. Others, well others are like birds. They fly from branch to branch and sure, sometimes they build nests but they never stay for long. They need air beneath their wings, they need freedom.”

“And William is a bird?”

“Yes, William is a bird. A drifter. He will always move from branch to branch. In his lifetime he will have a thousand infatuations and sure, if we were to marry I think he would always come back to me but I cannot live like that. I would be a tree, trying to force my roots through concrete”.

“And that is the reason you don’t choose him?” His voice breaks slightly at the end and you can’t help but love his fragility, his vulnerability in this moment.

“That yes” you say, opening your eyes and feeling blinded by the sun. “That and the fact that I’m not actually in love with him anymore”.

Silence again, because maybe there is nothing more to say now. Timothée picks up his brush and you take up your book and continue to read your book; ‘There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness.’

An hour or so later Timothée swears under his breath and abandons the landscape by walking out. Further away you hear the heavy front door close and you know he’s left for the village. You stand up and walk over to the painting, inspecting his work. He has painted the scenery in front of him, but despite the golden mimosa tree there is no yellow to be seen on the canvas; only various nuances of blue.

****

August, 1953

A routine settles at Villa Marguerite.

Each morning Timothée wakes before you and makes enough coffee for two. He takes his cup and his brushes out to the terrace and he tries to paint the ocean. Some time later the radio in the kitchen is turned on as Louise begins to prepare breakfast. Later still he hears your footsteps as you come out to join him on the terrace, wearing the same white dressing-gown each morning.

“There’s coffee if you want some”.

These words are his timid confession, his quiet ‘I think of you each morning as I wake’. A kind of ceasefire has settled between you. You don’t argue with each other but then again, you hardly speak.

When you come back out on the terrace, coffee cup in hand, you sit down under the golden mimosa tree and Timothée wants to sigh but he doesn’t. He wants to sigh, because you are beautiful. Because in the morning light, dressed in a white dressing-gown, you look more angel than person; the golden mimosa flowers like a halo atop your head.

Each morning he wants to capture the moment, just like you this, on his canvas. Not because of the etherealness of the setting; but the domesticity of it. You, morning hair and a cup of coffee that he has brewed for you; bare feet and nightgown.

You’re both silent as you drink. It is peaceful. In the village church bells ring. He feels no need for church. Heaven, he thinks, are mornings with you. Anything else can wait.

The rest of his days are spent painting, trying to catch the colours and moods of the ever-changing ocean and sky in front of him. By lunchtime he’s grown tired of trying, and so he walks down to the village where he strikes up a conversation with whomever is available. Nice is in high season and the streets are full of tourists. During midday however, when the sun is high in the sky, most people are hiding in whatever cool space they can find or lay their bodies on the beach. But Timothée finds he doesn’t mind the heat,

He’s made some friends during his time in Nice, foremost a fellow Parisian his age named Nathaniel, and an elderly French-speaking Italian named Marco. If Marco, who owns a bistro in the square, is available they play chess and argue about politics. Marco always wins. When Nathaniel, who works down by the docks, goes on his lunch break he comes to join them, and they eat together, whatever Marco’s bistro has to offer for the day. They share glasses of wine and discuss jazz, the two younger men unsuccessfully trying to convince Marco to arrange a jazz night at his bistro.

When the other men go back to their work Timothée strolls. Sometimes he walks down to the beach, where sometimes he runs into William. They chat, and it’s not exactly comfortable but neither is it awkward. They both get through it.

Some days he spends strolling the village, watching the pastel-coloured houses, dreaming about the inhabitants' lives. Other days he goes to the ancient little library in town, where he spends his afternoon strolling through the book shelves. He picks up books, reads a few chapters of them; though never starting at the beginning, before putting them down. Like this he goes from book to book, never being able to commit to a single story.

In the end he re-reads The Odyssey - the first page to the last. He doesn’t know what to think about it; except maybe that if The Iliad left him with a distinct feeling of doom, the feeling that sticks with him after The Odyssey is a distinct sense of homesickness. Of nostalgia.

He returns the book at the desk, asking the librarian for more books on Greek mythology. She hands him one and with the book safely pressed against his side he strolls down to the docks and there, on a bench overlooking the ocean, he reads. He reads until the heat fades and seagulls stop screeching and the sky turns pink and until all the fishing boats return to the docks.

He walks back to the village, pays for a box of pralines and a bottle of fine red wine to share with you on the terrace after dinner, and moves his feet towards home. All the time he thinks of Helen of Troy, of Persephone, of Aphrodite.

You eat dinner together and talk. You discuss The Odyssey at length. Debate about what is worse, to feel homesickness to a place you cannot return, or doom for the future. You tell him of a new play you’ve gotten your hands on, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. You talk about the play in a way that has him enamored. He asks to borrow it from you and you lend it to him.

You share the wine and the pralines as the sky grows darker and the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks louder. You drink and eat and talk until your eyelids grow heavy and it’s time for bed and Timothée thinks to himself that even if you are not his to kiss good night he can still have this. He counts it as a blessing.

Your bedrooms are located right next to each other and as he lay in bed reading your copy of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof in the dim night lamp light he can’t help but feel close to you, knowing that just on the other side of the room you lay sleeping. Like in all your books the pages are full of underlined lines scribbles, the corners of the pages dog eared and the spine cracked.

He turns the page and sees that you have underlined a sentence. ‘I’m not living with you, we occupy the same cage’.

He continues reading until the sun starts to rise outside, then he goes back in the story and underlines a sentence of his own. ‘One thing I don’t have is the charm of the defeated’.

*

Notes:

The last part will up up sunday/monday

also, please, if you've managed to get through this beast of a story please leave some feedback. I've been working on this for a very long time and I'd love to hear your thoughts.

