Isle Sur la Sorgue and Avignon

(The following is adapted from our June 15 email, so you'll recognize the details -- I'm inserting some pictures.)

With some regret mixed with excitement, we boarded another high--speed train to leave Isle sur la Sorgue for Avignon.  For you history buffs (I'm not claiming that honor), this is the location of the French Papal Palace that figured into the Great Schism, the time of two popes, before the French one relinquished the right back to Rome.  Since we just arrived and shoved our bags into a lounge at our hotel (room's not ready yet), we decided to check emails, before heading out to explore.  (Shhh- Greg's pretending to help, but he's actually napping beside me in the cafe.)

Our hotel in Avignon, a former cardinal's mansion

The hotel walled courtyard

A bit more about our time in France:  the work-days, and life in general, here are far more leisurely than in the US:  shops open around 10 am, then close for lunch from 12:30 to 2, and then close for the day at about 6.  Typically, the French arrive at the restaurants and cafes between 8 or 8:30 and remain for at least 2 hours, often longer.  Most of the French are slender and fit, no matter their age;  for they spend so much time out of doors, walking, visiting parks, or cafe-gazing.

I have wanted to capture the lovely elderly, as they take their evening stroll, but I don't wish to intrude.

Resting from her walk

What I do wish is to emulate them!  While here, we aren't watching tv, or carrying our cell phones, and it feels tres bon!

Provence is known for its flowers, especially lavender;  when we're brushing by lavender gardens (seems they're everywhere), I'll pick off a few blooms and tuck them into my pocket;  each time I want the scent, I reach inside and voila!  And at night; I'll set the blooms on my nightstand and inhale their fragrance as I sleep.

Fields of lavender in Avignon

After joining the French in the daily walks, we have no problem of drifting off to sleep, with barely the thought of our next day.

As I mentioned in our last email, Isle sur la Sorgue (Island of the Sorgue) is a water paradise.  On one of our walks along the river, we stopped at a sandy park to watch six gentlemen in a very serious game of boule.  To our back was flowing the river, a great waterwheel gently turning, and two boys of about 10, daring each other to jump into the chilly pool below the turning giant.  And being boys of about 10, they jumped -- again and again.   Brrrr!

Children at play

Men at play  (boule)

The parks beside the streams have steps, some quite wide, that descend into the water.  Families will use them, removing their sandals to dip their feet, and even to dip the chubby toes of their infants into the chilly water for a quick cool-down.   Of course, Greg  had to take his dip, shoes and all.  Sheesh.

Last evening, preparing to leave on our stroll from the hotel to our restaurant, we met a nice couple who had arrived 2 hours prior, having ridden their bicycles 47 kilometers from Avignon.  Greg could immediately recognize their Norwegian accent, since he had worked for a Norwegian company, and traveled there often.

(The following description of our time in Avignon is from our June 24 email.  I'm inserting some pictures.)

Church of St. Pierre

Exploring Avignon (as elsewhere) was an opportunity to savor the art, architecture, and history of centuries, and often, just around the corner.   Down 2 short backstreets from our hotel was the Church of St. Pierre, whose massive chestnut handcarved doors dated from the 1500s.

Around the corner and over 2 more short streets was a centuries-old synagogue.  And a few short blocks later, we went through the gardens surrounding the Papal palace, and peered over stone walls to a vineyard being tended on the bank below us, sloping down to the Rhone River;  the wine of this region is named Cotes (Hills) du Rhone, and the pope's palace (though the pope returned to Rome long ago) still sells its own label.

Papal Vineyards on the Cotes du Rhone

Across the river from us, still standing guard to protect France's border from the Catholic encroachers, stands the 1307 tower of Philip The Fair.  We strolled the Papal gardens along finely graveled paths, around waterfalls, and fountains, and passed a pleasant little open-air cafe beside a large pool.  Walking back nearer the perimeter walls overlooking the Papal Square, we heard the music of accordians drifting up (how atmospheric).

