Much has been happening since I was last able to post anything here. The most critical thing is that my tablet died. It just turned black in the middle of searching for a web site and never returned. That was a week ago, and a week of being pretty much out of touch with everything is really hard. But the worst is I could not play solitaire or Sudoku--mon dieu, une catastrophe. My brother arrived a few days ago, with his laptop, so I was able to get email again. But no pictures are available. So the blog will remain in a state of suspended animation until I get home and have access to my pictures and more time for finishing the story.
I left St. Saturnin this morning. I'll admit it was bittersweet. I am so looking forward to home and Buck and Susie---and all the familiar and good things that I've missed. But leaving the place where I was beginning to feel comfortable and where so much had happened was a bit sorrowful, too. I'm now sitting in Paris, in an apartment in the upper Marais, with my brother and sister-in-law. We'll be here until Wed. morning, then United will get me back to Durango---I hope without problems. Then I'll catch up on the blog with the last 2 eventful weeks, and maybe some lessons and take-aways from all this time and the adventures.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Friday, October 11, 2013
Catching up on the calendar
This will be a travelogue of sorts, hitting all the sights that Dottie and I covered on her visit. We started most unfortunately in Aix when the nice little clio lost her side door bumper. Buck's reaction was "I could have told you to stay out of Aix". We spent a very unpleasant time 10 years ago trying to drive through Aix that may have taken years off Buck's life. And there wasn't much to see once Dottie and I finally parked and walked around. I'd call Aix underwhelming.
Next day we went hiking in what is called the colorado provencal. It's an area of ochre cliffs, like Rousillon but smaller, with trails through it. Here's a look:
Next stop was lunch in Viens, a village mentioned in Rick Steve's Provence book. I admit that I use Rick--he's good and practical. And this was a good rec. Had a fine lunch of a soupe du poisson. And discovered a spectacular cemetery--they are really interesting places.
Next day we went hiking in what is called the colorado provencal. It's an area of ochre cliffs, like Rousillon but smaller, with trails through it. Here's a look:
Next stop was lunch in Viens, a village mentioned in Rick Steve's Provence book. I admit that I use Rick--he's good and practical. And this was a good rec. Had a fine lunch of a soupe du poisson. And discovered a spectacular cemetery--they are really interesting places.
The trip ended with a longer than expected drive to Manosque and the l'Occitane Factory store. I squirted and sprayed so many scents on me that I still smelled in bed after my shower.
The bummer of the day came later at home when I realized there must have been some mussels in the soup at lunch. I am very allergic to mussels. About 6 hours after eating them I start throwing up---really, really throwing up. This was not a bad case--there must have been a bit of mussel juice in the soup stock--but I knew it was there.
Saturday was spent at Les Baux, a medieval castle ruin on a hilltop in the Alpilles near St. Remy, with a village below. After that, we walked to the Carrieres Lumiere nearby. This hard to explain, but was quite a show. The carriere is abadoned mines, the inside of which have been turned into a sound and light show exhibit space. You walk into a cool, damp cavernous space, with white washed walls all around through which you can wander with pictures projected on every space. The show we saw was paintings from artists connected to the Mediterranean. Hard to describe, but immensely well done.
Sunday we took off to Sault to find the Fete des Saveurs d'Autumnale. It was a local Ventoux farmers fair of autumn produce and was a kick. With a swinging band, lunch for free if you could push your way to the tables set up by the pork producers, veggie farmers and the Ventoux wineries and lots of booths with public interest information. Just a bit of the color:
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| The largest meringues ever. |
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| lunch preparations |
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| Just like New Orleans |
On Monday we hit Rousillon and Goult, where I almost was left to die in the public toilet. I went in, Dottie was sitting on a bench sort of nearby. I tried to get out, and couldn't get the door open. Finally a man walking by heard and jerked open the door for me. Free at last!!! Finished the day with a walk in St. Sat to the moulin, chateau and chappelle. Dottie declared I was trying to make a mountain goat out of her the last 4 days, but that's why they are called hill towns.
Tuesday was market day in town, then on the road to Marseilles and good bye. Made a lunch stop in Lourmarin for a delicious poulet roti lunch, got Dottie to KLM safely and myself back over the hills without getting anywhere near Aix---another good day.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Home sweet home francais
While I was in school, I stayed with a host, Francis Jullien, in his home, which he operates as a chambre d'hote. I had a lovely room and bath, large windows overlooking the Rue de la Republique, with breakfast and dinner included most days. Plus strong wi fi signal--a critical item. Francis is a fine cook, with a kitchen to die for, and I ate very well. His house is on the historical register; it was the Judicial Hall in an earlier time. Francis's apartment, with the dining room, was the courtroom and had a tiny back stairway that was used for bring up prisoners It's a very grand building which retains its grandeur.