So this was like… a year in the making? Honestly never thought it would be this difficult but here we are. Also, I don’t hate Picasso as much as it seems I do. Also, is the quote “There can be no peace for us, only misery, and the greatest happiness” in the book? Or is it just in the Joe Wright movie? My ex kept my copy of Anna Karenina and I can’t remember

Inspirations: Jenny Slate’s tweet about wanting someone to love her on purpose, my own quite frankly disastrous relationships, Johnny Cash saying paradise is “this morning, with her, having coffee”, Anna Karenina (I will defend the Joe Wright adaptation until death even though I know it’s no good, alright?), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (OBSESSED with https://www.ntathome.com/packages/cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof/videos/cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof-full-play version, highly recommend renting it), Greek mythology, The Blue Train adaptation by ITV Poirot (season 10 episode 1, watch it, every episode is individually based on one of her books so no need to see it chronologically) that has been playing on repeat and also the fact that for the last month I’ve been thinking of nothing else than traveling to Italy, France and Greece again.

[restaurantescapes]

The Best Restaurant in Europe 2019, sponsored by S.Pellegrino & Acqua Panna

Mauro Colagreco’s product-driven take on Mediterranean cuisine, served to unrivalled views of the French Riviera, takes home the main accolade in 2019, becoming World's 50 Best Restaurants 2019, sponsored by S.Pellegrino & Acqua Panna. The chef sources much of his produce from the restaurant's three-tier gardens, where he also takes his young son Valentin for walks in the morning. Valentin likes to pick the fresh peas and eat them raw: Colagreco describes their flavour as "an explosion in the mouth". This is how he got the idea for his dish Green – although the menu changes every day to make use of the best daily produce, this simple but exceptional pea and kiwi dish is an outstanding example of the passionate cuisine that won the hearts of the gastronomic community across the world.

What makes it special: Unrivalled views of the French Riviera, three levels of cascading vegetable gardens churning out the sweetest produce and a team of outrageously talented cooks and front-of-house staff combine to make Mirazur the ultimate restaurant experience. Mauro Colagreco’s unique cuisine is inspired by the sea, the mountains and the restaurant’s own gardens, including Menton’s emblematic citrus fruits.

In the trophy cabinet: It’s fair to say that 2019 is Mauro Colagreco’s year. Steadily ascending The World’s 50 Best Restaurants list since its debut at No.35 in 2009, Mirazur celebrates 10 years in the ranking by rising to No.1. The accolade coincides with the restaurant finally achieving the coveted three Michelin stars, as well as the beginning of a three-year renovation project involving a new dining room, extensions to the vegetable gardens and a more immersive dining experience.

About the food: Highlights from Mirazur’s tasting menu include salt-crusted beetroot from the garden with caviar cream, eggs from the chicken coop (when touring the gardens, keep an eye out for prize hen, Tina Turner) with smoked eel and hazelnuts and a brioche of potatoes with melting egg and white truffle. The restaurant’s perfect-for-sharing bread is infused with ginger and served with a Pablo Neruda poem.

About the chef: Argentina-born Colagreco moved to France in his 20s, working with celebrated chef Bernard Loiseau until his death in 2003. He later worked in Paris with Alain Passard at Arpège and Alain Ducasse at Hotel Plaza Athénée before settling in Menton, on the Italian-French border, where he opened Mirazur in 2006.

Other ventures: Aside from his ever-popular Grand Coeur restaurant in Paris and branches of meat-focused Carne in Argentina, Colagreco has recently opened Grill 58 in Macao and Florie’s in Palm Beach, USA, with more restaurants set for Bangkok and Beijing.

Contact

30 Avenue Aristide Briand, 06500 Menton

+33 4 92 41 86 86

Visit Mirazur's Website

Visit Mirazur on Facebook

Visit Mirazur on Instagram

Visit Mirazur on Twitter

[culinarytalents]

The Best Restaurant in Europe 2019, sponsored by S.Pellegrino & Acqua Panna

Mauro Colagreco’s product-driven take on Mediterranean cuisine, served to unrivalled views of the French Riviera, takes home the main accolade in 2019, becoming World’s 50 Best Restaurants 2019, sponsored by S.Pellegrino & Acqua Panna. The chef sources much of his produce from the restaurant’s three-tier gardens, where he also takes his young son Valentin for walks in the morning. Valentin likes to pick the fresh peas and eat them raw: Colagreco describes their flavour as “an explosion in the mouth”. This is how he got the idea for his dish Green – although the menu changes every day to make use of the best daily produce, this simple but exceptional pea and kiwi dish is an outstanding example of the passionate cuisine that won the hearts of the gastronomic community across the world.

What makes it special: Unrivalled views of the French Riviera, three levels of cascading vegetable gardens churning out the sweetest produce and a team of outrageously talented cooks and front-of-house staff combine to make Mirazur the ultimate restaurant experience. Mauro Colagreco’s unique cuisine is inspired by the sea, the mountains and the restaurant’s own gardens, including Menton’s emblematic citrus fruits.

In the trophy cabinet: It’s fair to say that 2019 is Mauro Colagreco’s year. Steadily ascending The World’s 50 Best Restaurants list since its debut at No.35 in 2009, Mirazur celebrates 10 years in the ranking by rising to No.1. The accolade coincides with the restaurant finally achieving the coveted three Michelin stars, as well as the beginning of a three-year renovation project involving a new dining room, extensions to the vegetable gardens and a more immersive dining experience.

About the food: Highlights from Mirazur’s tasting menu include salt-crusted beetroot from the garden with caviar cream, eggs from the chicken coop (when touring the gardens, keep an eye out for prize hen, Tina Turner) with smoked eel and hazelnuts and a brioche of potatoes with melting egg and white truffle. The restaurant’s perfect-for-sharing bread is infused with ginger and served with a Pablo Neruda poem.

