Vox Josephus

 

Sorry - should have posted the original along with my foolishness just to show you how good Notreallylois is.

 

One of my neighbors, Notreallylois, is a painter of exceptional talent, as you can see from this example of her work.  No, no, I created a jigsaw puzzle from her painting of her pet cat.  This is a photo of my work in progress, as shown on my computer monitor, from her work completed.

In my Paris segment I called these guys Bardolino, but I was wrong - they call themselves Borsalino.  Here they are, playing a segment of I Can't Give You Anything but Love, Baby. Their style is reminiscent of the twenties and thirties jazz group The Quintet of the Hot Club of France.  Play and, I hope, enjoy. 

 

 

 

Even if you have never visited Paris, you know of its famous sites such as La Tour Eiffel, L'Arc de Triomphe, La Cathédrale de Notre Dame, Le Louvre.  Who has not visited The City of Lights in movies or on television? Who isn't familiar with its musums and monuments, the Seine River, parks and gardens, restaurants and outdoor cafés, the temptations of shopping and outdoor street markets, its night life, and its famous Métro system?

Marie and I hope to gain your interest by showing you a few of these inducements ("a few" because one cannot visit them all in a couple of weeks).  The map below will help you locate where they are.

 

 

 

 

 

A detail of one of the arches at the entrance to the Opéra Garnier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our friends Rich and Colleen met us for two weeks in Paris; here they are sitting on the steps of the Opéra Garnier enjoying the view down the Avenue de l'Opéra.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here's Marie and Colleen having lunch at the Hôtel Scribe (the guys were there too)

 

 

 

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Modern sculpture in the Jardin des Tuileries...     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ...VERY modern sculpture...   

 

 

 

 

 

 

...and of course traditional sculpture. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rich examines the sailboats for rent and contemplates a cruise in the fountain. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And it's anchors aweigh! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A fountain of great charm, with turtles and horses cavorting in the water; children are fascinated by it.  

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

Le Pont Neuf (The New Bridge), connecting the Ile de la Cité with both banks of the Seine, is actually  the oldest bridge in Paris. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our favorite bistro in Paris, La Tour de Montlhéry, where the food is excellent and the portions are gigantic.  My blog photo, incidentally, was taken a couple of years ago outside of the place. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Port de l'Arsenal, which connects the Seine with the Canal Saint Martin, and a foot bridge across it. Pleasure boats are moored here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colonne de Juillet, located at the Place de la Bastille, commemerates Parisians killed during the uprisings of 1830 and 1848.

 

 

 

 

At the Marché de la Création, held on Saturdays on the Right Bank, artists and craftsmen display and sell their works. 

 

 

 

 

In the arcade around the Place des Vosges, in the Marais, Bardolino (a group of three, sometimes four, musicians) entertains with music remarkably reminiscent of the Quintet of the Hot Club of France.

 

 

 

 

Or is it Borsalino? 

 

 

 

Lapin sauté aux petits légumes, served at La Fontaine Gaillon, which is owned by that great, great French actor Gerard Dépardieu.  He did not come out of the kitchen to greet us.

 

 

 

On Sundays, the Marché de la Création moves to the Left Bank.  Here the sculptress shows her horsey to a prospective buyer.  I cannot say if he bought it. 

 

 

 

 

The Gustave Moreau Museum, formerly his home and studio, now displays many of his paintings of religious and mythological subjects.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This building, located at La Villette at the intersections of the Canal Saint Denis and Canal de l'Ourque, is part of a relatively new complex dedicated to science, industry, music, and popular culture at all levels.

 

 

 

 

 

Inside this spherical building images are projected 360 degrees around the audience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

You should have seen the one that got away!  

 

 

 

Entrance to the Bassin de la Villette.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 The first lock into the Canal Saint Martin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From here the canal goes south and is covered with a parkway from Boulevard Saint Martin to the Colonne de Juillet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lunch time on the canal. 

 

 

 

 

The hotel, on the canal, was the subject of a famous movie starring Jean Gabin.

 

 

 

 

At last, one of the "famous" sites I mentioned in the introduction.  We did not, unfortunately, have time to visit the others this year.

