“And, as for the oil, it is a masterpiece. You’ll see. Before dinner that night, we tested it, dripping it onto slices of bread that had been rubbed with the flesh of tomatoes. It was like eating sunshine………..We had to be up early in the morning. We had a goat race to go to... We asked the old man confident in the knowledge that he, like every Frenchman, would be an expert. "The goats who make the most droppings before the race are likely to do well. An empty goat is faster than a full goat. C'est logique.”
― Peter Mayle, A Year in Provence
June 26- July 1, 2022
I wanted to see if the book was real. In March 2020, we returned from Episode IX and were on a roll. We had planned to go again in May-June of that year on this very trip. But this little world wide pandemic got in the way.
In order to prepare for the trip I came across Peter Mayle’s charming book, A Year in Provence. In the text Mayle recounts charming anecdotes of his decision to move from Britain to Provence. The stories tell of a charming, bucolic world filled with truffle hunting dogs, good wine, odd neighbors, and endless blue skies. What’s not to like? What is not worth pursing?
As I thought about it, the book paints a world similar to All Creatures Great and Small which presents an an idyllic slice of England in a lost age. There have been many books like these titles including, Eat Pray Love and Under the Tuscan Sun.
Are any of these books true? The answer is yes and no. Mostly no. But, the visit we planned was our own and there is still much to love here.
You could tell almost immediately as we at last drove into Provence. The landscape became rolling hills with well tended fields crisscrossing the landscape. And the crops? There were fields of lavender, grape vines, and sunflowers whose blooms were turned in unison to face the warm sun. Olive tree groves became more frequent and wheat fields were abundant.
The density of trees became thinner allowing the beauty of individual species to shine. White Oak, Larch Pines, and Almond Trees dotted the the area in clusters. My favorite, the majestic Plane Tree, provided spots of dappled shade from the summer heat.
Provence is a large region with several cities you can base your visit from. We were headed to Arles. Before we got there we had a stop to make.
How did Provence get its name? It was the First Province of Rome. It is helpful to understand that Rome is not merely the city in Italy. During the height of the empire, all the conquered land, from Scotland to modern day Iraq was “Rome”.
Provence is littered with Roman ruins. Some of the best in the world are found here. This is the region where Julius Caesar defeated the Gauls and he would become legend. He would soon take that legend, cross the Rubicon river, and change Rome from a republic to an empire and one man rule.
Once Rome conquered the land it immediately began to assimilate the population. Inhabitants would benefit from assess to trade and Rome’s global economy. During its peak, the time of Augustus , Julius’ heir, Caesar Rome was so big that they changed the name of the Mediterranean Sea to Mare Nostrum, or “Our Sea”. With Rome came political stability, protection from roaming vandals, good roads, trade, schools that taught Latin, colosseums, theaters, temples, and aqueducts.
Like this one -
This is Pont du Gard. This massive bridge over the Gardon River is actually an aqueduct that brought fresh water to the Roman city of Nimes from a source 30 miles away. It is a testimony to the genius of Roman engineering and heralds the greatness of Rome.
The entire aqueduct works by gravity. From its start it drops one inch for every 350 feet. When operational it brought Nimes nine million gallons of fresh water daily.
Pont du Gard remains one of the wonders of Roman ruins still standing. It is 160 feet tall and exceeded in height only by the Colosseum in Rome which is 6 feet taller.
In 1743 an adjacent bridge was built next to the aqueduct and was used by traffic until only a few years ago.
The area is now a popular destination for locals to go swimming and boating beneath the shadow of the great bridge and to escape the heat.
We drove on from the aqueduct to the city of Arles.
(Pronounced “R-ul” in the insane way the French chose to ignore so many rules of phonetics. The French will tell you they have the most logical language in the world. How can the say that when their word for “yes” is spelled “Oui” and pronounced “We”…….but I digress)
Arles has been an important city in the Roman Empire since the beginning of the last millennium. The large Rhone river runs through the city which reached a population of 70-100,000 it its heyday. It is about half that size now.
Like much of Provence, Arles is home to exceptional Roman ruins. In most Roman cities you will find a theater, a coliseum, baths, and more. These buildings were important to help the culture assimilate into the “Roman way”. Much like American media is a worldwide phenomenon in shaping culture. In the strictures still standing, you are treated to a remarkable glimpse of the past lives that came for here for entertainment. These heaping ruins were built to last - remember the Romans invented concrete. The most common way they were destroyed is they served as a ready made rock quarry to steal from to build later structures.