About the chef: Argentina-born Colagreco moved to France in his 20s, working with celebrated chef Bernard Loiseau until his death in 2003. He later worked in Paris with Alain Passard at Arpège and Alain Ducasse at Hotel Plaza Athénée before settling in Menton, on the Italian-French border, where he opened Mirazur in 2006.

Other ventures: Aside from his ever-popular Grand Coeur restaurant in Paris and branches of meat-focused Carne in Argentina, Colagreco has recently opened Grill 58 in Macao and Florie’s in Palm Beach, USA, with more restaurants set for Bangkok and Beijing.

Contact

30 Avenue Aristide Briand, 06500 Menton

+33 4 92 41 86 86

Visit Mirazur’s Website

Visit Mirazur on Facebook

Visit Mirazur on Instagram

Visit Mirazur on Twitter

[aspiestvmusings]

FFH vs MCU: PARALLELS

PARALLELS & CALLBACKS & OTHER LITTLE THINGS: FFH & MCU: 

WARNING...SUPER LONG TEXT POST! THAT INCLUDES JUST A TINY AMOUNT OF THE MANY MANY PARALLELS, CALLBACKS... etc 

Peter’s secret superhero identity (Spider-Man) revealed (not by him/his choice) in the end of FFH &  Tony’s secret superhero identity (Iron Man) revealed by him/by his choice in the end of IM1

Peter’s/The movies last words/line in FFH being “What the F*--” as the screen goes to black (as he sees the “news” on screen) & Aunt May’s/The movies last words in HC being “What the FU--” as the screen goes to black (when she sees Peter in his Spidey costume). 

The “BLIP” video edit “in memoriam” broadcast ending with comment /by Betty, i think) that it’s time to move on...  seems to hint at Endgame lines “Some people move on.../You gotta move on...” by Steve 

AC/DC’s “Back in Black” - the song/band that plays during some iconic Tony/Iron Man moments in past film(s) & the song that plays during the Happy/Peter airplane above the tulip field scene as Peter is about to make himself a new suit. Even though Peter thinks it’s Led Zeppelin #ILoveLedZeppelin as he hears the song starting ;) 

Tony’s glasses: “To/For the next/new Tony Stark” - Tony’s special glasses now belong to Peter. And they have a feature that had previously not been revealed - they include an AI named E.D.I.T.H (Even Dead Im The Hero”, cause Tony loved his acronyms) 

Tony & acronyms: from J.A.R.V.I.S. to B.A.R.F. to E.D.I.T.H. in “Far From Home” 

Tony wanting to build a “suit of armour” around the world/Earth, but being denied in past Avengers films & then literally building/creating a suit of armour around the people he cares about - Rhodey’s suit, Pepper’s suit, Peter’s suit + re-making CA’s shield by/in Endgame. And as revealed in FFH he also did build a suit of armour around the planet - he has tech & satellites that is weaponized & ready to protect the planet from outside (or inside) threats. He wanted to be prepared for (another) Thanos-level threat & he wanted to leave behind a defence system... 

Peter using Stark tech to build a new suit in FFH (and Happy watching him & seeing so much Tony in him - in how he uses the tech and all that...) and Tony building his Iron Man suit in IM1 - the holographic tech used - visual parallels PS. Tom Holland has said that he re-watched RDJ’s scene rom first IM in prep for filming his scene & tried to mimic the movements & all...the parallels & similarity are on purpose

Peter/Happy in FFH  vs Tony/Happy in MCU - friendship and being supportive, while providing transportation & backup to the superhero, also...

Peter doubting in himself & in his leader abilities (bearing the heavy burden of being the Earth’s mightiest hero & protector) in FFH...the same way Tony struggled with becoming/being the Earth’s protector 

Peter having PTSD/anxiety (after the events of the BLIP/SNAPS & his mentor’s, Tony's death) & being pressured by the public... and not being able to take the pressure... escaping the “press conference” at aunt May’s charity event     in FFH & Tony having PTSD/anxiety (after the events on NY battle & the vision of the future & finding out that there are great threats lurking in the universe..) and being pressured by the public...and not being able to take the pressure... escaping the diner/table in IM3, when kids come to him...the hero..for  an autograph. 

Peter making mistakes  on the way.. when learning to be the superhero the world needs (trusting Mysterio, his new friend & giving over the powerful tech to him) in FFH & Tony making mistakes on the way in all the MCU films.  

Peter being betrayed by someone he trusted (his new “friend” Quentin Beck aka Mysterio) in FFH & Tony being betrayed by his old friend & business partner, Obadiah Stane in IM1. 

Peter not answering phone calls from important people - sending “Fury” to voicemail (ghosting Nick Fury) in FFH & Tony not liking answering the phone/talking to important people on the phone - putting them on hold (cause he just likes to put people on the hold) - example: Coulson in A1

The murals & street art in Europe as Peter walks by a wall art with flowers & candles in front of it dedicated to Iron Man/Tony Stark in FFH & the shadows of the six people who died mimicking  “wall art” in Iron Man 3 being a visual parallel to that scene with candles (and flowers) in front of it..to remember those who are gone...but not forgotten.

Peter using the Tower Bridge sign as shield & that tech (DIY project made of car engine & drone bits...) as the hammer on the “Bridge fight scene” in FFH as a visual parallel to Steve holding his shield & Thor’s hammer during the final battle in Endgame.

All three MCU main heroes - Tony (his arc reactor), Thor (his hammer) & Steve (his shield) were represented & could be visually seen during that bridge scene... as Peter prepares to fight the bad guy...

Peter going through many “dimensions”  during the Berlin    “safe house” illusion scene in FFH being visually similar to Dr. Strange & other MCU films visuals of other dimensions/universes - the mirror dimension, the many other dimensions seen... Infinite illusions scene.... 

