La Provence is Inspiration!

I wrote the article, La Provence is Inspiration, in 1999. Since then a few things changed. Peter Mayle returned to the Luberon. The Euro replaced the French Franc. And the value of the South African Rand fell dramatically.

Otherwise things remained very much the same. We have been back to La Provence every year since then. Many of our friends followed the same route. It is still worth the journey and affordable.

I hope you find the article of value.

Kind regards.

Philip de Bruin

La Provence is Inspiration

A visit to Provence inspires in many ways. It inspired the likes of Vincent van Gogh, Cézanne, Matisse, and many more. It is fifteen years since I wrote a travel article.  My wife, Catrien, is a press photographer affiliated with Press & Publicity International and her photos often stirred my desire to describe our travels. But it took a re-visit to Provence to finally get me going.

Many people wrote books about Provence. Lady Winifred Fortescue, André P. Brink, and perhaps the most widely read, Peter Mayle. We all heard the stories how Peter Mayle’s books changed the character of the Luberon and how the locals drove him away. Yes, the restaurants made famous by his books are now pricey. Yes, the Luberon is now more geared towards tourism. However, have you visited the Western Cape in South Africa lately? I think Provence suffered less.

I had to attend a conference in Nice early in May 1999. Our daughter, Evette, is a visual merchandising expert based in Stellenbosch and she joined us in Nice. On five of our previous visits to France we packed our little tent, hired a car, and camped where we wanted to overnight, or where we wanted to spend time. This time we only had four nights and, with the weather in early May rather unstable, decided to overnight in Chambres d’Hotes.

Starting from Nice, our first stop was to visit the Matisse masterpiece in Vence, the Chapel of the Rosary. On previous travels we spent a lot of time getting lost. This time I brought my Garmin GPS III along, to supplement the excellent Michelin map number 245 for the region.  We took a wrong turn in Cagnes-sur-Mer, but with these aids knew within one kilometre that we were heading in the wrong way.

From Vence we drove to St-Paul-de-Vence where we spent a delightful hour walking through this ancient hill town. It is similar to the better known nearby hill town of Eze. We noted that tourist venues in Provence now have surveillance for paid parking areas either by camera or by the patrolling parking fee collector.

Our next destination was the Luberon. We made good time on the A8 toll road and the A51. Experience taught us to find your accommodation early. The daylight at 5pm in Provence looks like 2pm in Pretoria. Like probably many other tourists, we made for the area between Bonnieux and Ménerbes where Peter Mayle lived. Several Chambres d’Hotes are advertised along the route. I must admit we chose Les Peirelles on the fork formed by D3 and D103 (N 43°49.437' E005°14.233' Tel: +33 4 90 72 23 42 Fax: +33 4 90 72 23 56), because the advertising board had “Bed and Breakfast” in smaller letters! It turned out that Muriel and Didier Andreis did speak English. The rooms are newly built, clean, bathroom en suite, and comfortable with a large swimming pool for cooling off in the late afternoon Provence heat. Didier was one of the locals who helped with the installation of the huge stone table in Mayle’s house. Mayle eloquently describes this episode in his book.

The area invites one to go on long walks or bicycle rides. Flowers along the road and many trees were in full bloom. The artist in Evette inspired her to pick a posy of wild flowers, which she subsequently painted.

We learned that you get a much more sympathetic response to the question “May I speak English?” than to the more arrogant “Do you speak English?”. However, the increase in English speaking tourists did soften local attitude. At the Clementine in Ménerbes our host did speak English. On my question what choices we have for an apéritif his response was Pastis, Pastis, or Pastis! For dinner we opted for the Menu à Clementine. We all started with a local speciality of pork’s head tripe with green pepper corns: gelée de museau et sa viniagrette. As entreé Catrien and Evette went for the lamb chops: baron d’agneau grille à la sarriette. My entreé was faux filet au roguefort. This was followed by goats milk cheese with olive oil: fromage de chèvre à l’huile d’olive. My desert was crème caramel à la vanille and Catrien and Evette had gateau au chocolat. The wine was from the nearby Domaine de Mayol. Several times during this trip we recalled Mayle’s story how he “ate for England”!

Credit cards are not big in France. Even when a shop or restaurant displays that it takes a credit card, they often would refuse to accept it. If accepted at all, it better be Visa or MasterCard. As every seasoned traveller would know, a credit card is a better and cheaper option than traveller’s cheques. You pay your cash into the credit card account before you leave home and withdraw cash at cash dispensers as and when needed. The only catch is that cash dispensers are not big in France either! There are dispensers at Nice airport and at La Poste, or the Post Office, in larger towns like Apt and Forcalquier. The maximum you can withdraw at once is FRF2000. Converting prices to ZAR is rather scary. During our visit the Rand was on a par with the French Franc. The petrol stations in larger towns take credit cards. Petrol sold for FRF6.50 and Diesel for FRF4.80 per litre.  We were lucky on one of our previous trips to be “upgraded” to a diesel rental car, and it makes a huge difference to your fuel consumption if you travel long distances.

