Provence (and my 200th post)

The surest way to my heart is through a flea market.  So St-Remy and I are sure to become very good friends.

What a seriously beautiful town. Not a lick of lavender to be had anywhere in bloody Provence (seems the shitty spring weather wasn’t just restricted to London…) but there are poppies and wildflowers everywhere and in St-Remy, even without the constant sunshine (see previous point about shitty springs) there’s a lot to love, not least the fact that I see Van Gogh paintings in every field. But I'll get to that…

So we arrived Saturday afternoon, exchanging florid nods and enthusiastic, gesticulating limbs in lieu of even the most basic of French with the housekeeper who let us in to our accommodation for the week. And once we had the keys and a basic lay of the land we were into the town for groceries and a poke about. 

St-Remy is well-known in Provence, a thriving hub of boucheries, boulangeries, antique shops and all manner of posh tourist tat, but it also has the distinction of being not only the birthplace of Nostradamus but also the town where Van Gogh convalesced for a year in 1899. St-Remy is the town in his iconic Starry Night painting. We’re planning to visit the asylum where he stayed later this week, which I’m really looking forward to, but in the meantime there’s the rest of Provence to be getting on with.

My own, accidental, starry night (trying to photograph
the full moon...)

Yesterday St-Remy offered up not only a flea market (my suitcase now considerably heavier with the procurement of a totally awesome glass vase that was, in another life, an old lamp base) but a parade in honour of well-I’m-not-sure-what but there were horses and people in costume and lots of flowers so I was happily enough distracted.

And then, having dropped off the vase (and maybe also a pair of earrings…) at home, we spent the afternoon exploring Les Baux, the first of a handful of medieval Provencal villages on picturesque hills. 

The actual village of Les Baux itself was hilly and quaint, though heaving with fellow tourists, but if I'm honest, I didn’t have much time for its historical ruins. You know, you say ruins, I say rubble. What can I tell you? I’m a modern history girl.

Les Baux

The view from the rubble, I mean, ruins

What was truly spectacular however was the visit to nearby Carrieres de Lumieres, a former quarry where Bauxite was first discovered and where, in 1959, Jean Cocteau filmed The Testament of Orpheus. Since then it’s been used as a jaw-droppingly spectacular setting for a cultural programme of immersive multimedia displays.    

Inside Carrieres de Lumieres

When we were there it was an exhibition of Impressionist artists whose work and practice had been informed and inspired by time spent in the south of France. With an emotive soundtrack, these vibrant, beautiful works merged one into the next, scaling these huge rock walls and wandering around in this cool, otherwise dark space, it was like walking almost literally through these paintings. It was nothing short of fucking stunning.

Today was Mum’s day (we’ve each been given a day for the planning) and she was keen on driving through the Luberon, an expansive national park full of quaint, cobblestoned villages in earthy Provencal hues. In the course of the day we strolled through Loumarin, lunched in Bonnieux with its killer views, bought booze in pretty Menerbe and got windswept in Gordes.

The view out over Bonnieux

Picturesque Gordes

Menerbe

It’s been a good couple of days. Good food, great wine, brilliant company and pretty to the point of cliché. The rest of the week looks promising. 

* I can't quite believe I've now written 200** posts (OK, fine 199 and one pesky draft about my trip to LA last year that I never got around to finishing thanks to The Book...)  I also can't quite believe that September will mark five years in London. How the fuck did that happen? It's staggering to think how much I've grown, learned, seen, done, accomplished since then. Here's to the next 200 posts. Hope they're interesting.