Provence France Oct 2019

Perils and Pleasures of Travel

"Sir, it doesn't appear that you'll be able to board this flight", the courteous American Airline staff informed my husband. "Why" he asked with alarm in his voice! "Because you need three months until expiration of your passport to enter France, sir".  The ticketing agent concurred and rebooked us on the next day flight later in the afternoon to enable him to get an expedited passport and still catch our flight. The upside was that it was a more direct route than our current flight .Uncharacteristically, for me, I said with abundant optimism, " Let's just be tourists in Minneapolis for the day instead of France, while we wait."  We had met in Minneapolis and lived there together for a few years back in the late 70's, so although we knew the city well, we hadn't really done the tourist activities that we found ourselves indulging in that day such as the Lake Harriet Trolley Car Ride or a stroll over one of the downtown Mississippi River bridges, taking in the merging of nature's corridor, the river, as it cuts through the architecture of the city. The next day we boarded our fight with fresh passport and plenty of time. 

Time and money,are both things that the traveller must adjust to as they change countries and cultures. Arriving in France in the morning, we found our way to the warren-like maze of metro trains at Chatelet.  Almost miraculously we found our boarding platform to take us to Gare Lyon, where we had no train ticket pre-booked to go to the city of Avignon in southern France. We were at the mercy of Plutus, the god of money, paying whatever price he deemed the market would bear upon such short notice. But at least there were two open seats!

By the time we arrived in Avignon and rented a car it was late afternoon and we had what should have been about an hour and a half drive to the villa we were sharing with a group of fifteen others in the countryside of a village known as Crillon le Brave, north of Carpentras.  We had printed directions from the villa owner as well as from a friend who had mapped it out using Google Maps. And thankfully, we had an old style paper map. Immediately we had difficulty finding our way out of the city as the directions didn't seem to concur with the actual signage.  So after a couple of attempts we doggedly went forward and left the city headed toward Carpentras. Night had fallen on Carpentras before we arrived and we were met with more challenging directions but Yata, my husband, drove while I navigated by cross-referencing the myriad forms of directions I had at hand. "Take this exit - no, not that one, next one-left, left left, yes- this is it….", and so it went until we arrived along the narrow gravel lane of what should be the villa, but is it the villa, there is no sign...what if we enter someone's private yard.  Where to park? I could see our friends in the villa that I recognized from daylight photos, now lit from inside. We parked at the end of long row of shrubs, that was obviously the front but not the true parking area as it was blocked off by large stones. Frustrated, I dragged my luggage from the trunk of the car and lugged it across the acre sized lawn, entering the front door to find our friends around the dinner table relaxing. Meanwhile, poor Yata had been circling the grounds to find the actual parking area, hidden behind the villa.

We were finally ready to experience Provence, southern France, with our friends sharing this stately villa.  They served us some dinner and wine while we shared stories of our travails. The first wine we had that night came from an area known as Plan de Dieu of the Cote du Rhone region of southern France.  I'm not sure if it seemed exceptionally tasty due to the circumstances or because it is simply a great wine. I look forward to trying to determine that in the future. 

One person in our group, a wine connoisseur, Peter was asked to select wine for our group dinners. Something reasonable and yet good quality.  He mostly stayed with the reds of the Cote du Rhone since we were in the heart of the region, with vineyards surrounding the villa. The reds of Cote du Rhome are made up mostly of grapes grenache, mourvedre and syrah.  They are generally fruity, relatively smooth and are great with French food, of course.

The cuisine of France is famous worldwide and I was looking forward to a first hand experience with it, having travelled the world, studying cooking and cuisine throughout.  I was not disappointed. Our group of seventeen at the villa proved to be avid chefs in their own right. With the exception of a fabulous veal dinner presented by the two Brits in our group - the rest of us, from the United States - yh n had french inspired meals including ratatouille, Cordon Bleu Endive, Wild Mushroom Crostini, poached pears and much more. Each morning our group coordinator, Steve, would hike up to the hilltop bakery at Crillon le Brave to purchase fresh made croissants for breakfast. Such dedication!

Besides the wonderful meals with our group at the villa, we also dined at restaurants during the day trips to villages in the area.  One day trip included a jaunt to the coast, an area referred to as the Camargue, a marshland delta of the Rhone river as it enters the Mediterranean.  Of course seafood was the best option in the seaside villages.