Papal Palace (picture taken from the square)

Dignitaries in the Papal Palace

We explored the palace, a gothic structure dating from about 1309, with its massive stone walls, with its echoing banquet and reception rooms, often intricately tiled floors, and the pope's private chambers, whose walls still have the lush paintings of hunting scenes.  We carried a headset, and listened to the descriptions of the rooms, their functions, and some of the original furnishings, now missing.  One room within the private area reveals what once were secret vaults for the gold and other church treasures, slabs of cut stone pushed aside to reveal small rooms under the pope's floor.

Within the Papal Gardens

Walking into another neighborhood, we visited, on a much smaller scale, an art museum in an artist couple's pleasant residence--this gave us a chance to see photography, sculptures, antiques, and paintings in an atmosphere of private rooms.  We saw small collections of Degas, Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Picasso, among others.

So, Greg and I are feeling quite French, merci beaucoup, and eager to explore this city for 2 days;  then we'll be off for Austria, with a week in Grundlsee, and adventures out into Salzburg and Bavaria;  Chris and Tisha will join us there, before we return to France, this time to the Burgundy region for 2 days.  Have I mentioned that I'm enjoying the French wine?  Ooh la la!  (glad I'm walking)

Until next time, au revoir!

In Provence: Arles and Isle Sur la Sorgue

Rooftops of Arles and the Rhone River

This is another email, sent June 14, 2011.  I've made a very few cosmetic changes to it, and I've added some pictures.

After 3 nights in Nice, we boarded a high speed train for Arles, leaving the Riviera, moving deeply into Provence.  I tingle at the awareness of that:  I've been to Paris three times over the years, and have never known the pleasures of the south of France.  Provence:  the word itself feels magical.

At Nice's train station we met an attractive young couple from the states who were on a 2-month trip, staying primarily in hostels;  but for their next journey, they were joining a friend in an Italian castle -- the friend was renting it!  The couple told us that they had met in college -- Penn State -- she was from Bethel Park, PA, and he was from the US Virgin Islands,  on the island of St. John, where his parents own and run a restaurant/bar called Skinny Legs (at which point, he lifted his cargo shorts to demonstrate that he carried the family trait).

Our Arles hotel - lighted sign

Our 2nd home, in Arles, was in a jewel of a hotel in an ancient building.  Our room's shuttered windows looked out to a two-tiered dining terrace, our large window had ceiling to floor orange-red drapes with bright yellow flowers;  an antique armoire held our clothes; and our en suite bath was in a tower like room.  (We took plenty of pictures.)

Our room overlooks the dining terrace

Part of our hotel's breakfast terrace

 The dining terrace was enclosed by vine-covered stone walls, and flowers abounded in urns and pots.  The tables were covered in pastel green and white, centered with still more pots of flowers, and our breakfast dishes were medium emerald.  Glory be!  We're living in a French dream!

Arles is  known for its Roman ruins:  On Saturday we climbed to the top of a tower in a Roman Arena that entertained the citizens before Jesus was born;  and that night, we dined in a restaurant whose owners practically ran to & from the kitchen to proudly present our courses with "Voila!  Bon appetit!"  That's it -- I'm staying here (please send money).

Roman Amphitheatre where gladiatorial games took place

                     (note the modern-day gladiator looking nonchalant)

Our favorite restaurant in Arles

On Sunday, we day-tripped to Les Baux, the site of an ancient hilltop Chateau.

Armour and ancient weapons were demonstrated

The approach through town to the Chateau

A depiction of the chapel

The chapel today

van Gogh's Cafe La Nuit -- on the Roman Square

Vincent van Gogh (with one ear)

Arles was home to Vincent van Gogh during some of his most productive years, because, as he has been quoted, the light there was wonderful.  A restaurant which is the subject of one of his paintings is still operating.  Memorials and markers indicating several of the locations of his subjects are scattered through town.






















After three nights in Arles, we took another train -- this time for Isle Sur Le Sorgue, a Provencial village surrounded by, and intersected with, rivers, streams, waterfalls, fountains, and turning moss-covered waterwheels that long ago powered their grain mills.

