Storybook Villages. Monday 7th September 2009.

It was both exciting and strange to be driving through and visiting villages that had been the settings of books I had read over the years, villages like Rousillion, Apt and, Aix en Provence; our destination for today. We didn’t stop in Apt, even though we thought we might, it was busy, busy, busy and seemed hard work, on we pressed to Lourmarin which was bustling with tourists around the chateau area but sleepy in comparison to Apt once you arrived inside the sweeping, cobbled back streets. We took a table under the shade of an umbrella right beside a trickling fountain, and sipped coffee. Lourmarin seemed like the kind of place where people sat in the shade sipping aperitifs and coffees watching the world pass them by, or strolling the uneven streets with toy sized dogs toddling along at their heels. The clientele at the cafes invariably wore something a bit sparkly, even the baseball caps showed diamantes and glitter, Lourmarin was well heeled.

On the same street as where we sat, a vendor sold honey of Provence, figs grown in his garden, red currants in small brick-shaped punnets and artichokes adorned with violet coloured brush strokes, hence their name.

My first impressions of Aix were not warm and fuzzy, like arriving in any new city when you don’t know where to go; it was a full frontal attack. Parking was difficult but we persevered and found that if you park just outside the perrifique road, you pay only €1 per hour, not a bad deal when only one street closer is double the price. As usual, we had packed a picnic and due to the usual lack of picnic spots along the roadway, we ended up enjoying a car boot picnic on an anonymous street in Aix. The picnic was great though, left over roast pork from last night’s roast, spiced up with the last of our mustard, laced with pain d’espices, from Burgundy – yes, we have been carting around our precious mustard from one destination to the other. We headed on foot towards centre ville and almost immediately Aix began to reveal her charm. The streets are lined with ornate doors, sometimes flanked with muscular sculptures, heavy door knockers and heavy metal studs and hinges. Deep inside the city walls there are intimate squares at every turn, often with a central fountain, the sounds from it giving feelings of tranquillity. The large streets are lined with shady plane trees as are some of the squares offering shade from the warmth of the sun.

Aix hums along and has such an assortment of shops from the run of the mill big names that infiltrate every shopping hub, to small specialist stores specialising is sweet bon-bons, some of which we bought and ate as we walked. My favourite shop sold artisanal Provencal biscuits that were arranged in wicker baskets with flat bottoms, the biscuits were piled high and fanned out and looked so enticing, they sold the regional specialty of callisons and fruity flavoured lollipops too.

The sun was streaming in the doors to the Hotel de Ville which were adorned with enormous lion’s head knockers. It cast neatly edged shadows on the ground inside the courtyard giving it a warm and welcoming glow. We sat inside a quiet corner of the courtyard for a while. My special place tucked safely deep inside the old town of Aix, is Place D’Albertas with its disused fountain as its crowning glory. The floor of the square is paved in rounded stones which were long ago laid in patterns. The cobbles undulate now, they lie neglected with weeds making them their home but they still have a story to tell.

JR was taking a few pics as AJ and I sat on a step in front of a set of heavy timber doors. The door behind us opened and a beautiful young girl appeared. As AJ was sitting in front of the door she had opened, he stood and politely moved to the side, as he turned to face her he was standing one step lower than she allowing them both to be eye to eye and only inches apart. She moved to the same side as he, they both took a step to the other and back. She made her exit and left AJ and I to enjoy the biggest belly laugh. She had the face of an angel and was about AJ’s age, it was quite a moment.

Before leaving the city, we walked up Avenue Paul Cezanne to the painter’s home and studio around the turn of the century. It was closing as we arrived but we were able to see the garden and photograph the outside, its rust coloured shutters were closed tightly awaiting the night. The leaves on the trees lining the steep avenue were beginning to turn rusty orange and curl at their edges, their hearts were still green and supple but as the early autumn days pass, their green hearts will also turn golden and earthy and will fall gently to the earth.

It was a long drive home, the time passed by with us singing and laughing. We realised we were on the same road as the night we drove from Marseilles to find our home on the very first night in Provence. We found the restaurant we had eaten in and enjoyed so much but being a Monday, it was closed, its curtains tightly pulled across the facade of the dining room. Pizza Jo’s mobile pizza van was doing brisk business in the village of Saint-Andiol en route to Nyons, so we stopped and ordered a tartiflette, a forestiere (mushroom) and a chorizo pizza and ate happily sitting on a park bench outside the tourist office. A few locals passed wishing us bon appétit such is the French way.

Villages of Vaucluse and the Sweet Scent of Lavender. Friday 4th September 2009.

I had a 10.30 interview and photo shoot booked with Distillerie Bleu Provence to watch one of the final distillings of lavender for the season. We were given access to the entire distillery and Clement, who was looking after us, was a wealth of knowledge and pretty easy on the eye too. We watched the entire process of how to extract the oil from lavendin, the farmer arrived with his truck laden with long, flower tipped stalks which were forked into the vases ready for steam to be forced through them alowing their precious oil to be extracted. It was a great visit and I learned so much. The things we are seeing behind the scenes of this year are amazing and I am so thankful.

I would recommend anyone visiting Provence to spend an afternoon discovering the secrets of Vaison la Romaine, It is a delightful town with a village like atmosphere, and there is something for everyone. We chose not to visit the Roman ruins; we refer to them now as ‘ABR’, another bloody ruin which makes us all laugh. If this is your thing you will be well satisfied in Vaison la Romaine.

We walked around without a map and discovered whatever we passed. The Roman Bridge was great to see, it is the link from the new town to the old medieval town and is just gorgeous. From the bridge you ascend the hill to the ramparts of the old city; this is the spot for exploring. The upper town is full of enchanting Provencal squares with pretty fountains. We came across a local couple doing handcrafts and selling home grown Muscat grapes of which we bought a bunch and ate while wandering. At the height of the hill there is an old feudal castle which offers an incredible panoramic view of the town. We were relaxed and unhurried today and it was nice to explore this way and to have time to breathe.

A few kilometres up the road is Seguret, again perched hillside and pretty as a picture with fountains and small chapel. There are beautiful views over the plains from the village square, it is a nice place to contemplate Provence.

Another short distance along is Sablet, cute and cobbled it is, but nothing out of the ordinary, if you can call hill side Provencal villages ordinary. I don’t know why, but Sablet pales into insignificance compared to the others. We had a few interesting encounters here though. I heard a woman saying ‘no worries’ as she helped a passerby with a question. She was an Aussie, her daughter lived in the village with her family and she lived with them for half of the year. A little later, AJ and I got talking to another Aussie couple who had been staying in the village and were leaving tomorrow, they, like me, had fallen in love with Provence.

We had packed a picnic to take today and had planned to enjoy it for dinner. As Sablet didn’t enchant us, we decided to drive home and enjoy the picnic on our terrace. It sounded great in theory but when we arrived home the Mistral wind had arrived with us, forcing us indoors to the dining table where we enjoyed our first ever kitchen picnic.