An American in Provence

 

On Sunday, Alain and I went to his annual karate club end-of-the-year Paella. The main karate teacher, who Alain knows for about 20 years now, has a large non-constructible piece of land, in the middle of the vines outside Pelissane. There is a small cabanon on the lot where they have disco night (luckily far from other houses) once or twice a year. No toilets. Fun. I avoid as much as possible.
So Sunday morning Alain dropped me off at his parent's house while he went to play karate, then came back around noon, took a shower, and we went to the paella.
Spent the afternoon drinking beer, wine, pastis, and coke, chatting with others and waiting for the paella to finish cooking. I am not a huge paella fan. I usually surreptitiously pass about half of what is on my plate to Alain (octopus? mussels? unidentifiable meat? what could be part of a mouse? here dear, you eat it).
After the paella, some rounds of boules were organized, for the yearly championship. When I signed up, I thought it would be just for fun, throw some leaden balls around, hope to not hit any small children, and have fun. But I under estimated Les Provencaux. This was serious stuff. Bring-your-own-set-of-boules stuff. Some poor woman got stuck with me. "Vas-y doucement, doucement, essaie de ne pas toucher ma boule qui est le plus proche. Ah. Bon. La prochaine fois alors."
We lost the first round 13-2, then played against Alain and his partner and also lost, though closesr this time, around 13 to 11. I didn't really pay attention to how the scoring worked or anything.
Honestly, a hot summer Sunday afternoon, in the middle of vines, pine trees and olive trees, listening to the cicadas cricking away, drinking rosé wine and playing boules.
Can anyone think of how it could be MORE Provançal?

Last weekend we went over to my in-laws'. They have three olive trees, and my father-in-law was in the process of de-oliving them.

He said that it takes him about three days per tree, working alone.

Alain was busy working on the car, so I took a bucket and headed out to enjoy the late November sun.

(not the best picture of me, but oh well)

Spent a couple of hours picking olives off this tree. It was quite de-stressing in fact, the sun, the quiet, ripping all those little buggers off the branches, and hearing them plop into the bucket. Once I turned over the bucket, so it wasn't quite as fun re-picking them all up off the ground, but oh well.

Makes me want to buy some baby olive trees in pots, so that maybe by the time we have land to plant them, they are olive-producing. Wouldn't want too many trees though. After a few days of picking olives, it would get tiring real fast.

We saw the outside of the Chapelle des Pénitents Gris, then had a coffee.

A windy mistral day in Provence...
Waiting for the bus after work...
When suddenly, a window that had been left open in the building across the street slams shut, the glass breaking and falling down onto the street and sidewalk below...

Before I moved to Provence, I had heard tales of the legendary MISTRAL.
The wind that you can apparently blame everything on.
Late for a dinner party? Sorry, I got held up by the Mistral.
Go nuts and shoot your spouse? Sorry, but the howling of the Mistral drove me to it.
Forgot to do your homework? Sorry, but the Mistral blew it away.
Get caught kissing someone else? Sorry, but the Mistral just blew me onto to her/him.

According to Wikipedia:
The summer mistral
The summer mistral, unlike the others, is created by purely local conditions. It usually happens in July, and only in the valley of the Rhone and on the coast of Provence. It is caused by a thermal depression over the interior of Provence (The Var and Alpes de Haute-Provence), created when the land is overheated. This creates a flow of air from the north toward the east of Provence. This wind is frequently cancelled out close to the coast by the breezes from the sea. It does not blow for more than a single day, but it is feared in Provence, because it dries the vegetation and it can spread forest fires.

Before moving here, I had also heard tales of pioneer women in the US, left alone out in log cabin and going bonkers just listening to the wind all day long. I thought "that's crazy- that could never happen"
But after four years here, I can understand how it might happen.

Anyway, back to my story of the Rain O'Glass.

After the first pane of glass broke, I kept a wary eye on the slamming window across the street. Where is that darn bus?
Another crash! and the entire rest of the glass panel came crashing down.
A worker finally came and removed the now-empty window frames, but all the rest of the windows had been left open, ready to be slammed by the wind.

There were a few of us waiting for the bus, and we saw a group of people about to pass under the building. We were waving and yelling at them to not pass on that side of the sidewalk, but just at that moment a bus came by.
A man with a baby in a stroller understood something at least was amiss, so he crossed the street, but an elderly lady just stopped and stared at us uncomprehendingly. She finally moved on, probably wondering what those younguns were ahollerin' about.
Here is a lesson- maybe if a bunch of people are yelling and waving at you to move away, maybe you should move because maybe you are in the "Risk of Being Bisected" Zone. Don't stop right in the middle and try to figure out what is going on- move out of the way and then figure it out because you might be about to receive a shard of glass in your neck.