 

 

 

 

 

An outdoor sculpture museum along the river, with the Ile de Saint Louis in the background.  Also, two examples of the stat-choos on exhibit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

The entrance to one of several galleries and passageways in Paris.  Covered with glass skylights, they provide shelter from the elements for people to explore the many shops in each one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Other shops in other galleries. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are some bizarre (to our minds) tombstones in French cemeteries. These are certainly two of them.  The one to the right is a copy of a huge found metal sculptue in the 6th arrondissement (district) of Paris.  Could this be the grave of the sculptor?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Examples of ivory carving in a shop window near our apartment.  I have enlarged one of them so that you can study and admire the superb detail and the exquisite and intricate carving technique.

 

 

 

 

The new Bibliothéque Nationale de France, on the left bank of the Seine. Four L-shaped towers sit at the four corners of a large wood deck.  They are supposed to represent four open books.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This pedestrian bridge, just opened last year, connects the library with the right bank of the Seine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This square-rigged sailing ship is moored next to the pedestrian bridge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This shows how the bridge allows access to the sidewalks at street level and to the quays below. 

 

 

 

 

 

The bridge connects to the Parc de Bercy on the right bank.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steps, with flowing water in between, lead to the lower level of the park. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An exhibit of statuary in the Parc de Bercy called "Children of the World", each piece representing a child of a continent or region.  The class on an outing were much taken with these works (or were they just happy to be out of the classroom?

 

 

The Palais Omnisports, where indoor events, such as tennis or basketball, are held. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A footbridge above the Jardin de Reuilly.

 

 

 

 

Note the split building in the background.  Another bridge at the end of the plaza crosses two streets and goes through the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Descent from the plaza to the streets below the bridge.  If one continues across the bridge, it leads to the Promenade Plantée, a long, narrow garden above a former railroad line.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A modern entrance to Paris's famous subway system. 

 

 

 

 

 

Formerly a bishop's humble abode, now the Musée du Moyen Age with many archealogical pieces on display.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Building detail.

 

 

 

This completes my description of our France vacation for 2008.  Thank you all for coming, and please stop on your way out at the boutique to purchase photographs and souvenirs of this memorable trip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After crossing the Loire we are in Normandy, which in addition to its other attractions is the home of the brandy called Calvados.  Distilled from apples, it is in youth usually quite fiery with a distinct taste of fruit; with maturity it becomes more soft and smooth as well as losing mch of its apple flavor. This is the tasting room of Distillerie Huët in Cambremer, where one of the - dare I say it - greater examples of this medicinal potion may be found.

 

 

 

 

Here is the symbol of France, the rooster or cock (no snickering please) strutting in all his glory on the grounds of the distillery. 

 

 

 

 

 

This old halles (covered market place) has been renovated into an exceptional restaurant, the Michelin one-star Pavé d'Auge.  Lunch here is not cheap, about €48 or $60 American, but worth every centime.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not that same old stuff again!!! 

 

 

 Another example of my brilliant napkin-folding technique.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A typical example of Norman architecture with a thatched roof, this residence is presently under construction. 

 

 

 

I wrote about Honfleur in a previous entry, and here we are back again.  It's market day in town, which brings everyone out no matter what the weather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Making friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The waterway leading out to La Manche (remember I advised you not to call it The English Channel).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gribouille (short-sighted idiot) sells nothing but products of Normandy, especially Calvados. 

 

 

 

 

 A little breakfast to get us ready for the day's activities.

 

 

 

 

 

 Hoping for a bite of Marie's croissant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Naturospace is a museum where live exotic butterflies are displayed.

 

 

 

 

 

 Near Ablon we encounter a small plant where thatch is made for roofing.  Reeds are cut from November to March in the marshlands along the Seine River.  After it is dry it is cut to size, the bad pieces are discarded, and the good ones are gathered into bundles about 8" around and a meter long.

 

Push the start arrow and don't forget to turn up the sound.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Market day in Beuzeville (I think the translation is "City of Booze").  The man in the sombrero is selling birds of various species and the lady below is selling bric-a-brac while exuding charm from one end of her cigarette to the other. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The church in Bernay, with (probably) 19th century stained glass windows. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Interesting sculpture in the center of a rond-point (roundabout in Great Britain, I don't know what it's called in America), made from aluminum bars and representing three shepherds herding what looks like a scallop shell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Sunset in Normandy, and now it's ON TO PARIS!

