Me, a baguette, and one change of clothes

Twenty years ago, after one year of university at Carleton, I decided I’d had enough of Ottawa — a familiar feeling. On my way into the library to study I happened upon a poster that said, “Study in France.” So off I went, to Universite canadienne en France, a branch of Laurentian University that was set up on a low mountain overlooking the aquamarine Mediterranean and the gritty Riviera resort town of Nice. I took with me one suitcase, a bike that was too big (built for Rod, my 6’4″ stepdad), and no clue what I was doing. I was 19. It was a riotous year of travel and wine (and a little study).

This week, as I’m thinking of leaving Ottawa again, an old friend from that year fired off an e-mail with a link to our old French campus — now an exclusive private resort. I think I’d have to take more clothes if I visited now, and nice shoes.

Visit Mont Leuze and see for yourself.

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