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A postcard from Provence
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The Pont du Gard, built by the Romans 2,000 years ago, brought water to Nimes. William Etling photo
Vineyards, olives, and lavender were everywhere. We could be talking about my Santa Ynez Valley home, but we were in Provence. The mountain roads resemble San Marcos Pass north of Santa Barbara, with the addition of medieval villages on every hilltop. Scrubby trees have been tortured by the Mistral, a fierce, maddening wind from the north.
Roman ruins are everywhere. Provence was a hardship post in Roman times. "Provinces" is derived from it; and “provincials,” which was Roman for rube. Peter Mayle's 1991 book about moving there, "A Year in Provence," was a runaway success (to some natives' dismay), popularizing this sleepy, forgotten corner of Europe, and pushing real estate prices sky high.
St Paul de Vence is a gem, a tiny walled citadel dating from medieval times, with steep, winding cobblestone streets and stone houses, many now converted to high end shops or restaurants. About 400 persons still live here. The Etruscan vase in the window of the antiquities store retailed for $10,000. Minimalist sculpture with a rose theme hung in one swank gallery, bronzes filled another; lime-green and lemon-yellow fashion forward designs highlighted a bright boutique. Sunflowers and geometric designs were patterned into the pebbled pathways. Picasso, Matisse, Calder, Chagall, Leger, and Soutine all found inspiration here. Marc Chagall is buried in the tiny cemetery, which surely has one of the best views ever enjoyed by dead people. A museum nearby called the Fondation Maeght has a collection which includes works by Giacometti, Miro, Braque, Chagall, Calder, Leger and others.
Every tiny hilltop village was a new adventure, and had a great bakery. In Moustiers Ste. Marie, we hiked to the Notre-Dame-de-Beauvoir chapel, hanging high on a cliff above. Halfway up was a sign noting the beginning of a "Zone of Silence."
The monks of the Abbaye de Senanque near Gordes grow endless lines of lavender, floral purple poetry nestled just behind their medieval abbey. We pulled into their parking lot, but it was such an indecently early hour that the toes of some sleeping campers were still sticking out of their very short van. Something interesting was always just around the bend, be it ruins, relics, or the "colorado" city, Rousillon, whose ochre mines are a tiny version of Bryce Canyon.
Gas prices are roughly double what they are in the US, and most everyone drives little cars. Our funny rental had power doors that slipped along the side, so you could squeeze into infinitesimal parking slots, and still get out of the car without whacking your neighbor.
The graceful yet massive, 150-foot-high Roman Pont du Gard aqueduct near Avignon took 12 years of work for 1,000 men when it was constructed, around the time of Christ. It provided a water source for Nimes, which was booming at the time, until closer sources were discovered. It's a stunning span, but the miles of ruined stonework leading up to it, mostly covered now by brush and trees, were equally astonishing.
In 1309, Pope Clement V bailed out of Rome, and brought the papacy to Avignon, where it remained until 1378. The medieval papal palace is a spectacular architectural and historical tour. Soldiers were housed here at some point, and left carved initials on a marble coffin.
All too soon, the Mistral blew us into the Avignon TGV train station. That's the sleek, efficient 200 mph "train a grande vitesse," French for "high speed train."
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