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.”
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“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
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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
It has been too long since my last post. The lockdown prevented exciting excursions to new places which I like to discover and write about. But, all is looking much brighter. Restaurant dining is back – outdoors and indoors at 50% capacity. All stores, cinemas, gyms etc. are back in operation. Our curfew has been bumped up to 11 pm. It will vanish on June 30.
During many months of “confinement,” we were only permitted to explore and wander within 10 kilometers of our residence. We did. I took photos. Recently we were given liberty to travel within France, as well as nearby Italy with our vaccination certificate. And, soon we will be able to travel within the European Union. Eureka!
Basilica of Saint Michael Archangel in Menton
Following are random photos, mostly of our surroundings. The beauty around helped ease the pain of the lockdown.
Le Jardin Exotique (exotic garden) in Eze.
Market in Bordighera, Italy –our first visit to Italy after lockdown lifted.
More Eze Jardin Exotique, above and below.
First meal post lockdown in Italy: fabulous tuna
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A wee bit of travel on the horizon: a week at a spa (terme) in Abano, Italy. This promises an interesting tale for sure. Don’t miss it. If not a Tales and Travel follower, sign up. Your address is kept private –not shared
Mimosa – not a cocktail with champagne and orange juice, at least not in southern France. Here it is “a tropical shrub or tree of the leguminous genus Mimosa, having ball-like clusters of yellow or pink flowers and compound leaves that are often sensitive to light or touch.”
High in the hills above the French Riviera, and along the coast, those blossoms are bright yellow, bursting forth in February, heralding the beginning of spring. The glorious show of nature calls for celebration.
La Fête de Mimosa in Tanneron, a tiny town at the pinnacle of the Route d’ Or (golden route), honors the colorful spectacle every year. Garlands of yellow decorate buildings, cars, posters. Stands sell local products. Bands play. Shots are fired. Folks come from afar to enjoy – and photograph — the splendor.
The narrow, twisty road leading to the town, the Route d’Or, offers magnificent photo opps of the blazing trees against a background of gorgeous scenery. But, to get that perfect shot, you may need to risk your life. There are no places to pull off, and traffic when the blossoms are at their peak is heavy.
Sorry about the garbage bin. Need to master photo shop
We joined friends of the American Club of the Riviera at the festival, then continued on to Menton, our favorite coastal city on the border with Italy. We have decided the time has come to downsize, sell our house, and move closer to civilization. We love the tranquility and beauty of our surroundings in the Luberon countryside, especially the ever-changing view of the hills from our porch/balcony. But, it is probably not the best place for old folks (us).
I love the Med … and Menton. It is almost like being in Italy. Lots of Italian is spoken. Answering machine messages are in two languages, French and Italian. I have been studying Italian on and off for years and relish the opportunity to speak. Italian restaurants abound. You can walk across the border to Italy.
Menton’s Old Town
Perfect. We’ll move to Menton … that is, we’d be happy to move to Menton. Our mini trip was a reconnaissance mission, basically to check with real estate agencies on the availability of large, vacant apartments to rent on a long term basis. We no longer want to be property owners.
We rented an Airbnb studio in the Vieille Village, the city’s ancient town with narrow alleys and steps, lots of steps. It is pedestrian only, no shops, no restaurants. Those are below in the centre ville, town center, down many more steps. The old town is not the best place for my decaying knees, nonetheless fascinating, charming, and, had the weather been better, super photo opps.
Menton’s Old Town
Our Menton dream came to a depressing crash with reality: the type of apartment we seek is almost non-existent.
This is the Mediterranean coast, vacation/tourist territory. Apartments to rent are furnished, rented for the season, and mainly small. Nonetheless, we left our contact details with numerous agencies just in case something with our criteria becomes available. We expanded the search to nearby Roquebrune. There a few realtors did offer a glimmer of hope for the future.
We did visit one apartment, 100 sq meters, considered large. It seemed small to us: no storage space, tiny kitchen, just one bathroom, two very small bedrooms. The living room, however, was spacious with large windows and lovely views.
This will not be easy on many fronts. We came home and surveyed our big house and all the contents, many treasures collected over the years.. No way will we be able to move all this stuff to an apartment, even a big apartment.
Bob would prefer to rent a house, which may make more sense for us. That may be even harder to find. But, we can and must begin the process: eliminate, sell, trash lots. We will put the house up for sale this summer when roses are in bloom, pool in operation, and it is at its best.