Peter not having his Spidey-sense (Peter tingle) - one of his superhero abilities not working in FFH... for a while (because of his emotional state - grieving his mentor) & Bruce not having access to Hulk  - his ability to turn into Hulk/go green not working during Avengers 3 (because of his emotional state - after the events of past films)

Peter ending up in Netherlands/Holland (PS. while many people use Holland to talk about all of Netherlands, Holland actually refers to certain parts...two provinces that together “form” & are called Holland)... because Peter/Spiderman is portrayed by Tom Holland. #funfacts

Percentages - MJ was only 67/76% certain that Peter is Spider-Man in FFH & Tony saying Pepper should give herself 12% of the credit for the Stark Tower & Pepper saying she was having 12% of a moment” in A1. 

Tony saying “You reached the Live Model Decoy of Tony Stark” when agent Coulson gets through to him on the phone in A1 & Nick Fury basically using “live model decoys” for himself & Maria Hill in FFH. 

Mysterio and his illusions - making others see things that aren’t: Peter seeing dying Quentin Beck on the ground at the Tower Bridge, when the real Quentin is actually standing next to him, ready to shoot him, but peter sensing it & stopping him in FFH & Loki & his illusions - making others see things in a twisted way: agent Coulson seeing Loki in front of him, when he approaches with the new blaster weapon, when Loki is actually behind him & he doesn’t see the attack coming in A1. 

“Appearances can be deceiving” was meant to hint at both Mysterio not being who he is & also Fury & Hill being not who they seem... That they’re actually skrulls (working for Fury)

Happy’s surfboard mention/clue to Fury... when he calls him to warn about Mysterio’s deception is a reference to the skrull first looks in Captain Marvel... when they arrive. They first take the form of a group of surfers...cause these are the first people they see on the beach... 

The spiders crawling on Zombie IM in the illusion created by Mysterio in that FFH scene are according to someone who paid better attention & knows spider species better than me... apparently Black Widow spiders... IF so then that is a visual reference to BOTH characters who sacrificed themselves...all in one scene.

ETA: Mysterio in FFH was not who he seemed to be to the public & he wasn’t a man...but a Team... kinda... & The Mandarin in IM3 was not who he seemed to be to the public & he wasn’t a man...but a Team...kinda. Quentin Beck pretended to be Mysterio (a caped superhero) in FFH ... using movie magic & mo-cap suits  and visual tricks & Trevor Slattery pretended to be The Mandarin in IM3.. he was a paid actor, playing the role of the bad guy, The Mandarin. 

ETA: Peter &  MJ/Michelle in FFH vs Tony & Pepper in MCU films...there are both story/plot & visual parallels. Both ladies are taller (basically) than their partner (both Tony & Peter are...kinda...tiny/short). And both knew the man before the hero in the suit. And both were (at least at first)not a fan of the superhero “flying” and all (both Pepper & MJ’s reaction to Tony & Peter taking them to “fly” was pretty much the same...they were not fans of it #NeverDoThatAgain  #omgICantTakeThisAnymore 

ETA: all the drones (dummy suits built by Ivan) in Iron Man 2 VS all the drones used to create the illusions in FFH

Fire “monster” (Elemental: Fire) being one of the “bad guys” in FFH (Spidey fighting fire) & Fire “monster” (the “Extremis”  that turns the host bodies into hot fire/fire hot) being one of the “bad guys tools” in IM3 (Tony fighting Extremis)

Tony “creating” his ..and Peter’s enemies in many/almost all Iron Man/MCU films & FFH: Tony's dad vs Vanko’s das and Tony vs Vanko in IM2, Tony vs Killian & Maya in IM3, Tony/Avengers vs ULTRON in A2 (Wanda + Pietro vs Tony/Avengers in A2), Tony vs Charlie Spencer’s mom in CA. CW) The Vulture vs Peter in SM1: HC...and now Mysterio/Beck vs “new Tony Stark” aka Peter in FFH. 

Peter being all alone (with just one ally/friend - Happy)...and creating a suit for himself...from scratch (using tech) on the plane in Holland in FFH & Tony being all alone (with just one ally/friend)...and creating a suit for himself...from scratch... from a box of scraps...in the cave in IM1.

Not to mention all the little details, callback, parallels & similarities..connected to the (original) comics, to past/other Spider-Man films - JJJ as the “news” man, the multi-verse menton, every single Spidey costume from MCU making their appearance again, multiple Spideys all in one scene, LMD (Live Model Decoys)...etc etc...

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[hundredpocketed]

volunteering on a gorgeous gorgeous organic farm on the coast at the French-Italian border (french town called menton) and its ridiculously idyllic ... watering plants and weeding and packing crates of figs every evening for a market and for a double michelin star restaurant nearby! the sea is so so blue, the town is lovely, the lady who owns the farm is so sweet and kind (she actually says ooh la la!!!) but because its on the border theres a huge police and army presence to prevent immigration there are armed police and the army everywhere and helicopters and the other day we were in a neighbours swimming pool and saw a group of people running by with backpacks on. later that evening i heard police sirens near the house i wondered if they had been found i desperately hope not. today on the train from menton to monaco ciara and i were asked for ID by armed police. we had none. the boy behind us (around our age i think) had none either but he was made get off the train and we were allowed to stay on. the only people removed from the train were black. there were maybe 6 or 7 people removed i think its sickening! this beautiful place so full of wealthy tourists and mountains and sandy beaches ... and desperate people are being denied their chance for safety. and the police and army greet me and ciara and smile and tell us to have a nice day while ruining peoples lives i just dont understand how they live with themselves

[dingleyhotel]

Party venue trends 2021: Make your party memorable and fun!

Partying has become a part of people's lifestyles. They seem to throw parties for any good occasion. To celebrate will all the loved ones, family, and friends. Parties have been also thrown for stupid reasons like breakups to make it easy for the person to get over it. Whether it be graduation, wedding, engagement, business success, deal cracks, an exceptional achievement, exceptional results of children, prom, farewell, awards, birthdays, anniversaries, get together, baby shower, baby's gender reveal, proposals, house warming, homecoming and what not. People these days just need a reason to throw parties. Just like parties the party venues MENTONE have also gone through a drastic change.