Beautiful scenery around every corner

We spotted this home's patio on one of our walks

These wheels are still turning

Greg is beside one of those streams, reading in a park with an enormous central fountain.  I'm off to join him.  Love to you.  Take care, and we'll see you soon.

Nice, Villefranche-sur-Mer, Monaco

I have decided to include the emails we sent while on our trip, with their dates, and to attach some pictures.
So, you have probably read these.  But, in case you haven't, you've got a second chance!  Oh lucky you . . .

Bonjour!   (Hello from France) June 12, 2011

Or; Hi y'all!  Please excuse the following narrative--I began it last night following our return to our lovely little hotel in Arles, after a dinner which involved wonderful cuisine and a litre of Rhone wine:  So, obviously I was entirely full of myself.

I'm using our hotel's computer and must share time spent.  Our hotel host was eager to shut down the system last night, so I jotted down my thoughts while up in our room.   Also, I have not created my blog as I had planned and I assure you that I don't expect a response, except to know that you are well.  As I told you in our first email (which I discovered after returning home that no one received!), the keyboard here is very different from what we use, so forgive mistakes and wait for more complete details later.  Here goes . . .

The Cote d'Azur
Nice's French Riviera

Traveling, especially into "foreign" lands, takes me out of myself.  I feel like an observer, staring back from that long forward point of vision of experiences and adventures as an American.  Here we are in Provence, redolent with the sweet perfume of lavender and of the traditional cuisine featuring garlic -- and lots of it!  Oh, sweet life!

But, before I get into a description of Provence, permit to tell you how much Greg and I enjoyed our time diving into the frenzy of Nice (and then Provencial) drivers.  The irony is that their otherwise slow pace, such as during lengthy mealtimes, filled with conversation and languid in the luxury of taste ...  how totally unlike the French attitude when they sit behind the wheel!  Greg says especially the two-wheel!  How they screech and fly!  You have to be quick on your feet to avoid collision walking the narrow roads -- barely big enough for the mini cars they drive here within the walls of their ancient towns.

The port  at night

Our first stop was Nice, on the Riviera.  Perhaps showing our 60+ years of age, (how troubling an admission), we took almost 2 days to recover

Monster yacht in Port of Nice

from our transatlantic flight from DC's Dulles, through Frankfurt, and finally into Nice.






 

Our first afternoon required a 30-minute nap and then a 12-hour overnight sleep.  The next day, we explored the city, walked the byways of the port and dropped our jaws at the obscene size and luxury of  the private boats there.

Another monster

"Old  Nice"

By our second day, we felt more human and more familiar with the layout of the town, and explored the narrow streets of "Old Nice," meandering through shops and discovering the squares encircled by ancient churches, fountains, and cafes.

Fountain on a square

On a day-trip, we boarded a local bus for a 15-minute ride to Villefranche-Sur-Mer, an ancient coastal town with a stone hilltop fortress called The Citadel.

Villefranche-sur-Mer

Part of the ancient fortress, The Citadel

While we were waiting at the bus stop for the next leg of our journey, Monaco, 2 attractive brunettes from Santa Rosa, California, swooped up to us and asked breathlessly if we spoke English and if this was the right place to catch the bus for Monaco.  During our ride together, we discovered that we all loved the same restaurant in Sebastopol, in norhern California (where Greg's son, Kevin, once lived).

Jody from Santa Rosa

While in Monte Carlo, Greg and I were content to meander the Casino lobby and surrounding gardens.  The brunettes, sisters Jennifer and Jody, however, had a handful of coins and were ready to give them away.  The sky was brilliant blue, the temperature in the 70s and we were happy to be alive.

The Casino of Monte Carlo, Monaco

From Beaune, to Le Parray

Monday arrived sunny and clear, with another bright greeting, in French, from Madame Rousseau (who appears to work alone caring for her guests, despite being at least 80 years old!).  Following another of her baskets of croissants and a large baguette with apricot jam, and a big pitcher of coffee, we delivered our bicycles to the rental agency a couple of blocks away.  (No, I've been a good girl and I've skipped the croissants, but oh, what temptation!)

