Sunshine in Provence

The splendours of Provence

So early on SATURDAY morning (06h57 am, to be precise), I took a train to Paris and then the TGV to Aix-en-Provence whereupon I would be meeting two friends from back home. However, I would need to take a bus from the TGV station to the town centre. This proved to be more difficult than first thought... The TGV arrived five minutes later than planned, meaning I had five minutes to find the coach pick-up point. The coach was due to leave at 12h25. After rushing around the train station in a slightly more controlled manner than a headless chicken (although not by much), I found a coach pick-up point at 12h25 exactly. No bus. I waited for about a minute and then - hallelujah - a bus arrived. The question "Does this bus go to the town centre?" was answered with "No - you're on the wrong side of the road - I'm going in the opposite direction." My heart sank. I wandered back up to the main part of the station, fairly sure I had missed the bus I needed, but I thought I would at least try and find the correct pick-up point out of principle. I was in the middle of bimbling along, when I spied... A BUS!! There were so many people queueing to get on it that it hadn't been able to leave yet (it eventually left at 12h35 - thank heavens for tardiness. I would make a note of me saying that, by the way. It doesn't happen often). 

After stowing my rucksack in the underneath storage section, I stepped up onto the bus. After my horrific ordeal, I just wanted to check I wasn't embarking on another fruitless bus; "Is this bus going to the town centre?" I asked politely (even though I was almost certain it was indeed, since it was written on the front of the bus. But you never know... it could have been a nasty joke). This query received the angry response of "of course it is, it's written everywhere that this bus is going to the town centre!!" I made my apologies and hurried to the back of the bus. 

Not quite as extreme as this, thankfully...

It appeared crammed, until I realised that most people had put baggage on the seats next to them in an effort to dissuade others from settling there. Fed up of passing perfectly good seats, I pointedly asked a woman if she could move her stuff. To be fair, she did acquiesce. I mean, it's not like she could see the queue of people mounting the bus and looking for spare seats or anything... It is the stereotype, even within France, that people down south are less friendly than in the north. On the bus, the girl opposite me started talking to me; she had also just finished as a Language Assistant and was going to be travelling the southern French coast. We swapped Year Abroad experiences for the duration of the bus ride to the centre of Aix-en-Provence, and it was really interesting hearing what another Assistant had got up to, what she wished she had done differently and so on... I can't and don't want to change my Y.A. experience, but it's funny to imagine how things might have been, had I been placed elsewhere.

Sadly not where we ate, but at least the image helps
paint a picture so you can imagine the situation!

The bus arrived at the bus stop (la gare routière) and everyone got off. And not too long after, David and Angela arrived to welcome me with open arms!! And their dog was there too!! We had a lovely wander around Aix - it is beautiful and the sun was shining away - before settling down at a table outside a restaurant. I ordered bruschetta, which I had never tried before, and it was delicious. People were starting to arrive for an imminent wedding at the Hotel de Ville opposite the restaurant, the sun was beating down, and, to top it off, an excellent trio of musicians (a guitarist, a saxophonist and a guy playing a sousaphone!) started busking. 

After popping into Aix's cathedral (very different interiors from some others I have seen) and buying some bread and a millefeuille (a pudding consisting of layers of custard and pastry) for the evening, we started the drive back to their house. The scenery of Provence is beautiful; plains of vineyards nestled amongst majestic hills. On the train journey down from Paris, I had tried to work out how you knew you were in the south of France, just from the scenery. And I have decided that it is principally the trees and vegetation, followed by the style of the houses. The trees are adapted to the hot environment (there are lots of pines) and the houses are painted white/cream and have red tiles roofs. Before too long we had arrived, and I spent the rest of the day settling in, admiring the stunning view (the house is part of a village perché, i.e. it's on a hill) and playing boules! Before too long, it was time for supper and bed.

St Raphael cathedral

SUNDAY started with a journey to St Raphaël where we went to church. I had my first view of the Mediterranean sea ever, and thoroughly enjoyed the church service (which was in English and full of ex-pats). It was slightly strange to return to an order of service after worshipping at the Eglise Protestante Evangélique in Romorantin (which has less structured services), but it felt like home. And I knew all the hymns! Afterwards, we had a cool drink in a café on the beach, our ears filled with the sound of the sea. We returned home via some garden centres and a boulangerie where we bought quiches and bread and a strawberry tart, and then had a lovely lunch. The afternoon was spent reading the book that the collège teachers had given me in the sunshine (narrowly avoiding getting burnt). After another game of boules, we had dinner (Sunday roast! My first since Christmas!) and then watched 'Endeavour' on ITV1 before retiring to bed.