Dentelles de Montmirail

Another memorable day trip was to the neighboring Dentelles de Montmirail for hiking.  I had packed so lightly that I had no quality hiking shoes. When the local hikers saw my slip-on sneakers they tried to warn me from attempting the hike.  Luckily I'm much too determined, and the Swiss mountain goat in me pressed on. I was forced to be especially mindful of my steps in places as it was rocky and at times steep but in the end, wasn't really bad.  I'm sure it helped that it was a dry terrain. Such beautiful views, both upwards toward the teeth-like peaks of the Dentelles and down across the valleys below as they receded into my favorite cornflower blue.

After ascending we ventured back to the villa through the villages of Beaumes de Venise and Gigondas, both tiny villages with a few small Wine Caves, what we would refer to as tasting rooms.  Beaumes de Venise is famous for its sweet Muscat dessert wine. We, Peter and I, selected some wine for the evening dinner table. We were the designated chefs for the evening with our roommate/husband and it was time to begin preparing the dinner.  At the last minute we purchased a nice ready made mushroom and cheese ravioli to add to the ratatouille as cooking for seventeen is quite daunting!

After dinner, and a few hours of sing alongs led, on guitar by Yata,  as well as some intellectually stimulating history lessons from the Brits, we retired to our rooms to get ready for another day. The next day was highly anticipated. We were to visit the city of Arles, the home of Vincent Van Gogh during his most productive if not self destructive period.  

Arles at Night

Sight of Van Gogh's, Starry Night Over the Rhone, Arles

Arles is a perfect sized inner city for exploring the traditional French market, the historical Roman ruins and the venue for the work of Vincent Van Gogh.  Although the city has only a small selection of his actual work- to be found at the Van Gogh Foundation- they have created a pleasing walking tour of the city highlighting the painting sites of Van Gogh.  Sidewalk placards display reproductions of his paintings such as Starry Night Over the Rhone River or The Yellow House, Arena at Arles (in Roman Colliseum), Hospital in Arles and others. We were fortunate to see three paintings of The Sower by Van Gogh at the Van Gogh Foundation. This subject,the sower, after Millet, obviously developed through the repeated painting subject into a final strong, emotionally charged painting that the artist boldly signed. There are also numerous art museums including works by Picasso and others, mostly housed in former merchant class palace-like homes.

Painting a view from Cezanne's Garden

Painting of Cezanne's Atelier

Although Picasso lived in France for a time, as did Marc Chagall, as a war refugee, and Matisse and Gaugin, a son of Provence is Paul Cezanne of Aix en Provence. This lovely city with its plane-tree lined boulevards, gardens and ocre hued buildings was not kind to Cezanne who dedicated his life to painting the world as he saw it.  Matisse and Picasso, both credited him with being ," the father of us all". His pre-cubist paintings hinted at the direction others would take. It was such a privilege, as a painter myself, to visit his home, studio and gardens. We later drove out of the city to see his favorite subject matter in the distance, Mont Sainte Victoire.

The final challenge and pleasure of our trip to France involved the fact that there was a train strike in effect as we tried to go north from Avignon.  We had plans to visit friends we had met while in Thailand ten years earlier, who lived in Vichy, between Lyon and Paris. We made it to Lyon, only to find out that all trains to Vichy were cancelled.   Our host, Hubert gave us suggestions for other cities between the two to try so that he could drive pick us up. Eventually we found a commuter train that went half way to Vichy. We arrived at the platform to find it full of waiting passengers and there were no reserved seats on the commuter train. When the train arrived, a half hour late, it was packed door to door.  But we insisted that we must get on. I turned around and backed in, gently pushing and apologizing as I went. But we had two large pieces of luggage, Yata and a guitar to still get on the train. We stacked the luggage between us but he door of the train wouldn't close; Yata or something was blocking the door. After five attempts and much groaning by other passengers, the door finally closed.  We were off; standing for nearly an hour swaying with the crowd of passengers sharing the aisles. Once we arrived and found Hubert we drove the hour and a half to his lovely home just outside of Vichy.

His wife Maylin had been preparing dinner for us and the smells of the roast lamb and tomato tart was enticing. But we must first wash up, join our hosts in the formal living room, replete with art collected upon their travels, share a glass of champagne and hors d'oeuvres and finally at about 9:30 at night sit up to the sumptuou

s meal adorned on the candlelit glass dining table. Of course we must have some Bordeaux with our meal of roast lamb, a light salad, apple turnover for dessert, savory cheese platter and finally a sip of Chartreuse to end the meal back in the living room.

The extra effort to overcome the train strike, the full to busting train car and nervousness about reconnecting with friends we'd only met for a day, ten years ago, all came to marvelous fruition in the end. The pleasures and perils of travel, like a balanced wine, press a certain quality into the mind so that it can not be forgotten; the challenges sharpen the pleasure, carving it into our memory.

Sketchbook painting from the lawn at the Villa Domaine Les Pins