Arrr Matey!

When John suggested a trip to the nearby town of Arles, I was immediately on board.  Arles sounded like the kind of name a pirate would give a town, and I love pirates, so I figured it would be a good time.  We headed to Arles and managed to only get turned around once (much improved over the previous day’s trip to Marseille) and headed into town to explore.  A city originally founded by Greek colonists, Arles became a major commercial outpost for, who else – the Romans when a canal running parallel to the Rhone and connecting to the sea was built around 102 BC.  It became a prosperous city, often called the “second Rome” around the 4th century AD.  However, when Rome retreated, so too did the glory of Arles.  That is, until the reign of the great Charlemagne, when Arles was returned to its seat of importance and made The Kingdom Of Arles. Today, Arles is a maze of narrow, winding streets and old architecture with reminders of the Romans former presence spread throughout the city. For someone like myself who likes to take pictures, it was a treasure trove of spots.  However, I managed to reign myself in somewhat so as to not totally annoy everyone else. 

Some of the narrow streets.  Can you guess who might possibly be wearing a Puma backpack in front of me?

We decided to do a little walking around to try and get the “lay of the land” so to speak.  The small shops immediately caught Katie and I’s attention and it wasn’t long before we were inside one of the clothing shops that had a cute dress in the window.  Of course, Kevin and John refused to go in the shop and decided to wander off while Katie and I were browsing.  As I was making one last look around the shop, Kevin came running in, imploring me to come “RIGHT NOW” and follow him somewhere.  He lead me around the corner to a shop with Roo’s French cousin in the window.  In typical Schnauzer fashion, the dog saw us and knew we were admiring him/her and thus came and sat in the window so that I could get a good picture. Schnauzers are so smart.

Needless to say, I stared whinging (that’s the British version of whining or complaining) about how I missed the Hansdome Man and Macarooners. 

After my momentary sadness over the Von Schnauzers was over, we headed out to find the reason why we went to Arles – the Roman Coliseum.

Dating back to the 1st century AD, the amphitheater could seat over 20,000 blood thirsty Romans, eager to see chariot races and gladiator battles. Today, the audience is slightly less blood crazy, as it hosts kill free bullfighting (the matador merely has to remove a flag from the bull’s horn) as well as summer concerts.  It was nice to see that the people of Arles were very invested in the conservation of the amphitheater, as they were in the process of restoring a good part of it.  We also had a really good time climbing up to the very top to enjoy the view over picturesque Arles.

At some point in between heading up to the top and heading back down, we lost Kevin.  Naturally, this did not stop me from taking photos, or from some Katie/Amanda silliness. 

 

Since there was no bullfight that day, Katie and I decided to recreate one.  John was not amused.

After we located Kevin, lost Kevin AND John and then found them again, we decided to head over to another Roman ruin, right near by.  I thought this one was called an amphitheater, but don’t quote me on it. It wasn’t nearly as impressive as the previous roman ruin, but being a history nerd, it was still neat to see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since Arles also had the remains of an old Roman bath, we decided to talk a quick trip over there before heading home.  On the way, we came across a square dominated by the statue of Vincent Van Gogh.  This may seem a strange subject, as most statues in public places tend to be politicians, military heroes or royalty.  However, Vincent Van Gogh spent a good deal of 1888 in Arles.  It was in this town where he cut off his ear lobe (only to then be chased out by townspeople for being mad).  Some of his more famous works were done while in Arles, among them “Vase with 12 sunflowers” and “ Café Terrace at Night.”

We  found the Roman baths but they appeared to have been updated somewhere in the Victorian time, and were not even remotely as impressive as the baths in Bath, England so we decided to forgo them in order to head home to our usual night routine – card games, drinks and dinner by the fire. 

Aux armes, citoyens!

Being in the south of France, it seemed only natural to visit the port city of Marseille. One of the guidebooks warned of the dirtiness of Marseille, but considering Paris is also considered dirty, we didn’t think anything of it. Plus, Marseille had to be cool, considering the French National Anthem is called "La Marseillaise". We headed out in search of the waterfront, where we would get a boat out to Chateau d’If. For those of you literary types, you will immediately recognize Chateau d’If as the place where Edmond Dantès was famously imprisoned in Alexandre Dumas’ famous novel “The Count of Monte Cristo.

We made record time to Marseille, mostly because Kevin was driving 180 kph which he told us at the time was 80ish mph, but we later realized was 110! In a Peugeot no less. As we arrived in Marseille, I realized that the guide book was in fact overstating the visual appeal of Marseille. It was a pit! The town was heavily bombed during WWII (due to the fact that, being a port city, it was the embarkation point for a huge number of Jewish and similarly persecuted people. In fact, Victor Lazlo stopped in Marseille shortly before heading to Casablanca in the famous Humphrey Bogart movie. Apparently, the didn’t feel the need to fix most of the city afterwards. To make matters worse, the GPS decided to throw a hissy fit and get us totally turned around. Poor Kevin was a champ though, finally getting us to the waterfront.

