Cassis

After our morning feast which is as pleasant as can be, we drive South to Cassis. Sean wants to see the Mediterranean Sea and Cassis is a nice small town in which to do so.
The drive is totally scenic as we drive along the coast through Marseille, a very large port on the Sea. Along the way, we are following behind a little trailer that is carrying this little fellow and a friend. This might be its farewell tour- it’s tagged and ready to be sold for wool or meat.


As we get closer to Cassis, memories of my last trip there about 20 years ago, start flooding in. I recall that my two Irish friends, Denise and Maria, and I took a train and then a bus to Cassis from Paris. We arrived with huge pieces of luggage, and were deposited at the bus station wondering where the youth hostel was, and more importantly, how we were going to get there with our pounds of luggage.
Denise and Maria had done their homework. This youth hostel was nicely nestled in the mountains over looking the Mediterranean. The only problem was we had to hike for about an hour in order to get there. The hiking was no problem, but I tell you, Denise had the hugest bag. I don’t even remember my luggage, just her huge canvas yellow bag. Denise and Maria were headed back to Ireland after their year abroad as soon as our trip to Cassis was over. So it had a year’s accumulation in it. I remember we carried, then dragged that bag.

Now that I’m remembering, I recall as we got to the top of the switchback road, a man passed by in a small car and felt sorry for us. I want to say he was a member of the French Foreign Legion which always has had a strange appeal to me. He escorted a couple or all of us, and most importantly, that huge yellow bag. We still had to hike a bit off the road to arrive at the hostel, but he saved us some heartache.

The little yellow ochre building that was our future home for the next couple of weeks was a sight for sore eyes. It had a front porch with a big table in the front. Inside was the communal kitchen with various hot plates for cooking meals. We all shared a room, and there was a communal women’s restroom and shower area. Finally, there was a medium sized living area where we met people from all over the world.

I still remember many of the people I met during those couple of weeks. First of all, I’m still friends with Denise who is back in Ireland after about 10 years in Denver, Colorado. There was Ian, the British fellow from Kent with whom I ended up hitchhiking to Venice, Italy and back. He was a really nice guy and clever. While we were at the youth hostel, he would earn some extra money by volunteering to buy your provisions for you in town for a fee. We took him up on this offer a few times, which saved us a couple of hours each time. There were the two guys from the Netherlands who would put a declicious meal together if you paid them 10 or 15 francs per person. I can still taste a wonderful Ratatouille they cooked for us all. I can see us gathered around the big table on the porch eating from the big pot. There were the two Protestant girls from Northern Ireland who had a very heavy accent, unlike the light and airy accent of my current Southern Catholic Irish friends. I wondered if there was going to be any bloodshed at the youth hostel. I myself felt inclined to join the IRA after reading Trinity by Leon Uris, but Denise felt that the IRA needed to stop what they were doing. It was interesting to hear the Northern girls talk about going to a party or a dance. They said that people didn’t ask your last name, because then you would know straight away if they were Catholic or Protestant, and you just wanted them to be people first, not part of a religious or political group. Then there was the girl from I don’t remember where, but she had a cool scarf that she had just gotten from Venice. Oh, Venice, I thought, how cool. So, when my buddy Ian suggested that we hitchhike to Venice, my rational thoughts were cast aside in favor of a pretty scarf. But that’s another long story.

Aside from the great cultural experience of the Cassis youth hostel, it was also a beautiful location. It was on the cliffs that overlooked the Sea. There was no view from the hostel, but within a few minutes of hiking down a path, and you could see the Mediterranean. A few more minutes of hiking and you were at the bottom of an inlet, called a calanque. The only way to get to this calanque was by hiking, so it was very secluded even though it was mid-Summer and high tourist season. The inlets were surrounded by high white cliffs that really made it a gorgeous setting. Occasionally a tour boat would come by, or sometimes we would watch climbers mount the big white cliffs. Mostly we would just enjoy the sunshine and each other’s company.

As I approach Cassis 21 years later with my family, I am very nostalgic. It seems the village is bigger. The store that was called “Arold and Maude” was no longer there. It seems that the marina is a lot bigger. I ask about the youth hostel, and am told it is still up there, high on the hill (mountain?).