During our visit with Pierre in his wine cellar the day before, he told us to be sure to visit Hospices de Beaune Hotel-Dieu.  According to Pierre, in the 1440s, Nicolas Rolin, Chancellor of Philippe-le-Bon, Duke of Burgundy, and Rolin's wife commissioned the building of a hospital for the poor, following the Hundred Years War.  According to Pierre, Rolin and his missus were frightened for their souls (guess they lived the big life while the residents of Beaune suffered) and hoped to redeem themselves before they died.  What resulted was this magnificent "Palace for the Poor," which stands remarkably intact since the Middle Ages, an architectural "jewel" (claims the brochure).  Surprisingly, the hospital has provided care through the centuries, finally closing in 1971.  Our visit there was informative, and interesting, and way cool, and the place offered a gazillion photo-opportunities, so I'm including several pictures:

One part of the inner courtyard--note decorative tile roofs

Gooseneck faucets in the kitchen--fake nuns were a bit creepy

15th Century Flemish Polyptych

Looking from pharmacy into a garden (loved window latch)

Next on our agenda was the 1:27 pm train for Paris, followed by a connection to Le Parray, a small village approximately 30 miles outside of Paris.  We had an invitation from Chris's good friend, Valerie, to spend two nights with her and her family.  Chris had met Valerie in Japan when they were both in college there. Valerie was from Paris where her parents owned a restaurant until their retirement, when they moved from the city.  Valerie has fond memories of West Virginia, having spent two months in the summer with Greg and his family in Fayetteville before returning to Paris following their semester in Japan, and she was eager to see us and return the hospitality -- even though she and her husband and two sons (age 4 and 2) had just moved on Friday and we appeared on Monday.

Antoine (pronounced Ahntwahn) and Quentin  (Kahntahn)

Talk about gracious!  She and Eric, her husband, did absolutely everything to assure our comfort;  and her sincerity was evident when she cried as we said goodbye after our stay.  During our time with the family, we were treated to two delicious dinners, courtesy of Eric, on their back patio, complete with wine from Eric's father's 1000 bottle wine-cellar.  While we were enjoying ourselves in the daytime, Eric was at work in Paris, but that didn't dampen his enthusiasm for preparing a gourmet meal for us both evenings we were there.

The Abbey dates from the 1100s

Valerie had taken two days off from her job (manager of purchasing for a large chain of stores), and treated us to lunch in one of her favorite restaurants, and a  day trip to a nearby historic site called l'Abbaye des Vaux de Cernay, with magnificent grounds, ruins, and a hotel, which is still receiving guests.

I wandered away from my little family to go snoop and found every room to be too gorgeous and heavy with carved paneled walls, creaky floors (love those), lots of interesting and mysterious niches, and soft-spoken, suit-wearing staff.  I peaked into a large formally done-up dining room and figured the staff was preparing for something big.  Gave some thought to checking the name of the china on the well-dressed tables, but figured I'd better not.

We all loved the rich and smoky lounge,
bookshelves framing the large fireplace

Rejoined my family in a lounge, filled with cushioned deep seated chairs, two to four clustered around small cocktail tables;  a grand piano reigning on one side, a well-used fireplace taking center-stage on the long wall opposite the wall of windows.  The fireplace gave the room the scent of a lodge, the scent that long hours of deep-drawing embers would create.  When I mentioned this to my family, Greg said, yes, he believed he would totally enjoy a cognac and cigar, thank you. 

Corporate meetings held in the hotel included one that my husband, Greg Eads, found interesting.

Chris, Valerie, me, and Tisha at the Abbey

I would love to learn the history of the Abbey.
The whispers are in the breeze, flowing through the ruins, and echoing down the corridors--but, alas, I do not speak French.  But perhaps, on my next visit . . .

Ancient echoes in the Abbey corridors

Our next morning, Wednesday, was an early one.  Valerie had arranged for a local cab company to pick us up and deliver us to the train station in a nearby town for our morning trip into Paris.  Chris and Tisha's flight back to the US was about 10 am and we needed to get them to Charles de Gaulle Airport by 8.  When the driver deposited us at the train station, and we reached into our pockets to pay him, he put up his hands and said "Already paid!"  That Valerie . . .