On MONDAY, after a relaxed breakfast on the balcony overlooking the valley lined by hills, we set off to find a practice Formula 1 race track encircled by woods for a walk. We returned home via a garden centre where there were people wandering around in jeans and sweatshirts, and who were not even red in the face! I was in shorts and a T-shirt and feeling the heat! Despite it being at least 23 degrees for the duration of my visit, the locals did not seem convinced that it was particularly hot. I sacrificed fitting in for the sake of not melting. 

See top: wooded hills surrounding the monastery
See bottom: a cloister, maybe the parloir. 

In the afternoon, we went to the Cistercian Abbey of Thoronet (Abbaye du Thoronet). The monks were only allowed to talk in the 'parloir' (i.e. single corridor of the cloisters / covered passageways), and during services. The acoustics in the 'church' part, where they held their worship, were amazing. You didn't need to talk very loud for your voice to reverberate around the entire chamber. Incredible architecture really, for something built between the years 1160 and 1230.  You could also see the dormitory where the monks slept. There was a separate (but simple) room for the Abbott. Inside it was incredibly cool compared to the baking heat just outside the thick stone walls. The Abbey was set in beautiful countryside (i.e. hills covered in woods) near to a river. There were also large olive groves, which the monks would have tended to in order to make olive oil and support their way of life. They had a room set aside for making the olive oil with huge pressing machines. After walking around the Abbey, we had an ice-cream (my first - but by no means last - Magnum Double Caramel of the summer!) and the owner told us what a good opinion she had of the English. Just before making our way home, we popped our heads round the door of the main chamber of a Convent next to the Abbey; they were in the middle of a service, and all the nuns were wearing all-covering white habits. I have never seen a nun in England, but I have seen a few nuns on trains during my French travels. However, to see them in their 'home' setting was really strange; to reflect upon the fact that they were committing their entire lives to God. The Covent grounds contain their own vineyards, which is how they make money. We then drove back home for afternoon tea (proper English tea!), then boules, then supper.

St Tropez harbour

TUESDAY was a travelling day.  After a lovely relaxing breakfast (as usual), overlooking the hills of Provence, we got in the car and took a small, windy road, which led us through the hills and past small villages perchés until we successfully arrived at St Tropez. I hadn't realised that St Tropez itself is actually a village with a small harbour (packed with rather large yachts). Nonetheless, it was very attractive, with the painted houses fronting the harbour, the docks of which were lined with artists and artwork, and tables and chairs for the cafés. The backstreets were well-maintained and full of nicely presented (if often very expensive) shops. 

At Bromes. The tables in the bottom right are where
we had lunch, overlooking a wooded valley.

After refreshing ourselves with a cool drink, we got back in the car to continue on a road which would hug the coastline all the way along to Bromes, where we had lunch: a 'savoury millefeuille' of filo pastry, tomato, mozzarella and aubergine 'caviar', followed by a banana and chocolate crêpe. Delish. The drive was beautiful; rugged coastline overlooking a very blue sea, sparkling in the glorious sunshine, dotted with many villages perchés, the houses of which were all painted orange or yellow.  We had supper at a local restaurant which was also absolutely wonderful; my main coures was pork cooked in honey. Divine.

WEDNESDAY was only a half-day, starting with a casual breakfast, then a game of boules (which I won!) shortly followed by a real French lunch of fresh bread from the boulangerie, cheeses, pâté and salad, finished off by a trio of patisseries. Far too soon it was time to drive back to Aix (where my Provence adventure had begun) to catch a train to Paris.

Provençal Products:
1. Olives. There were so, so many olive groves as we were driving around. And one way to ensure a good olive harvest, I have learnt, is to cut a hole in the middle of the tree so that it is not too thick.
2. Rosé. This type of wine in Provence is nothing like the fuchsia-like stuff you find in Sainsbury's, no no no. It is a very pale and delicate pinky-orange colour, and much more transparent than the rosé I had tasted before my visit to Provence. 
3. Lavender is also a local speciality / produce. 

To round off this little 'I love Provence and had an incredible few days' post, I shall simply say that I have eaten and drunk some delicious food and wine, I have a slight suntan, and the countryside of this region is beautiful. What could be better? I recommend it, but not too many of you at the same time; I don't want it to be too crowded when I next return.