We take a short walk to one of the rounded rock beaches, and enjoy the afternoon sun. The kids skip stones, find cool rocks, and then---- spot an OCTOPUS! Quinn swears its an octopus. Fortunately, we got a picture of it, and it does look like a mini octopus. Can anyone verify this for us by looking at the picture below?






The kids and I then board a boat that takes you on a tour of three of the calanques. It is very beautiful. I can picture my friends and I lying on the white rocks soaking in the sun. Driving by in a boat, and staying there for a week with friends from the youth hostel are quite different. But it has been nice to share on of my favorite places with my family. Quinn seemed to really enjoy the region’s beauty as he was enthusiastically snapping up the pictures.

Adventure Family

Today we set aside to do the parcourse, or ropes course in the trees . The particular one we drove to is called AccroPassion. There are many levels, some for as little as 3 and a half year olds, up to the most extreme, in which out of 1500 who have tried, only 24 have made it through the course.

The guide straps us into our equipment and explains how to use everything. He demonstrates how to click in to use the zip line, and how to click onto the rope that you grab Tarzan style to jump to the next platform.

We start by doing a yellow level which is fairly easy and close to the ground, and a great way to get used to our equipment. We continue on to the orange level which is a fair bit more challenging. At one point, we click onto the cable overhead and mount a scooter which travels on a high cable toward the next platform. The ride is a crazy one as it feels like the scooter is going to tip over the whole time you ride. It was an act of faith boarding this one. Quinn and Sean go onto the blue level which is higher and more challenging still. Maggie and I try out the white course, which while being close to the ground, requires the use of muscles not normally used on a daily basis.

After breaking for lunch at the scenic town of Salon de Provence, we return ready for more challenges. Quinn leads me through the blue level which at one point I am scared to death, I must walk sideways on the high cable while holding onto a rope. I am walking through my fear with the aid of the kids behind me singing “the Marseillaise”.

After completing the green course, which was still age appropriate for Quinn, he wanted to do the red course. I think you’re supposed to be 12, but the guy who helped us said Quinn could do it if an adult went with him and stayed close. Are you ready, Sean? I think there were a couple of times that Quinn was rethinking this decision. At one point while Maggie and I were nervously watching, Quinn had to walk across the cable sideways while holding onto a cable overhead. Not the hardest technically, except that he was too short for the course, and could barely reach. Sean actually lifted the lower cable so Quinn could touch. The second to last part of the course was totally scary, even just to watch. You had to walk from a kind of a trapeze to the next trapeze, while holding cable overhead. Of course, Quinn’s legs could barely reach from swing to swing, and he could barely reach the upper cables. And he was exhausted. He would have probably quit if he could have, but there you are, and you have no way back down. I wish I had a picture. Totally brave little dude. He did it and was so thrilled! And Sean did it too. Very scary.

Way to go fellas!

L'Isle sur la Sorgue

It’s market day in L’Isle sur la Sorgue, and from what the clerk told us, it is a big one with antiques. This is one of the reasons we head there. The other is because it is a very scenic small town with a canal and water wheels.
It is just a short drive away, maybe 30 or 45 minutes from St. Rémy. We know we’re getting close as people begin parking along the roadway. All the public parking lots are filled and we park on a side street a good walk from the center.




There are vendors everywhere selling provençal soaps, fleece flannel shirts (I was tempted, but refrained), leather shoes, pillows with lavender, handmade purses and hats, cheeses, artisanal tapenades, olive tree cutting boards and other products some made by hand, some edible, some regional.

We spent a lot of time at the soapmaker’s booth. He must have had 40 different fragrances of soaps in a dazzling array of colors. Blackberry, cherry, eucalyptus, almond, vervaine, and cedar were some of his offerings. Maggie said her nose hurt when we left his stand.

We walked along the Sorgue canal checking out all the different markets along the way. There are restaurants, many of them Italian, along the canal and it is a very lovely scene with the warm sun shining on everyone. We want to be a part of the scene and wait a while to get a table overlooking the canal. We have pasta and pizza and Q and M feed the ducks at the end of the meal. We had the typical leisurely European lunch, lasting a couple of hours.



As we ate, the market closed, and the vendors packed up and left. You could actually see the beauty of the town more now, and we strolled along the banks of the canal in the other direction, viewing a water wheel along the way.

