Lemons. Oranges. Tons and tons of citrus fruit for sale at bargain prices. Some 140 tons were used to decorate huge, elaborate creations in Menton, the French city of lemons. Fruit is attached to metal sculpture frames, some reaching 9 meters or 30 feet in height, with about a million rubber bands.
The town’s annual two-week long lemon festival (Fête du Citron) starring the fruit masterpieces just ended. Usable leftovers can be purchased at a special market.
“Wonders of life” was the theme of the 2026 lemon festival.Above, Mother Earth.
The festival is a windfall for the Mediterranean town of 30,000. Tourists, about 300,000 this year, come from near and far. When the orange and yellow sculptures are dismantled, the parade stands torn down, and inner-city streets open again, locals breathe a huge sigh of relief. Menton is theirs again.
But they too enjoy the festivities. The Fête du Citron is much more than the awesome citrus constructions. Parades, a crafts market, orchard and garden tours, bands – all are on the festival agenda. And, orchids. The Palais de l’Europe, just adjacent to the gardens with the sculptures, houses a lavish orchid exhibit.
Orchids too are offered at reduced prices after the festival. I stood in line outside waiting for the sale to open, then followed the crowd to the long table where the beauties were offered.
Orchid sale and my prize, “Sunshine.”
Too many people. Too few orchids. Many must have been offered to staff before the public sale. Nonetheless I came home with a large specimen. I was told the blossoms won’t last much longer. My challenge – to get my treasure, whom I have named “Sunshine,” to bloom again next year. (Orchid tips welcome)
All manner of orchids, including air orchids, to admire. Those circles are an aquatic plant from the Amazon.
But it’s lemons, nor orchids for which Menton is famous. Not your ordinary grocery store lemons. Menton lemons are a protected, high-quality variety — too valuable and production too limited for display construction. Neighbor Spain is the source.
Mentonlemons and lemonade.
Lemon fame dates back centuries. The town’s mild microclimate made its lemons famous throughout Europe in the 19th century. The fruit was an important addition to the economy. And, since 1933 the yellow fruit has been honored with a Fête du Citron.
“In Menton, the sea is blue, the sun is gold, and the lemons shine like lanterns.”
If not a Tales and Travel follower, please sign up here. Trust me. It’s safe. Your address is not shared.
“It’s a blast.” He was enthusiastic, curious, at times in awe, and termed almost everything a “blast.” It was so much fun and gratifying to be with him, a blast for me too.
That’s my nephew, David Koester, who visited me recently, his first time to Europe.
Nephew David and Aunt Leah
“It was an eye-opening experience. I’ve never experienced another culture before,” David told me during a recent phone conversation. “I’ve been raving about the trip ever since I got back.”
David, 39, is an account executive with Logicalis, an IT consulting firm. He lives with his wife Sabrina and 8-year-old son Jonah in Louisville, Ky.
His buddy Matt had a business trip to Berlin. They decided to meet in Switzerland for a few days. He visited me in southern France prior to the Swiss rendezvous.
We had lunch here before David explored the old chateau in the Vieux Village of Roquebrune Cap Martin
His visit here was short, three days. We were on the move. First stop the Vieux Village (old village) of Roquebune Cap Martin. I live in the “new town.”
After an outdoor lunch in the town plaza, David explored, up to the old chateau, then up and down the skinny pedestrian alleys. Since I am now walking with a cane, I stayed back. “It’s so cool walking through these alleys, seeing the old architecture,” he remarked.
Old town Roquebrune Cap Martin
A favorite spot in the old village is the viewpoint overlooking Monaco. Another day, a very rainy day, we ventured to the principality and opted for the hop-on, hop-off bus which gives a good overview of Monaco.
Monaco
David, who is a financial wizard, informed me that Monaco’s Formula One makes more money than any other sporting event. “It was cool driving over the starting line,” he said.
Roquebrune Cap Martin is adjacent to Menton, a Riviera town on the border with Italy. It too has an old town, a maze of twisty alleys, as well as the imposing basilica of Saint Michael. David visited all, as well as the city’s market, my favorite.
The old town of Menton
David was impressed with Menton’s market hall. This is my bread stand where we bought some tasty goodies.