 

The vote thus far on the preferred method for presenting our odyssey in France is as follows:  A) = 0; B) = 0;  C) = 0; and D) = 0.  Not a landslide, by any means, but the trend seems to be toward complete indifference.  Perhaps two more choices will arouse you from your pastoral torpor -

E) Mostly photographs, with only brief commentary to identify the subject, the method employed in this segment.

F) We've told you once and we'll tell you again - give it up!

 

 

 

 

Market day in Le Puy.

There is a large Muslim population here, and this market contains many stalls run by Muslims and devoted mostly to goods devoted to their needs. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The subjects of these books, for instance, although written in French, are entirely about Islam. 

 

 

 

 

 

The bridge leading into the village of Felletin is one of many Medieval bridges throughout France. It is almost inundated by the river, due to the unusually heavy rains this year. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A group of Tour de France Wannabees. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Aubusson is one of a number of tapestry centers in France, and this wall painting lets us know it!

 

These modern tapestries, looking almost like paintings in these photos, and many others are on exhibit at L'Hôtel de Ville (City Hall). 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A 17th century bridge in Aubusson. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another old bridge, 14th century, this time in Moutier-d'Ahun.  There are also remains of an abbey church here containing important carved wood choir stalls, but unfortunately photogaphs are not permitted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This small town is rated as a Plus Beau Village de France, and contains castle ruins and remains of the old ramparts. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 It is also a center for modern sculpture, of which I show two samples.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fontgombault is still a working abbey, with about 80 monks living here. Twice a day mass is celebrated in Gregorian chant.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The ruins of the castle high above the city.  It was here that Ingrid Bergmann picked out Jose Ferrer hiding among his crowd of courtiers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 An old windmill amidst vineyards of Chinon grapes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The village of Turquant is built against the cliffs.  Called troglodytes, have rooms at the back carved out of the rock. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outside Chinon, this old wine barrel advertises a nearby winery.

 

 

 

The region now known as Provence was an independent county (an area ruled by a count) until 1481, at which time Charles, comte de Maine, ceded it to Louis XI of France.  During the 16th and 17th centuries commerce and agriculture thrived in Provence, but trouble lay ahead.  Part of the population, generally living east of the Rhône River, were fervent Catholics whereas those living west of the Rhône were generally Protestant. In the late 17th century the Wars of Religion broke out between the two sides and the resulting conflict, as well as natural disasters such as phylloxera in the vineyards and failure of the silkworm farms badly damaged its economy.  But by the 20th century the economy recovered, and today Provence is actively engaged in modernisation, becomng highly successful in industry, agriculture, and tourism.

Provence is in the south-east of France, adjoining the southern Alps, the Riviera, the Mediterranean, and the Gorges du Tarn region.  The Rhône River and its tributaries run through it, with alluvial deposits forming vast plains and salt marshes.  The Grande Crau and the Camargue are the more famous; the latter especially is picturesque and wild appearing.  There are a number of low-lying mountain ranges here, the Luberon Range being a favorite with hikers and the Dentelles (meaning lace) de Montmirail with the ridges showing a lacelike appearance.

Writers and artists have acclaimed Provence's temperate climate, low rainfail, and exceptional light.  Although the weather is more agreeable along the seacoast than inland, although rain can be torrential, especially in the fall, and although winds, notably the mistral, can reach violent proportions, the dominant factor is the sunshine - more than 2500 hours per year.

High mean temperatures and carefully planned irrigation works have favored market gardening and fruit orchards.  Some areas grow cereal grains and wine grapes.  Although most vineyards produce only vin ordinaire, the hillsides are well-suited for wines of AOC quality, the Côtes du Rhône bearing that appellation, the Châteauneuf-du-Pape being the most celebrated.  Other agricultural products are almonds, olives and olive oil, truffles, limes, and herbs (the mixture called Herbes de Provence is well-known and very popular), and of course the delicate scent of lavender is characteristic of the region.  The principal animal raised in Provence is the sheep, an essential resource of all rural economics.  The Camargue concentrates on the raising of black bulls and white horses living in liberty.  The former, you may be surprised to learn, are destined for the bull ring as well as the plate; although the French emphasize that bullfighting is not to the death, the animal is usually so exhausted at the finish that he is led out of the ring and slaughtered (behind closed doors, to be sure).  Fishing is a traditional activity along the Mediterranean coast, the marshes are worked for their salt, ochre, used as a paint pigment, is mined here as is bauxite, the essential ore used in the production of aluminum.