People are exploring various venues to make the party, unlike any others. If you're throwing a party and looking for a venue that is different and trending then this blog about party venues CHELTENHAM is going to be your savior. Here are some of the trending and unusual party venues you can choose from.

●Lakeside

This venue is perfect for every reason. Serene, near to nature, open-air, greenery, water all collaborating to make a great ambiance. You can have the personalization of food, decoration, and drinks based on the reason of throwing the part to make it more attractive.

●Beaches

This is a perfect venue for beach lovers. Imagine spending the time with loved ones, family, and friends by the ocean waves, the sand and sunset, soft music, and cold breeze. It could be an unforgettable experience. People have also opted for resorts by the beach as a perfect venue for their marriage. After the sunset, you can also plan for a campfire, sing songs, play truth and dare, or just dance to soft music around the fire.

●Treehouse

It is one of the most unusual yet great venues for planning parties on the tree. It is a great idea for planning birthday parties for all kids. They can have a good time and a different experience. You can also arrange for additional entertainment like movie setups and games, to make it more fun.

●Fort or palace

This is one of the exceptional and sleek places to throw an important party. Wedding proposals look ravishing in these. You can destination weddings with different events and pre-parties and post parties. It makes the event not just memorable for you but also for the guest. The gardens of these places are also working, having an event for. They have the background of a structure of the fort or palace.

●Hotel

Very common yet unusual party venue, as one can look out for different hotels having unique locations that are worth having a party at. The frying restaurants, open-air or rooftop restaurants, and more. The party halls of some hotels are also very attractive and aesthetic.

Completion line,

Whatever the reason for throwing a party, maybe the venue also has great importance for making that party a sparkling success so look out for unusual and unique Party Venues CHELTENHAM next time when you are throwing a party.

Source URL: What are the unusual party venues for throwing a ravishing party?

[patandkeith]

Melbourne Wednesday 21st Feb

Drove to Melbourne. Stopped at Korumburra for coffee, then up the coast road to Mentone, a suburb just outside of Melbourne to catch up with Sue and Keith. Not seen them for 52 years! Lots of history to catch up with. Sue and Peter were great hosts. A beautiful house near the beach. All went out for dinner in a restaurant overlooking the sea/river just down the coast from Mentone. Lots of memories of Bourne End and childhood.

[samuelmmarcus]

Beach House Tour

  Built and designed by Marnie Oursler of Marnie Custom Homes (recently featured here), this spectacular oceanfront beach house is just steps from the Atlantic ocean, in Fenwick Island, DE which served as the muse for the home’s design and aesthetic. Crisp whites, beachy blues, and faded driftwood serve as the palette for this light and airy home. Inside creativity is abundant with custom bunk bed, built-ins, remote controlled sky lights in the master bedroom and bath, custom tile work and even a separate 50’s retro kitchenette for house guests. This home was designed with the view in mind featuring five balconies and a spiral staircase leading to a rooftop deck with gorgeous views of the Atlantic. No detail has been overlooked for this dream beach home with ocean views from every angle.

Pin your favorite interiors and exteriors photos of this inspiring beach house tour!

  Beach House Tour

Featuring blue shingle siding and white trim, this beach house takes your breath away the moment you see it. Isn’t it stunning?!

Siding

Siding is NuCedar Siding in “Bracing Blue”.

Front Door

The door paint color is similar to “Behr Sunken Pool”.

Home-Sweet-Home

Oh, wow… Just imagine opening the front door of your home and be embraced by this view! (Take a look at the ocean for a few second and take a few deep breaths…).

Decor

Sofa: Four Seasons Slipcover Sofa from Creative Concepts – similar here.

Swivel Chair: Comfort Design Maco Power Swivel Glider from Creative Concepts. Custom fabric – Others: here, here, here & here.

Beautiful Coffee Tables: here, here, here, here & here.

Ceiling Fan: Fanimation Islander Pewter w/ Natural Palm Blades.

Rug: 8×10 Jaipur collection area rug.

Dining Room

Ocean views surround this coastal dining room.

Table: Canadel Champlain 60” Round Table from Creative Concepts – Others: here, here, here, here & here.

Slipcover dining chairs from Creative Concepts – Others on Sale: here, here, here & here.

Chandelier: Malibu 24 w/ Mother of Pearl from Ro Sham Beaux – Other Beaded Chandeliers: here, here, here, here & here.

Paint Color

The shiplap is painted in “Sherwin Williams Pearly White”.

Kitchen

This kitchen features a great layout. A butler’s pantry is located on the far left and open shelves beautifully accentuates the slab backsplash on the far right.

Kitchen Cabinets: Décor Cabinets Maple painted Benjamin Moore Decorator’s White.

Stools: 24” Amisco Ronny barstool – Others: here, here, here & here.

Anchor: Custom by @tobacco_barn_craftsman.

Appliances: Sub Zero & Wolf.

Kitchen Island Paint Color

Blue Kitchen Island Paint Color: “Santorini Blue 1634 by Benjamin Moore” – I love this color on islands!

All hardwood: Castle Combe West End, Color: Beckton by US Floors – similar here & here.

Island Countertop

Island countertop & open shelves are Butcher Block Reclaimed Chestnut from @grothouseinc.

Mixer: Kitchenaid mixer with KitchenAid Watercolour Ceramic Bowl.

Lighting

Pendants: Menton Brushed Nickel Clear Glass by Matteo Lighting. Other Pendants on Sale: here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Kitchen Sink

Sink: Apron Farm Sink from Kohler.

Faucet

Kitchen faucet is by Kohler.

Cabinet Harware

Hardware: Grafton Pull in polished chrome from Restoration Hardware – Other Recommended Hardware: Pulls, Cup Pulls, Knobs & Appliance Pulls.

