 |
| Budding Lavender |
PICTURE-PERFECT PROVENCE
Some love stories can happen unplanned and unexpected. In life, I suppose, one can fall headlong in love many times: puppies, little babies, breath-taking arts, a man/woman, books that take up permanent residence in your head, some dishes that linger on your tongue forever etc, etc. I fell in love with a bottle of wine! It could be addiction! Sitting outdoors at a Tapas bar on Cours Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence watching the Fontaine de la Rotonde waters dancing in the golden glow of a late evening sunlight. I asked the steward for something smooth with a hint of sweetness. And that is how I fell in love with Domaine Uby N°3. Smooth as silk with a heady aroma of citrusy fruitiness and hint of sweetness. It just knocked one's shoes off.
All connoisseurs of wines who can authoritatively hold forth on terroir, ageing process, how -many-years-old, price and such, please exit here. One decides one's pick of wine by taste and not looks, brands, age or price. So there!
Some love stories sadly are also not meant to happen. Every time and everywhere -from Provence to the villages around, Antibes to Nice, Cannes to Monaco- it was always ,'sorry we don't have it'. Just once we found a Domaine Uby, it was N°5. Very good but a little below N°3. Sigh!. One learnt that Domaine Uby is a family owned winery and distillery in Gascony famous for its refreshing fruity Cotes de Gascogne wines- colombard, sauvignon blanc and ugni blanc blends.
LOST IN LAVENDER: AIX-EN-PROVENCE
One had actually gone to Provence to see the lavender. The plan was to walk through lavender fields in Provence, the timing however was a little off, the lavenders were budding and not exactly blooming, but that in no way diminished the beauty of it all. The history of lavender and Provence dates back to over 2600 years beginning with the introduction by the Greeks circa 600 BC, then the Romans discovering its bathing use and since the 19th century the commercialisation in the perfume and toiletry industry. Unfortunately, the filmi dream of walking through full blooming lavender fields remained just that. One only saw the top buds unfolding halfway but compensation came in the form of lavender sachets, soaps, lotions and bundles of dried ones.
Aix- en- Provence was where we based ourselves. As its name implies, Aix derived from the Latin aquae or water, it is also called the 'city of a thousand fountains' . Don't know about the thousand but over 250 are said to be registered fountains located across public squares and private courtyards and spaces and four of these can be be found in the Cours Mirabeau. There are boulevards and boulevards and there is Cours Mirabeau, the nearly kilometre long boulevard that neatly divides the historic old town from the modern Mazarin district. There's something about Cours Mirabeau lined with with giant plane trees and impressive mansions from the 17th and 18th century that coexist happily with happening open air cafes, bars, eateries. The best way to do just chill and watch the world go by is with a glass of Domaine Uby N°3.
Going to Provence from Lyons started on the wrong foot too or rather a wrong train station. All because the train was running late and we didn't know. Yes, yes, trains run late in France and sometimes how! We got down one station away from the destination because we went by the arrival time schedule. So the other half tries to find if the same ticket will cover the remaining journey in a different train, what time the other train would arrive; the elderly gent manning the ticket counter at a level below is ultra helpful and provides new timings and after all that one finds that the original train is happily parked exactly where we got off! And it remained there for more than two more hours allowing us to get into a different compartment and become comfortable. Turns out that some traffic problems had cropped up ahead and hence the delay. Loved the patience of the passengers: no voices raised, no crib-crib, ample time for smokers to alight, have a smoke and come back. That's how we met N, of Armenian origin who moved to Paris when just 12 with her family and is a consultant in the fashion and beauty industry and now has shifted to Provence which, she says is a better place to bring up her two girls.
LIKE AGED WINE
We were staying in Vieil Aix or the old town part of Aix-en-Provence adjoining Cours Mirabeau and it took just a look outside the third floor window to know it was like winning the lottery. Nearly all of this part of Provence is a pedestrianized district (awesome until you have to lug your luggage in and out of the zone!) with grand very baroque mansions and residences, cobbled paths and winding narrow alleys, the stunning Cathedrale Sain-Sauveur, a cathedral built over the site of an ancient Roman Forum, interesting plazas and open-air markets which had the most tempting, colourful products laid out.
