Snapshots of Provence: A Journey to The South of France
I can’t remember when I first started wanting to visit Provence.
It might have been in college when we watched La Gloire de Mon Pere in French class.
Or maybe it was earlier, when my grandmother introduced me to Vincent Van Gogh through paintings of his sunflowers. I don’t know when I learned that Van Gogh loved painting in the south of France because of the light, but I wanted to follow in his footsteps to see where he painted that Starry Starry Night.
For sure a seed was planted when I read Peter Mayle’s books about Provence in the 90s. I remembered reading his descriptions of the sunshine in southern France during dark, cold Chicago winters.
However, in my own trip planning, I had never made getting to Provence a priority, so when an offer came through to lead a slow, springtime wander through Provence with Ramble Worldwide, I jumped at the chance.
I took the train from Bristol to London, then the Eurostar to Paris, a taxi across Paris and then a final train to Avignon to lead a group of ladies between the ages of 60 and 86 around Provence.
I had a couple of days to get my bearings before I took the train back to Paris to meet the group, so even though I didn’t have time to do everything on our itinerary ahead of time, I was familiar with two of the main towns (Avignon and Arles) before the official trip began.
I spent most of my prep time wandering streets to learn my way around, checking train and bus schedules and doing a couple of the walks that we would do together later in the week. Then I took the train back to Paris to meet the sweetest group of ladies who would be my travel companions for the week.
It was evening in Avignon by the time we made it back with the group, but I offered to lead a little orientation walk after dinner just to the center square and back. Sometimes it just feels good to get your bearings, to put your feet to the ground after a full day of sitting on trains. Plus an evening walk always seems to make sleep come a little easier, especially after a rich French meal.
I knew immediately that I was going to love this group when, as we walked through the streets of Avignon, one lady told a story about hopping on a sailboat at the spur of the moment to be a fourth crew member for a trip around the world and another reminisced about dancing in this same square in Avignon over 50 years before, her face lit up with delight at the memory, like it was yesterday.
The next day we wandered the streets of Avignon in the daylight and met up with a guide who told us the papal history of the town.
Even though we kept our pace to what I like to call “a wander,” these spry ladies walked all day long for seven days straight.
They soaked up the history like it was their first cobblestoned town, which of course, it was not.
I am always in awe of folks who are still learning all the way through life, asking questions, looking for more to understand about the world.
After a quick lunch in town, we met a different guide in the afternoon for a trip to a Châteauneuf-du-Pape vineyard.
In the shade of the olive trees, our guide Nicolas told us about how these vines, which are shorter than most I’ve seen, send their roots down deep. And the rocks hold the warmth from the sun that the grapes need. These vines can be over 100 years old. When one dies and the vineyard owner plants a new vine, they are planting a vine for their grandchildren. Running a vineyard is definitely a job for someone who is willing to plan well into the future, and even to imagine a future for when they will no longer be around.
After our vineyard walk, we got to taste some of these full-bodied wines. Then we all might have dozed off on the short ride back to our hotel.
On Day 2 of our time in Provence, we walked the top of the medieval walls that go all the way around the village of Aigues-Mortes.
The walls are perfectly preserved.
In one direction, you can look out into the salt marshes where the famous fleur de sel de Carmague is hand-raked and harvested. (It was for sale everywhere we went, so I definitely brought some home in my suitcase.)
After walking the circumference of the whole village, observing the narrow streets from the bird’s eye perch of the medieval protective fortress, we descended some tower steps and made our way to the center square.
The four edges of the square were lined with cafes and table spilling out into the streets. Children were running around a fountain in the middle of the square. A man played an accordion on one side of the fountain and in front of him, a little girl danced to the music.
As we took in the scene, I looked over at my travel companions and said, I think we might be in France.
We laughed, knowing that imagining moments like this exact one was what drew us to Provence.
All too soon, it was time for us to finish our coffees and head off to the next stop on our tour of Les Plus Beaux Villages de France.
As I got up reluctantly, I thought to myself,
Sometimes I think I’ve traveled halfway around the world to live just so I can sit in squares.
(Maybe I should start doing tours that revolve around sitting in squares?)
We left Aigues-Mortes to go for a walk in a bird conservatory where we saw about 1 million flamingos, after which we visited the Black Madonna in Saintes-Marie-sur-la-Mer, followed by ice creams by the sea, naturally.