Stone

The perimeter countertop and backsplash is “Sea Pearl Quartzite”.

Butler’s Pantry

This practical butler’s pantry/bar is located just off the kitchen.

Cabinet Paint Color

Cabinet is painted in “Benjamin Moore Decorator’s White“.

Coffee-Time

This Miele built-in coffee machine is one of my favorites!

Trim Paint Color

All Trim: Benjamin Moore Decorator’s White in High Gloss.

Shiplap Paint Color

All shiplap is painted in “Pearly White SW 7009 by Sherwin Williams”.

Chandelier

Chandelier: Ro Sham Beaux Lily 18” light with Aquamarine chip quartz beads – Other Stairway Chandeliers: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Built-in Gate

This built-in safety gate was custom-designed by the builder and it mimics the exterior railing.

Shiplap Barn Door

A custom sliding shiplap barn door conceals the washer and dryer.

Powder Room

This powder rooms feels beachy and fresh. You can make any smaller bathroom look bigger if you apply the tile from floor-to-ceiling.

Tile: Fan shaped Aquamarine #1383 with Capri #1384 by Quemere Designs Tile – Other Fun Tiles: here, here, here, here & here.

Sink: Kohler Memoirs Pedestal Sink.

Toilet: Kohler.

Mirror: Pottery Barn – Others: here, here & here.

Light: Elk Lighting.

Guest Bedroom Paint Color

Paint Color: “Evening Shadow SW 7662 by Sherwin Williams”.

Bedding: Restoration Hardware – similar here & here.

Throw Blanket: Kaley Throw (slate) by Alcott Hill from Birch Lane.

Bed: Remington bed from Wesley Allen (Custom Color).

Side Table: Bungalow 5 Dakota 1 Drawer Side Table (white).

Side Chair: CR Laine – Other Nice Chairs: here, here, here & here.

Ceiling Fan: Fanimation Islander Pewter w/ Natural Palm Blades.

Painting above bed: Alison Junda @a.junda_paintings.

Bathroom

Paint Color: “Sherwin Williams Evening Shadow”.

Vanity: Custom from Yorktowne – similar here, here, here & here.

Counters: Q Quartz Calacutta Verona

Lighting: Ashbury Double Sconce – Polished Chrome from Restoration Hardware.

Shower Tile: Mosaic: Lunada Bay Tile – Tommy Bahama Collection – Cocos Keeling Color – similar here.

White: 3×6 Bright White Ice Subway Tile.

Floors: 8” x 36” Panaria Ceramica Wood Trend White Oak with Warm Gray Grout – similar here & here.

Distressed Shiplap Bedroom

The distressed shiplap accent wall was designed by the builder/designer. The ceiling paint color is “Open Air SW 6491 by Sherwin Williams”.

Wall color: “SW Pearly White”.

Side Table: Bungalow 5 – Others: here, here, here, here, here, here & here.

Bed: Creative Concepts.

Throw: here – similar.

Guest Bathroom

Wall paint color is “Pearly White by Sherwin Williams” – which is a great neutral color!

Floors: 8” x 36” Panaria Ceramica Wood Trend White Oak with Warm Gray Grout – similar here & here.

Vanity: Custom from Yorktowne Cabinetry – similar here, here, here & here.

Counters: Q Quartz Calacutta Verona.

Shower Floor/Wall Tile: Luanda Bay Agate Pisa with Pearl Finish 1” x 4” Brick Mosaic with Avalanche Grout – similar here, here, here & here.

White Shower Wall: 3×6 Bright White Ice Subway Tile.

Lighting: Ashbury Double Sconce – Polished Chrome from Restoration Hardware.

Mirror: Pottery Barn.

Guest Bathroom

This guest bathroom features a fun geometric floor tile and white walls. Paint color is “Pure White SW 7005 Sherwin Williams”.

Counters: Q Quartz Calacutta Verona.

Vanity: custom by Yorktowne. Similar here, here, here & here.

Mirror: Pottery Barn.

Tiling

Tile floor: Lili Hexagon Tile with custom colors – similar here & here.

Shower walls: 3×6 Bright White Ice Subway Tile.

Shower Niche: Lunada Bay Agate Umbria withPearl finish 1” x 1” Mosaic tile – similar here.

Neutral Master Bedroom Paint Color

Walls are “Drift of Mist SW 9166 Sherwin-Williams”.

Doors open to a private balcony with dreamy ocean views!

Chest: Balboa Island Raffia Host Chest.

Bed & Bedding

Bed: Barclay Butera – also available here.

Side Tables: Bungalow 5 Frances 2 drawer side table – Other Nightstands on Sale: here, here, here & here.

Comforter: Eastern Accents – complete set – just Duvet Cover.

Shams: Eastern Accents Euro Shams – Other Beautiful Bedding: here, here, here, here & here.

Lumbar Pillows: Blue/Green Scallop Design Hand-painted.

Decorative Pillow: Sumba Hand Painted Coral.

Master Bathroom

The master bathroom feels luxurious and welcoming at the same time. Wall color is “Drift of Mist by Sherwin Williams”.

Bath: Archer Whirlpool Bath by Kohler.

Wall Tile

Wall Tile: Ming Green 3” x 6” Polished Marble Tile.

Floor Tile

Floor Tile: APE Project White 8” x 45” staggerd layout – similar here & here.

Accent Tile (Niche): Luanda Bay Agate Luccca Pearl Finish 1”x1” Mosaic.

Countertop & Mirrors

Counters: Q Quartz Calacutta Verona.

Mirrors: here.

Sinks: Kohler.

Sconces: Ravelle Sconces Polished Nickel from Restoration Hardware.

Hardware: Kara Pull 6 15/16” Polished Chrome & Top Knobs Knobs.

  Bunk Room

The bunk room features custom bunk beds with storage staircase, custom railing and shiplap.