Our trip went smoothly, and at the airport we said farewell to Chris and Tisha before arranging our lodging for two nights;  this was a bit anxiety-producing for me since I'd never before entered Paris without knowing where I'd be sleeping!  Because our flight was going to be very early on Friday, we decided that the best course of action was to stay in a hotel right there at the airport.  Paris public transportation in the form of subway and bus is fast and efficient, but unfortunately, not early enough to get us to the airport when we needed.  Cab service would be profoundly expensive.  Fortunately, a very helpful resource person at a visitors' desk in the airport arranged our room in a lovely hotel, Ibis, literally steps from Terminal 3.   Charles de Gaulle airport is huge, with three terminals, joined by a swift and continuous shuttle train, and our Friday morning flight was out of Terminal 1, a very speedy shuttle ride away.

Teensy tiny-shower to the right

Since our last visit to Paris in 2008, we felt no urgency on this trip to attempt to cover too much in sightseeing in such a little time, so having to take a train from de Gaulle into the city for what little bit we planned to do wasn't a deal-breaker, especially since we had our Eurail Pass.   We just couldn't manage to wake up in Paris the morning of our flight and have an easy time of getting TO the airport.  Our room there was comfortable and attractive --one that accommodates, I'm sure, many airline staff.  I got the biggest kick out of our bathroom, which was only a little bigger than one on a jet, with the addition of a tiny shower.  It had to have been my imagination, but I could swear I felt the room moving, like at 30,000 feet (we were on the 2nd floor).

For breakfast, rather than taking time in one of the hotel's restaurants, we popped into the airport at our hotel's back, and grabbed a baguette, yogurt, and juice.  Very convenient!

Sacre Couer

So, it might sound like a tremendous waste, but Greg and I spent the rest of that first day at the airport, problem-solving and getting our bearings.  We had stayed on the move since our forays into Salzburg, and we knew we needed some kick-back time.  Thursday arrived bright and clear, and we took off to explore the Basilica of the Sacre Couer, high on a hilltop in the seamier section of Paris called Montmarte.  Its location provides a great view of the city.  The parade of tourists reminded us, in case we had forgotten, that this is a favorite of visitors to Paris.

Crowds moving up to the main doors

View from the Basilica across Paris

There was a framework, just visible in the view at the left,  that was erected down the steps in
front of the Basilica -- and that appeared to be a skateboard ramp.  We weren't there long enough to find out its purpose.

The breath-taking Basilica

Pictures of the interior were not allowed (despite the signs inside the entrance, some visitors were snapping away, and a church official was kept busy stopping them); so if you'd like to see inside, I'd recommend that you Google the Sacre Couer of Paris.

From there we made our way back to familiar territory -- we wanted to return to the Museum D'Orsay, and to walk in the Tuileries Gardens, near the Louvre.  This was a very good decision.  First, we had a late lunch at an outdoor cafe at the Museum D'Orsay's back.  Then, upon our rounding the building toward the front, a museum official sized us up, figuring we looked like we could use a break (been on our feet forever), opened a side door, and said step on in.  That kept us from continuing several yards to the line at the front door, and we needed only to walk to a desk for our admission tickets.  Wow.

The D'Orsay is famous for its impressionist art, and we spent the rest of the afternoon relishing in Monet, Manet, Cezanne, and others.  There are also historic sculptures and whole rooms of interiors - furniture and architectural detail of many periods.  We were so absorbed in our visit, that we took no pictures -- if any were allowed.  Actually, it didn't even become an issue for us.  If you love beautiful things, then go to Paris, and spend a day at the D'Orsay.   For fresh air, move to the Tuileries, the gardens adjoining the Louvre, where you'll find the locals as well as the tourists, spending peaceful afternoons walking, reading on benches, having a cup of coffee, or simply watching the sailboats at play in the fountain.

Tuileries Gardens 

View from the Tuileries