While taking a little while to explore some of the smaller villages of the Cote de Azur in the South of France, I happened to stumble upon this little town called Ez. Well, I didn’t really stumble upon it, as it was a couple thousand feet above sea level. I was a little disappointed in this side trip only because I was in search of that little out of the way village that time forgot. You know, cobbled stone streets, laundry hanging out in the Mediterranean air, the smell of bread baking coming out of a small window where an older lady was preparing the evenings meal, weathered frenchmen sitting on a bench talking about life. As the bus let us off at the base of the steep climb up to the walled in village, the trinket shops were a dead give away that I was on the road to sheer disappointment if I didn’t correct my course. So, as the crowd headed into the walled old city of overpriced souvenirs and tourist commerce at its worst, I bee-lined it for an off the beaten path excursion. You know, I have never given my final resting place a 2nd thought (well, perhaps as I was wheezing for air on the steep climb with the heavy camera backpack on, it may have crossed my mind), but somehow, this calm and peaceful view overlooking these Mediterranean hills seemed to feel like an ok place to take that eternal nap.