POSTCARD FROM PROVENCE.

Hallie and I drank rosés with Jon and Amy, listening to them describe the life Geoffrey has in the south of France. The day before we left, we were invited to have lunch on the terrace with Marie-Paule, Hallie's host mother, and her husband, Xavier. After olives and chips, Marie-Paule brought out a salad of bulgur, eggplant, peppers, and nectarines, topped with feta and another type of cheese, the name of which Marie-Paule couldn't remember. On our daughter's bed she found a pile of clothing and souvenirs - things Hallie thought she'd have time to ship home - and a note scrawled in haste: I Chère Marie-Paule, S'il vous plaît, donnez ou recyclez tout ce que vous pouvez. [Extracted from the article]