The breakfast at Les Peirelles is a very extended continental breakfast with fresh fruit, fruit juice, yoghurt, coffee, croissants, and freshly baked baguette with local preserves and honey. We then drove to Les Baux-de-Provence via St Rémy-de-Provence, both unique towns to visit. After a previous fleeting visit, Catrien decided that she had to go back to Les Baux to browse through the shops at her leisure. She co-owned and ran a boutique in Pretoria for thirteen years and has an appreciation for boutiques that work.

Returning from Les Baux we took the spectacular D27 connecting to the D31 and its tunnel formed by trees leading to St Remy. Before returning to Les Peirelles, we visited Oppède-le-Vieux. An ancient fortress hill town that spread, or rather migrated, down towards the valley as the threat of invasion or attack became less severe. Back at Les Peirelles we made use of the kitchen facility to prepare lunch from fresh produce bought in Ménerbes. Later the afternoon we visited Lacoste, Bonnieux, and Goult. The Garmin GPS III helped us to get back to Les Peirelles when I took the wrong turnoff. Still hurting from the financial beating taken the previous evening at the Clementine, we prepared our own dinner in the kitchen facility of Les Peirelles from the delicacies of the region bought that day.

After breakfast we bade farewell to Muriel and Didier and headed for Apt for petrol and cash. It rained lightly and Apt’s Saturday market was in full swing with the resulting chaotic traffic and parking arrangement. Mayle rated the Apt market as the best in the region, but we decided to skip it and rather hit the Forcalquier market on Monday. However, Catrien and Evette was so inspired by the powder blue shutters of Provence that they had to visit a hardware store to get exactly the right shade as a sample. It turned out to be easy. The name of the shade? Provence!

Heading for Roussillon we stopped on the D104 to visit the Conservatoire de Ocres et Pigments Appliqués. Ochre, in all its variations, is “mined” here and Evette bought several bags of pigment, inspired to create masterpieces with it back home. Roussillon with its ochre cliffs and views of the surrounding countryside is a pleasant town to visit.

It was already midday and we decided to head for Cruis in Haute Provence where Catrien found on a previous visit the “best” regional boutique in Provence. We drove back to Apt and via the N100 towards Forcalquier, and then with the D950 and D951 towards Cruis. Near Cruis we started to look for our Chambres d’Hotes. By now our ears were tuned to the sounds of the French language and we felt confident that we would be able to communicate. With every visit to France Catrien and I are inspired to learn some basic French, but back home, under the daily pressure to survive, this dream takes a back seat. Our Chambre d’Hotes had to be our dream image of the converted Provence farmhouse. The first candidate did not work for us and we returned to the main road without even stopping.  Close to Cruis a small arrow with the words “Chambres et table d’Hotes Foulara” attracted our attention. We followed the signs onto a dirt road some distance into the countryside and when the farmhouse became visible, Evette started to giggle. We knew we found our Chambres d’Hotes!

To my standard question “May I speak English?”, not expecting a positive answer, our host with a surprised look on his face answered “Yes, of course”! Richard Hartz was a ski instructor for ten years and then ran a guesthouse in Limousine where British tourists were frequent visitors. He bought Le Mas de Foulara some two years ago and we were his first visitors who conversed in English. He was delighted to exercise his skill. His beautiful wife, Odile, understands a little English. They are an extremely talented and friendly couple. They restored the old house, which Richard nonchalantly estimated to be three or four hundred years old, and decorated it with their own hands.  It is clean, functional, and a delight to experience. The complex is surrounded by meadows and Richard even planted a small lavender patch. Whereas the rates at Les Peirelles were reasonable in local terms, they were a bit steep by South African standards. The rates at Foulara are value for money in ZAR terms. Even when including the outstanding dinners that Odile prepared. (N 44°03.116' E005°50.096' Tel: +33 4 92 77 07 96.)

Late afternoon we visited Cruis. Catrien and Evette supported the local regional boutique and I watched the local’s pétanque contest. Back at Foulara the smell of home cooking filled the air. For dinner there were the three of us, and one French couple from the nearby industrial town of Gap. With their ten English words and our seven French words conversation turned out to be a lot of fun. We started with the typical French green salad with vinaigrette and fresh bread. This was followed by a freshly prepared quiche with asparagus, carrots, tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and garlic. The main course was rabbit baked in honey, onions, and tomato with baked potatoes. Plenty of smooth red wine from unlabeled bottles, and plenty of cold tap water. Richard and Odile joined us for the cheese and the conversation started to flow with him acting as interpreter. It turned out that the local urban legend revolved around a story that wolves were seen to leave their mountain lairs to scavenge in the towns. Richard did not buy that and stated with a serious face that the most dangerous wild animal he encountered in his life was the local tax collector! André P. Brink, in his book, also told a story about the three pests of Provence: the Mistral, a bitingly cold winter wind; the Durance, prone to seasonal flooding; and the taxman.

The cheese deserves a mention in its own right. There were three types of regional cheeses served. All goats’ milk cheese. But the most interesting was the Banon cheese, which is made of goat or ewe’s milk and then folded in chestnut leaves and bound with raffia to ripen. It was by far the most sought after cheese of the three. The desert was home made meringue tart with sour apples. Fresh coffee was served to end this glorious meal.

