Ah, two weeks in Provence.  Heavenly.  I arrived in Marseille, feeling bushy-tailed if not quite bright-eyed.  My delightful seat mates, two long-time female friends on their way to Moscow, included me in their constant flow of mini-bottles of wine across the Atlantic—of course I didn’t decline—and that camaraderie, coupled with the usual sleeplessness of such a flight, led to a noticeable red-eye effect when I landed. But nothing could dampen my enthusiasm about the adventures in store for me i...