Cordes sur Ciel.and Albi
What a find! We have to keep this place secret because it was so gorgeous. Borie Grande is about 4 km from Cordes situated on a vast estate with an avenue of trees leading to the main house. Howard, an Englishman and his French partner Alain have furnished the Bed and breakfast with tasteful antiques and interesting books.
Our evening meal was prepared by Howard and was delicious. The company was excellent and the atmosphere very cordial.
We spent the next day exploring the gorges and Albi culminating in an interesting meal on the terrace at Albi.
Ken enjoyed swimming in the pool even though it was on the cool side and Paco the Labrador greeted us enthusiastically every time we returned.
Our journey to Avignon was not uneventful because we went over the new bridge at Millau twice due to a faulty reading by the Gps. This left us in a hurry to meet Pam at the Avignon apartment by 12.00. We finally arrived at 1.30pm.
Avignon
What a complete contrast from the tranquillity of the country to the hurley burly of the city. Pam’s apartment is decorated with modern art works and is in the centre of Avignon. Noise and bustle are all around and it is just a short stroll to the centre of town
We spent four hours walking in the hot sun to see the Palace of the Popes and the famous bridge of Avignon. That night there was a music festival that went on all night. It is all happening in Avignon.
The weather has improved and it is getting quite hot so it is into summer gear at last. At last we can leave the windows open at night and get some fresh air. Its a pity the French haven’t heard about flyscreens. Now the windows are open, the mossies come in and swoop us all night. If we manage to get off to sleep, then the motorbikes zoom up and down the streets. Eventually we remember the aerogard , the motorbike men get tired and all is quite. It is only 1am. Is this dullsville? We are assured that tomorrow night it will be different. By law, anyone is allowed to play or make music until 3am. We can hardly wait.
The next night comes and streams of people come into the walled city. Many are carrying drums, trumpets and anything else that can make a noise. DJs are setting up wherever there is a space with amplifiers that will make a serious statement during the night and threaten to send even the mossies running for cover. This night comes just once a year, and we are told that we are lucky enough to witness the occasion. We are just so lucky.
After a days rest we set of to the countryside. Now that we know the layout of Avignon, it is not difficult to get in ond out of the walled city. We now understand that the GPS has a sense of humour and it gets a great kick out of finding the narrowest streets with many colours of car paint on the corner of each building.
We head for the towns of the Petit Luberon where people have built wherever it is totally inaccessible. The first town is Opede-le-Vieux. It reminds me of Cinque Terre, except they don’t have the ambulances ready to cart off the heart attack victims. When you get to the church at the very peak, you are rewarded with a spectacular view of the valley and the other villages. We head off for Menerbes, the town the Peter Mayles used as the basis for ‘a year in Provence’. At first we find it rather disappointing, but after a beer at the local Tabac, we discover very interesting gardens and buildings and agree that it was worth the journey. When we left the apartment, we were going to see five villages today. We now think four will be enough.
We set off for Bonnieux and park the car with a substantial walk up the hill to the village. It is now 2:30 and the restaurants are looking more inviting than the towns buildings. A wise choice is made and we sit down to a delicious meal and a bottle of wine. On the way home, I will ignore the GPS and take only the wide streets. The cold beer waiting in the fridge at home now has more appeal than the fourth town. I’ll read about it in the book.
20 years ago, we spent two nights in Arles. We remember it well, because someone smashed the car window to steal some clothes. (Target clothes apparently appeal to the French) It is market day in Arles(which we also remember well and fondly) and this seems a good reason to return. Tourism seems to have really taken over since our last visit and parking is difficult to find. After squeezing down a number of narrow streets, we find a parking area. There are parking meters, but keeping with French tradition, they do not charge for the 12 to 2 lunch period. How civilised. Perhaps Fremantle should form a sister city with Arles and adopt some its customs. There are some gipsies around and so we are somewhat wary , but we see the Roman arena, the amphitheatre and the park that Van Gogh painted some scenes in.
