E is for...Eze

Alpes-Maritimes, FRANCE

When I was the luckiest 15-year-old in the world, my parents sent me to the South of France to take my Grade 12 French credit. As part of the credit, we took day trips to some of the small cities that make the Cote d’Azur one of the world’s most stunning coastlines. Our trip to the medieval village of Eze was only a few hours but it was not so quickly forgotten.

That afternoon in July, we toured the gardens that climb the steep hilltop on which Eze is perched. Now, to a pack of 15 and 16-year-olds, the gardens are less a spectacular show of flora and more an opportunity to dare each other to sit on the cacti. Mais la vue, que c’est belle!

I returned later that month with about 10 of my closest friends on the trip. One of my girlfriends was celebrating her Sweet 16, and her parents treated us to dinner in Eze. (Note: this is not a regular, or ever again, occurrence in my life.)

The restaurant we went to, at the hotel Chateau de la Chevre D’Or, was -- pardon my French -- ballin’. The toilets had seats, to begin with – an apparent luxury that our dorms had foregone. The restaurant was high on the hilltop. So high, in fact, I remember we drove through clouds to get there.

We sat outside at first, beside a live band that serenaded my friend with ‘Happy Birthday.’ After various appetizers we were moved inside. The dining room window looked out over a Mediterranean that was sparkling like the silverware in the moonlight.

It was the first, and only, meal of my life where all the waiters gathered around the table and unveiled our entrees with a synchronized lifting of the lids. It was the first time I had ever had palate cleansers, and the first time there was more expensive cutlery on the table than I could fit in my purse. And there were three courses of dessert. Most restaurants I’d been to only had three options for dessert, including fruit. Which is not a legitimate dessert, by the way.

The surrealism combined with the seemingly bottomless champagne (that’s what it’s called when they don’t charge you for refills, right?) made us giddier than schoolgirls on a trip to France.

I’m not one of those girls that grew up picturing stuff about my wedding. But, as a somewhat drunken 15-year-old, driving back down through the clouds, I vowed Eze would be my honeymoon spot. Fast forward eight years, and I still haven’t fully got my head out of those clouds.

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Chevre d'Or site