One day in Provence

Now that we’re enjoying our third sunny day in a row, Chantal and Jean-François Premat have taken us on a long and beautiful tour through parts of the Lubéron and the spectacular gorges of the Verdon River which flows nearby. After stopping in Moustier a drop-dead-gorgeous village nestled under a huge rock formation and having lunch there, we drove along side the gorges making stopping at all possible view points and getting dizzy at the sight of a gorge that at time represents more than 2,000 vertical drop from the narrow roadway overlooking the bottom of a river encased by vertical cliffs that are also a location prized by expert rock-climbers showing off their skills every chance they get. The river meanders for miles, cutting a dizzying gorge into the rock and the mountain, before if finally opens up into a beautiful artificial lake framed around abundant vegetation. Since we couldn’t afford “one year in Provence” that single day filled with lots of silliness and laughter almost accomplished that thanks to our hosts’ kindness and will remain one of the most memorable stages of our trip…

Forty years ago

Today our itinerary took us from the medieval city of Aigues-Mortes, then around the Camargue region, the city of Arles and finally to beautiful Aix en Provence, before we arrived in the Luberon region where our friends Chantal and Jean-François Premat live. On the way there, we stopped in Salon de Provence, about one hour north of Marseilles, where I spent a significant amount of time performing my mandatory military service at a French air force base there (B.A. 701) which is also the French equivalent of the U.S. Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. It took me a lot of time to get there since I could absolutely not recognize the place as it had grown so much and changed so drastically since 1969 when I left it. We finally discovered its entrance unchanged and then a whiff of forty years old memories hit me. I was working there at a small squadron of Mystere IV jet, filling up jet-fuel and working as a mechanic, just bidding my time. Not a particular happy moment of my life, but not a terrible one either. I just had some regrets that I didn’t more visiting around that beautiful region instead of only going back to my Northern Alps every chance I got…

So much in common…

Last night we met Paulette and Jean Barbier in the seaside resort of La Grande Motte, France for dinner. They were traveling south towards Perpignan near the Spanish border, and us pushing north towards Provence. We hadn’t seen each other for so long and yet have so much in common; consider this: Jean and Evelyne, my spouse, were both born and raised in Nancy, at the same time Paulette and I hail from Savoie. Jean and I served in the French Air Force in Corsica; while we both were certified ski instructors in France, we also taught skiing for several seasons in Australia, and then met for the first time when we worked together at Look ski bindings. To top it all, we also managed to join forces with Lange boots. After having raised two kids each, our two households are today retired and enjoy that new lifestyle to its fullest. There would be many more things I could add, but I’ll keep it short. Now, if that’s not a collection of uncanny points in common, please tell me what is!

One-man band

Last night we took Mireille Dusser for dinner at "Le Petit Couassert," a little inn in Beaucens not far from her house. The restaurant was set in a renovated farm house and had been already in business for four years. The man who welcomed us, Philippe Horguedebat, was a young guy, not really outgoing, but the setting was really cute and the menu looked good enough for us to stay and order something to eat. We were the only clients and only a bit later did a young American couple come in to have dinner too. From the start, Evelyne got a hunch that the man was alone to do everything, including preparing the food, cooking it, waiting tables and doing the dishes; I said her assumption was silly… At one point, our host climbed up the stairs that led apparently to some living quarter carrying a full dinner tray; there was evidently someone having a meal up there. Then, as she could no longer contain her curiosity, my spouse asked the man if he really was alone to do all the cooking, waiting and the rest. He said “Sure; my wife is ironing upstairs…” We didn’t believe the latter part of his comment and figured that he and his wife have had some sort of argument, but this was the first time in my life that I had been in a one-man-everything restaurant!

Trimming job

It is not that I’m great at giving haircuts, but if asked, I can do a fair job. This morning, following our daily run, Mireille Dusser, our hostess for two nights at Ayros-Arbouix, in the French Pyrennees, told us that her hedge needed some adjustmentsand we quickly gathered a tall ladder, some clippers and got to work. Time and the abundant downpours that France had been receiving lately had given an “afro” look to anything that could grow and was supposed to stay on the “straight and narrow…” Evelyne was simultaneously holding the ladder and watching for incoming traffic in the narrow street while Mireille was cleaning and bagging the abundant clippings. Precariously perched on the thin aluminum ladder I was doing my very best shearing the excess leaves while keeping an eye at an ideal three-dimensional mind’s eye picture of what a perfect job should be. My fear was that the line might be ragged, not plumb and that after adjusting countless times by cutting more and more we’d end up with no hedge left. That concern served us well as the final job was close to perfection and for a brief moment I thought quite seriously of starting a new career in the landscaping business.

Harsh fall, scenic drive and non-stop miracles

This morning literally started with a “bang” when I took a spectacular fall in the hotel shower; I could have killed or maimed myself, but I miraculously didn’t not, and after a long run north of St-Jean-de-Luz overlooking the Ocean and amidst some very well situated real estate with breathtaking views, we hit the road through more of the Basque region, avoiding the main motorways and meandering through hills, farms, herds of cows and sheep and going through countless villages. We eventually emerged in Bearn country driving towards the town of Lourdes that has been made famous by the Virgin Mary’s apparition to Bernadette Soubirous, a young sheep herder, back in 1858. As luck would have it, we made one wrong turn and through the second miracle of the day, found ourselves into Lourdes’ main commercial street overflowing with crowds of pilgrims wearing blue scarves and walking in the middle of the street since the sidewalks were full. Never, except perhaps a Saturday night on the Las Vegas strip had we had seen such a big crowd and so many retail stores that seem to do huge numbers by selling all kinds of religious statues, pictures and other memorabilia. Business must be booming and the over-heating cash registers incessant noise must be as loud as those of slot-machines and constitute the sole, true and never-ending miracle that keeps this mountain valley booming year after year…

Basque magic!

Today took us around some very special picturesque little villages (including Ascain and Espelette) with their typical whitewashed homes and red tile roofs. Basque country with its almost unpronounceable language must be to France what South Tyrol is to Italy. After stopping at a large flea-market and buying a “Babar” comic book for Finn, we pushed to St-Jean- Pied-de-Port a medieval town which sits on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, the famous pilgrimage that has taken folks from Europe’s four corners, across the Pyrenees since the middle ages. The town is just as endearing as its medieval narrow streets and architecture, lined up with tourist shops but also with Spartan pilgrim hostels and inexpensive eateries. I topped it all by buying a handsome Basque beret made right in St. Jean!