Almost caught up with myself...
Trip Start
Mar 02, 2009
1
5
19
Trip End
Apr 02, 2009
St Remy de Provence, France
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
This is such a good place to stay. Claude et Christophe, who run it are wonderful and this little hotel Le Canto Cigalo is brilliant. I have asked to stay longer once M has sadly left and they think this is only short term! ....Le Canto Cigalo is provencal for 'the cicada's song' and there are lots of little touches around the place. Provencal decor and linen and ceramic cicadas are everywhere but looking very much the part. They bought this hotel in Oct 2006 and now only have 5 rooms to go to finish the refurbishment. They deserve huge success. It is out of town so very quiet and this means a stroll into St Remy de Provence to work up an appetite and a digestif little stroll back! The breakfast is a joy with homemade jam and good bread/croissant etc. Today has been bright but so very, very windy and at times, icy cold. However, to the accompaniment of 'On White Horses let me flyaway', Little Black Bull' and 'Pretty Flamingo' with lid off, we set out for Maussane, Fontvielle and Port St Louis. Sat in the sun (out of the bitter wind) and had a coffee looking out across the marina with not a soul in sight and the waves crashing against breakwaters. Unbelievably, we stumbled across a little car ferry across the Rhone (Salin de Giraud) which was amazingly good fun - lasted all of 3 minutes but something still quite wonderful on driving onto an open ferry that holds -oooh, I would say 10 cars!. Wind turbines are plentiful here and make a dramatic photograph when flanking the canals - there are loads down here. Margaret wanted to collect her very own salt so we stopped (all garments flying out horizontally on account of the ferocious wind) where it looked to be favourable for a 'scoop' alongside a trickling river. The salt flats in the Camargue are immense and are still being worked. Although she leapt like a gazelle across said trickling river there was a type of quicksand either side so the Robert Clergerie boots took a bit of a hit. It turned out that there wasn't sufficient salt to be scooped up either. We found the road leading pretty much around Etang de Vaccares (D37) which was magical (salt spray coming across the car) and it all came together, the white horses, the black bulls and flamingos. We think we also saw a brown eagle so were in uplifted spirits. However, we went onto Stes Maries de la Mer which at this time of the year just seemed to be about a few retired people and shuttered properties. The outskirts were sad and honestly smelt of the riding stables that line all the way into the town. Margaret commented on the hundreds of broken horses (who, rather than being white were actually rather grubby) standing forlornly in paddocks. The landscape is so very flat and I didn't realise that they also grow black rice here on account of the marshes that cover so much of this area. Changed direction and swung by Arles, parked in the main drag and took a walk up to the roman arena which is used pretty much as an outdoor venue rather than a tourist attraction which is refreshing. Next event at Easter will be bullfighting. I have yet to unlock the powers of the internet for sufficient time to understand the differences between French and Spanish bullfighting. In short, the bull survives in France and doesn't in Spain. One thing that has given us both a bit of a diversion is finding suitable 'facilities to enable us to be comfortable for sightseeing'. We found a bar in a delightful square in Arles but the 'facilities to enable us to be comfortable for sightseeing' were not good. In addition, the staff were really just too cool to be bothered serving us. Anyhow, we decided that Arles was a great place, bar notwithstanding, and will come back for market day. We stopped off on the way back to the hotel at Les Baux de Provence, an amazing outcrop of rock in Les Alpilles (little Alps) just outside St Remy de Provence but as it was sunset, the temperature had dropped alarmingly, so we didn't hang about.
I can honestly say that the difficulty in logging in to the internet has now officially beaten me down. Anxiety in terms of trying to upload a short diary piece every day is just looking totally time inefficient compared to quick handwritten notes in one of those quaint things called diaries. Either me, my Acer, how the internet appears on loading or the sheer slowness of everything, is conspiring against me. I am actually convinced it's probably all of the above.
I was heartened by the thought of a steak and salad, so we ate at L'Industrie in St Remy de Provence. They were friendly and efficient so we will come back for Margaret's gala dinner on Sunday night. Deciding on a nightcap, we strolled back to the original Bar a Vins in the main square. On being told that only the English and Americans drink cognac, we vowed that those 2 would be our last.
