R. Doug Wicker — Author

The temperatures rose to the upper sixties, blue skies peaked around high, wispy cirrus, and the open road beckoned.  Heeding that call, Ursula and I jumped into our mighty roadster and headed up the back roads through the cotton fields and pecan orchards to the small town of Mesilla, New Mexico.  We’ve talked about Old Mesilla before, but the reason for this trip was the annual Dia de los Muertos—the Day of the Dead.

Our visit to Old Mesilla began at our favorite Mexican restaurant El Comedor, within easy walking distance of Mesilla’s historic central plaza.  Situated in the center of the plaza is a large bandstand, which on this day housed a DJ and an array of speakers that poured festive music over the celebration.  The north end of the plaza is anchored by the Basilica of San Albino.

Lining the perimeter of the plaza were artists hawking their crafts, vendors selling the usual tasty fare, and family memorials.  The shops that bound the plaza to the east and west were open and business was brisk.  Stores displayed native American silver jewelry.  One winery shop sold New Mexico wines and pistachios (we wound up with five pounds of shelled, green chili-flavored pistachios—they’re great on salads).  The quaint book store was, as usual, very well stocked with books geared toward New Mexico points of interest and historical figures running the gambit from infamous outlaws to famous lawmen.

So, what does a Day of the Dead celebration look like?  It looks a bit like this:

If you make the trip to St. Tropez (as we discussed last week) and forgo taking the ferry over to Port Grimaud, then you just wasted half the fun you could have had on your visit to this area of the Côte d’Azur (aka, French Riviera).  Indeed, Ursula was insistent that this was a must-see side trip when our home for fifty-four days last year, Holland America’s MS Prinsendam, anchored just outside St. Tropez’s sheltered harbor.  And she was quite right.

Port Grimaud is built around an intricate network of canals.  But think not of Venice, for Grimaud is far more modern.  Imagine instead of South Beach meets Venice—expensive cars, expensive homes, expensive yachts, and expensive shops surrounded by architecture far more modern than St. Tropez, yet with a similar character and feel.

Grimaud is also a walker’s paradise.  Foot bridges are everywhere, arching elegantly over countless canals.  The streets and sidewalks are exceptionally pedestrian-friendly, and thrilling sights await around nearly every corner.  White sand beaches abut translucent aqua waters dotted with sailing yachts casting tall masts upwards against azure skies.

With all this awaiting you, come prepared.  Bring your camera, or perhaps even two.  Slip extra batteries into your pocket and make sure you have plenty of space left on your memory cards.  Don your most comfortable walking shoes.

Here is a sample of what you’ll see at this wonderful destination:

The French Riviera.  The mere mention brings expectations of wealth, wonder, wondrous women, wondrous women of wealth, and lots of yachts.  And one of the wealthier wonders along this stretch of France’s southern coastline is St. Tropez, home for many years of that quintessential French starlet Brigitte Bardot—another wondrous woman of wealth who probably likes lots of yachts.

St. Tropez exudes a very special charm, from the narrow winding streets lines by tall, colorful apartments to the bright and airy outdoor market.  Cafés punctuate the corners, and restaurants overlook the waters edge.  The marina is an incredible mix of wealth and utility, ranging from multimillion-dollar yachts to small fishing boats and everything in between.

Enjoy the scenery, and let me know if you can spot the photo containing Brigitte Bardot (I only ask because I certainly couldn’t find it):