We crossed the border for an Italian snack at Grotta. I love to stop there – Italian ambience, reasonable food and an enticing setting just above the coast.
Another must is nearby Sainte Agnes, a medieval village classified as “one of the most beautiful villages in France.” Reaching the burg, said to be the highest coastal village in France at an altitude of 760 meters (2,493 feet), is not for the faint of heart. Follow a treacherous, narrow mountain road — lots of hairpin turns and places where there is room for only one car. Someone may need to reverse. Fortunately, David was behind the wheel.
He drove my Suzuki Swift. I was still recovering from the San Francisco broken wrist (see previous post, “I lost my money in San Francisco”) and could not yet drive.
He found driving in southern France “wild.” He summed it up: “There are mopeds everywhere. Everything is very tight. You’ve got to be on our toes all the time…you need to be aggressive out there.” He did enjoy my humble car. “I haven’t driven stick shift in ages,” he said. “It was fun.”
The views from Sainte Agnes are worth the trip. David trekked up a steep path to investigate the ruins of a chateau.
A steep path leads to the ruins of a 12th century chateau above Sainte Agnes
A medieval garden and cemetery are part of the chateau site.
Lunch was a treat, a multi course meal at a popular, rustic, local restaurant: pork pate, followed by ravioli, and a main course of either wild boar stew or rabbit, all topped off with a slice of blueberry pie. He ordered rabbit. I went for the wild boar. We shared.
For David, food in France is “phenomenal, awesome.” He was impressed with the taste and presentation, and said it was much healthier than food in the U.S.
The plan was to leave Sainte Agnes and continue up the mountain to Col de la Madonne, a mountain pass my super cyclist friend Bridget had raved about. The route is popular with serious riders on two wheels.
We had three choices after leaving the village: a road down to where we had come from, another with a sign to the town of Peille, and a third unmarked. GPS was no help. We took the road less traveled – and too much adventure awaited.
No one has lived here recently — the only house we saw on our adventure into the hinterlands.
On and on we drove. Nothing. No signs. Few other cars. No civilization. The road deteriorated. Dirt. Bumps. Pot holes. Where were we? We charged on until we came to a fork with a gate /barrier blocking the road on the right. Yet, according to David’s GPS (now working), we should take that road. He got out and opened the gate.
I was nervous. This can’t be right. What if we get stuck? We are alone in the boondocks.
But on we went, deeper into nowhere. To my relief, my chauffeur decided to turn back and take the other road. There was little improvement, but it had to lead us out of this isolated back country.
Peille is another remote medieval village tucked in the mountains.
Hope: A sign to Peille, the town we had rejected when leaving Sainte Agnes. We gleefully took it, and realized we were retracing much of the territory we had just covered. ?? This road was not much better than the others and nightfall was coming. But, we were en route to civilization.
Peille is old and picturesque, a cluster of stone buildings below the main road where we parked and then headed downhill to check it out. Nothing was open except a funky, bar café. Perfect. We loved the cozy ambience, the local vibe, and the well-earned beer.
Our salvation: A bar that was open.
Downtown Peille: old stone houses, vaulted passageways.
David was good natured about this fiasco. He was a joy to be with – never complained and was thrilled with all. Mea Culpa. I will not subject future visitors to the search for the Col de la Madonne.
David continued to Switzerland where he spent a few days in the Grindelwald-Lucerne area with Matt. He called the country “the most beautiful place I have ever been to.” However, he found it very expensive.
The boys in Switzerland. Matt and David.
In an email after returning home, David wrote the following:
“I had such a great trip. I think about it all the time. It was so great to see you. I’m so excited to come back. I can understand why you made the life decisions you did. Seeing the world is so much fun. We are going to plan a family trip to Europe.”
I hope they will visit me. I can’t wait. I know it will be a blast.
David, Sabrina and Jonah
ALL PHOTOS ABOVE BY DAVID KOESTER
If not a Tales and Travel follower, please sign up here. Don’t miss future posts.
Check out my tried and true recipes — keep scrolling down on a phone, or, if on a /PC or tablet, up to the column on right then down to “Recipes.”