Before heading off, we stop in the public playground and get some ya-yas out. Then, we decide to have a look at the Waldorf School in Sorgue, another town about 25 minutes to the Northeast of Isle sur la Sorgue. By some miracle, we find the school, and pull into the parking lot. It was a patchwork of buildings with the common sights inside the classrooms- beautiful chalk drawings on the boards, funky wooden furniture, children’s artwork in the fat block crayons, and the simple natural play areas. The kids enjoyed walking the grounds and remembering elements of the Waldorf school they attended back home.


We decide to go for an evening hike in the Alpilles. It is already dark when we park the car. Maggie is a little afraid, but enjoys it as we get going. We follow a gravel path up and down some hills, and can barely make out the white rocky hills in the distance. Quinn and Maggie close their eyes during part of the hike and enjoy following the sounds.
Before getting back in the car, we took a few minutes to lie down in the grass and stargaze. It was nice to look at the clear sky full of stars.

We head back home and dine at the restaurant with the whimsical decorations. We love that place. Another great day in Paradise, I mean, Provence.

Les Alpilles and les Baux de Provence

Provence Day 3– Les Alpilles and Les Baux de Provence
Now this is what I was thinking of when I thought “vacation in Provence”.

First, we wake up at our lovely hotel which is bright, modern and cheery. There is a courtyard with a fountain and fig trees. The hotel is named “Under the Fig Tree” (Sous le Figuiers), in honor of the fig trees found in the courtyard along with a gurgling fountain and little paths that lead to your room. The rooms are adorned with beautiful paintings of garlic cloves and fruit done by the owner. But the most important feature was its absence of carpets- only natural materials here folks- marble, tile and plaster!

We begin our day with a hearty German style breakfast of apple juice, tea (or hot cocoa or coffee), grapes, melon, yogurt, assorted bread and toast, and mini croissants and pain au chocolat. Quite the feast.








We have in mind a hike to counteract all the driving we’ve been doing. A few minutes outside of St. Remy are the Alpilles, a small rocky mountain range that have trails for hiking. We eagerly hop out of the car and head out on a gravel path. As we walk, the path becomes more narrow. We are on the highest point of the Alpilles, so there is a nice view all around us. The view is typical of the area- hill after hill (or mountain) of little green shrubs set on white rock. The kids are enjoying the hike; Maggie collects little acorns, and Quinn runs up the highest peak around us. A bicyclist warns there are hunters in the area. He suspects they are hunting rabbit. We quickly run around the next bend to see if we see any, but no luck.





After we head back to our car, we set out for Les Baux de Provence. It is a village built high up on and into the white rock of the region. It is a short and stunning drive from our hotel. You can see the remnants of a castle in the white rock set against the blue sky as you approach. We park the car and enter the world of Les Baux.


After lunching in one of the restaurants built into the rock (very troglodytic), we head up to the remnants of the old chateau. It is a panoramic and quite scenic view from the top of les Beaux. You can see the Alpilles where we hiked earlier, as well as many patches of olive groves interspersed with patches of vineyards. There are fun areas to explore, as some of the old steps and windows and rooms are still intact, and able to be climbed on and through.



Also displayed were some of the weaponry used in the time such as a ramming rod and a huge catapult. Scenes and dialogue from Monty Python and the Holy Grail again popped into mind. You can see how the idea for such a comedy is a natural when surrounded by castles and these antiquated war machines.

Posting pause

I think I need to take some time off of posting blogs. I nearly scared myself to death last night. We dined at a restaurant that had Wifi; and I stayed behind after our dinner to post some pictures. It pains me to send descriptions of Provence without pictures- it shouldn't be done.

So, I was working with a spotty connection when my little Fujitsu ran out of steam just before the pictures were nearly posted. I asked the owners if they minded if I came back, and they did not.

I scamper through the deserted streets back home (our hotel is only actually about a block away, but a very dark and unlively block) to recharge my battery to finish my picture posting. I plug in the computer and let it charge. After about 30 minutes, there is enough "juice" to continue.

However, common sense alnost won over which caused me to pause and reconsider going out in the eerily quiet streets. I think about my readership, and decide the posts must go on.

I open the loud scary gate, look around and tear up the street. It is so calm and dark, I wonder if the restaurant is still open. Thankfully it is. I connect and upload the pictures hoping it won't take too long. It takes forever, and the last customers have now gone. It's just the owners, who are very friendly, and me. I am the first customer to use the Wifi as it turns out.

