Hey people. It feels like ages since my last blog post. Sorry for the gap - but, you know, even writers need a vacation every now and then. (I'm blocking my ears against the cries of protest from my friends who have office jobs: 'But you get up at 10 every day!' 'But you go to the cinema at lunchtime in the middle of the week!' 'But you're always jetting off to NYC for "work"!') Ok, I admit, as a teen author I have it pretty good - but everyone deserves a tan once in a while, don't they??

This year was a big birthday for my dad (I won't say which one or he might spontaneously combust), so I travelled with my parents, my sister, my two half sisters and various dear family friends to the village of St Paul de Vence in the Maritime Alps above the French Riviera, where we stayed at the Colombe d'Or hotel.

 

La Colombe d'Or is one of my favourite places in the world. And not because it's beautiful. Or because it has great food. Or because the rooms are full of antique furniture, painted beams and gorgeous glazed tiles. (Although all of those things are true.)

Here's why: La Colombe d'Or has one of the most awesome collections of twentieth century art that I've ever laid eyes on (outside of a museum, that is). Picasso paintings. Léger murals. Calder mobiles. And more. 

 

 

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Back in the days before these artists were superstars, they used to come to St Paul de Vence for inspiration. And instead of paying money for their room and board, they'd give their work to the family that owned (and still owns) the hotel. Today, all their art is just hanging around for guests to gawk at. Cool, right? I mean, check out that giant Calder mobile at the end of the swimming pool. Personally, I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon than reading in one of the hotel's old-fashioned wooden deck chairs, inhaling the scent of jasmine and roses, and occasionally glancing up to watch the mobile sway in the breeze.

Another thing I like about La Colombe d'Or is its intimate atmosphere. The same regulars tend to come at the same times every year. They make friends with the other guests. They exchange air-kisses on the sun-baked pool patio and catch up on the year's gossip. The whole thing is so full of low-key Euro-glamour that I can't help smile.

Whenever I visit, I feel like I'm looking in on some Great Gatsby-type gathering.  And I could be. Because up here in the mountains, very little has changed in a hundred years. Check out this pic of the restaurant's famous menu. It's been the same for decades on end. Grab a table outside, order the huge crudite basket full of fresh vegetables, and admire the view of the rolling hills and the Mediterranean far below.

Sun, scenery, culture, and food. Hmmm. Maybe I should move here for good.