Frioul

The weather: 75. Balmy. Cloudless.

The island: Aqua water. Pebbly beaches. Breathtaking views.

My mood: As high as the clear blue sky.

When I stepped off the boat onto Frioul this afternoon, I let the Mediterranean air blow my homesickness from yesterday out to sea, to be replaced with pure and simple contentment. Frioul was a world away from the noise and bustle of Marseille, where Karinne and I caught the boat, and was so much more than I was expecting.

The island was un petit paradise, populated with countless seagulls determined to show off their harsh vocals and so many varities of wild flowers that the air smelled sweet. Karinne and I walked a rocky path to a small beach to the back of the island, spread out our towels next to a French family, and didn't move for three hours as the sun warmed my wet and tired heart.

It was bliss.

After we felt as if we might have developed at least the hint of a tan line, we hiked to the top of Frioul to explore the island's old fortress and to admire the calanques the island boasts. We wandered aimlessly, going down paths that looked like they might lead somewhere, but often just ended in rocky meadows filled with wild flowers and gusts of wind. I guess that was the somewhere.

Thoroughly and happily exhausted, we caught the boat back, and about an hour in a half later, I was eating dinner in my apartment and realizing that I have more than just a hint of a tanline. Sunburnt again. Oh well, it was completely and utterly worth it.