Finally, the pictures post and now I wonder about my walk home. I thank the owners and enter the now very ominous (at least in my mind) street. There are some pedestrians walking my way across the street and I m glad for their presence. I walk a little faster, and then a stray dog appears out of nowhere and comes straight at me and follows me. My leg is still a bit ugly from my last dog encounter, and I am freaked out.

I cross the street to where the other people are, and ask if it is their dog, and mention I am afraid of dogs. They state that the dog is not theirs, but it seems friendly enough. Why does it just follow me? Thankfully, they are also staying at the same hotel, and I am calm again. I tell myself I'll just get behind on my blog posting, but I'm not doing that again.

As you can see, I can post words without Wifi but no pictures. I am currently typing on the hotel Internet that has a French keyboard in which many letters are in different places. So if I typed a normal sentence, it would look like this: Do you see zhqt i ,eqn; this is totqlly hqrd to do eith this keyboqrd qnd it tqkes tzice qs long: You get the picture.


In conclusion, it may be delayed a few days, but do check back for an update on Provence.

à bientot!>

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!

Day 2 - Cezanne's studio and the Luberon

The day is sunny and the gardens are really nice outside. I hop out the window just to experience the smells of the country. Quinn and Maggie hop outside the window and find nature items. We figure there’s got to be about 5 feet from the hotel that is not private property.

We decide to eat at the hotel thinking it could be lovely. Instead we are taken to downstairs to a narrow room that is covered entirely with carpet, but this time, it is mustard in color. We breakfast on sliced and toasted bagette slices complete with butter and jam. “Is this it?” my innocent little eaters ask. “Yes, this is it,” we explain, “but we’ll get something later on as well.”

Still feeling discouraged by our travels so far, and the difficulty we had navigating Aix-en-Provence, we wonder if we even want to go back (our hotel was just on the outskirts). We decide to at least visit Cézanne’s studio.

We find Cezanne’s studio and parking with ease. We enter the grounds of his studio/house where he lived at the end of his life. Thanks to two Americans, it has been preserved as Cezanne left it, complete with skulls, vases and still life arrangements. The studio is covered with windows on one side, which has a nice view of nature. Outside, there are little paths in the yard with little tables and chairs tucked away in the trees. A great setting in which to create.







Having had a bit of success with driving again, we then brave going back to the heart of town, even entering a subterranean parking lot in order to see the Gravet Museum where some of Cezanne’s work is on display. There are only a few Cezanne’s in the museum as it turn out, but an assortment of other works.



After stumbling onto an art fair, we launch out for the Luberon National Park in hopes to go for a hike. We drive through the area and it is very scenic with white cliffs and pine trees. We head for a town called Bonnieux where the hiking is good. After some twisty roads, we end up at the Cedar Forest. We had bought some sort of potion at a health food store that is applied at wrist points and the solar plexis in order to avoid nausea due to travel. We also sucked on some ginger to calm our stomachs. It seems to have worked.



We enjoy a peaceful and long needed hike in the cedar forest. In the distance was “Cezanne’s Mountain”, so called because it frequently showed up in his paintings. It was cool to watch the white of the mountain changing colors as dusk was setting in. We had a hearty snack at a very scenic little hillside restaurant/café before heading to St. Rémy, our (hopefully) final destination.






About an hour later, and much giggling in the back seat of the car, we arrived in St. Rémy at our destination. Woo hoo, the town looks very quaint, and the hotel is very nice. It has been recently remodeled and has a nice courtyard with fig trees. This might actually work.

The hotel clerk recommended two family friendly restaurants. I was picturing a French Bob Evan’s, but the one we ended up at tonight was called “the garlic clove”. That’s gotta be good, we thought. And was it ever! We walked into a normal restaurant in the front, but in the back is a huge room with all these cool antiques- everything from old gas pumps to an entire carroussel to a large puppet theatre. There was even a small trailer that you could peer in and see the table set, and the bed. Unbelievable. We’ll try and add photos soon.

So let’s just say that day number two has been awesome and has almost washed away the bad taste of day number one. Of course, it helped that we stopped and got some cleaning product and gave the car a once over to relieve it of the putrid smell from the happenings of day number one.