Every evening, we ate dinner together at our gorgeous hotel or at one of the local restaurants in Avignon.
Our meals were gorgeous every night, and our desserts even prettier.
The food, a highlight of any trip to France for sure, fueled us through our days of wandering.
Across the Rhone River from Avignon is Villeneuve, a small, fortified medieval town. It served as sort of a suburb for cardinals during the papal era of Avignon.
At the top of the town is a former Benedictine abbey surrounded by the most lovely gardens.
A few of us spent a free afternoon roaming the gardens before going back to Avignon for a late lunch.
Next time I visit the gardens, I’ll bring a picnic lunch as there are charming spots around every corner to enjoy lunch outside.
For many of us, these few hours in the Saint André Abbey gardens were the highlight of the whole trip.
Slow days full of sunshine will live strong in my memory of what it’s like to be in Provence.
I didn’t see the classic lavender fields of summer, but I’ll take spring in Provence any day.
Our next full day was market-themed, another classic French village staple.
Besides salt, we consumed many buckets and bags of fresh French strawberries.
As I wandered markets, I dreamed about coming back and staying in a cottage with a little kitchen to which I could bring a market basket of goodies home to prepare a meal.
From the market town of St-Remy-de-Provence, we made a little pilgrimage to the psychiatric hospital where Van Gogh stayed after his mental breakdown.
The path to the hospital is lined with little markers bearing Van Gogh’s signature, so you can easily find your way.
In the hospital, you can see the bedroom he painted several times. Van Gogh did over 150 paintings during his time in St Remy. He seemed to thrive in the quiet time away from the world.
The next village we visited was Les Baux-de-Provence, a name from which the word bauxite comes as it was mined from these hills.
We did a loop walk around the outskirts of the village at the base of the rock on which it is built, before wandering into the pretty village streets.
Even if my ladies were a bit tired from the previous day, they didn’t want to miss anything so they opted for the extra loop around.
I was amazed at how fit my group was, and how I had to work to keep up with them as we went from village to village.
We always managed to find somewhere to have a rest with a treat though, an ice cream or a drink.
Usually with a view!
After Les Baux, we were off to see some famous windmills, one of which an author (Alphonse Daudet) actually used as a residence in order to have a quiet place to write.
We felt like it was a fairly extreme move just for a little quiet.
Next stop, Roussillon, a village that falls within the national park of the Luberon and is known for its red buildings made from the ochre hills nearby.
We walked the red and orange hills before visiting the village and they reminded me of hills I’ve seen in Colorado or Utah.
The village was gorgeous, and I think my picnic and pastries from there might have been the best I had all week.
A recurring theme of our trip, since we visited around three villages each day, was that we all wished we could have more time in each village.
Every place we stopped seemed like somewhere you could rent a little room for a long while and be happy in.
But this was especially true of Roussillon!
Between Rousillon and Sorgues, we made a quick stop to see Gordes, the village on the a hill that was made famous by Peter Mayle. One of the funniest stories from the week was that a lady in our group thought we were going to get to meet Peter Mayle, so she was very disappointed to hear that he had been dead for several years.
We ended this day with walking along the Sorgue River.
We had a picnic lunch along the way and made it to see the source of the river, walking past lots of places where it would have been lovely to stop for lunch.
But our schedule always called for a picnic, which was fine because our dinners were so elaborate.
Most days I had a baguette for lunch filled with roasted vegetables, goat cheese, lettuce and tomatoes.
We ended our week with a train trip to Arles, another placed Van Gogh lived in the south of France.
It’s a beautiful town with lots of original Roman ruins still in tact, including an amphitheater that is still used today.
Outside the walls of the old town of Arles is Les Alyscamps, an old Roman necropolis.
Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin chose the Alyscamps as the first place they painted side by side in Arles. One of the paintings from that day was sold in 2015 for over $66 million.
As we walked around Arles, I could understand why Van Gogh had chosen it as a place to live and work.
Arles was a perfect ending to a delightful week in Provence.
Soon it was time to pack our bags and hop an early train back to Paris and then to London, where we were met with rain. We all went home longing for the slow days of wandering in Provence, but we were grateful for our memories in the sun!