Tourism has also made the economy of Provence robust and thriving.  There is much to be discovered here for the outdoorsman (oops! - outdoors person - p.c. at all times) as well as the art lover, for the history buff and the architecture enthusiast, for the food and wine devotee and the photographer alike, for those who are attracted to the small village and their opposites to the big city.  In short, there is something for evrybody; but if you go, take a good guide book with you, you will miss a lot if you don't.  The photographs and brief commentary below do not pretend to cover all the pleasures that are available here; we show only those sites we visited this year in the limited time available.  I hope you enjoy your quick tour through Provence, and remember, bon appétit!

 

 

Near the Canal de Provence, a huge field of poppies and one French Beauty Rose. 

 

 

 

 

 

This sculpture, adjacent to the Canal de Provence, bears no identifying plaque; we are therefore unable to establish its significance and can only gasp with awe at its overwhelming beauty. 

 

 

 

 

Recently completed, the canal provides water for several large cities, irrigation for 148,000 acres of land, acts as a water regulater for the Durance River, and tops up the Bimont Dam.

 

 

 

A herd of adolescent snails in a feeding frenzy.  Head 'em up and move 'em out!  Or, as they whiz by, "Look at that S-Car go!" 

              ♪♫ Oh, tiptoe through the poppies,

                            Come tiptoe through

                         the poppies with snails! ♫♪

 

 

             

         

The entrance to the Moulin de Lourmarin. It was formerly an olive oil manufactory, now a hotel of great charm with the restaurant located in the old pressing room.  

 

 

 

 

 

Along the road we encounter a woman perched high on the rocks sketching the surrounding cliffs.  She turned out to be British.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

High on a rock spur, the Fort de Buoux stands on a natural defensive position.  Louis XIV ordered it to be destroyed in 1660, but nevertheless there remain three walls, a chapel, houses, and a keep.  The view of the Upper Aigue Brun Valley from here is magnificent. 

 

 

 

 

Roussillon is located amidst hills of ochre rock in at least sixteen shades.  Naturally enough, the houses feature these colors which lends a distinctive charm to the village.

 

 

 

 

 

This doorway, which probably leads to an interior courtyard, is enhanced by the romantic scene painted on it.

 

 

 

 

A public - a VERY public - toilet in Roussillon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some dating as far back as the Roman times, bories were constructed entirely of slabs of limestone gathered on the spot, including the roofs.  This group of twenty bories, situated around a communal bread oven, is now a museum of rural life. Some bories served as dwellings, some as sheepfolds, and some as storage places.  Their origin remains a mystery, but they were inhabited until the early 19th century.

 

 

 

 

Bonnieux, with a population of about 1500, is one of the more attractive villages in the Luberon Heights area.  Terraced, with steep streets winding through town, it still has vestiges of the old ramparts.  This lovely fountain has a plaque attached saying "Water Not Drinkable".  I think it was installed to encourage people, especially tourists, to take their refreshment at the nearby cafés.

 

 

 

 

This boy and his dog (and his child) are enjoying the view from the highest terrace in town, located just below a 12th century church. 

 

 

 

 

This French version of the Tin Man welcomes visitors to Lacoste, a hilltop village of some 400 people.  Would this be art representing plumbing or plumbing representing art? 

 

 

 

 

Above the town stand the ruins of a chàteau owned and occupied by that great French writer the Marquis de Sade.  He was the lord of Lacoste for 30 years.  People clamored for invitations to his intimate soirées, but he was arrested when one of them became a little rowdy.