Day One in Provence

The kids are on school holiday and we decide to head South to Provence. We begin by boarding the TGV to Aix-en-Provence. This was totally cool, we get to the South in three hours; no driving, just watching the countryside: Farmyards, steepled churches. Scenic. The weather is sunny and warm. We rent a car and follow the directions to our rented cottage.

Following the directions carefully, we drive further and further into the country. The closer we get to the cottage, the closer we get to nowhere. After many roundabouts, we end up at our "cottage". We are greeted by a fierce looking, barking german shepherd next door. All the houses are surrounded by fences with padlocks. EEK. It doesn't look the way it did on the Internet. We can't actually get into the "compound" because there is no one to let us in. I'm not so secretly hoping she doesn't show up. We're parked on a gravel incline with other cars parked around us. Actually, this little patch of houses reminds us of our former street, Hays, complete with barking dogs, limited parking on an incline, and a sketchy feel to the area. After waiting quite a while in the car, Maggie and Quinn begin to literally run around the car. They are at this for some time. Meanwhile, I telephone the woman who is to let us in. No answer on her cell or home phone. Hmmm. We decide to give her about ten more minutes before we look for alternative accomodations as it is getting dark.

As we continue waiting, Quinn slips in a patch of wet mud in front of the cottage, and he is a mess. Fortunately our luggage is at hand and he changes into new clothes. But that cinches it, we're outta there. I call some places for a backup plan. This time we decide to stay closer to a city, back toward Aix-en-Provence. The guidebook says it's a nice comfortable hotel with a splendid view of gardens.

We enter Aix, and for the life of us, cannot find any street signs. We have the directions the woman at the hotel gave us, but can't find the streets we need. We call again, again she gives us directions. Not only are we lost, the city is very crowded, and there is nary a place to even pull over. So we are frantically asking people for directions.

In the meantime, Maggie announces that she's going to get sick. Sure enough, she vomits into her little cupped hands. How neat and tidy. But then a tidal wave busts out and hot liquid is flying everywhere. We finally just pull over in the street and Maggie and I scramble out of the car. Out on the sidewalk, her body stops its rude outburst after one last splat on the concrete.

Not having a choice, Sean parks the car in a crazy place at the intersection of two roads. We clean up Maggie and the car as best we can with no paper towels or the like. Again, thankfully the luggage is with us and Maggie changes into clean clothes.

We are so totally frustrated that we can't find the way to the hotel, and now we have a very stinky car that might cause more hurling. Not to mention the two little hungry and road weary travelers in the back seat. I call the woman at the hotel again and explain that the roads are not well marked. She begins to yell at me that they ARE marked, and I need to just follow the directions. I say I will call her back, but am thinking about pulling into the first hotel we see.

Luckily, we see an Office of Tourism, and for some reason at 5:50 P.M. on a holiday, the office is open. They have a map and clearly show the way to the hotel.

Finally, we find the hotel and it looks quite charming. We enter and are transported into the setting for a wonderfully scary horror film. The clerk shows us to our room at the end of a long narrow corridor. It feels like we've entered the basement, but are in fact on the ground floor. I look out the window and ask if the gardens are out that way as I can't tell in the dark. She said "yes, but the gardens are private". So much for the thought of the kids frolicking in the garden.

The corridors, the room, the entry, everything is covered in this dusty blue carpet. Even the walls. Creepy. The kids didn't know what to think. "It doesn't have a kitchen," they remarked. "Is this where we're staying the rest of our trip?" they asked wide-eyed.

"No, just for tonight," I said, even though we originally indicated we might stay several nights. I quickly cleared this with the front desk. "We'll just be staying the night," I said to the woman at the desk who had too many questions for me.

We unpacked and then went on a frantic attempt to find a restaurant on the outskirts. We were avoiding going back into town. What originally looked like a double wide trailor (yes, they exist in France), turned out to be a very friendly gourmet restaurant. We had an excellent meal, and headed back to our hotel that time forgot.

As Sean bathed the kids, I hopped on the Internet (thank God the hotel had wifi) to find happier accomodations. Finally, we find a hotel in St. Rémy de Provence that looks good, has great recommenations on TripAdvisor, and has the friendliest clerk who books us for the next five nights (I'm optimistic that it will work out).

After a long, stressful day, we call it a night.