The worker (they are renovating the building) locked up and left, without securing all the windows. As he walked away, another window slammed and a pane of glass fell down onto the sidewalk and narrowly missed him.

Next time the wind is blowing, I think I will be very aware of possible danger from above.

My first two summers here in Provence, 2005 and 2006, I thought I was going to die from the heat. When we went to Bretagne in August 2005, it was a relief- finally, a break from the heat.

To celebrate Valentine's Day and Alain's Birthday (Feb. 15th) we spent this weekend in Nîmes, a city about an hour and half from Marseille, to the northeast. Nîmes is quite well known for the tri-annual ferias (bullfights) that are held in the Roman Amphitheater (Arene). We left Saturday morning and arrived at our hotel a little before noon.


Wikipedia article about Nimes



We checked in, then walked the short distance into the centre ville, smack dab into Les Arenes. It was built in the 1st century AD, is 130 m by 100 m, and is described as being the "best preserved of all Roman amphitheaters." However, this isn't really true. It is the "best rebuilt". It was used for gladiator fighting, animal fighting, and prisoner execution, and could seat up to 22,000. After the collapse of Rome, it was used as a fortress, then as slum housing. In the 19th century the outer walls were still standing but the seating area was almost completely torn up. We ate lunch then went to visit it. We paid for the combined attraction ticket, which also included the Maison Carrée and the Tour Magne, for about ten euros. This included the audio guide. I always feel so stupid walking around with the audio guide pressed to my ear. I guess you learn a lot but it always takes forever. You listen to each main section, then you get "To learn more about the blah blah press 51. To learn about the ble ble ble press 52. To learn about the bloo bloo bloo press 53." Also learned that there are about 400 Roman Amphitheaters in the world. Wow. I would have guessed about 50, 100 max. Anyway, we spent a good two hours visiting the arena, then we walked to the Maison Carrée (or Square House). Once again, the guidebook lists this as the Roman world's best-preserved temple. It was built by Augustus's son-in-law Marcus Agrippa a long long time ago. Unfortunately, the exterior was covered in scaffolding, they are redoing the facade. We went inside, saw a 22 minute 3D film about the history of Nîmes and.. that was it. Went back outside.



From there we walked to the Jardin de la Fontaine. An underground spring was "harnessed" here in the 18th century (how do you "harness" a spring anyway?) and has been built into a very nice park with statues and fountains. We walked up the path to the Tour Magne, which is from 15 BC and is the earliest surviving Roman building in France. Unfortunately, we got there about 15 minutes too late, and it was closed. Supposedly it has great views out over the countryside. For anyone who visits Nîmes, I would suggest taking a nice picnic and visiting the park.


We walked back towards Les Arenes, and went into a cute little tea and coffee shop, called Tendance Saveurs, with one worker who was quite overwhelmed. We had some tea, some small navettes, then bought a specialty chocolate bar (nice, but perhaps not worth the 3.60€) and a cute bottle of mulled wine that I will save for next Christmas.




We asked the lady at the tea shop where would be a good place to eat, and she gave us instructions on how to get to a certain restaurant. Totally were not able to find it. Chez Paul, sorry, sure you would have been great. We went back to the hotel and rested a bit, then went out and followed our concierge's instructions to a place called Restaurant Nicolas. The food was okay, not too expensive. We got back to the hotel and went to sleep around 10:30. The next morning (Sunday) we woke up at 9, had breakfast in the hotel (which was surprisingly worth the 5€ each), and set out to explore again, this time the museums. The weather was overcast and cold. We first went to the Musée de Vieux Nîmes, which was free. Interesting fact that we learned- where does denim come from? It is material from Nîmes- de Nîmes. Get it? We learned about denim cloth, and saw more old maps of the city, pictures and drawings of the monuments, etc. Then we stumbled upon an exposition of mosaic reconstruction in an old Jesuit building- they had found a huge very well-preserved mosaic and had it on display. Then we went to the Musée Archéologique and Musée d'Histoire Naturelle (again free). Saw a bunch more old Roman carvings (hey, after awhile they get tiring) and some poor moth-bitten animals that had been taxidermied. We left around 1:30 and went to eat at Fast China Express before heading back to Marseille around 2:40.
It was a good weekend, and I am glad we went. I think two days was enough to see everything. I think my favorite is still Arles, then perhaps Nimes, then Avignon.
For more pictures from our trip to Nimes, please go to this album.

