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The first time I visited Chateau de Chaumont was in the winter of 2003 - a brief visit that lingered in my imagination for years after.  Since the castle was closed to tourists, I wandered the grounds alone in hopes I might encounter the spirits of inhabitants past.   This might seem an unusual pastime unless you pause to consider the castle's rather unusual history.  Chaumont was once the home of Catherine de Medici, queen to Henri II of France.  Catherine practiced what some called "the darker arts" at Chaumont, inviting astronomers, numerologists, and a host of shady characters.   The astrologer  Nostradamus was one of the member's of Catherine's shady squad.  He  visited her at Chaumont on several occasions.  Legend has it Catherine attended ritualistic animal sacrifices in the castle's front hall (this told to me by a groundskeeper I encountered) .   On that first visit, when the wind eerily whispered thro...

From a young age, I determined to adhere to the words of the incomparable Audrey Hepburn, who once declared, "Paris is always a good idea." Paris is always a good idea: as a vacation destination, a place of residence, and as a setting for movies and novels. In the movie Sabrina, Audrey's character writes a letter home to her father, waxing poetic about her feelings for Paris.   "I am looking at the world through rose colored glasses and it says everything I feel.  I've learned so many things, Father...I have learned how to live." Why?  Why is Paris the setting parfait for an exploration of one's character...or for a novel? Because when you are there, every breath you inhale is tinged with hope, every exhalation with gratitude. Hope for a grand histoire d'amour -  a great love affair.   Hope for one of those serendipitous moments - when the light filters through the spires of Notre Dame leaving a lacy patterned shadow on the square ...

Serendipitious Traveler, Day 11 ~ Cannes The Hotel Martinez in Cannes, France Photo by Leah Marie Brown With Stephanie visiting childhood friends, I suddenly found myself alone in Cannes, Mistress of My Own Fate.  I opted to book a table at Z Plage, the beach side restaurant owned and operated by the Hotel Martinez.  The Martinez is the super swank hotel movie stars stay at while visiting Cannes.  I wanted to dine al fresco , to sit and gaze at the French Riviera, to sip champagne.  I wanted to create my Cannes moment. Sitting at the swanky beach side restaurant, I pulled out my journalist's notebook.  I decided to do a writing exercise.  I call it Tapping Into My Inner-Ellen Degeneres...that free flowing, uncensored stream of consciousness.  Hoping to capture that small, sophisticated corner of Cannes, I wrote my observations.  I wrote whatever came to mind.   September 15, 2012 Hotel Mar...

I am sucker for movies about people who have the courage to reinvent themselves, especially people who shirk the shackles of modern life in favor of a simpler existence in some charming European town.  Under the Tuscan Sun .  A Good Year .  These are films that have lifted my spirit and emboldened me to dream because they feature main characters who reinvent their lives.  So, when Stephanie came up with the idea to spend a day visiting the places featured in  A Good Year, I had a fan girl moment.  I imagined myself following in Russell Crowe's gorgeous footsteps, driving down the roads lined with plane trees, sipping wine in a quaint Provencal cafe. For those of you who have not yet seen A Good Year , it is a romantic comedy directed by Ridley Scott and starring Russell Crowe.  The screenplay was adapted from the Peter Mayle novel by the same name.  It tells the story of a cynical investment banker who inherits a ...

Roussillon sits perched atop ochre cliffs by Leah Marie Brown   "I have a feeling you are going to love Roussillon," Stephanie boldly proclaimed.  "In fact, I think it is going to be your favorite Provençal village."   We were sitting in the gilded tearoom  La Maison Angelina , sipping our ridiculously delicious, overpriced drinking chocolate when Stephanie made her declaration.  It was day one of our Paris-Provence-Tuscany Adventure and already she was making predictions.  By the time I had discreetly licked the whipped cream from my lips - for one always preforms such necessary but unsophisticated acts discreetly when in Paris - the conversation had flowed in another direction.   A week later, I found myself sitting in our zippy rented Fiat, watching the ochre hued landscape of southern France whiz by, and  I thought about Stephanie's prediction.  I wondered if it would come true.  Remembering al...