Three Summers: A week in Provence

From Malta we arrived back in Paris and couldn't resist staying overnight before heading south, to Provence and back to the Mediterranean. For this visit we decided to experience Parisian suburban life and chose to stay in lovely Vincennes. It is in eastern Paris and comes complete with its own Chateau de Vincennes and the beautiful, sprawling Bois de Vincennes. In Vincennes you can blend in with the locals a little more than in the centre of Paris, and we knew that our French speaking skills must have improved considerably when we could (almost) keep pace with the butcher's conversation. In fact, senor seems to have his 'bonjour' so perfect that not only is he often asked for directions, people often launch into conversation after him uttering only one word 'bonjour'! The Vincennes butcher wanted to engage us on his take on the recent Tour de France and, without wanting to cause offence, tell us that Cadel was not his favourite rider. I assured him no offence taken although, bien sur... Cadel was definitely our favourite!

There was time to jump on the metro to visit just one favourite sight in the city before a walk along the Seine and dinner on Ile Saint Louis. A visit to Sainte Chapelle late in the afternoon is magnificent. There is no queue at either the security point to enter the Palais de Justice nor the ticket window. Half an hour before closing time there were very few visitors at all, and then with just 10 minutes left before massive doors were bolted for the night I looked around to see that I had become Sainte Chapelle's solitary visitor. At precisely 6.00pm the attendant appeared at the doors and pronounced, "Madames et Monsieurs, Sainte Chapelle est fermee!" Seeing that there were no monsieurs and just one madame he walked toward me and said quietly in English "this is my favourite time of day in Sainte Chapelle, ze light is most beautiful. You may take a minute."

There is a celestial-ness about standing alone in an empty Sainte Chapelle and seeing the last of the afternoon light illuminating its great stained glass windows and rose window, and the darkness gently covering its intricately sculptured and painted surfaces. Heavenly.

Quite beautiful

Nobody else.......just me.

Lyon was our overnight stay on the way to Provence. 24 hours is not nearly enough time to get to know this beautiful city, but it was enough time for us to hire two bicycles for a fast ride down the very steep and winding roads from Croix-Rousse where we were staying, to Lyon's UNESCO listed old town.

This is just one of over 100 painted buildings in Lyon.
Trompe-l'oeil - trick of the eye - it's difficult to determine
what is painted, what is real!

Lyon's night time illuminations make it a beautiful city for
an after dinner walk.

Lyon claims to be France's gastonomic heart and in Vieille Ville -
old town Lyon - we found plenty of restaurants including
traditional bouchons - inns serving Lyonnaise food.

In Provence we rented the top floor of a home in the ancient fishing village of La Ciotat. It was the family home of 70 year old Alain who now lives 2 hours away in the Luberon. Alain has a permanent tenant downstairs and rents upstairs to holidaymakers. Five rooms and a large terrace overlooking the village and the sea was perfectly located - a short walk to the calanque and directly across the street to the local boulangerie. Yes, most days it was warm croissant for breakfast and fresh baguette for lunch.

Saturday was market day and the waterfront around the little harbour and the centuries old maze-like streets surrounding it were bursting with produce, wares, and people carrying that icon of the French market, the couffin - market basket. Without thinking about how I might get one home, I purchased our own lovely leather-handled couffin. As I sling it over my shoulder I love how the fresh baguette pokes out the top.

While it is a many centuries-old town, La Ciotat is famous for it's 'recent' history - the setting of the world's very first motion picture in 1895, and in the early 1900s France's national game 'petanque' was invented there. All around Provence we saw (mostly) men playing petanque in the afternoon sunshine.

During our week at La Ciotat we swam in the calanques (fjiord-like coves), drove along the cote d'azure to Cannes and St Tropez; ambled through the villages of Provence and the Luberon all the time considering which one we should retire to. We marvelled at the spectacular Routes des Cretes, 'tasted' Provence in the cafes and restaurants, and noticed the subtle changing colours of the leaves in the vineyards.

After a glorious week in Provence the mistral blew into La Ciotat flapping the shutters and sending early falling autumn leave into eddys along the waterfront; it closed the Route des Cretes and literally blew us out of town and on to Carcassonne. Frequently along the l'autoroute du soleil were signs 'vent violent' and 'soyez prudence'. The locals say that not only does the mistral blow the tourists away it also blows the chestnuts off the trees which makes for easy gathering. An overnight stay in Carcasonne and then across the Pyrennees back into warm and sunny Spain.

The spectacular view along the Routes des Cretes - the high road
between La Ciotat and the lovely little port of Cassis, where we
swam at its fine sandy beach.

Routes des Cretes - a week after this photo high
winds closed this spectacular road.

Our favourite calanque at La Ciotat - calanque de Figuerolles.

La Ciotat cinema named after the Lumiere brothers. La Ciotat was
the setting of the very first motion picture, filmed at the local train station in 1895.