Monday we left our countryside gite and drove all day to Provence, land of sunshine -- literally. In the Dordogne we had cloudy, overcast days with occasional sun. Admittedly, we did have a glorious day when we went to Hautefort, but that was remarkable. We are now 24 hours in Provence and the sun is brilliant.
On the way to Provence, we made a lunch stop at Carcasonne. My main reason for wanting to stop here is that; 1) it made a convenient place at lunchtime, and 2) Jonathan has a game by that name, so I figured it must have an interesting history attache to it. It turns out to be magnificent. We did not have time to wander around endlessly and assess the situation. We did get to see that it was at this point in history entirely touristy. However, it had absolutely magnificent walls, all of which seemed to be in excellent order. This place is massive and, by the way, has a double wall system. They really wanted to keep out the uninvited guests.
Here are some pictures of Carcassone:
Before talking about Provence, a word about getting here. The word is: racetrack. The French are positively speed driven. The posted speed limit on the superhighways is 130 km/hr. That comes out to something like 80 m/hr. When I finally get up to 130 (very seldom because our car is not of the racecar variety), the cars whizz around me like I'm dawdling.
Not only do they drive like they are all at Le Mans, they are reckless to boot. They zoom in and out of lanes as if there are no police around, which seems safe to do because there are no police patrolling the highways -- ever. I saw drivers swerve in and out of lanes from the far left to a right-hand exit on a highway, with little room for error. They come so close when passing that they nearly scrape the paint. Whew! Pitty French drivers who come to the States and drive on the highways in Connecticut, the state with what has to be the highest number of police per linear highway mile in the country. They will surely get a shock.
In sharp contrast to the automobiles, trucks have an upper speed limit on highways of 90 km/hr. It seems strange that the cars are the ones passing the trucks, which are all so obedient. We are used to having long distance trucks pass the cars. They all have posted signs on the back of the truck, or if an 18-wheeler, they have the signs on the back of the cab and on the back of the trailer. The signs are circles with speeds posted, usually 60, 80, 90, in separate circles. I assume that the different speeds are in-town and out-of-town, but I'm not certain. There really isn't anyone around to explain these curiosities. There are so many things that I am curious about here, but really, who would I ask?
So, we arrived in Provence. We had a thunder storm the night before, but as soon as we left the Dordogne and drove through parts of Langudoc, the sun came out and we had only intermittent spritzes. By the time that we crossed the river into Avignon, the gateway city to Provence, the sun was blazing. We drove for many, many miles in flat land covered with crops -- more corn, grapes, apples and olives. There were mountains in the distance on both sides, but we were in a large agricultural basin. Finally, we got to the turnoff for our destination, the village of Goult.
Goult is another medieval village perched on a (low) hill. It has the requisite church, village wall, hilly terrain, fantastic views of the countryside, severely limited parking, cafes where only tourists eat and a gift shop or two. When we drove in early on Monday evening, the town seemed deserted. All the shutters were closed, the main cafe just across from the largest square in town was closed and there were a dozen or so American tourists wandering about looking disoriented.
We met our hostess at the cafe and she immediately commented that it did seem deserted, but that's just because in the evening everyone closes their shutters for privacy. The windows have shutters and the doors have shutters. I would think that doing this in the summer would be terribly stifling, but apparently everyone does it. So, we are doing it too.
Our accommodations are in just the type of medieval town that anyone could picture actually living in. Unlike what appears to be the case in other terribly touristy walled towns and cities, people actually live here. I have no idea where they might work as this is little removed from everything. However, the evidence that people reside here is pretty solid; there is a school, with a play yard, and the town square information board lists all of the businesses in town, a significant number of which seem to be tradesmen.
Our gite is a miniature town house with the tiniest kitchen ever (but very well equipped), the bathroom (en suite, as they say) and a combo dining room/sitting space on the first floor and remarkably two bedrooms on the second floor. This house also has something strange -- a completely separate living room in the ground floor cellar space. It is accessed by going outside, down the front steps and under the steps. Very strange. We have not felt the need to use it yet. It was probably storage space before and might have been converted for a cooler room in the summer; or, not.
After we settled in a bit, we got a pizza from the pizza truck parked in the town square where we park our car. I could not believe that the truck had a real wood-fired stove on board. Not only that, but it cooks in a flash. This was the best pizza that I have ever had, and I've had quite a few in my years. This was the best. It had goat cheese, black olives and pancetta on it. Paper thin crust, perfectly cooked. Superb. US$13.
I have never stayed in a house as old as this. I've hardly ever even been in one. I have no idea when this house might have been built, but probably 1500 or something like that. It is positively charming. The owner has done a very good job of decorating this house with furniture that honors the age of the house without being kitsch. It is part of a four-house unit, made of stone on the outside and with exposed ancient timbers on the inside. The "street" that it is on is one car wide, barely. It looks more like an alley. However, this morning, the street cleaner made two passes; one for each side of the "street".
Here are some photos of Goult, our new town.
Today, we went to the market in a nearby town. Larry has been talking up the markets like they are the best thing since sliced bread. To my mind, they are over-priced tourist traps. Apparently there are some markets that carry the seal of approval, in that the sellers carry only their own products. Today's market was not one of them. I did however buy the best umbrella that I have ever seen (I think, so far) for 5 Euros. Normally, I keep my money in my wallet, which is why I have it still there at the end of the day. But, this seemed like a really good buy. We'll see. Everything else was much more than it was worth. I saw monkfish that I would have liked to buy, but it was 34.60 Euros/K. Later, in the grocery store, I saw the same kind of fish for about 24 Euros. Even that was too much for me (roughly $10/lb).
Tomorrow we are taking a day trip to the coast to a town called Cassis.
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