But when school ended for me, I had to move out. I had rented a gite for the month of Oct. from Francis (another property he owns in St.Sat.), so I packed up and moved across the street to the other side of the tracks. The Rue de la Republique is stately, large town houses. My house is across the street from there, through the Passage de la Combe, a partly open, partly covered pieton that goes through the block between r. d. l. Republigue and the smaller parallel street Rue de la Combe. It is built back against the point of the rock outcropping on which the now ruined 11th century chateaux stood. The walkway is somewhat like an alley, but with houses fronting on it. My place is quite small. There is a small sitting area, efficiency kitcen and dining area in the space into which the front door opens. This is the entire rez de chausse, or 1st American floor. (pardon my spelling--don't have my dictionary with me and my mastery of french spelling is vague.) Up a half floor is the bathroom, which is efficient--has all the necessary equipment with no wasted space. My only real complaint is the shower. It is one of those pre-fab guys. The doors open in the corner and a large person could not get into it. But the water is hot and it gets you clean. On the 1st floor (2d american floor) are 3 doors and 3 bedroms. The one I chose is a decent size, has a window opening on the passage, and a walk in closet which has a stool to get you up to its door level. The second room is similar, but no closet, the 3d is smaller and narrow. They are simple, spare, and fine.
The kitchen has a sink and draining board combo unit, circa 1950, a small bottled gas operated stove, a nice refrigerator, good sized pantry, plenty of utensils and, oddly stuck between the sink and stove, a teeny clothes washing machine. It is the traditional french machine. It is cabinet depth and very narrow. The top opens on to another door, that opens on to the perforated metal drum that is positioned to spin around from front to back. It holds about 1/4 of the load of my washer at home and takes more than an hour to finish one load, but the clothes get clean. Then they go onto the drying rack and either into the spare bedroom or to the small terrace outside that fronts on the passage. On a positive note, almost all clothes are hung outside to dry which contributes to the Europeans using less energy than we do. Here's a look at my home sweet francais home.
The first few days after I moved were spent in setting up the house, grocery shopping, etc. There is a small epicirie (grocery) here in the village. 2 boulangeries, a bucherie/charcuterie (unfortunately closed right now for vacation) and a market on Tuesday mornings. For big shopping, there are 3 super marches in Apt, including a leClerc, which is really a hyper marche (think of Wal Mart on a diet). That's where I found the soap, detergent, bleach spray that the shower needed, and my shopping bag which doubles for a clothes basket.
Apt is also home to Sylla, the local wine cooperatif. Grapes are brought there by the farmers, crushed and made into wine. There are private domaines in the area that do their own crushing, but many growers use Sylla. There is a tasting room here for all local wines, not just co-op members. Not all the wine is bottled, either. You can buy either a 3 or 5 liter plastic jug, or bring your own, and have it filled from the pump hoses coming out of the wall from vats of the different co-op wines. In the picture above, you can see Dottie pouring from one. I got 3 liters of Luberon Rose, plus the vrac (bottle) for under 10 euro, and it makes a fine vin de maison.
My long time friend from NC, Dottie Blanchard, arrived on Oct 3 from her daughter Suzanne's, in Amsterdam. They had spent the previous week on a nostalgic return to Sardinia where they lived when Suzanne was small. Since she was already in the neighborhood, she flew down to Marseille, about an hour and 3/4 drive away, and I picked her up. It is on the way home, so we decided to stop in Aix coming back. Bad mistake. Aix is a city, with an old center that has the tiny cramped streets of a village, but city traffic. I was trying to navigate through it all and find a parking place in the area of the Cours Mirabeaux, turning right onto Ave Victor Hugo from an unknown side street, when I heard a loud, nasty, heart stopping screech/scrape/thud on the passenger side. I had obviously scraped something, although neither Dottie nor I saw anything. It was impossible to stop in the traffic and inspect the damage until I found a parking lot at the gare, several blocks away. My sweet little Clio no longer had its black, rubbery, plastic door bumber strip. There were really minor scratches, but that was it---cosmetic and no apparent mechanical damage. See for yourself:
Because it's a lease, I have complete insurance coverage, no deductible, from Renault. I called them the next day to report and their only concern was whether I wanted the car repaired immediately or replaced. I assured them no, and was asked to send the incident report with that statement to them by fax. That's more easily asked than done here. Finally discovered the nice lady at the Tabac will send a fax for 1 euro, so Renault should be happy. And my car now fits in with all the other cars in the village.
