In honor of Bernard and my marriage this week, I decided to publish my first post of the blog back in October 2008 describing how I met my fiance - alias ‘the Frenchman.’  It’s for all you romantics out there. It is, after all, how this adventure got started.

I’m an Italophile. I love Italy. I love and speak the language, adore the food, find the people very entertaining and charming, have traveled to 73 Italian towns, studied there as an undergraduate, vacationed there for 20 years, and even lived there from 1998-2000 (that’s another story I’ll tell you one day).  I’ve never been a Francophile. In fact, I went to Paris in 1979, was so turned off by the people, I never returned to France in all these years, even though it bordered on Italy and I’ve been within a stone’s throw many times. 

Every year I returned to Italy for vacation and, just to stay out of a rut, I added another country on to my annual treks…Malta, Turkey, Greece, Switzerland, Slovenia. I was running out of countries, so one year I decided it was time to do France. I figured how toxic could Provence be?  I, like many Americans, had succumbed to the media and political propaganda of the ‘snobbish, rude, arrogant, self-centered French’ – an almost daily meal fed to us in the States. Even still, I decided to venture out and, a one hour flight from Naples to Nice landed me on a train headed to Avignon, a city in Provence. That’s where fate caught up with me.

Within an hour, a handsome man, 45ish, sat in the seat across from me. I could feel my heart leap but I tried to play it cool. We kept glancing in each others’ directions in hopes of not being caught by the other. It was electricity. I finally couldn’t stand it anymore and asked him if he spoke English. No. Did I speak French? No. Did he speak Italian? No. Did I speak German? No. We gave up and just stared at each other for the next 2 hours. Avignon approached, I pulled out my hotel information, and we got off the train, waving good-bye to each other at the station. An opportunity missed. But oh well, it’s for the best. Right?

Three days later at my hotel, I was eating breakfast, looked up from my table, and there he was….just standing there with an arm full of English-French dictionaries and grammar books. I was stunned. He had gotten onto another train – what was he doing in Avignon? He asked me, in broken English, if I would spend the day with him. I couldn’t say no. This was too mysterious and irresistible! As the day progressed I learned that he had gone camping with his friends but he couldn’t stop thinking about me. Two years after his divorce, I was the first woman who had brought something alive in his heart and he couldn’t let it go. He had left his friends, got back on the train for the four hour ride, and been hanging out at my hotel (he had seen the hotel name on the train as I pulled the information out from my purse). He finally had found me after two days of searching. For us female Americans, this sounds a lot like stalking, I know. It even entered my mind at the time, but I think that’s a cultural bias we bring from living in a violent society where women are often victims.

I learned his name was Bernard (alias ‘my Frenchman’) and he was the sweetest, kindest man I had ever met. That day together was the beginning of the greatest love story of my life – a love that took me 46 years to find. It was also the beginning of the biggest adventure of my life and some of the most challenging and joyful moments I’ve ever experienced.

When Bernard left his camping buddies to find me in Avignon, his friends told him that if he found me they would buy him a Ferrari. We’re still waiting for them to drive that baby into our garage!

Tomorrow my family and three friends arrive from the U.S. for my wedding on April 25th. It will be an emotional, busy, and very memorable week and I’m very much looking forward to it. This has been a very big year for me personally. I sold my home, moved to France, turned 50 years of age, and I’m getting married.

My Frenchman was very sweet in helping me through the big 5-0 by taking me on a long weekend trip to the Beaufortain area of Savoie. It has stunning scenery, the best cheese in France (Beaufort), and gorgeous towns and mountain areas. And a lot of cute cows with bells on their necks, all sounding like an orchestra as they graze the Alps’ grasses. Here are a few photos of the trip. If ever in Savoie, I recommend you try to make it to the Beaufortain region.

Want to ride a motorbike someday? Here’s a good way to start. Click Here!

More From cinzia8

• Motorcycling in the French Alps
• Winter in the French Alps
• Hiking in Granier in the French Alps

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Near Chambery are two grottos called Saint-Christophe. We visited them one day during a motorbike ride and were very impressed with their beauty and size. It is very difficult to capture the magnificence and awesome beauty of these caverns on camera, particularly given the lack of light, so you’ll just have to visit one yourself.  We got a private 1.5 hour tour for 7 euros each. It was a great find. It’s believed that the small dirt road in front of the grottos was the Roman road through the French Alps. There are similar grottos throughout the French Alps region so take some time to visit one if you are in the area.

Here's one tradition I didn't know about or expect in France – the French LOVE to sing. It's not uncommon for people to break out in a song at the dinner table. There are chorales everywhere to join and lots of people do! My fiance is one of them. They meet once a week and perform several concerts a year. Men and women in equal numbers participate in these chorales and even the 'manly men' love them. So here's a peek at one of the Chambery chorales, Viva Voce, in concert.