 

 

 

The area north of the Luberon Heights, called the Vaucluse Plateau, is a vast arid place devoted to sheep raising and lavender growing.  An underground network of waterways rises to the surface in a mouth of a cave; called La Fontaine de Vaucluse, it is the source of the Sorgue River.  In Spring and Winter, when water runoff is at its greatest, it is at its most dramatic.  Normally in June (when we visited it this year) the flow reduces to a trickle, but this year because of the heavy rains it became a raging torrent (you'll pardon the expression).

 

 

Go on - press the play button and turn up the volume.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These kids are busy pretending to make sketches of - you guessed it - the raging torrent.

 

 

 

 

 

This water wheel, operated by the flow of water from the Sorgue (sometimes called a raging torrent) is part of a hand made paper factory.  It drives the hammers which pound the cloth into pulp. 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ardeche River runs some 36 miles in a winding pattern through the Gorges d'Ardeche, ending its journey as a tributary of the Rhône.  There are many gorgeous views along the route, but the most impressive is the Pont d'Arc.  At one time a narrow passage for the water, over time flood waters and erosion carved this 194 feet wide by 112 feet high arch in the rock

 

 

 

 

 

Smooth stretches and rapids in the river make this an exciting journey by boat and canoe.

 

 

 

 

 

Further Reading:

Michelin Green Guides, Provence. Excellent for maps and technical details of the region.

Michelin Red Guides, France, Indispensable for hotels and restaurants.  Published every year.

Michael Jacobs, A Guide to Provence.  Includes a history of the region, chronicles of daily life, descriptions of the food and drink of the region. 

Pater Mayle, A Year in Provence.  Highly popular account of an American's experiences living in the region.

Ina Caro, The Road from the Past.  Looking at the history of France,travel in France, the monuments of France, and the food and wine of France.  The first 55 pages cover these subjects as related to Provence.

 

I have used a number of methods to present our little travelogue to my lengthy list of admirers.  Please indicate in your comments (which should be flowing in liketh unto the Fontaine de Vaucluse (a raging torrent indeed)) which method you prefer:

A) Describe sites and things to do at one location (Honfleur, Troyes)

B) Describe the places we visited during a period of time (Through the Alps)

C) Present facts about the area with photos andshort comments on some of the sites (Provence)

D) None of the above. Joe, you seem to be under the impression that we give a shit.  Save yourself some time and quit the whole project.

 

 

We are now in la Bourgogne, the Burgundy region, which as we all know produces some of the greater wines of France, such as Romanée-Conti. In an average year, one may purchase this little palate pleaser for a mere $7500 a bottle!  Pausing in the winery only long enough to pick up a case, we continue to Ancy-le-Franc, famous for its Renaissance château. An outdoor market is in progress; perhaps these guys are doing the gossipping while their wives do the shopping.

 

 

Near Rougemont we encounter a portion of the Canal de Bourgogne and one of its locks where a pleasure boat is waiting to go through.  One of the older locks in the French canal system, it is operated manually.  Here a lockkeeper and someone from the boat are opening the gate with sheer, if not to say brute, strength.

 

 

 

 

Farther along the route we stop to visit the Abbaye de Fontenay, a Cistercian monastery foounded by Bernard de Clairveaux in the 12th century and now privately owned.  At one time at least 300 monks prospered here in self-suffieciency within the boundaries of the abbey property.  But in the 16th century the disorders of the religious wars caused a rapid decline and it was sold in the 18th century to become for a time a paper mill.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alise-Sainte-Reine is the site of the famous battle in 52 BC between the legions of Julius Caesar and the army of the Gauls led by Vercingétorix.  The latter was defeated and taken in chains to Rome, where seven years later he was strangled.  The French think of this battle as the beginning of the history of their nation.  Napoléon III had this statue of Vercingétorix erected on the battle site.  On the base is a plaque which reads

                         La Gaule unie, formant une seule nation,

                                     animée d'un même esprit.

                                        peut défier l'univers

which may be translated as "A united Gaul, forming a single nation, animated by the same spirit, can defy the universe."  'Tis a soul-stirring tribute to la gloire de la France; ah, if it were only true.

 

In Arinthot, in the lower Jura region, some kind of fête des dinosaures is in progress.  Whimsical caricatures of dinosaurs, such as the one shown here, are placed all over town.  It slowly dawns on me that the Jurassic period in prehistory was named after this region - a mind like a steel trap (rusted shut)!