In France one found that there is always a church or cathedral around, some as old as time itself. One came across in in Vieil Aix. Not so big, not so grand, tucked between houses and commercial properties. Inside was also small scale but that in no way diluted the beauty of the altar, the stained glass windows high on the walls letting in natural light. What was different was the organ music floating around, it took quite a bit of head turning and time to locate the organ on the mezzanine floor and further more time to figure out that there were two youngsters, both males, playing seated behind the organ almost out of sight. Then, casually as if it was no big deal, the two young men stood up and left leaving a haunting silence behind.
FOOD & FEASTING
What one fell in love with - head over heels and every which way- was tapenade. Another Provence classic said to have originated sometimes in 1880s deriving its name from tapenas, the local dialect word for capers. Tapenade is a condiment made olives, capers, anchovies and olive oil and like capers it adds that zesty, zingy punch. Use it as a spread, mix it with cold cuts, as a dip or just dig in a finger and lick it clean. After the truffles, after the calissons, after navigating the open air stalls spilling with cheese, fruits, vegetables, honeys and beeswax candles, cold cuts and meats, after walking up and down paths cobblestoned or just stoned, checking out traditional patisseries and bakeries, our guide who all along has been picking up specialities of every kind herds us close to a secluded corner near an ancient water body, a perpetual spout of crystal cool water in a little tank close to an old ivy covered house for a 'picnic'. But before that we have to wait for a group of kids to finish drinking from the little fountain.
It was a two course picnic and for the dessert we had to walk to another speciality place. So out came the French loaf with sourdough, tapenades with black and green olives, two kinds of goat cheese, quite pungent and small sausages with perfectly spiced and with sun dried tomatoes. The other half had got a bottle of wine and it was the perfect accompaniment. My mains was sandwich with tuna, eggs, tomato ,salad leaves and cucumber. It felt both warm and a little strange, before the tour started we were eight people from all over with a couple from Lyon too and around that little water body biting into local delicacies on a sunny day with unbelievable blue sky, I accepted that barring the voluble guide, all other conversations were rather stilted. Bah adults! If that was not enough, worse lay in store.
High on the 'picnic' we go for desserts at Maison Loena. There are crepes, waffles, ice creams, gelatos and more. I opt for a crepe with salted caramel. Manning the counter was a young woman and before one could say jumping jeepers an argument broke out between them man from Lyon and the young woman. The guide sought to intervene. The man's volume scaled up more and his hand gestures went wild. Another young female (don't know whether a client or another employee) stepped in her defence and that seemed to trigger the man more. Finally he stormed off accompanied by his partner. Thankfully it was the last stop for the tour which ended on a sad note leaving a bitter taste.
Another food related episode was tragi-comic. Our train acquaintance N had told a visit to Aix-en-Provence would be incomplete without trying out Corsican cuisine at Mammo. It's a small eatery, we were welcomed profusely, seated and then everything went downhill. There was just a single person attending to all, running from bar to the kitchen with a smile that never faltered. Turned out the Chef was from Bangladesh and was on leave. The first order of pasta with lobster was not available, the second order of beef tartare was not available either and it didn't look like the Corsican pork with honey would be available either. We chose to walk out. One felt so bad for the ever smiling flustered one-man running the show; just stopped short of giving him a hug and comforting pats on the shoulder.
Without thinking we walked into Les Fils @Maman that claimed to offer homestyle food from the 80s and 90s and nostalgic childhood dishes. It did that perfectly. Housed in a former chapel with amazingly high ceiling, a large space, packed tables and just two young women managing the busy eatery with finesse and humour and lots of infectious smiles. The other half got his beef tartare, my salmon tartare was really good and the dessert of millefeuille with cream and strawberries was delicious. The best bit- the placemat brought alive childhood memories with join the numbers figures etc.