Wall color: Drift of Mist 9166 by SW.

Bunk Beds: Custom made by Marnie Oursler.

Quilt: Nautica Briars Navy Quilt.

Whale Sheets: Pauls Whale Sheet from Birch Lane.

Anchor Pillow: Williford Anchor Cotton Throw Pillow by Breakwater Bay.

Fan: Minka-Aire Vintage Gyro 42” Brushed Nickel.

Bathroom

The bunk room bathroom features a fun blue and white color scheme. Walls are “Sherwin Williams Pure White SW 7005”.

Sink: Brockway Utility Sink K-3200 by Kohler (custom color).

Tile: Popham Hex Star Tile – Others: here.

Lighting: ELK LightingEnglish Pub Light 2 Light in Satin Nickel.

Kitchenette

This kitchenette is located on the lower level of the house and it’s perfect for guests, as a rental or to prepare some quick snacks after a day at the beach.

Pendant Light over sink: Hudson Valley Massena Light in white & polished nickel.

Cabinet Paint Color

Kitchen cabinets are Shaker-style, painted in Decorator’s White by Benjamin Moore.

Counter: Q Quartz – Calacutta Verona.

Hardware: Charlotte Pull 3 ¾” Cup Pull by Top Knobs & Bergen Knob 1 ¼” Knob by Top Knobs.

Appliances

Appliances are Northstar.

Backsplash: 3×6 Bright White Ice Subway Tile.

Pet Shower

This open pet shower is perfect for large dogs!

Shower Wall & surrounding floor: Charm Bianco 6” x 36” from Charm by Isla – similar here.

Shower Floor Tile: BG14 Spindrift Azure Glass Pebble – Others: here, here & here.

Outdoor Shower

An “outdoor shower” is always welcoming when you live by the beach. This one is located in a covered area and I think it’s a great idea!

Backyard

Life is better when the ocean is your backyard, right?!

Railing

Decorative Panels & Railings: Intex Millwork.

Windows

Windows: Andersen Windows.

Beach House Goals

How gorgeous is this home?! I am so honored to be sharing Marnie’s beautiful work with you guys!

Get Inspired

This beach house is perfect for this narrow lot.

Coastal Life

I honestly hope you guys had as much fun as I had with this beach house tour!

  Many thanks to the builder & designer for sharing the details above!

Builder: Marnie Custom Homes (Instagram)

Photography: Dana Hoff Photography.

  Click on items to shop:

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Thank you for shopping through Home Bunch. I would be happy to assist you if you have any questions or are looking for something in particular. Feel free to contact me and always make sure to check dimensions before ordering. Happy shopping!

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Serena & Lily: Amazing Rug Sale!

  Wayfair: Up to 70% OFF on Furniture and Decor!!!

  Joss & Main: Up to 70% off “Don’t Think Twice Sale”!

  Pottery Barn: 40% OFF plus free shipping. Use code: FREESHIP.

  One Kings Lane: Outdoor Sale Up to 60% Off.

  West Elm: Up to 40% Off on Sofas, Sectionals & Chairs!

  Anthropologie: New Fall Arrivals!

  Nordstrom: Sale – Incredible Prices!!!

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2019 New Year Home Tour.

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Tom Brady and Gisele Bundchen’s Home – Full House Tour.

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Craftsman Beach House.

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Beautiful Homes of Instagram: Fixer Upper.Beach House Interior Design Ideas.

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Follow me on Instagram: @HomeBunch

You can follow my pins here: Pinterest/HomeBunch

See more Inspiring Interior Design Ideas in my Archives.

“Dear God,

If I am wrong, right me. If I am lost, guide me. If I start to give-up, keep me going.

Lead me in Light and Love”.

Have a wonderful day, my friends and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

with Love,

Luciane from HomeBunch.com

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[theblondegoesabroad]

My European Bucket List - draft 1

If anyone is curious - here is the start of my bucket list for a few countries that I am lusting over at the moment. It shall definitely be added to! Let me know if you have any other ideas!

Belgium

1.       Go to visit the Musée de la pierre in Sprimont

2.       See the famous Atomium in Brussels

3.       Laugh at the Manneken Pis in Brussels

4.       Walk the comic strip Route in Brussels

5.       Enjoy the Royal Greenhouses of Laeken (near brussels)

6.       Explore the fairytale castle of Gravensteen in Ghent

7.       Roam around the historic center of Bruges

8.       Go climbing/bouldering with Benoit

9.       Taste the authentic Belgium waffles

10.   Taste the delicious Belgium Chocolate

11.   Taste Paul’s pizzas

12.   Drink a beer at one of the oldest monk brewed breweries in Europe – Val Dieu. (Possibly try all the Val Dieu beers at Val Dieu)