MORE PHOTOS BY DAVID BELOW
David followed the coastal Corbusier trail near my apartment. The scenery is spectacular.
We split this veggie entree at a Menton restaurant. David found food here healthier than that in the U.S.
Peille by night
La Turbie, a town near Roquebrune.
Chateau in the old village of Roquebrune Cap Martin
Since I have been doing nothing exciting to write about, this will be mainly a photo blog.
The heat and humidity here in southern France have been too much for me. Fortunately, my apartment building has a TDF (to die for) pool. I swim and do my pool rehabilitation exercises every morning, then spend the rest of the day in the comfort of my air-conditioned apartment. It gets monotonous.
At 9 a.m. I am often the only one in the pool. Heaven!
Not just the heat, but the crowds also keep me home bound. I live in a vacation paradise. The beaches are packed. Finding a parking place is as challenging as finding a contact lens in the sea. A tranquilizer is required to negotiate the traffic.
Everyone is at the beach.
It is in the French DNA to take vacation in July or August, with August being the preferable month. This applies to all – not just families with children which is understandable.
A bachelor lawyer I know has closed shop for all of August. Friend Karen bought an apartment in the spring. She is having it renovated, but all work stopped in mid July and will not continue until September. Vacation time.
My physical therapist is “en vacance “ for the entire month. (The French get five weeks of paid vacation per year, plus lots of holidays.). It’s best not to get sick in France in August. Your doctor will likely be on the golf course or beach somewhere far off. Your favorite pharmacy, bakery, butcher shop – likely closed until September.
Fortunately, the “rentree” ( when kids go back to school) is around the corner. Life will return to normal soon.
Following are random photos retrieved from the innards of my computer. Most are from fascinating trips husband Bob and I had the fortune to enjoy. We loved to explore far off lands, learn about different cultures, and meet the locals. It was all fun and enriching.
Before long I hope the beach will be like this.Sri Lanka hills at sunsetFort gunnery platform, Nizwa, OmanDaisies – and beesPeillon, France. I went there on July 9 to commemorate the 1 year anniversary my beloved Bob’s death. We had been there many, many years ago.
Geraniums in Grimentz, Swizerland
Name this bird. Seen in Sri Lanka.Muscat, Oman, at daybreak.Mountain goat in Oman mountainsIn the medieval garden at the Chateau of St. Agnes, FranceMaldives
Wildlife in Sri Lanka
MemoriesBeauty in the canton of Valais, SwitzerlandOn safari in Rajasthan, India.
Classy mansion in Cap Martin, France.
Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque, Muscat, OmanDalmatian coast, Croatia
If not a Tales and Travel follower, please sign up here. Don’t miss future posts.
Check out my tried and true recipes — keep scrolling down on a phone, or, if on a PC or table, up to the column on right then down to “Recipes.”
For background, see previous post « Hotel California „
Improvement. Madame Cadre ( MC, big boss) was true to her word when she promised me a « nice surprise » after the obligatory 3-week waiting period at this rundown rehabilitation center. My original room had neither toilet nor shower. The surprise: a « luxurious « room with both. And, I still have access to the broken balcony with the spectacular view.
View of Golfe-Juan on the Mediterranean from the balcony
The physical therapy staff also granted me an upgrade: an electric wheelchair to replace the hand operated one I had been given. It was huge, intimidating, shabby, old – not like the smaller versions most residents had. « It’s very easy. Just like driving a car , » I was told.
Not for me. The monster took off like a missile, reminding me of those bumper cars at amusement parks. I hated them. I frequently got stuck, a perfect target for others to crash into. No one crashed into my wheelchair, but I had three collisions into walls. Major collisions. My broken leg took the hit. I was nervous. I can do this, I told myself, and concentrated on mastering the speed controls. Too late. The powers that be took it away from me. I was delighted.
Hotel California, properly known as Helio Marin, is rehabilitation facility in Vallauris, France, specializing in the treatment of amputees and those with serious, multiple injuries.
After my third surgery for a complicated break of the femur (first repair broke after six months) and a semi-paralyzed arm resulting from a failed reverse shoulder replacement of a broken shoulder, this was said to be the best place for my recovery.