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are now ascending into the Northern Alps.  Ordinarily I would be in ecstacies describing this beautiful region with its gorgeous mountain ranges, its splendid forest, its nature parks and reserves, but - BUT - this year the weather was so atrocious - rain, more rain, floods - that we could not enjoy it or photograph it as we normally do.  The mountain passes and narrow, winding roads are a delight for the sports car enthusiast, but this year were more treacherous than fun because of the rain, snow, flooding conditions, high winds, fallen rocks, and road crews.  Undaunted, these two intrepid cyclists are crossing the Col de la Croix de Fer at 2007 meters altitude (c. 6600 feet, not too high by our standards but scary nonetheless).  The photo is almost surreal, isn't it, all black and white with a green shirt and one red glove.

 

 

After crossing two or three more passes, each as heart-stopping as the last (well, not actually because we are gradually descending into the Southern Alps which are at lower elevations but the rain is still with us), we arrive at the ancient village of Péone, having been settled in the 13th century.  Except for the few buildings shown here, the old houses ascend up the dolomite peak.  Huddled close together, the resulting maze of narrow, winding walkways and stepped lanes are a delight to walk and its old doorways, facades, and archways are impressive to view. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Coulomp is usually a small stream but this year it is a raging torrent (talk about your trite phrases).Please note the raging torrent in the photograph.  The bridge, le Pont de la Reine Jeanne, crosses the river but there is no road on the other side.  I can find nothing about it in my guide books; however it is a fine example of typical Medieval single arched bridge architecture. 

 

 

 

 

We are now in the hills surrounding the Alps and basking in the sun which deigns to present itself for several minutes each day.  The charming village of Tourtour (pop 472), officially just south of the Lower Alps in the Riviera region, has retained its charming Medieval character - remnants of fortifications, restored old houses, and narrow, sloping streets and vaulted passages.

 

 

 

 

On this day there is a small market in the main square.  The French love their weekly visits from the "travelling salesmen"; it is almost a social event rather than a chance to shop for necessary items.  Here in Tourtour during truffle season one may also see truffle gatherers (the humans not the pigs) surreptitiously selling their black gold from the trunks of their cars.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 In past years the cactuses (cacti?) here were in full bloom; apparently this is the year that they rested.

 

 

 

 

Crossing back into the Southern Alps, we stop at another small village, Moustiers-Sainte-Marie, which rests beneath a large gap in the limestone cliffs towering above the town.

 

 

 

 

Built near the downstream exit of the Grand Canyon de Verdon, it owes its fame to the manufacture of glazed ceramics.  The Lac de Sainte Croix is also nearby; no wonder it is a very popular starting point for excursions and hikes.

 

 

 

 

 

High above the town is the 12th century Chapelle Notre-Dame-de-Beauvoir.  The path leading to it is lined with fourteen Stations of the Cross and offers intriguing glimpses of the rooftops of the town and of the Notre Dame Gorge.

 

 

 

 

Marie climbed to the chapel, but the view from here offered such intriguing glimpses of the rooftops that I stopped for a time to admire it.  (If you believe that, you'll believe anything; let's face it, I was pooped!)

 

 

 

 

The journey from Troyes to Moustiers took eleven days, a time with generally inclement (to put it mildly) weather but with generally excellent food.  To mention only a few of the good restaurants:  Hostellerie du Val d'Or in Mercurey (where the foie gras de canard was superb); Hôtel l'Avenue in Annot (an excellent filet de dorade and an extraordinary royale de foie gras filet de caille); and the Hostellerie Gorges de Pennefort in the gorge (four exceptional courses plus various amuses bouches between times to keep the ravenous lions from gulping down the staff).  Why didn't they visit Grenoble, you may well ask, a large city with, like Troyes, much to see and do?  Why didn't they visit Saint-Véran, the highest village in France, a spot of great beauty and charm?  Why indeed?  The answer is simple: both the weather and the restriction of time dictated that we keep moving.

We are now on the border between the Souther Alps and Provence.  We have hopes that the weather will improve and that, in our next episode, you may look forward to a more joyful description of this picturesque region of France.  In the meantime, may I expect your comments to flood my blog like a raging torrent?

