Blue skies and sun open Montpellier like the roses one wine grower planted at the end of each row of grapes

interspersed with fields of wild poppies.

We like nature. Many others, especially the youth here, seem to like crowds. Do you know what a Facebook Apero is about? Me neither, but someone must know. On May 14, 10,000 youth gathered in one place on a Wednesday evening—in the rain—in spite of the Mayor’s refusal to endorse it as an official event. She may have been protective of her investment of over 500,000 € in Montpellier's Festival of Extreme Sports (FISE) which attracted over 350,000 visitors, 1500 riders of bikes, skateboards and wakeboards from 47 countries. At the same time 3,000 watched an international Hip Hop contest with dancers from over 20 countries.

What contrasts in cultures with the white youth at one end of town and the African elders selling and buying their goods at the 5 acre Mosson flea market we chose to visit instead.

Kathy and Mussa, our good friends from the USA, spent almost five days with us on their way back from Oman where they had spent a week with Mussa’s family. It was so easy to have them. They kept wanting to pay all the bills and cook besides, but Bob didn't want to give up any of the pleasure he derives from his cooking. Bob cooked the tart we used to celebrate Kathy’s 65th birthday together,

We walked for three days around Montpellier, visited the baby storks and the beaches where naked grandmothers reminded us that not everyone is as obsessed as we are in the US with perfect bodies.

The highlight of the walking tour for Kathy was a collection of photographs of paysans, the men and women who farm in profound France, by Pierre Pedalmas, "Instants de vie," part of a two gallery exhibition called Boutographies. The highlight for Mussa was the ambiance of Montpellier. The air, fresh as a baby’s cheek, and warm as bread just out of the oven. Kathy was surprised to find we did not live in the medieval center of town in a funky apartment, but in an apartment built in 1987. But then the south of France isn't that old either. It dates to the 9th or 10th century but most of this region has some Roman or Greek origins.

Mussa and Kathy treated us to an exquisite lunch of loup de mer (sea bass) at Coquille, a restaurant right across from the three cornered palace that housed Guilluame, one of the first rulers of Catholic Montpellier who insisted on tolerance for Protestants, Jews, and Muslims.

We were hungry so chose spontaneously. Bob and I found the food the best so far in Montpellier. Spontaneity trumps!

We sampled croissants all over town and decided that “our” patisserie had the best. Kathy wanted to take home some chocolate from the “best” place we have found in Montpellier, Les Diamonds Noir, but Mussa encouraged her to avoid the disappointment of finding it all melted when she arrived back in the USA.

We walked the streets and just happened into an exhibition in the Martin Luther King Center (there is a Rosa Parks community center too) by Artisans of the World. They had invited children to create art on the theme of “Solidarity” and were asking visitors to vote for the best presentation. Where in the US would one find children invited to express themselves on the theme of solidarity?

The next day, May 20th, was a red-letter day. We took the tram through the university area at the north of the city to Mosson, the isolated Arab quarter with the biggest covered market in Montpellier.

and the cheapest fish.

Bob presented his photos at the Photo Club and was acknowledged for the quality of his French as well as his photos. The leader of the photo club had told him that there would be an exam on French at the end of the year so he is in hopes of passing that test. We then picked up the keys to our new apartment and—and within the half hour—opened it to 16 French friends. Since we have no furniture, it was definitely a stand up affair that might have ended when the sun went down, but everyone was enjoying the champagne and each other’s company so much that they stayed and talked in the dark until 10 PM.

The group above from left to right...Claude, a retired French neurologist who taught at the U of Montpellier, Omar, a retired Argentinean architect who helped build the Antigone, the area in which we live, Nanni, a German potter who travels 3 hours a day to St. Quentin de la Poterie for her courses, and Mary Martine, a vivacious friend who had to stop work early because of bake problems. In the shadow in the back is Mike who commutes every six weeks to Salinas while his wife Mary works part time as an accountant for a French wine company. They wanted to raise their two children in France.

Below...Claude looks more human in this photograph, don't you think? Martine, who taught French to English speaking stewards and stewardesses decided she wanted to be able to say more in English than "Sugar? Cream?" so she retired from that job and now works without pay for her daughter, her son, her husband, her grandchildren, the local hospital and teaching English to me.

We rented a car and visited the baby storks at the Maison de la Nature, the full-breasted grandmothers sunbathing naked on the beaches of the Mediterranean. Mussa treated us to fabulous gelato. To end a full week, we sat in an old church and listened to Le Choeur de St Mathieu with their songs from Mediterranean.

Too soon it was over. On May 23, Kathy and Mussa took the plane from Marseilles after trying to get from Montpellier to Paris and failing, hoping to dead head on a flight to Frankfurt and then to the US. What persistence and flexibility Mussa shows as he pursues the best alternatives from airport to airport, printing out tickets for each alternative.

No sooner was one party over than there was an opportunity for another. Over 8.5 million French participated last year in the Fete des Voisins, a national festival to encourage neighbors to share food and drink. We contributed our little bit by inviting each of the 30 apartments that share our elevator to come to our still empty apartment and bring a bottle of wine or an appetizer. 13 people showed up, with bottles , tarts and laughter.

In France, if you want to get to know a neighbor, first you invite them out for a drink. Then, if that is satisfactory, to your home for a drink. If that works, then to your home for dinner. Presumably, they are reciprocating at each step. So it might take two or three years before you are positioned to have dinner periodically with someone you really like!

Our co proprietaires liked each other and the kind of openness that is easier for Americans than French. Borre, an 80-year-old Norwegian, offered to contribute his time as a handyman. Chantrelle, a mother of three from Cameroon, came loaded with two bottles of wine and cards showing the name and location of the African restaurant she owns. Young and beautiful Isabelle and handsome Pascal shared a delicious tart and her story of walking the Rue de Santiago de Compostela. Amile and I gossiped as if we knew each other. Another neighbor thanked us profusely for this opportunity to finally talk to Borre after 10 years.They stayed for two hours, standing all the time, so I think they had a good time. We did.

We have to leave in a half hour to listen to five Montpellierians commemorate Howard Zinn, one part of a three day festival about books during which100,000 visitors will have the opportunity to buy books, get authors' signatures, and attend presentations like this one put on by Americans for Peace and Justice, a group to which we belong.

In 19 days we will fly from Montpellier to Paris and then direct to Seattle for the summer returning September 7th to our new winter home in Montpellier. We are so lucky.