I traded lounging in Nice for glamour, carousels, and carb overloading in Cannes. Naturally, I did an urban pilgrimage to the Cannes International Film Fest red carpet where my future husband, Ryan Gosling, has walked a dozen times. I saw him once at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) and I swear he winked at me. Denise says my persistent, repetitive shrieking was giving him a stroke. I say it was true love.
The French marry play and art so fabulously in all aspects of life. The French Riviera has an abundance of ornate carousels – more painted horses on gold bars than people, I think! It became a bit of a game for me – trying to find the carousel in every neighbourhood and riding along every time.
Orbiting on ceramic horseback takes a lot out of a girl, so I’ve been replenishing my calories with Socca – a wood-fired pancake made of chickpea flour, dusted with salt and pepper and intended to be eaten off napkins to blot up all the delicious olive oil. This gluten-free, artisanal treat is made in brick ovens on the street side, served up by men with sweaty brows, singed arm hair, and nice biceps. If I could put a stone oven in my home, I would. Then again, open fire and my affinity for wine is probably a bad combination.
Speaking of Provençal wine, I’ve decided to increase my intake dramatically so I don’t overthink the fact that my… er… “friend” from Italy is meeting up with me in a few days. (Gulp.)