We woke the Sunday morning to blinding sunshine, signing birds, and a sapphire blue sky. After a breakfast of fresh bread, preserves, honey, and coffee, we left for a leisurely drive towards Banon on the D950. The meadows actually smelled of honey and blooming flowers. When you walk, the smell of herbs is released as your feet crush the herb plants. We all experienced a sort of floating well being which we dubbed the “Provence Trance”! We reached Banon at about 11 a.m. This was rural Provence and as good as it gets. Some buildings with small oval windows above the standard powder blue shuttered windows. The locals were sitting at the sidewalk bars chatting and having coffee. Colourful para-gliders were drifting in the sky where they launched off the nearby hill. The teenagers were strutting to show off. Friends stopped in the middle of the road in the town square to say hello. Young men were sitting on the stairs chatting while one of them beat a slow melody on a drum. Women arguing with the vegetable man over the price of his goods. We sat on a bench drinking it all in. The Syndicat d’Initiative, closed of course, featured prominently. We chuckled as we recalled André P. Brink’s amusing and perceptive story of his frustration with the Syndicat d’Initiatives of Provence. (These are the local tourist information offices!)

The Boucherie, with its bright red canopy, was open and inviting. It is small, so that with three people inside it appears crowded. By the time we left there were at least ten people inside patiently waiting for us to complete our purchase. On the wall a notice proudly proclaimed, and translated into understandable English, that all the saucisson you see in this shop were made by the owner, and that none of his saucisson were sold elsewhere! The owner did not understand much English, but he gave us a lesson on Banon cheese, made by him of course. There were three types of these chestnut leave wrapped cheeses and each type bound with a different type of raffia. We bought one of each, plus some local wines, plus local aromatic honey, plus of course some saucisson. He pointed out to us, gesturing towards a pinecone standing on the windowsill, that his saucisson contains also fresh pine nuts.

We carried on with the D950 to Revest-du-Bion. A sleepy town with a lovely boulevard leading to the flag decorated monument to the town’s fallen in the wars. Catrien asked permission and took a great photo of local men sipping Pastis on the bar stoep. The town has a public washing well still in popular use next to the bar.

We then took the D34 to St Christol. When you see too many towns you start to suffer from visual overload, and it took us some time to recall our visit to St Christol! At the time they were working on the main boulevard to change it to a pedestrian walkway. A walk through the rest of the town is quite pleasant.

The next high point was a visit to Simiane la Rotonde. We followed the D30, D166, and then the D18 to get there. The Rotonde was closed, and we ate lunch on a bench in the sun. By now the Banon cheese smell started to make itself known in the car. We polished the softer one of the three, and although rather smelly, it still tasted great. We think they must be adding some alcoholic spirits to it to give it the unique and aromatic taste. Simiane hangs on the side of the hill and is beautifully kept with villas dating back to the twelfth century.

We carried on with the D18, linked up with the D5 to reach the N100 for Forcalquier. At several places the road runs parallel to the Via Domitia, the ancient Roman road that linked Italy to Spain through this province of Rome. In Forcalquier the walk up to the citadelle is a hefty walk, rewarded with breathtaking views from the top of the surrounding countryside. The old town is lively and colourful. We returned to Cruis via the winding D12 with its many small oak trees, which strangely reminded us of the mopanie veld of Kaokoland. Back at Foulara, we cleaned up and dressed for dinner. We were the only guests and, if it were possible, Odile surpassed her cooking efforts of the previous evening. We started with green salad with a dressing of olive oil, lemon juice and salt accompanied by fresh bread and local red wine. The first course was large tomatoes, baked while filled with Banon cheese and a sauce of lemon juice, honey and sarriette. The divine main course was snow-white rice, julienne carrots cooked in milk with pitted green olives laced with turmeric and some herbs, and knuckles of lamb in a sauce of tomato, onions, carrots, and garlic. Cheese was followed by a desert of shortbread pastry filled with fresh strawberry halves with currants and berry syrup. The freshly brewed coffee ended the feast.

After breakfast we said our farewells to Odile and Richard, who became almost family, and headed for Forcalquier, which was our last indulgence in the experience that is Provence before some hard driving to get home. The market was in full swing. It is clearly the traditional meeting place for local producers, stall holders, craftsmen, town’s people and tourists. The market sprawls over the main parking area, the town square, and all the streets linking the town square to the rest of the town. Lone musicians perform throughout the market playing a harp, violin, accordion, guitar, to the appreciation of the crowd. A massive amount of food and goods is for sale. Even a stall selling life insurance! Hardware of all sorts, speciality stalls selling handcrafted bowling irons for pétanque. Stalls selling hunting- equipment and clothes, others military- gear and clothes. Underwear stalls, dresses, blouses, pants, shirts, shoes, and it you want to try it on you do it right there with the milling crowd around you! Furniture, including double beds and mattresses. Fresh fish, fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, fresh meat, fresh bread, olives, olive oil, wine, cheese, saucisson. It seems endless and makes you head swim with all the sounds and smells.

La Provence. The province of the Romans. The world’s province. We shall be back. Deo Volente.