Uzès

Final stop on the Provençal roadtrip: Uzès, an extremely charming town of about 8,000, more or less straight north of Nîmes. It was born as a Roman settlement, where the Eure springs are the source of the Alzon River. The springs also fed the Roman-built aqueduct taking water to Nîmes, of which the Pont du Gard is the most breathtaking section. Check out my post about the Pont du Gard.

Toujours Provence

The last village of the roadtrip was Ménerbes, which became famous thanks to Peter Mayle’s books–A Year in Provence, Toujours Provence, etc. I remember enjoying the books when they came out, but later feeling more ambivalent. He is the anti-Pagnol, rolling his eyes at the paysans‘ lack of sophistication, whereas Pagnol let the villagers have the last laugh, with common sense triumphing over book smarts.

On to Roussillon

My pre-spring Provençal road trip moved on to Roussillon, after starting in Avignon, then on to Isle-sur-la-Sorgue and Gordes. As you can guess from the number of photos, I liked Roussillon.

Provence Pit Stop: Gordes

As promised a while back, here are some shots from my roadtrip in Provence. The first place after Isle-sur-Sorgue was Gordes, a hilltop village with great views and quaint stone buildings.

In Search of Lost Time

One way to find a meaningful souvenir while traveling is also an excellent way to uncover the soul of a city–figure out something you love to do, and then track down the little shops that might stock something relevant to that passion. Or something you will use in daily life, passion or not. Cooking-related stuff is good that way–most people cook and everybody eats, and it’s nice to think of vacation while using the oven mitts from this place or opening the wine with the corkscrew from that vineyard visit or serving a meal with a beautiful dish from some beloved destination. Sometimes clothes can work, too, especially if they’re classic and well made, like the leather coat I bought in Rome about 25 years ago and still wear (though I did just replace the lining). Every time I wear that coat, I think of Rome. Every time I put food in the handmade bowl painted by a Palestinian family, I think of my trip to Jerusalem. Every time I serve coffee with the tiny, so-French coffee spoons with grape bunches at the ends, I think of the weekend in Bordeaux. They are like Proust’s madeleine, making memories–souvenirs in French–flood back.

Avignon

The Provence roadtrip I mentioned earlier started in Avignon. Just a short visit, en route farther east. The weather was cold, gray and very windy, which gave all those crenellated stone walls a slightly menacing feel. It also meant there weren’t hordes of people in the streets.

A Festival of Film

In honor of the Oscars this weekend, join me for a visit to the International Political Film Festival. It’s fairly new–this year was only its fifth–but growing very fast. It has an interesting concept–the point is to see as many films as possible, so you buy a pass for a day or the weekend rather than tickets for each film. There are five screens around the center of Carcassonne within a few minutes’ walk of each other, with the theaters ranging in size, so you have to be sure to reserve your seats for some of the smaller sites. But for a very reasonable price, (13€ for a day; 25€ for the weekend; 60€ for the weekend plus the opening and closing ceremonies and the cocktail party at the end), you can see dramas and documentaries all day.

No Mo’ FOMO

Ever since I moved to southern France some two decades ago, I have suffered from a fear of missing out related to having chosen Languedoc over Provence. For years I’ve heard that the grass is greenest over there in Provence. I finally went to see and discovered the grass is just as green right here. I’m back from a little roadtrip and have to say it didn’t feel like a getaway at all. It felt very much like around here. This isn’t to slight Provence, which is as beautiful as everybody says, but it’s to say that it’s just as beautiful–even a very similar genre of beauty–but with fewer hassles. I’ve never been so happy to be right where I am.

Milestones

First baby tooth. First baby tooth to fall out. First words. First reads. Riding a bike. Learning to drive. Cooking. Living independently. Choosing a partner. Having children. Milestones mark the journey of life, reminding us of befores and afters so that our time on earth doesn’t just pass by in a monotonous blur.

Take This Job and …

We all know, or have been told by Emily in Paris, that the French work to live, rather than live to work. So it isn’t surprising that a proposal by President Emmanuel Macron’s government to gradually raise the retirement age to 62 from 60 has brought people out into the streets and has shut down most rail travel (not just trains between cities but also the Paris Métro).

In the absence of relevant photos, I present you photos of what the French live for. Like amazing pastries. Most important is the top photo–terrace cafés.