In 1997, the Hobbitt and I took a vacation in France. We spent one week in the countryside of Provence, and one week in Paris. In Provence, we stayed in the 13th century town of La Bastidonne, and in Paris, we stayed in an apartment by the Bastille.

The entire trip -- flights, reservations, car rental was arranged on the Internet. We also found people in three different areas -- Nice, Provence, and Paris -- to meet up with along the way. This was also arranged over the Internet. Pretty good, considering that this sort of thing was still in its infancy. You had to learn to read the primitive web sites, most in French, in order make decisions. Later that year, the travel section of the NY Times did a story about how our trip was accomplished.

Our little house in La Bastidonne was right at the edge of the village. On one side, it overlooked a narrow street. On the other side, there was a small backyard with views of the Luberon Mountains. From here, we took day trips to see the various towns of Provence.

The owner of the house had left us bunches of grapes hanging over the doorway to ripen and fresh eggs in the fridge. We visited the local markets for ingredients and created our own version of French cooking. While eating on the terrace, we shared our food with the wasps that gathered for every meal.

Just outside the town, within walking distance, were the vineyards. It was September and the harvest was beginning. This is one of the vineyards, photographed with the disposable camera that I carried on that trip. Next time you see a bottle of French wine that says "Côtes du Luberon," this is where it came from.