Ups and downs

There I was, giving directions to the Picasso museum to a French woman -- in French.

It was a little victory.

Another one came when the taxi driver in Nice told me my pronunciation was better than most Americans and then asked why I was learning French anyway because most people from the US are too practical and business-oriented. That may not have been a compliment to some, but it was to me.

That might have been it in three weeks.

Two sweet moments mixed in with a bunch of embarrassing ones like the time pretty much a whole busload of people knew I was hopelessly lost after a woman finally understood where I was going because I said it IN ENGLISH because no one could understand my French and she hollered for the bus driver to let me off in between stops because I was very far from my destination and getting farther by the minute.

I won't list the other times. It would take too much space.

But two victories are enough to give hope. And the other moments were enough to provide motivation.

And what could be more fun than learning a new language and traveling in a foreign country and asking directions -- and giving them?

Sending messages

One of the great things about travel -- as about life -- is meeting people and enjoying their take on things.

One of the interesting people -- and everyone was interesting -- I encountered on my most recent expedition to France, was in a place I least expected.

It was my last week abroad and the only museum in the area that wasn't closed for repair that I hadn't visited yet was a little spot off a little rue called Le Musee de la Carte Postale.

No Chagall, Matisse, Renoir or Picassos here. Those were in the surrounding neighborhoods and towns.

But in the two hours I spent in the two rooms that make up the museum, I learned history, culture, art, science, humor and anthropology. I learned about inventions, politics and careers as well, courtesy an interesting gentleman with a passion that was contageous.

With few exceptions, the cards were over 100 years old. He had the first postcard ever printed, the first card with a photograph, the first cards with color. He had 100 cards of early Paris, cards with flowers, cards chronicaling school children, cards featuring everyday life for women, cards about men, cards with families, cards with flourescent coloring, cards with moving parts, cards with surreal art, cards that pop-up, cards with mini records, cards with mini bags of salt from the Great Salt Lake (still being sold) and mini bags of copper from the Kennecott mine (no more), cards from Russia, cards from Japan, two-dimentional cards that require a separate contraption to look through and cards that -- when collected as a series -- make up a puzzle of Napoleon. And he had them much better organized than this list.

And I could go on.

There's something about being around someone who delights in something so much that he's made it a life's focus, that's inspiring. And there's something to respect about someone who then wants to share his passion with others every Tuesday through Sunday from 2 to 6 p.m. for 3.50 euros.

So if you're ever in Antibes with a few hours to kill ... don't miss the chance to enjoy a whirlwind tour of science, art and culture from someone who collects it in antique postcards.

But don't just enjoy the postcards. Enjoy the collector who shares their histories, their politics, their interpretations. Sometimes there's as much to learn from the messenger as the message.

Temporary home

Three weeks is almost long enough to feel more like a local than a tourist.

Probably not long enough for the locals to consider you anything more than a tourist, but it might take years for that, if ever.

Still, I started feeling like a local the morning I walked to school in the rain with my umbrella along with students of all ages, and the afternoon I sat in a sun-drenched courtyard next to a centuries old fountain and had a salad with goat cheese, along with those who seemed to know the menu by heart.

Here are a few views from the first couple of 21 incredible days in Antibes:

Heading to school on a wet morning.Lunch in the courtyard.Grocery shopping.

Afternoon entertainment.

After sunset stroll on the ramparts.

First photo

Monet painted this spot. Victor Hugo called this a city where all glows, all flowers and all sings. Picasso lived and created in the castle that's part of the tower at right.

Antibes (pronounced On-teeb) is truly exceptional. It was a feast for the eyes, for the mind and for the soul.

More of the Cote d'Azur to come...