This colosseum in Arles is still used today for concerts, and even bullfighting.
Arles is also where Vincent Van Gogh fled to from cloudy Paris. Here the tortured artist lived out some of his most productive years. He would paint what we call a masterpiece today every 3-4 days. Before he would leave the area, he would paint over 200 works here including the famous “Starry Night”.
The light he so loved here ultimately did not reach his soul. Everyone loves a story of a suffering genius and Van Gogh’s is certainly compelling. It was here that the demons of alcoholism, psychosis, and depression would consume him. Here is where he cut off a portion of his ear in a fit of rage and would spend extended periods in Psychiatric wards. But even during this period of darkness he never stopped painting.
He left here to return to the village of Auvers-sur-Osie in Northern France. There , in a grubby room at the age of 37, he shot himself. He was not discovered for many hours and would die the next day. He was penniless.
Today, his paintings, like the ones he painted here in Provence, are among the most valuable in the world.
With Arles as our base we drove to nearby Les Baux. This hill top village was once the home of a medieval castle of considerable size. It sits in a box canyon in the Alpilles (Pronounced of course absurdly “Ahl-pee”) mountains
The hulking remains of a Feudal era castle are 650 feet above the valley floor making for some spectacular views. Why is the castle so devastated? A familiar story. The village wanted to self govern and the French King would have none of that nonsense, so he destroyed it. They rebuilt and decided they would embrace Protestantism. Well the Pope…you get the idea.
The next day we returned North to the city of Avignon. From 1309 to 1403 nine Popes ruled from this city that the Catholic church purchased in its entirety as a home for the Holy See. History tells us the Pope felt threatened in Italy and moved here for safety. All of Catholicism was governed from here for almost 100 years. Eventually the schism was resolved and the Pope returned to the present day Vatican city.
The Palace is not meant to be luxurious. it was built for defensive purposes only, It is hard to overstate how massive this thing is. The Pope was, for all practical purposes, a theocratic King with his own army. He had an entourage of hundreds to administer the far flung Christian world.
At the very top in the middle of this cathedral is a small bump that is the statue of a naked baby. When you zoom in on it, it is Bacchus - the god of wine and good times. What is that doing there? No one knows.
Avignon also has this unusual incomplete bridge to nowhere. It was built during the medieval times and was destroyed twice, The town simply ran out of money to rebuild and it has been that way ever since.
Orange (Pronounced Or - La-la, Le Poo poo). Is the home of a remarkable ruin.
This is the Theatre antique - a Roman theatre from the first century. It is the largest intact Roman theatre in existence. It seats 10,000 and thanks to it’s massive acoustic wall, still intact, you can hear everything from the stage without amplification.
These theaters, located throughout the empire, provided entertainment to the masses over 100 days of the year and helped pacify them to the “Roman way”. The size of the building is staggering. And, in its time, it was completely covered in marble with colorful statues in all the porticos.
Today, it is owned by the city who still make use of its impressive edifice. They were setting up for a comic opera when we visited.
Orange is where officers were sent when they retired. They were given land and were sufficiently far enough away from Rome not to remember where their swords were kept.
Next to the theatre is the remains of the forum. Why it was so devastated and the theatre survived is a mystery.
Market day was here
We drove into the hill country of the Luberon. Here were a series of hilltop towns among small granite top mountains and fields of lavender , Olive orchards, and wine vineyards. I was wondering if we would ever see the mystical landscape Peter Mayle described in his books.
Here are some of the hill top villages we visited.
We found the Provence of the books next to the village of Menerbes. Mayles had a home here with a terracotta roof looking out onto scrub oak, stately cypress, and grape vineyards. When he was here there were no trendy shops and tour buses. There was no Google Maps. You would have to know where it was located to find the estate.
It was beautiful, hot, and everything it was described in his books. But it was such a small area in Provence.
The trouble was everyone else knew about it as well and the cost of staying in the area and the local cafes have risen dramatically. It's not the same. It never will be again.
Was it ever real? I am not sure. i think I learned over these last few days that Provence is not a destination. It is more of an undiscovered country that you can never quite reach.
Provence is a state of mind. You can have a Provencal moment anywhere when you turn off your phone, spend time with people who love you, and treasure the joy of good food.
Provence is now and eternal, even in humble Mooresville, with two dogs, eight chickens, and a wife any man could only dream of calling his own
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