A Year Under the Newfoundland Sun

[On traveling, review of A Year in Provence and Under The Tuscan Sun ]

While I was getting ready for my big move to Newfoundland, I let myself do some non-censored wild mind dreaming, and a thought came up that I entertained for a bit. My thought was  – why don’t I write about my travels? You know, a travelogue – or travelblog I guess, of my move and adventures out east, then turn them into a movie.

I told my life coach, Sue. Yes, I had one at the time. She said “yes” “brilliant” “of course.”  I like talking to Sue much better than my family members who said “maybe you can get a government job out there.”

Yes, yes. I’ll write a book and a film -  “My Year in Newfoundland” or “Under the Avalon Peninsula Fog.”

And I ran with it. Yeppir, it’ll make a great movie. It’ll be a hit all over the world, and it will make me a millionaire, and I’d never have to work again. Nope, I’d just ride my horses on the beach, read books for pleasure, and travel for the rest of my life, sitting  in various cafes where I’d feign writing.

I am nothing without my dreams.

So in May, I picked up “A year in Provence” by Peter Mayle.  I paid full price for it so you know I was serious.

I had known about the book for some time. It came out when I was still married to that Belgian guy, and I was curious and will have to admit, jealous. You see, I do not know how to be a writer. I was trained to be an employee.

But I never read it back then. Man – never had the time. Didn’t know how to make time either.

So, when I finally got it in May, I was a bit apprehensive. I had read tons of reviews, and was worried it might be a bit twee or precious, or perhaps a tad arrogant, in that English way of thumbing their nose on the common people. And I thought I might hate it because of that.

But I am happy to say I liked it. Oh, there was a tad of twee to the book – a jolly English superficiality. Mayle doesn’t go very deep and we never learn much about him, not even his wife’s name, but he described the rich earthiness of the provencal landscape beautifully  and and made fun of the visitors who came and fell ill at the whiff of a garlic bud.

Wow. I do the latter too. Cool.

I was too cheap to splurge on Under The Tuscan Sun so almost freaked out when I found it on the bookshelf of the house here in St. John’s where I am staying. Yup – right there on the shelf tucked in between Ray, Klute and The Magdalene Sisters.

Ok. Now that one was harder to like. Syrupy. Shmaltzy. Predictable. Unbelievable. And what was it ultimately about? I dunno…it bounced all over the place, changing direction at whim, leading to the inevitable ending where she finds her dream man in the last few frames.

But here’s the thing. In both the stories – remember I read one and watched the other – the protagonist moves to a foreign land, buys a rundown manse of a house that needs a bit of work, then proceeds to spend the rest of the year renovating it, without having to do any real work.

Come on!

Not only that, they get to employ a motley crew of renovators who work full time for them. Yup, they pay the salaries of 3 people full time – and they don’t work. And they drink fine wine and eat at great restaurants.

Who are these people?  How did they get so loaded? They’re writers forchrissakes. How come I am not so loaded?

Come on!

I want that. I want to buy a house and have my big dilemma be what colour tile to put in the kitchen, contractors that become family, have one heartbreak, learn to let loose a little, and find my soulmate at the end.

Ha ha. Shoot me if that’s the plot of my movie.