When: 19/07/2011

Where: Provence, France

Stayed: Cote Provence, Le Thor

Thanks to a couple of good movies and outstanding reviews from friends, our expectations for Provence were unreasonably high. I’m happy to report (and somewhat relieved) that we were not disappointed.Our accommodation was based in the Vaucluse region of France – about an hour north of Marseille and 30mins East of Avignon in a small town called Le Thor. Without a ‘Sat Nav’ in our hire car, we were relying on the traditional methods of reading maps to navigate our way from the airport. (What?!) Challenging at the best of times, but throw in a foreign language and the right hand side of the road and things start to get very interesting. Driving through acres of orchards, lavender fields, vines and corn fields – we wondered if we were lost on the set of a french movie. Fortunately we discovered our bed and breakfast, ‘Cote Provence’, sitting like a terracotta beacon in amongst the vineyards. With crickets chirping in the background, two little toy dogs running up to greet us, a pool peaking out from beside the house and our host (Mireille) calling out ‘bonjour’ we instantly relaxed knowing this was home base for the next 4 days. The 18th century house was typically provencal, with shutters over the windows, dark pink and orange façade, beautiful large floor tiles, exquisite gardens and restored antique furniture. Bunches of lavender lay all over the house and I tried in vein not to recall the movie which claimed lavender is used in Provence to keep out the scorpions…

First stop in Provence was

 L’isle sur-la-sorgue, also known as ‘Little Venice’ due to the centre of town sitting within the branches of the river. The main village was a 15min drive from our digs, and was where we proceeded to gorge ourselves on Vaucluse wines and produce for the next few days. Tempting you riverside and then winding through the narrow streets, the local market boasts the most incredible array of colors and smells. Olive oils, tapenades, cheeses, olives, dried fruit and charcuterie – the choices were overwhelming. Inevitably we got overexcited and spent enough to sustain the local economy for the next month. Oh but it was worth it! As Justin aptly put it, ‘you’re best to lose 5kg before arriving in Provence because that way you only have to lose 10kg when you return home’. Yep, the jeans are cutting into my tummy as I write this.

The day after we arrived in Provence happened to be Bastille day. As part of the celebrations in L’isle sur-la-sorgue we were treated to the sights and sounds of the local marching band; complete with resident beauty queen and baton twirling girls. After observing with interest for 10mins or so we declared the hiring policy of the group to be quite ‘diverse’. Unfortunately none of the participants looked to be particularly happy about having to cut laps of the town so we’re not too sure whether there was also a mandatory component to the policy?!

You would be forgiven for thinking the phrase ‘Most beautiful village in France’ was seriously overused in Provence. It appears in the description of so many towns that you begin to wonder whether there’s been a misprint in the tourist brochure or the editor was just a bit lazy. That is of course until you start personally working your way through each of the villages…
Gordes, a village comprising drystone architecture and perched on the side of a towering hill was breathtaking. Roussillon, with its ochre washed façades exhibiting a brilliant spectrum of orange and red colours, surely has been cut out of canvas and glued in amongst the greenery of the surrounding orchards. Menerbes, a quiet and somewhat deserted village stands majestically and begs you to sit and have a wine gazing out over the vineyards below. And Fontaine-de-Vaucluse where the spring originates, leads to the meandering river which weaves itself between the houses. All incredibly beautiful, quite unique and yet unmistakably Provencal. It would be very easy to spend a month driving from town to town across southern France admiring the countryside – except for the stress associated with avoiding the oncoming traffic on the narrow roads. Apparently not everyone feels inclined to slow down and move over when faced with the prospect of a head on collision!

As per usual, the language barrier provided some serious comedy value for us. Our host at Cote Provence spoke excellent English however she was 1 of probably 10 people in the entire town that did. Sitting at breakfast with a French couple and running out of conversation after ‘bonjour’ made for a slightly uncomfortable start to the day. We spent the next 20mins stealing smiles between us and trying to pretend that this was a completely normal situation to be in. I desperately wanted to ask the couple about their croissant eating technique and how they managed to eat the pastry without spilling a single crumb. Instead I had to resort to peeking out the corner of my eye to watch the tearing / wrist action incognito. Not sure why, but Justin and I felt the need to speak in whispers around the house as a result. Perhaps to try and mask the fact that we knew such little french and were firmly entrenched in the category of ignorant tourists – a title we have carried like a burden for the last few trips. A local put it succinctly by responding to my question of ‘parlez-vous anglais?’ with ‘no, parlez- vous francais?’. Fair enough too.

Having said that, it’s amazing how long you can carry on a conversation just by observing facial expressions and body language and by throwing in the odd ‘oui’ and ‘merci’. That is until you’re required to initiate the conversation. Case in point – sitting at a wine bar full of locals, edgy house music in the background, plate of charcuterie to nibble on; we practically blended in!. Until our glasses ran dry and we were required to order another round. (Cue the dramatic music.) To Justin’s credit he had a stab at speaking French – unfortunately he ran out of vocab after the opening “Excusez-moi….a….un….one of the same please”. Fortunately the barman spoke significantly better English than we spoke French!

After 4 days of relaxing by the pool, pounding the windy roads amongst the orchards, eating enough cheese and bread to rival a small community, and discussing whether it was feasible to retire in our 30’s, we packed up and headed for the airport. Merci and au revoir Provence…for now at least.

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