 

                 

Keep the faith, boys and girls, at any moment now the continuation of our 2008 France saga may miraculously appear!

A Southern Idyll

Candidate for Inclusion

in the

Guiness Book of Records

as the

World’s Longest Pun

               

                “Why, Mr Flower, Suh, Ah do declare Ah believe you’re flirtin’ with me.  Ah swear y’all could suckle the honey right out of a hive without gettin’ a single sting.”  Bella de Balle tapped the subject of her remark lightly on the cheek with her fan, while her chaperone, Mammy Sun Shineson, giggled and turned her back.

                “Ah do assure you, Miss de Balle, Ah am not flirtin’, responded Mr Walter “Wall” Flower.  “Mah intentions are of the purest, as pure as the stuff they drive up North in Yankeeland (please pardon mah language, mah purpose is not to give offense), as pure as yoah heart, as pure as you yourself, Miss de Ba – Miss Bella.”

                Leaning against a veranda column while smoking one of the finest cheroots that the dear old Southland had to offer (a Dixie Delight Genuine Havana Reproduction el Supremo Gigantissimo), Mr Flower thought “Will Miss Bella say “yes” to my request to escort her to the cotillion next week?  Ah’ve been diligently courtin’ her for all of fifteen minutes, ever since her sisters Ophelia, Kissa, Likka, Tickle, and Sukka, each and every one refused my invitation, and Bella is mah last chance.”

                Just the day before Flower was enjoying a few moments of leisure at Margaret “Mag” Nolia’s Spirit of the South Saloon, Gambling Hall, and Boarding House for Extremely Discreet Ladies of Quality.  He was relaxing in southern comfort while sipping a pousse café served by the greatest bartender south of Mason and Dixon’s line, Minton “Mint” Giulippe, when Skweeza de Balle, rakehell son of Colonel Bustamente “Buster” de Balle and Mrs Lucretia “Crusha” de Balle, sauntered up to the bar.  Skweeza is the heir to the Colonel’s cotton plantation Belvedere Beauregard Bellevue, a thousand acres of prime bottomland together with over two hundred industrious, loyal, happy employees, singing the whole day long while picking cotton and toting barges and lifting bales, asking for nothing more than Marse Buster’s benevolent smile of approval, a pat on the head, and a chance to show everyone at the big house why they are so justly celebrated for their employment of the rhythm method.

                De Balle greeted Walter cordially and ordered two Cotton Gin Fizzes, the specialty of the house.  He drank both in the matter of but a moment and after exchanging a few pleasantries (including an account of a merry escapade with the wife of one of his father’s happy employees (“well, not a wife exactly, more like a konkabyne or whatever you call it. You know how they are, they don’t want to get married, they just want to lie around in the noonday sun and eat black-eyed peas and chitlins and show off their rhythm and watch Ol’ Man River roll along – lazy good-for-nothins [quivering with fury], when I inherit Belvedere Beauregard Bellevue you’ll see a change or two way down South in the land of cotton, let me tell you, why I’ll, I’ll – ahem, pahdon mah unseemly outburst, Mr Flower, now where was I”), de Balle inquired if he would have the pleasure (“the distinct pleasure, Suh”) of seeing Flower at the annual Cotton Cotillion and Happy Employee Lynching.  This year the master of the revelries would be the Colonel’s overseer, Vladislav “Slav” Dryver, and it would be held at the memorial hall named after Cotton Isking, the man who started the south on its dizzy rise to economic prominence in the agricultural world with two inventions, the Cotton Gin Fizz and the cat o’ nine tails.

                “Ah’m afraid not, Mr de Balle,” Wall responded.  “Ah’m not too popular just now with the ladies, perhaps because of mah reputation, totally undeserved Ah do assure you, for being a happy employee lover.  Just because Ah once assisted one of them across the street (a woman named Aunty Bellum as Ah recall) while a group of happy employees was being unloaded from a happy employee cruise ship doesn’t mean Ah don’t favor the natural, everlastin’, and God-given superiority of management over labor.”

