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.

Fragments

A few weeks ago, I went to a delightful jazz concert at a winery in the countryside outside of Carcassonne. I’ve been to concerts there before, since we first moved here. This concert was by the Marc Deschamps trio, who embodied 1950s cool cats of jazz and who played a mix of beloved standards and lesser-known pieces by such pillars of jazz as Dave Brubeck. As lovely as the music was, the concert room, as always, was the star of the show.

Sobriety

The word on everyone’s lips in France these days is sobriété–sobriety. Not regarding consumption of alcoholic beverages but regarding consumption of energy. It all just makes sense, but as usual, it takes a crisis to kick people into action.

Do You Hear What I Hear

Sometimes unexpected sounds float through my open window. Waking in the middle of the night, the city is so silent, I can hear my own heartbeat. And then….

Truffles!

Today was the truffle market at Moussoulens, just northwest of Carcassonne. The beauty above is the one that came home with me, ringing in at 25€ (the going price is 800€ per kilogram). It will perfume my meals for a week, and that includes a truffled risotto dinner I plan to have with a few friends.