13.   Notre-Dame Cathedral in Tournai

14.   Eat a salade de chreve chaud

15.   Check out the Reading Between the Lines artwork in Borgloon

16.   Walk around the carpet of bluebells at the Blue Forest – The Hallerbos

17.   Relax in a hammock at Stavelot

18.   Visit the beautiful chateau de l'amblève

19.   Be confident biking everywhere

20.   Make shampoo with the famous Karine

21.   Take a photo of the diver diving into the liege river

France

22.   Go bouldering at Fontainebleau (or watch bouldering at Fontainebleau)

23.   Revisit my host families

24.   Have a beer (probably a despesrados) at the edge of the world in Angers

25.   Wander around Carcassonne Medieval City 

26.   Eat fondue in a fancy French restaurant preferable near the alps

27.   Get a sunrise photo over the lavender fields in Provance

28.   Have an espresso and croissant on the cobble stone streets of Paris

29.   Ski in the French alps

30.   Check out Notre Dame – Paris

31.   Get lost in the Louvre Paris

32.   Visit the Palace of Versailles and its gardens

33.   Explore the banks of the river Seine Paris

34.   Take a photo of the arc de Triomphe

35.   Climb the Eiffel tower

36.   See Sacré-Cœur Basilica, Paris and explore the painters quarter beside it

37.   Get some photos of rue crémieux in Paris

38.   Visit Mont Saint-Michel 

39.   Explore the Loire Valley

40.   Explore the colorful streets of Menton

41.   Visit the village of Rocamadour and the monkey forest

42.   See the Viaduc de Millau

43.   Ponder the construction of the Pont du Gard

Italy

44.   Take a gondola ride through the canals of Venice

45.   Get hit on by an old Italian man

46.   See the biggest cathedral in the world in Milan

47.   Visit the colosseum in Rome

48.   Throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain in Rome (and hopefully then return to Rome)

49.   Look through the Aventine Keyhole in Rome

50.   Go to Naples – eat pizza

51.   Go visit the tower of Pisa and eat pizza

52.   Eat a Gelato shaped like a flower

53.   Take a selfie with the Duomo in Milan

54.   See Juliet’s house in Verona

55.   Visit Portonovo beach

56.   Explore the old town of Siena and get pasta

57.   Marvel at Siena’s cathedral

58.   Have a spritz anywhere in north-eastern Italy

Scotland

59.   Wander around Edinburgh’s old town 

60.   Visit the Edinburgh Castle

61.   Have some fun at Camera Obscura and World of Illusions in Edinburgh

62.   Search for Nessie at the Loch Ness lake

63.   Explore the Isle of Skye

64.   Visit the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

65.   Take a selfie with a fuzzy highland cow

66.   Discover Fingal’s Cave at the Isle of Staffa

67.   Take a train photo of the Glenfinnan Viaduct aka the Harry Potter bridge

68.   Drink a single malt at a distillery

69.   Dance in the rain and enjoy it

70.   Stare out over the cliffs of Scotland and dream of Uthred

Spain

71.   Eat tapas in Spain

72.   Visit the sagrada Familia

73.   Get lost in the bustling la rambla in Barcelona

74.   Check out the incredible mosaic work in Barcelona

75.   Visit the Dali Museum

76.   Enjoy the architecture of the gothic quarter in Barcelona

77.   Have a sangria on the beach in Valenica

78.   Have as much sangria as possible

79.   Visit a local restaurant and ask the chef to make you his favourite

80.   Enjoy a paella on the beach in Valenica

81.   Listen to music played by local musicians on Sunday at the Retiro Park in Madrid

82.   Check out the biggest flea market – El Rastro – on Sunday in Madrid

83.   Enjoy the pink waters of the Torrevieja lake

Greece

84.   Marvel the Acropolis of Athens

85.   Admire Hephaestus Temple in Athens

86.   Discover Ancient Corinth

87.   Marvel at the Epidaurus Theater

88.   Relax on the pink sands of Elafonissi Beach, Crete

89.   Wander around Knossos – the palace on king Minos in Crete

90.   Take a beautiful photo of the Venetian Harbor in Chania, Crete

91.   Relax at one of the hidden jewels of Crete – Skinaria Beach

92.   Climb Mount Olympus

93.   Enjoy the Sunset in Santorini

94.   Photograph the classic white and blue of santorini

95.   See the ruins of Delphi 

96.   Walk around the beautiful Folegandros island

97.   Explore Mykonos Island

98.   Get lost in the old town of Corfu

99.   Drink a cocktail on the beach listening to Mama Mia

100.  Take a boat ride out to one of the islands

Experiences

101.     Skydive (in Queenstown)

102.     Dive a shipwreck

103.     Swim with turtles

104.     Touch an elephant (in a place where they are not tortured)

105.     Fly a plane

To Be Continued!

[addictionrecoveryassistance]

Detox Centers In Potrero California 91963

Contents

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Zillow has 16 homes for sale in Potrero CA. View listing photos, review sales history, and use our detailed real estate filters to find the perfect place. 25820 Potrero Park Dr, Potrero, CA. 15 days on Zillow. 860 Harris Ranch Rd Potrero CA 91963. Apartment for sale.

Search Potrero, CA real estate, and MLS Listings. View for sale listing photos, sold history, nearby sales, and use our match filters to find your perfect home in Potrero This home is located at 25603 Potrero Valley Rd Potrero, CA 91963 US and has been listed on Homes.com since 24 October 2…

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On 5/19/1940 at 04:36:40, a magnitude 7.2 (7.2 UK) earthquake occurred 68.2 miles away from Potrero center, causing $33,000,000 total damage

Find the best deals on the market in Potrero Ca 91963 and buy a property up to 50 percent below market value. Shop around and act fast on a new real estate investment in your area. Search all the latest Rent to Own Homes in Potrero Ca 91963.

14 Homes For Sale in Potrero, CA. Browse photos, see new properties, get open house info, and research neighborhoods on Trulia. Potrero, CA Homes For Sale & Real Estate. ・14 homes available on Trulia. 25820 Potrero Park Dr Potrero CA 91963. Bank Owned. Contact For Estimate.

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Former Potrero Community Center. This modular property has one big floor plan to design your own ideas. 25771 Potrero Valley Rd is a house in Potrero, CA 91963. This 1,440 square foot house features This address can also be written as 25771 Potrero Valley Road, Potrero, California 91963.

Home values in Potrero, CA. Potrero is a city in California. There are 16 homes for sale in Potrero, CA, 2 of which were newly listed within the last week.Potrero has homes with large lots. 1665 Potrero Valley Rd, Potrero, CA 91963.

Find HOTELS in 91963 Potrero. Search by zip code for hotels near Potrero California. Deals + discounts on lodging and motels in San Diego 2351 Otay Center Dr., San Diego, CA 92154 ~20.05 miles west of 91963. 3-star property. Fitness + Health Center. Every guests reviewed found the staff…

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