FRENCH WORD-A-DAY

TODAY'S WORD: petite virée

PRONUNCIATION: [puh-teet vee-ray]

DEFINITION: A short, casual trip or outing, often for pleasure or adventure. Typically used to describe a spontaneous or relaxed excursion.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Before my family flew back to the States, while the house still buzzed with activity, Jean-Marc and I slipped away for an overnight escapade. My husband’s 58th birthday was the perfect excuse to échapper or escape our responsibilities here at home. I quickly decided his gift would be an expedition on the beautiful peninsula of Saint-Mandrier-sur-Mer, conveniently located near Toulon—just 45 minutes from our house.

“Enjoy your getaway! We’ll take care of Grandma and Ricci,” my family assured me. I could leave in good conscience, l’esprit tranquille… though not without risk. On va faire la fête! My sister, Heidi, flashed a devilish smile as the cousins exchanged conspiratorial glances. Woo-hoo! Soon they could crank up the music and bust out the BBQ—without me hovering around, trying to control every drip or decibel.

“Have at it!” I said. “Bring down the house!” I’m slowly learning not to take the bait among a family that loves to taquiner.

In our little two-seater jeep, we took the backroads through Bandol, Sanary-sur-Mer, and our favorite—le Brusc. The winding path above this picturesque port attracts a lot of cyclists and quickly sparked Jean-Marc’s interest. Je vais revenir! He exclaimed, pleased to find a new cycling itinerary.

Arriving in La Seyne-sur-Mer sans reservations, the plan was to check out a few hotels, beginning with the chichi one at the west end of the beach. After learning the price for one night, I quickly reconsidered Jean-Marc’s idea: the modest, family-run inn at the opposite end.

Rien que le nom. Just the name was enough to sway me: Hotel George Sand, so-called after the famous author who came to this former station thermale to heal. While I haven’t finished one of her books, I admire her business savvy. Nearly two centuries ago, she hustled to make a living from her writing. Sand understood the potential of serial publication: rather than rely solely on book sales, she published her novels in popular newspapers such as La Revue des Deux Mondes, ensuring a steady income and keeping readers eagerly following each installment.

While I’m tempted to insert a “to be continued”—right about here—I’ll muster on, for no matter how vivid or romantic a place may be, if you’re not in the mood to talk about it—because spring fever has you in its lackadaisical grip—writing becomes a brick-by-brick slog.

Speaking of bricks… our recently renovated hotel, located along la plage des Sablettes, was clean and comfortable. The owner reminded me of another great character and novelist, Colette. I’m saving her story for a future installment, having learned a trick or two from Madame Sand...

Bon, enough side-tracking. Finally, we left our room (and its perfect view of the Mediterranean) and wandered over to the peninsula, part of la rade de Toulon. Behind our hotel, the streets were dotted with soft pink shrubs–les tamaris–after which George Sand named one of her novels. We passed by a cluster of humble baraques, their gardens a tangle of wildflowers and weeds—just like my own. I breathed a sigh of relief, leaving all cares behind as we made our way to the other side of the peninsula, where the pine forest meets the sea. 

Somewhere near the isthme (were we already on the stretch of land joining La Seyne to Saint Mandrier peninsula?) we crossed through a giant seaside park, passing several locals with their dogs. I made a mental note to ask “Colette” if animals were allowed chez elle—our berger américain would love galloping through the tall maritime grass and scrambling up the rocky coastline, where those little shacks gave way to avant-garde baraques—a word the French also use, tongue-in-cheek, to describe flashy or outsized homes.

We might’ve continued to the tip of the presqu’île, or “almost island,” but I was ready to turn back—hoping to cross the darkening forêt before sundown. 

Jean-Marc suggested we pause to enjoy the coucher du soleil, so we rested at the edge of a sandy beach, sur le muret, as the sun slipped behind the rolling hills. It was so quiet on the waterfront I could almost hear the sizzle of our barbecue and the clink of wine glasses on the other side of the colline, as my family enjoyed dinner back in La Ciotat… .

While it wasn’t the rugged adventure I had imagined for my better half’s birthday (we barely made it beyond the bottleneck of the peninsula), this petite virée was like a good opening chapter: enough to hook us. We’ll definitely come back to the area to discover more. Even better, next time we’ll bring along my spicy little band of rascals. For the amount we saved on the chichi hotel, we can get extra rooms for the family. That ought to perk up my story! What do you think, Madame Sand? 

Our balcony at Hotel George Sand in La Seyne-sur-Mer (on plage des Sablettes). 

Together on Jean-Marc's 58th birthday, sporting a pink glow from the sunset

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FRENCH VOCABULARY

Audio File: Listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the following:

la petite virée = little jaunt

échapper = to escape

l’esprit tranquille = peace of mind

On va faire la fête ! = We're going to party!

taquiner = to tease

le Brusc = a small port town near Sanary

Je vais revenir ! = I will come back!

sans = without

chichi = pretentious or showy

rien que le nom = just the name

la station thermale = spa town

la revue = magazine or journal

les Deux Mondes = the Two Worlds (from the title La Revue des Deux Mondes)

la plage = beach

les Sablettes = name of the beach where the hotel is located

bon = well then, so

la rade de Toulon = Toulon harbor

les tamaris = tamarisk shrubs

les baraques = shacks or houses (used here informally for homes)

l’isthme = isthmus

chez elle = at her place

le berger américain = American Shepherd (dog breed)

la presqu’île = peninsula

le coucher du soleil = sunset

le muret = low stone wall

la colline = hill

REMERCIEMENTS--THANKS
Merci beaucoup for your continued support of this blog. The internet is brimming with places to see and things to read—I’m truly grateful you take the time to visit here. Special thanks this week to:

Trina S.
Holly R-J.
Laurence S.

A note from Trina S.: It's hard to believe how many years it's been since I read your first book and began following your blog. Your children were children. Jules was in Mexico -- with internet -- and chatting away in the comments, too. And, now, here we all are. So much has changed and yet so much is still the same--the things that bring us together, your readers, and your family, curiosity, kindness, the love of learning, the love of the written word, and beautiful photos of food, and markets, country, and ocean, city streets, cozy times at home, and, of course, les animaux de compagnie.

In the distance you can see Les Deux Frères--the two boulders out at sea.

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Merci!