Picnic at Helio Marin with my faithful visitors: Jo, Sir Dickens, Angi and Erika
I soon learned that my injuries were minor compared to others. Many much younger residents are recovering from ski, bicycle, surfboard, car and motorcycle accidents.
Horrendous accidents.
Emmanuel, 40s, crashed his bicycle into a car. He broke his spine, tibia, ankle and hip. „I had six surgeries within 10 days,“ he told me. One surgery lasted seven hours.
Emmanuel
The serious cyclist, who has ridden as many as 250 kilometers in one day, likes to ride the challenging costal mountain terrain in this region. He has been at Helio Marin since December, but is beginning to walk and will go home soon. He looks forward to getting back on his bike.
Aladdin and his signature hat.
Aladdin, 26 , races around in his electric wheelchair as if training for a wheelchair Formula I. He had taken leave from his job at the tech company Amadeus to visit „ 26 countries“ by car. He was celebrating super success. On weekends he worked as a salesman in Monaco for a „ super yacht“ company. (Starting price $15 million). He had made a sale.
While driving in rural Greece, he hit a pig. The airbags inflated. He lost control and slammed into a wall. He broke his spine and spent six weeks in an Athens hospital only able to move his eyes up and down, back and forth, to indicate yes and no.
He remains positive, always smiling, chatting with others. He likes Snickers bars, and offered me one. Another time he presented me with his French fries from a delivery order. A welcome treat. No fries served here. Aladdin is an inspiration.
Tahar
Tahar is a retired gardener originally from Tunisia. He said he is the only amputee here who lost a leg in an accident. The others are victims of diabetes. He lives in Grasse, the perfume capital of France, and was using a rotary tiller to tend the roses for the upscale cosmetics firm, Lancôme. His foot slipped into a hole and his leg got caught in the blades. Like Aladdin, he has a warm and welcoming smile. He was eager to tell me about his various gardening jobs, which he obviously loved. No self-pity, but he did say learning to walk with a prothestic leg is very difficult.
Patrick.
Patrick, 43, broke his spine in a whooper motorcycle accident. I often see him sitting outdoors in the sun after lunch. He told me about his accident and said he was not expected to live. In addition to losing feeling and movement in his legs, an arm is damaged and the accident has affected his voice. He is originally from Iceland, but lives in Menton with his partner and four-year-old daughter. A doctor told him he would not walk again which infuriated him. „How dare he ruin my hopes.“ He intends to seek other opinions.
Gerard, 19, broke both femurs attempting a ski jump. He fell, and the skis landed straight up, tails in the snow. The bindings did not release. Like me, he has had femur surgery and rods have been inserted to stabilize both legs.
Jean Michel, early 40s, was whacked in the neck with his surfboard. He was immobile. „I could have drowned.“ His buddies saved him as well as emergency surgery for a compressed spine. „I was very lucky,“ he said.
Of course there are many older patients like me, victims of falls.
Entertainment in the canteen.
In the late 19th century heliomarine sanitoriums were established to treat tuberculosis patients. They were near the sea to profit from the sun‘s rays and sea air. Those remaining, like Helio Marin in Vallauris, are now rehabilitation facilities.
Terraced terraces at Helio Marin
The stepped concrete structure of Helio Marin was designed by architect Pierre Souzy and completed in 1937. It is unique and had to be considered avant garde almost 100 years go.
Fabulous views from Helio Marin
Unfortunately the building has been sadly neglected. There was talk of tearing it down and building a luxury hotel. The site is spectacular. However, due to its age the building is a protected structure and can only be used for medical purposes.
I had to wonder if that old electric wheelchair they gave me had been rescued from the dusty recesses of the attic. Nevermind, as one on line reviewer wrote:
„In spite of the delapidation, the care and staff are good, and that‘s the most important. „
My favorite nurses, Franco and Regis
If not a Tales and Travel follower, please sign up here. Don’t miss future posts. Check out my recipes, right column.
With visitors Ralph and Gayle. They brought me balloons and a rose.
Welcome to the Hotel California, but it’s a hospital, not a hotel. Nonetheless I instantly thought of that Eagles hit song from 1977 when I entered this bizarre place.