I have to admit that driving here has ranged from hair raising scary to feeling like I'm in the 24 hours at Le Mans. As you see, the Clio is tiny (I seem to be using that word a lot in descriptions. it's not negative, just relative to home and usually a positive) It's 4 cylinders and when we were on the Autoroute to Marseille with a 130 kmh speed limit, she had a hard time keeping up. But she has a really small turning radius, can park in a lot of unbelievably tight spaces, and fits on the narrow roads with a full sized tour bus coming toward you. And on the narrow, twisty departmental roads through the Luberon, I am getting a kick out of the curves and shifting up and down. That is going to make Buck's hair turn whiter!!!!
More later on what Dottie and I have been doing.
But when school ended for me, I had to move out. I had rented a gite for the month of Oct. from Francis (another property he owns in St.Sat.), so I packed up and moved across the street to the other side of the tracks. The Rue de la Republique is stately, large town houses. My house is across the street from there, through the Passage de la Combe, a partly open, partly covered pieton that goes through the block between r. d. l. Republigue and the smaller parallel street Rue de la Combe. It is built back against the point of the rock outcropping on which the now ruined 11th century chateaux stood. The walkway is somewhat like an alley, but with houses fronting on it. My place is quite small. There is a small sitting area, efficiency kitcen and dining area in the space into which the front door opens. This is the entire rez de chausse, or 1st American floor. (pardon my spelling--don't have my dictionary with me and my mastery of french spelling is vague.) Up a half floor is the bathroom, which is efficient--has all the necessary equipment with no wasted space. My only real complaint is the shower. It is one of those pre-fab guys. The doors open in the corner and a large person could not get into it. But the water is hot and it gets you clean. On the 1st floor (2d american floor) are 3 doors and 3 bedroms. The one I chose is a decent size, has a window opening on the passage, and a walk in closet which has a stool to get you up to its door level. The second room is similar, but no closet, the 3d is smaller and narrow. They are simple, spare, and fine.
The kitchen has a sink and draining board combo unit, circa 1950, a small bottled gas operated stove, a nice refrigerator, good sized pantry, plenty of utensils and, oddly stuck between the sink and stove, a teeny clothes washing machine. It is the traditional french machine. It is cabinet depth and very narrow. The top opens on to another door, that opens on to the perforated metal drum that is positioned to spin around from front to back. It holds about 1/4 of the load of my washer at home and takes more than an hour to finish one load, but the clothes get clean. Then they go onto the drying rack and either into the spare bedroom or to the small terrace outside that fronts on the passage. On a positive note, almost all clothes are hung outside to dry which contributes to the Europeans using less energy than we do. Here's a look at my home sweet francais home.
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| My bedroom |
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| Dottie, standing in the kitchen and pouring our evening glass of rose. The walls of the house are more than a foot thick and the wooden shutters are thick slabs of wood that close tightly and latch---every time I leave the house. |
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| A votre sante--an aperitif on the terrace |
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| The main room. The 2d complaint I have, after the shower, is there are no really comfortable chairs. |
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| Looking through the kitchen window |
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| Stairs from the main room. Bath is to the right of the landing, bedrooms up to the left. |
The first few days after I moved were spent in setting up the house, grocery shopping, etc. There is a small epicirie (grocery) here in the village. 2 boulangeries, a bucherie/charcuterie (unfortunately closed right now for vacation) and a market on Tuesday mornings. For big shopping, there are 3 super marches in Apt, including a leClerc, which is really a hyper marche (think of Wal Mart on a diet). That's where I found the soap, detergent, bleach spray that the shower needed, and my shopping bag which doubles for a clothes basket.
Apt is also home to Sylla, the local wine cooperatif. Grapes are brought there by the farmers, crushed and made into wine. There are private domaines in the area that do their own crushing, but many growers use Sylla. There is a tasting room here for all local wines, not just co-op members. Not all the wine is bottled, either. You can buy either a 3 or 5 liter plastic jug, or bring your own, and have it filled from the pump hoses coming out of the wall from vats of the different co-op wines. In the picture above, you can see Dottie pouring from one. I got 3 liters of Luberon Rose, plus the vrac (bottle) for under 10 euro, and it makes a fine vin de maison.