                “Yo’ consideration for the underprivileged in our society does you honor, Mr Flower, Suh, so don’t fret none about yo’ repatayshun,” de Balle responded.  “Ah have six sisters, all as breathtakin’ly beautiful as they are intelligent, although sometimes I do wonder about Bella.  Why, Ah remember one time she was on the veranda with a gentleman caller, a blockhead named Runner, and she – Ah mean to say, come on out to Belvedere Beauregard Bellevue tomorra and look them ovuh.  Ah’m sure one will be happy to accept your invitation.  Now, if y’all will excuse me, Suh, Ah have an engagement with a deck of cards down on the riverboat Patrick “Paddy” Wheeler, Louis “Looey” Z and Anna Nawlins, owners, and managed by her mother, Mrs Ippi Mudd.  Ah haven’t been winnin’ lately, but Ah’m told that the dealer today is Aces Indasleeve, and Ah usually have luck with him.  Ah hope, though, that that sissy boy Richard “Dick” C Queen won’t be there. I swear his prissy manner does throw me off my game.  He once questioned my veracity concernin’ my hole cards.  Mah honor, Suh, was in question so Ah called him out, but he had the audacity, Suh, I say the audacity to declare ‘All right, as long as I can call you In’ and he tapped me flirtatiously with his fan.  One of the hostesses there, Dixie Lande, and a gentleman at the table named, Ah believe, Cornelius “Corn” Pone, thought it amusin’.  Ah showed them amusin’, Ah gave Lande a sound thrashin’ and Ah took Pone to a private saloon for more intimate discipline.  Or was it the other way around?  No matter, Suh, no matter, and now Ah bid you good day.”

                That is how “Wall” Flower found himself on the veranda of the Colonel’s plantation talking to Bella de Balle.  When he first arrived at the plantation, one of the happy employees privileged to work in the big house, who had once, between periods of employment, traveled down river on a raft with his friend Dingleberry Finn, greeted him at the door.  Walter handed the house boy his card, hoping that he had sufficient education to read it.

                “Ah, yes, Mr Flower.  Master Skweeza told me to expect you, Sir, and that you desired to have conversation with at least one of his very enchanting sisters.  If you will please follow me, I will conduct you to Colonel de Balle’s study, his sanctum sanctorum if you will, where I anticipate the pleasure of preparing for you an aperitif, a libation of my own invention, Sir, and named after me.  Colonel de Balle was pleased to call it a Jim and Tonic and my name, Sir, for your edification is N Jim, an appellation of little euphoniousness but easy to remember.  Voilà, try that, Sir, I am sure that you will enjoy it.  I also prepare a concoction for the ladies with the risible designation of a Slow Jim Fizz.  I would desire later, if you would graciously permit me, the opportunity to demonstrate my mastery of rhythm for you, Sir, but for the moment I will excuse myself in order to inform Miss Ophelia – yes, I think Miss Ophelia would be the best with whom to commence your quest for a suitable partner at the cotillion - I will notify her that she has a gentleman caller, a very eligible gentleman caller, if I may be permitted to say so, Sir.”

                While awaiting Ophelia’s appearance, Walter sipped his drink contemplatively, wondering to himself what the N in the butler’s name stood for.  “Probably Nothing,” Flower thought to himself, chuckling silently at his witticism.  “These happy employees don’t care if it’s euphonious or not as long as it sounds good.”

                Not only did Ophelia de Balle refuse his invitation to the cotillion, four of the other sisters who succeeded her into the study did the same.  When Bella entered, in desperation Flower took her immediately to the veranda, where, because of Skweeza’s offhand remark, he had reason to believe that his blandishments would be more successful in inducing her to be receptive to his wish.

                Nervous and anxious after fifteen minutes of idle conversation, Walter blurted out the first words of persuasion that occurred to him.  “Oh, Miss Bella,” he stammered, “Please say that you will marry me, Ah mean go to the altar with me, Ah mean go to the cotillion with me, no, Ah mean - oh, Ah don’t know what Ah mean ---”

                “Oh, Mr Flower,” she responded, tapping his hand coquettishly with her fan, “This is so sudden, but yes, yes, Ah will marry you.  It is every innocent (and Ah do assure you, Suh, positively assure you that Ah am innocent, no matter what malicious rumor that spiteful Mr Runner might be perpetuatin’) every innocent young Southern girl’s dream to be known as a Flower of the South.”