Unlike the majority of Marseille, the waterfront was much more picturesque. The mouth of the harbor is dominated by two forts at either end which were being worked on, so we couldn’t walk around. We headed over to the boat launch to find out the time of the next ferry to Chateau d’If, but soon found out that the Chateau was closed for renovation until at least November 2010. We sent Katie up to double check that it was still closed, and alas it was. A wasted trip to Marseille. However, we did find a nice little Proveçal restaurant to have lunch and then headed out.

Luckily, it wasn’t a total wasted trip. Close by to Marseille is the town of Aubagne, a town Katie had been talking about visiting since we booked our trip. Aubagne is birthplace and home of French cinema great Marcel Pagnol. John was very concerned about Pagnol and his American equivalent. He peppered Katie with questions – “is he like Scorsese? James Cameron? George Lucas?” until Katie finally agreed that he was like Woody Allen. Katie got her picture in front of Pagnol’s house

We found this on the street, so naturally, we had to take a picture.

We rounded off the night with a batch of homemade mac and cheese using the mounds of extra pasta from the night before. After I made the batch, which was way too much for 4 of us, there was still pasta left!

Boulboning Around

Tuesday morning came, and brought with it 4 very tired people.  Instead of making the effort to go somewhere, we all decided to stay in Boulbon for the day.  I will admit, part of the reason I decided to stay in town was that I was thoroughly engrossed in The Hunger Games Trilogy and wanted to continue reading.   When the non-reader in the group Kevin was thoroughly bored, we set out to explore the fort and the restored windmill in town.

From what I could gather from the information booklet in our house written in French, the fortified chateau was built starting in the 11th century by the local Seigneur (Feudal Lord) to protect his land from invaders (possible other Seigneurs.  I think I read something about War of the Lords in the booklet).    While the keep still exists today, most of the rest of the chateau, including living quarters, defense towers, and terraces have crumbled over the years.   Some of the old walls to the chateau are still located in town, with houses (like ours) built right in. We took a walk around the fort, looking for an entrance, but it appears that the fort is not open for visitors-probably due to the steep dropoff located directly on the other side of the keep walls. 

After exploring the outside of the fortress (and Kevin and John climbing the hill to attempt to sneak in), we decided to head over to the restored moulin (windmill).  Once again, John vocally stated how much more exercise he was getting today.  However, I joined in with John in protestation due to my improper hiking clothes (I thought we were just walking) and improper footwear (Pumas are not good for scrambling up icy, muddy, rocky hills).

 

My attempt at being artsy

The fort and aerial view of Boulbon

Grapevines as far as the eye can see.  I must be in Heaven

Once we got our fill of the view, we headed back down the giant hill, me complaining about my choice in footwear the entire way.  Once back at the house, John decided to cook dinner that night and settled on Pasta and Meatballs.  Katie and I had bought a 500 gram bag of small macaroni on our binge shopping trip the day earlier, but John thought we needed more, so we headed back to the store to pick up another bag of pasta and jar of sauce.  We then headed to the butcher to pick up some ground beef for meatballs.  It was actually pretty cool – the butcher grinds the meat right in front of you.

MMM, fresh French ground beef

Katie and I are on reading duty tonight

The food was delicious, but just in case you were wondering, 1 kilo of pasta is far too much for 4 people!

Friends, Romans, Countrymen

Monday brought with it a town market that was actually open, so Katie and I started our morning out with a little grocery shopping.  Our shopping experience was a little  like  Cameron Diaz in The Holiday wandering around the store throwing random things in the cart.  We also gave the shop keeper a good laugh with the sheer amount of food two girls purchased.

After Katie and I bought out the market, the boys decided that we should head out on a day trip to Pont du Gard.  (Apparently, a fascination with the Romans is ingrained in the Y chromosome because every male I have ever met is enamored of old Roman stuff). 

Kevin and John at the end of the old waterway

Pont du Gard, the highest still existing Roman aquaduct, was built in 1 AD and ran between Uzès and Nîmes, providing Nîmes with water for their bath houses, homes and fountains.  The Romans were responsible for its upkeep until the 4th century and it was used even after their fall by the people of the area, until the lack of upkeep lead to it becoming clogged.  Long after it was done serving its purpose as an aqeuduct, the local powers that be used it as a toll bridge, collecting money from people and carts wishing to cross the Gard River. It became a popular tourist destination some time in the 18th century, a fact that can be determined from the old school graffiti.   In fact, cars were allowed to drive over the bridge up until its renovation in 2000. 

We started out our trip by heading up the hill to the Panorama.  Luckily, we had two crack navigators with us, or we may not have found it.

After we checked out the panorama, we headed down to the other side.  John got more exercise than he’s gotten in a year, which he made sure to point out.

John also did a little weight lifting

On the other side, we were able to see the bridge at the same perspective as you would see it on the 5 Euro Bill.

My incessant photo taking bored the boys, so they wandered off while I snapped a few (okay, a lot) more photos before we headed back to our super fly house.

 

Once back at the house, John and I tried to start a fire while Katie and Kevin went to the store in the next town over to grab a few things that we needed for dinner.  However, we rapidly filled the house with smoke due to our fire incompetence, and had to open all the doors and put fans around the house to blow out the smoke.  From then on, we decided to leave the fires to the girl scout and boy scout.