Friday evening we got out of Marseille as soon as possible (which was about 7 pm) and drove to his parent’s house. His mother fixed a nice meal and a cake, but the nougat biscuit that I had saved especially was terrible. I guess they just don’t save well. Oh well. Will just have to order a cake or piece montee for every anniversary.

Yesterday, after about a week of coordination, I took a train from Marseille to a small town on the coast called Sanary Sur Mer to meet an old friend, Kelly, visiting with some of her friends Provence for two weeks.
http://www.toutsanary.fr/
http://sanarysurmer.free.fr/
http://www.ville-sanary.com/

I took the Metro to Gare Saint Charles, bought my aller-retour (round trip ticket), and waited for the train at 8:40. I am always nervous getting on trains, worried that I will end up in Spain or something. Check number on ticket. Check number on sign. Check number on ticket. Check number on sign. Consider knocking on the conductor's door and asking him where he is going.
I admit, I am a Train Dork. I really like riding on trains. I guess it is because I haven't done it much. I suppose if I commuted every day to work on a train, it would lose it's appeal. Other people bring a magazine, laptop, a book. I sit on top and look out the window. On this day there wasn't much to see out the window. It was quite a cloudy day and I was afraid it would rain later. Got to my stop and waited for Kelly and her friend Deborah to pick me up. We immediately went to the supermarket to buy chocolate bars for them to take home. I think they bought about 10 each. Then we went to Centre Ville, which was quite difficult as half the streets were blocked off for work or the market. Kelly and I had a coffee, walked around a bit, then met up with their other traveling companions, three guys- Dave, Shawn, and Mike for lunch. We went to an African restaurant, had a bottle of Moroccan wine. For lunch I had a meat and cheese dish wrapped in a crispy shell. It was good but my digestive system was not happy with me the rest of the day.
After lunch Kelly and I walked around some more. We tried to take the walk along the coast, but it was really rocky and far. We came back, had a Haagen Daas (I ate about half of mine, it was so big). We went to an art exhibition that featured animals, some of whom had human parts or other human qualities. After that we went into a church. It was interesting because there was a man painting the murals all over the place- ceiling, side walls, etc. He still had a ways to go, I imagine that he had already been working on it for years. I would like to go back in another year or so and see if it is finished. It was a little strange to see something like In Progress, because usually it is something that was done a hundred years ago and you just take it for granted. But to see someone actually painting it, it makes you realize how long it must have taken to build the churches (stone carvings, etc). Kelly looked at some Santons (small painted pottery figures, usually for Christmas Nativity scenes). Sanary is not really a Santon Town, so there were a few, really expensive, in tourist shops. They were about twice the price that they would be at the Santon Fair in Marseille in December. (see my previous blog entry http://megankay4.blogspot.com/2005/12/foire-aux-santons.html if you wish)
I bought some roasted chestnuts, marrons chaud, from a stand so that Kelly and the others could try this typical Christmas treat. They are rather dry. At around 6:30 they drove me back to the train station, and my train arrived a little after 7. Too dark by this time to see anything. Got back to Marseille around 8, took the Metro home. A good day.

On Saturday evening, Alain and I made a pilgrimage to Le Quillé with Olivier, Audrey, and Hanna. What is Le Quillé you ask? An ice cream store, what else?
It is located in the old town of Miramas, about 40 minutes away from Marseille. Internet site with pictures.
http://www.lequille.com/
Quillé, according to Olivier, means "perched" in Provençale. Indeed, it is quite perched on the top of the hill.
Apparently during summer it is very popular. You park at the bottom of the hill and hike up to the summit, where the glacier is. You try to delude yourself with thoughts of "I am burning off enough calories to eat this mound of ice cream, chocolate sauce, and brownies."
We got there around 9. We sat out on the terrace, but it was a little cold. When we first got there, we were the only ones there, besides the local cats. There were about three or four cats hanging out, and making strange cat noises at each other.
We ordered, I stayed faithful and got L'Americaine. (closest to viewer in picture above) It was two scoops of vanilla, two of chocolate, a brownie, some whipped cream, and sliced almonds. It was quite good. I was quite tempted though by the Irlandaise, which was Bailey's Ice cream, whipped cream, and Bailey's liquor. They make all of their ice cream and had some quite original flavors, such as Calisson (the almond paste candies from Aix en Provence) and licorice. The prices weren't too bad, around 8 euros each.
We later moved inside and had tea, leaving around 11.
(picture courtesy of Hanna).