The old French men thought we were crazy. I remember their amused expressions as our young co-ed American college student group played pétanque at a park in Southern France. Someone brought pastis that we diluted with water and sipped surreptitiously.

Nobody cared who won. What stuck with me was that feeling of easy-going enjoyment. The Mediterranean sun shining, ice melting in a tall glass, relaxed smiles all around. That, to me, is the Midi.