TIO FRANCE: LES VIEBROCKS CHEZ MOI
Editor’s Note: John Steel’s post is not current. Clint and I are long gone from Menerbes, where we stayed for about three days. (The house limit.) John wrote the post the day after our arrival, many many bottles of wine and banquets ago. Turns out this venerable lawyer and former mayor of Telluride is also one heckofa writer and photographer. (The image below, including the caption, is an example. More images by John to follow in the upcoming post and video of Provence commemorating our time with the Steels.)
They got here. Here is Provence. Not that there was any doubt. I mean great weather, the best food, hiking, biking, sightseeing, gossip and less important conversation. I’m talking about Clint and Sus Viebrock, your beloved publishers, editors, writers, photographers, and investigative journalists of the electronic magazine called “Telluride Upside Down” (or is it “Telluride Inside… and Out?”), widely read in these parts by shepherds and carrot farmers.
They were up a bit early, but didn’t catch us doing anything that couldn’t be mentioned in their post. I’ve read several and am well aware that the detail and the dirt add color – so Bunny and I are trying to be very proper and careful while the Viebrocks are here. (I even waived the rule about no swim suits allowed in the pool because it effects the ph balance!).
Well, anyhow, within the first four hours we had two meals in them and did a two-hour walk. Forget about the
wine – who’s counting after the first three bottles for the four of us. And the Viebrocks brought some industrial strength plum brandy to help with the digestion of the rabbit, wild mushrooms, cheese and bread. (I won’t bore you with the details of the menu.) At first the stuff, twice-distilled by a fifth-generation alcoholic didn’t help – although it was delicious – but as Clint and I used it not particularly sparingly to fuel our important discussion of how to fix the world, the stuff started to work. Really well.
Today was big market, big lunch day in a neighboring town. That was fun, and for Clint and me, a bike ride. You don’t need to know about the town or the ancient Roman bridge we biked over. Or the fact that we were biking on the very same road Lance Armstrong rode on the rare day when he was only half lit up.
Anyhow our guests, and your news source, are doing fine, I think. They have been here for over 24 hours – yes I count – and so far very little discussion of where they are headed from here and when they should start re-packing.
Can’t wait to read Sus’s posts.