Katie and I made a delicious Potato and Leek soup (inspired by the huge leeks we found on our market trip) while the boys drank their weight in beer. (I’m just glad that Kevin didn’t buy two mini kegs like Katie thought he should).  We also played a few rousing games of Uno, Pass the Pig, Bananagrams and Phase 10, which I won of course.

Draw 4 you slick son of a bitch!

Un, Deux, Trois…

Let me start out this post by saying that if you suffer from a physical handicap, don’t ever go to Paris.

 

December 26th brought with it the part of the trip that we were all looking forward to – heading to Provence.  I have wanted to see this part of the country ever since I read the fantastically hilarious “A Year In Provence” as part of a high school French assignment.   Written by Peter Mayle, a British citizen who decides to up and move to Provence with his wife and their dog, it’s part travelogue,  and part social commentary.  If you haven’t read it, you are truly missing out. Luckily, the rest of our traveling party was totally on board with spending some time in Provence, especially after Katie found a house for rent in Boulbon that looked idyllic.

 

Instead of driving the 8+ hour journey from Paris, we decided to experience another French masterpiece, the TGV.  The TGV is a high speed train line that operates throughout France.  The train is able to take an 8 hour car journey and turn it into less than 3 hours by running at maximum speeds of 320 kph.  I love trains, especially efficient European trains, and Kevin loves Engineering Marvels, so it seemed like the perfect way to get to Provence.  The train to Avignon leaves from Gare de Lyon and unfortunatly, the Metro closest to our hotel did not go directly there, but we could get there in one stop. No big deal, right?  WRONG!  Apparently, the French don’t believe in escalators or elevators.  Which makes it very difficult when you have suitcases with 10 days worth of clothes as they have to be carried up and down the stairs.  When your suitcase is half your size (Katie!), its even hard just to get into the Metro station as the barriers aren’t quite big enough to allow you to drag your suitcase through and you have to lift it up and over. It also stinks when you go all the way down the stairs only to realize that the train line you need leaves from another location and you have to walk all the way up again.  To anyone who plans on travelling around France – PACK LIGHT.  Preferably something with straps so that you can just throw it on your back.

Even with all the stairs and transferring of train lines, we arrived at the train station with an hour to spare (the joys of traveling with John and myself – we like to get places VERY early).   However, our train was for some reason delayed.  We finally were allowed to board around 15 minutes after we were supposed to have left and it was insane.  Parisians running and pushing to get on the train, as if they thought there was only 1 minute to board.  We finally got to the entrance of our car and we realized we were on the upper floor.  MORE STAIRS!  Bollocks!  However, at this point, Kevin had taken over carrying both of our suitcases (probably because it pained him to see my weak arms try and lift the thing).

Help!  Macarooners!  There’s a macaroon under attack!

Macarooners to the rescue!

Our trip started out uneventful, but it seemed like we were moving slower than we should.  Come to find out, the tracks were icy from the snow and there had been a derailment so we were forced to reduce our speed.  No big deal except for the company we had in our car – loud children playing some card game that looked like Uno but involved them yelling “UN, DEUX, TROIS!!!!!” , slamming a wooden stamper down and then “AAAHHHH”.  Annoying at first, horrifying after a few hours.  Good thing we had a box of Macaroons to eat to occupy our time.  (If you are confused as to why Macaroons are so entertaining, watch the below video)

 

We finally got to Avignon 2 hours late.  However, it was still way faster than driving.  Plus, TGV refunds half the ticket price if you are over 2 hours late.  Score!

Right away, we experienced the famous Mistral I read so much about in “A Year in Provence” as it blew us across the parking lot and broke John’s wheely bag.  The wind didn’t let up all day and we arrived in Boulbon to howling winds and howling bellies.  Alas, Sunday in Provence is a day that all stores are closed.  Seriously.    However, the excitement of seeing our house took away some of the hunger.  This house was seriously awesome.  Built into the walls of a 13th century fort, it was amazing! Plus it was located on Rue de Fort, which set off a week of Swedish Chef jokes as we thought it sounded like something he would say.

 

Rue de Fort, BORK BORK BORK!

To fend off the hunger pangs, we decided to explore the town a bit.  The poor Boulbonians were probably frightened out of their minds and the crazy Americans running through town, laughing and yelling.

The fort right behind our house

View over Boulbon

Kevin found an almond on our walk and ate it.  He was shocked that it tasted fermented…

Dinner time came, and since there were no stores open (or any restaurants in town), John and Kevin went to see if the local bar served food.  Really, they just went to get a few beers…  We managed to find two bags of egg noodles that the owners of the house had left.  However, there was no butter or sauce of any kind that we could put on the noodles.  Katie and Kevin made the smart decision to eat theirs plain.  John and I found a bottle of hot sauce that we decided to put on the noodles.  I am a big fan of spicy food, as Kevin can attest to.  My specialty is Fire Chili – so hot it burns off the top layer of skin in your mouth.  However, this hot sauce was even too much for me.  After the fact, we realized that it had probably been sitting their for 10 years evaporating until it was reduced to pure liquid fire.  Maybe we were just trying to channel our hero…