My long time friend from NC, Dottie Blanchard, arrived on Oct 3 from her daughter Suzanne's, in Amsterdam. They had spent the previous week on a nostalgic return to Sardinia where they lived when Suzanne was small. Since she was already in the neighborhood, she flew down to Marseille, about an hour and 3/4 drive away, and I picked her up. It is on the way home, so we decided to stop in Aix coming back. Bad mistake. Aix is a city, with an old center that has the tiny cramped streets of a village, but city traffic. I was trying to navigate through it all and find a parking place in the area of the Cours Mirabeaux, turning right onto Ave Victor Hugo from an unknown side street, when I heard a loud, nasty, heart stopping screech/scrape/thud on the passenger side. I had obviously scraped something, although neither Dottie nor I saw anything. It was impossible to stop in the traffic and inspect the damage until I found a parking lot at the gare, several blocks away. My sweet little Clio no longer had its black, rubbery, plastic door bumber strip. There were really minor scratches, but that was it---cosmetic and no apparent mechanical damage. See for yourself:
Because it's a lease, I have complete insurance coverage, no deductible, from Renault. I called them the next day to report and their only concern was whether I wanted the car repaired immediately or replaced. I assured them no, and was asked to send the incident report with that statement to them by fax. That's more easily asked than done here. Finally discovered the nice lady at the Tabac will send a fax for 1 euro, so Renault should be happy. And my car now fits in with all the other cars in the village.
I have to admit that driving here has ranged from hair raising scary to feeling like I'm in the 24 hours at Le Mans. As you see, the Clio is tiny (I seem to be using that word a lot in descriptions. it's not negative, just relative to home and usually a positive) It's 4 cylinders and when we were on the Autoroute to Marseille with a 130 kmh speed limit, she had a hard time keeping up. But she has a really small turning radius, can park in a lot of unbelievably tight spaces, and fits on the narrow roads with a full sized tour bus coming toward you. And on the narrow, twisty departmental roads through the Luberon, I am getting a kick out of the curves and shifting up and down. That is going to make Buck's hair turn whiter!!!!
More later on what Dottie and I have been doing.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
This and That
This will be a bit of a catch up and catch all post. When we last we talked, I was boring you with pictures of beautiful little villages all around the Luberon. This last one is about my all time favorite because it has such beautiful colors. It's th ocre village of Rousillon, also officially one of the plus beaux villages of France. In the 19th century, the ocre mines of the area made the town prosperous. Their ocre colors were used in paints all over the world. The First World War and synthetic ocre combined to change this scene and Rousillon declined. People moved away and the town began to die. In the last quarter of the 20th century, the smart, chic, people discovered Rousillon, as they were also doing in Gourdes, Menerbes, etc., and tous Paris came south to the Luberon. As happens, the only people who can afford Rousillon now are the smart Parisians.
The red soil gives the town, and the buildings which are made of it, gorgeous colors ranging from red through pink to gold. Sunset in Rousillon glows.The ocre mines are closed now. There is a self guided walk that can be done through the abandoned cliffs. For years I used a picture of an ocre cliff as my screen saver.
Thursday afternoon we went to Rousillon for a walk around and drink and I took a few pictures that don't do the place justice, but give a little taste. I also found the gallery owned by a nice woman to whom I had talked on the hike last Sunday. If you're ever here, go to see her at the Gallery des Ocres. It's behind the church at the top of the village. The first is a random shot of a town house, and the second is the Mairie--or town hall.
Saturday morning is market time in Apt, about 10 km. away and a town of about 10,000. This is a really big market. There are vegetables, fish, cheese, oil, honey, sausages, foie gras, as well as underwear, fabrics, records--not cd's, vinyl--pictures, toys, clothes---you name it and somebody is selling it at Apt. Of course, all that interested me was food, so here some pictures.
The red soil gives the town, and the buildings which are made of it, gorgeous colors ranging from red through pink to gold. Sunset in Rousillon glows.The ocre mines are closed now. There is a self guided walk that can be done through the abandoned cliffs. For years I used a picture of an ocre cliff as my screen saver.
Thursday afternoon we went to Rousillon for a walk around and drink and I took a few pictures that don't do the place justice, but give a little taste. I also found the gallery owned by a nice woman to whom I had talked on the hike last Sunday. If you're ever here, go to see her at the Gallery des Ocres. It's behind the church at the top of the village. The first is a random shot of a town house, and the second is the Mairie--or town hall.
There were lots of mushrooms, with chanterelles going for 23 euro per kilo. Couldn't help thinking about how many of them we cut on our Jura Knob hike a few years ago.
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