The long, slow days of summer have been slipping by without very much activity or sightseeing on my part. Knowing that I will be back to that mode of travel soon enough I believe my mind, body and spirit are simply saying that it’s time to sit still. So I am. Except for the morning runs and afternoon lap swimming of course.
Yesterday was market day in the nearby village of La Tour D’Aigues, which I visited the day before to see the sights. On Tuesday I shopped at the marche. Rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, interspersed with stands of cheese and olives and fish and meat drew all the locals. On the edges on the food were stalls with tee-shirts and hats and children’s clothing and the occasional artisan selling beautiful olive wood products or hand crafted jewelry. It was mesmerizing, and I walked from stand to stand and in my best petit peu French loaded up my bags with fresh produce and fish for dinner. And that was the extent of my outing for the day. Because there were laps to swim and a book to read and dinner to make. It was lovely.
My morning run took me to Grambois, which I’ve only driven through. It’s a tiny village set up on a hilltop, surrounded by vineyards and fields, all just beautiful in the morning light. Not much in the town itself; an old building still in use as a school, and a statue to those fallen in WWI.
Then I decided to venture further afield today, so set off north to Forcalquier, in the Alps de Haute Provence district. (The house I’m staying in is in the Vaucluse district, and is also known as the Luberon because of the Regional Park and mountain here by that name. The drive took me up in elevation — at the highest point it was about 2,300 feet — with incredible views from that height across the Durance River Valley. There were mountains in the far distance and slight haze, vineyards and so many colors of wheat fields. There were horses in some paddocks, standing close together beneath trees for the shade. There was a road with huge old oak trees lining both sides, creating dappled sunlight and shade entering a small town enroute. Curving roads meant a slow pace, which gave me more time for seeing the scenery as I drove.
Forcalquier has an upbeat, slightly bohemian vibe, a holdover from the 60’s and 70’s, when artists and back-to-the-landers arrived, fostering a now booming organics movement. There were many galleries along the narrow streets featuring paintings and sculptures and ceramics. Saffron is grown here, and absinthe is distilled. The church is Notre Dame du Bourguet which dates back to 1155. It was part of the town’s defense system and the original plan was in the shape of a Latin cross, with a Romanesque transept and a Gothic apse. The organ, which dates to 1629 is still used during services and well-known concerts.
The other main site is the Citadel, which to get to requires a walk up a steep hill along a rocky path, some of which is cut like steps, some of which isn’t, making the trek a bit tricky. But the view is incredible — of the Lure Mountain, the distant Alps, the Luberon and the plateau of Valensole. On the site of the remains of the castle, which was destroyed in 1601) stands the Chapel of Notre-Dame de Provence from 1875, and its carillon hand operated bell chimes. They were under repair, but when in working order they chime every Sunday at 11:30 and most feast days. At the top of octagonal chapel is a gold statue of Jesus (?). It was hard to tell with the sun reflecting the gold.
On the drive back I stopped to take a photo of another medieval hilltop village, Mane, which is known for its importing citadel, which is now a luxury hotel! There is more to see along that route, and the town is well known for it’s Monday morning market, so it might be worth another visit in that direction.
C’est toute.
Absynthe!!!!!!