No Mediterranean sunshine during our Menton visit.
We will bug those real estate agencies. We are going back to Menton at the end of the month during the town’s renowned lemon festival for a luncheon sponsored by the British Association of Menton. Maybe some of those folks could be helpful.
We won’t give up: Menton or bust!
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Fruity floats, gigantic citrus creations, fabulous flowers. The annual Menton Lemon Festival (Fête du Citron) is an explosion of color, scents, and scenes in honor of the city’s prized small yellow fruit.
We were enthralled with it all during a visit many years ago, and returned a few weeks ago to survey the scene of dazzling orange and yellow sculptures once again.
This Riviera city, the lemon capital of France on the border with Italy, has been celebrating the lemon with festivities every year since 1929. The festival attracts some 230,000 visitors who come to admire 145 tons of citrus fruits which make up the creations and exhibitions.
This year’s theme, the lemon in China, featured a mammoth dragon, a pagoda, a temple, animals and more all made of lemons and oranges.
The exhibits are set up along the Jardin Biovès, a long promenade lined with the colossal fruit constructions. An elevated ramp in the middle is especially popular with the camera crowd who line the steps for overall shots of the scene. Stands selling the fruit, citrus liqueurs, soaps, jams and postcards do a brisk business.
Menton’s microclimate with more than 300 sunny, temperate days per year is ideal for growing the tangy fruit. There are some 80 varieties of lemons, but it’s the Menton lemon that is prized by chefs for its perfume, distinctly flavored zest and pulp, and high sugar content. While the lemon gets top billing, oranges play a leading role in the gigantic creations.
We had previously visited Menton, my favorite coastal city, in January. See post, “French Riviera: Magnifico Menton.” The city, which was originally part of Italy, became the property of Charles Grimaldi, Lord of Monaco, in 1346. In 1848 it broke away from Monaco, becoming a free city, and in 1860 it became part of France. By the late 19th century it was on the map as a popular tourist spot on the French Riviera.
This time instead of staying in Menton, we crossed the border and spent three nights in Sanremo on the Italian Riviera. It’s just a 45 minute drive from Menton, and a lovely town on a coastal bike path. That was our plan – get back on the bikes.
Husband, formerly known as Bicycle Bob (BB), was an avid cyclist. He seems to have lost interest in pedaling, even though he invested in a snazzy, expensive bicycle a few years ago. His passion has become wine, so I call him VR (Vino Roberto). I miss biking and the great rides we have taken over the years — in Switzerland, Austria, Germany, Holland and France.
Let’s not give in to old age. Let’s get moving again. He agreed and we had a wonderful, easy ride on the bike route from Sanremo to San Lorenzo al Mare, about 18 kilometers, then back to Sanremo and another 4 kilometers in the other direction to Ospedaletti.
Old railroad tracks were converted into the wide coastal trail, used by walkers and roller bladers as well as bicyclists. It meanders through Sanremo then down the coast. No hills. No need to downshift. There are plenty of spots along the route complete with benches where you can rest and enjoy the scenery. And villages (Bussana, Arma di Taggia, Santo Stefano al Mare) for a refreshment stopover.
We had a fantastic and bargain lunch at Café Emy by the beach in San Lorenzo al Mare. The insalata frutti di mare (seafood salad) was huge – a meal in itself. My spaghetti frutti di mare was the best I have ever eaten (see photo).
A unique aspect to this bike route is tunnels – several. The most famous and longest is the Capo Nero tunnel along the section Sanremo-Ospedaletti, 1.75 kilometers long. It has been converted into a memorial of sorts to Sanremo’s most famous sporting event, the cycling classic Milan-Sanremo. For more than 100 years, the race has been the first important contest of the cycling season. It will take place on March 22 this year.
Every bay of the tunnel is dedicated to a specific year in the history of the race, with some basic facts about that year’s event written on one side, with tidbits and anecdotes on the other, in both Italian and English. I was too busy pedaling to read it all, but did try to catch some phrases to break up the monotony of the dismal tunnel trek.
Total ride: 45 kilometers. It was a success. And, so was the hotel where we stayed. Fabulous. With just four rooms, the Villa Rita can’t really be called a hotel. The house sits just above the beach within walking distance of the town center. Our room had a large terrace and lovely views. I was in heaven, lying in bed, enjoying the sea view from the window while listening to the restful sounds of waves slapping the shore — and contemplating future bike rides.
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