In The Time French People Sing Hello, A Kiwi Has Told A Whole Story.

So. If you haven’t been keeping up and you don’t know, I am staying in Antibes, in the south of France, in the old town, in an apartment all to my own. The apartment belongs to Anita’s mother’s sister-in-law. Or Anita’s father’s sister.

Anita, is the most beautiful, hard-working and driven Italian girl you’ll ever know. I met her when she started worked for Cafe Valentino. I was her trainer. I still remember sitting her and another young man (Bryn) down and taking them through the menu. “What’s capsicum?” “What’s bacon? “What’s…?” “What’s…?” she mused as Bryn became more and more impatient. The next day, Anita had memorised the entire menu! So, it was no wonder for any of us when she became the restaurant MANAGER so soon. Yes, my boss! But I trained her! My oh my how we joked. And shared pizzas. And talked boys. And ate tiramisu.

Now, I am spending my days with her parents and I love them as I do my own. They are so generous, loving and natural. Daddy Dazzi loves food just as I do, and mama Dazzi knows exactly what to say to make my heart glow.

I really don’t know how I am going to leave. I have fallen in love with Antibes.

(Pizza for entree and pizza for main.)

On my first evening here, Daddy Dazzi treated us to real French Bouillabaisse, a traditional Provençal fish stew originating from the port city of Marseille. The restaurant Daddy had chosen was by far, the most expensive I’ve ever been to. I felt like a queen and my tongue was on fire. I wish you could have tasted it too.


(Daddy’s thumb photography.)


Yesterday, I spent a whole day in Nice with mama. The weather was wonderful and so was she, as per usual. She held my hands, gave me kisses, and loving advice on relationships, marriage, children, and so forth. In between, she gave me a quick French lesson where she taught me to sing my words. She said: in the time a French person sings hello, a Kiwi has told a whole story. Which is so true because the French stretch their words almost as long as the Thai do, and true Kiwis speak without pause.



(Photos of me are low-quality because they’re taken by Mama Dazzi’s phone.)

(Behind the scenes food photography)

(Mama Dazzi working the cheese, olive tapenade and fresh basil like a pro.) This is lunch at Le Pin Parasol. If you find yourself in Antibes, this little brasserie is a definite must-go. It is not everyday you feel this much passion in the taste and presentation of a meal. Click HERE for more info.

Daddy Dazzi is preparing Lasagna for me tomorrow. Apparently, his is the best. You know, seeing as he’s a real Italian and all. Today over lunch, he discussed with his wife, the preparations for tomorrow. They spoke in Italian. They seemed to be arguing. Daddy switched to English: “I am the artist. I am not the worker,” he proclaimed to his wife. What he was referring to, was the shopping for tomorrow’s meal!

So, all I have done this week, has been to eat and eat and eat some more. Which is so bad because I am going to America in a few days and I really wanted to look good…Alas, I have no self control and these two are killing me.

Daddy Dazzi: a little pizza is good for the health. Yeah right. Also gelato, also crepe, also risotto. There is no stopping with Italians and food!

Get this: today, as we worked our way through lunch, Daddy asked his wife (much like my own father asks my mom sometimes) what they would be having for their next meal.

“The next meal?” I screamed.
“Yes the next meal.”
“Nothing for me!”
“What? That’s dangerous,” he warned.

Dangerous. Dangerous! Can you believe it? After eating all of this food! I have never laughed so hard before.