Helio Marin in Vallauris, Francé, aka Hotel California in this post
„This could be heaven or this could be hell“
…And she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor
Thought I heard them say
…”And I was thinkin to myself
Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place. Such a lovely place.“
My room: Old, shabby, paint chipped walls, a big hole in the ceiling. Ahh— but the view from the 4th floor balcony is splendid with the Mediterranean Golfe-Juan in one direction, and the Bay of Cannes in the other. “A postcard view,” as a visitor said.
Views of my room
I am here for therapy following my third femur surgery since my great fall last June (see a previous post, My Sorry Story). Helio Marin, this facility, has a sterling reputation as a rehabilitation center, although as I looked around that seemed hard to fanthom. I was seduced by the view and figured I could tolerate the depressing room — until I pulled back the plastic curtain and glanced into the minuscule bathroom. NO TOILET.
View from my balcony. Golfe-Juan
I completely freaked out. “ There is no toilet in the bathroom,“ I shouted to the aide who had led me to my new home. That is true, she said, but there is a toilet down the hall. What? This is 2024 and the rooms do not have toilets. I was incredulous, thinking back to student days traveling with “Europe on $5 day.” That was then — some 60 years ago. I am old, too old for down-the-hall bathroom treks.
“I cannot stay here.“ I was upset, angry, bewildered. “I will call the „Cadre“ (big boss),“ the aide said. Madame Cadre (MC) appeared. Medium length, straight dark red hair. Glasses. Stern demeanor. No welcome smile, but a piercing stare meant to instill fear.
I was adamant. I insisted that I needed a room with a toilet, that I could not make the trips down the hall. “Why not? You can walk.“
An attelle supports my broken femur.
“Lady, I am in a wheelchair. I can’t walk. That’s why I am here.”
She stated that this was the only room available. Take it or leave it, but she could put me on the waiting list for a better room with toilet.
I was frantic. I called the hospital where I had the recent surgery. They had arranged for me to come here. Please find me a room somewhere else, I pleaded. The woman in social services insisted this was the best place for my recuperation. Just be patient. You will get a better room, she said. The other facility she had recommended had no rooms.
I was stuck. It was either stay here or go home. I knew I was in no condition to go home and take care of myself.
I did not unpack, hoping I would have a better room in a few days. I gazed into the bathroom one more time. No shower either. That too is down the hall. Nothing to do but retreat to the balcony and let the view soothe my troubled soul.
Bay of Cannes
Not for long. MC returned. “What are you doing out there? It’s dangerous, forbidden,“ she screamed. „Get in here.“ I dutifully wheeled myself back inside. This was too much, like a bad dream.
I later learned the balcony, a wide structure with the rooms opening onto it, is like everything here: Old. It is wooden, rotting and in danger of collapse. You can tread lightly at your own risk, but only on the initial portion. The area near near the edge is off limits. When MC departed, I disobeyed and ventured to the edge, the best place for photos. I was not the only one.
The next day I wanted to take a shower and wash my hair, yet there was a problem. I had neither towel nor wash cloth. You are expected to bring your own. How was I to know? During previous hospital experiences, they had been provided. Someone scrounged up a towel for me. I asked an aide if I could have a disposable wash cloth. I know they come in packages of 100. Hospitals use them.
„I have to ask the Cadre“ he replied. Madame’s answer: NO! I was not entitled to a disposable wash cloth. I obviously had not endeared myself to MC. I would be punished.
Originally a plaque supported my broken femur. It too broke and has been replaced by a rod.
According to the Helio Marin welcome brochure, for a fee you can have laundry service. I asked my friendly morning nurse team about it. They only knew of a washing machine and dryer for the use of patients. But, they would ask the Cadre. I told them not to bother, that she did not like me.
“Don’t worry. She does not like anyone.”
Bottom line. Brochure lied. There is no laundry service. The washer and dryer only work with payment by credit card. When I checked in, I had been advised to leave valuables (cash, jewelry, credit cards ) with the office for safe keeping. I did.
Now I had to go back and sign out a credit card to do my laundry. What about detergent?
You can buy it at “Snack”, I was told. Wrong. Snack has no detergent for sale. My dirty clothes had to wait for my friend Karen to bring me detergent.
Tales and Travel 
Comments, please!