Saturday March 7th
Early start so we could get back to Arles for market day. Our intention was to seek out a hidden bric-a-brac (brocante) treasure but the market wasn't really that type. M spotted painting she liked and I tried on a pair boots as it is still so cold. Both of us passed on purchases thinking we might see something we'd prefer but as always, did not and it was too late to go back. Arles is definitely worth a visit as the arena is huge and the old town is fascinating with a diverse population now. The wind couldn't be more bitter as we walked around so we decided to take a drive out to Gordes and Roussillon on Claude/Christophe's recommendation. Good call. Gordes is a hilltop town which you can see from some way off but the last 100 metres approach is impressive. This Luberon countryside is so undulating and picturesque but has undergone incredible history. Both resolved to have a read of Peter Mayle - cras - possibly - but it is beautiful! We both preferred Roussillon which uses the local ochre from the cliffs to colour the walls of the houses .A long day - both 110% fatigued but managed to revive sufficiently for a meal out at La Medina, where the meal was probably just to heavy late at night but the tagines were tasty and the people, yet again, a delight.
Sunday March 8th.
This is going to be a 'rest'day for us both. Not defeated by our attempt at finding 'brocante' in Arles, we had spotted another market at Fontveille. The boys said this was likely to be an attic clearing and that finding a Picasso would be unlikely. They recommended a market (which is on Fri, Sat and Sun) at L'Isle sur la Sorgue which was 40mins drive away. A lovely drive at that - it's hard not to have one around this area. The town was absolutely heaving and all were French enjoying, at last, the change in the weather. Without the wind and the glorious sunshine, everyone and everything down here behaves differently. This town is yet another gem, with the fast flowing but narrow Sorgue giving it a charming focal point. There is, of course, the square with Le Cafe de France opposite the church with wonderful zinc bar and wooden scroll work across the top of the windows. The clientele were varied but M and I were taken by 3 ladies of a certain age flirting outrageously with Nicholas the barman and, something I've rarely seen, knocking back the Sherries like no tomorrow. You'd have imagined them to be of the local 'uptight and proper brigade' However, an 'alternative' couple appeared with their child and sat next to them Each of them, in turn, swept the little boy off his feet and smothered him in what can only be described as 'huge smackeroonies'. I waited in horror for the child to be completely terrified but he, and everyone around us laughed like mad. What an easy atmosphere in a bar on a Sunday with masses of intense yellow mimosa all around and the sun shining. Great experience and shortlived. Margaret went off to buy flowers for the boys whilst I had yet another unfulfilled attempt at the internet. To cheer me up Margaret suggested we buy some espadrilles and ceramics. Good idea and then topped by the long awaited prolonged lunch of kidneys and chips and a carafe of Cotes du Rhone. I think you had to be there to understand what a wonderful lunch it was at the Alcyon restaurant. It was made even more entertaining by Margaret trying to avoid a man who ran an oriental antique shop she happened to be browsing in and had tried to lure her to his boutique hotel. We only discovered the brocante part of the market late in the day but Margaret who knows about these things assured me that the day of 'oh, that's just a little object d'art I picked up in the South of France for a song' are long since gone. There were some lovely things but not for us.
Margaret made one last bold attempt at shopping in St Remy de Provence town on our return but was thwarted.
Our last meal together (unfortunately, a Sunday) did see us back in L'Industrie as our favourite bar was not doing food. We had a bit of a hurried meal to be able to finish our evening by returning to the wine bar but it had probably closed at 10pm just like the rest of St Remy de Provence - in fact, like the rest of Provence on a Sunday night in March.
Tomorrow, I will finally catch up and load photos.
Comments
Hey Kyria
Sounds like you're both having a great time. Isn't France fantastic! I love that part of France, around Avignon area. I stayed in Le Thor last year, just up the road from Sorgue. Glad you've been able to find some kidney's too!
Looking forward to hearing about the rest of your trip. I'll be checking in regular.
Enjoy x