How spicy is spicy? At the suggestion of our food guide we went for breakfast to Deia Coffee & Kitchen. It had masala tea and spicy egg benedict on the menu. The service was fantastic but the spice factor in the egg benedict was zilch and the masala tea was an intense concentration of tea leaves and and overload of many spices with cinnamon being predominant. No amount of milk addition could salvage it. Hang on, the worse is yet to be and that too at the grandiosely named Le Maharaja, Indian restaurant and one could see that the place was nearly full. The decor was quite tacky and the person serving us claimed to be from Chittagong in Bangladesh and also the owner of the restaurant . So far, so good. Next we had Sahil from Faisalabad in Pakistan serving us. He claimed to be doing his doctorate in human resources and had been in France for eight years as against the 40 years of the self proclaimed owner. Sahil let us in that Le Maharaja was being run by three partners from Bangladesh and Pakistan. The food was abysmal and the prawn curry one had ordered was just thawed frozen prawns dunked in pre-made industrial gravy without an iota of taste. Sad that Indian food was being given such a bad name by those who had nothing to do with India.
MATTER OF ART
Aix-en-Provence was home to Paul Cezanne called the father of modern art, unfortunately the Cezanne museum closed for renovation and it was to Caumont Centre d'Art we went to watch a film on him. The centre building is more than 280 years old and was opened as a public art centre little over a decade back. In front of the centre is a paved cour d'honneur of court of honour flanked by buildings on three sides. (Ok I googled and found that court of honour is a grand, formal and symmetrical entrance courtyard of a large palace, mansion or public building!) At the rear there is a huge garden, down some steps, with beautiful topiary art at the centre. On display were mostly the works of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the 19th century painter, caricaturist, printmaker famous for his paintings of night life in the late 19th century in Paris. We had seen quite of his work earlier in Paris. The film section was closed for the day. Bah! We went back another day to watch it and the double trip was worth it.
VIVACIOUS VILLAGES
LOVELY LOURMARIN
Villages? They are called villages leaving one to wonder who in the right mind would call them that. But that's the way it is and three villages are on the agenda for the day. Our guide is Susanna. She was born in Australia to an Italian father and a Croation and Canadian French mother, travelled half the world including a village in Punjab, India to attend a friend's wedding. Driving through beautiful roads with naturally landscaped terrain on either side the first stop was at Lourmarin included in the Most Beautiful Villages of France (les Plus Beaux Villages de France). Even before one enters the village all eyes are drawn to Chateau de Lourmarin, a 15th century Renaissance castle built on an elevated level surrounded by a landscape of vineyards, olive groves and almond trees and from its tower one can see Luberon mountains. It would require a full day to go through its collection of more than five centuries old history and art creation gradually shifting from gothic to Italian renaissance and later on French and time was at a premium. It's not just the castle but the wine shop underneath it in a 12th century cave and wines, wines and more wines.
Yes, included in the Most Beautiful Villages of France list, naturally translates into lots of souvenir shops, cafes, art galleries and such, the souvenir shop artistically laden with some highly artistic stuff, but cross and start walking up the winding stoned and cobbled paved paths and alleys and you will come across beautiful old houses many with ivy covered walls, quiet corners, small churches, pockets of fruit tree gardens and everything serene, soothing and so silent. And above all, the cemetery of Lourmarin is the final rest place of Albert Camus!
Lourmarin had a pleasant surprise in store. It took sometime to process it, but behind a white wooden gate, in a small stone walled passage stood a rickshaw with 'Namaste' with the last two letters in lower case painted in bright yellow on the back of the seat painted red! From outside the gate it was difficult to find whether it was a hand-pulled or cycle rickshaw.
RUSTY ROUSSILLON
While the visitors thronged to view and photograph the ochre cliffs on the side of Le Sentier des Ocres, we also took to the opposite side with less people and more private residences. And suddenly, there was another stunning cliff at a little distance. A memory that will stay forever took birth here, an elderly gentleman with a watering can and a big smile gestured one to get closer to him. Uncertain what it was all about with language barrier etc, one approached him and unbelievably he turned me to the back of his house with a tiny pocket of a garden and the stunning cliffs. An exclusive viewing and so thankful for it.
GORGEOUS GORDES
Not far from Roussilon is another village Gordes, the last one for the day. Village it is called and it has a Sotheby's real estate office! And two luxurious 5-star hotels. Need one say more about the village. Walk away from the touristy areas and it is clearly a 'village' that has quite a chunk of rich and the elite residents. Second home probably. Of course, Gordes is ranked in les Plus Beaux Villages de France. At the cost of being repetitive the word stunning comes up again at the sight the hilltop village or rather cliffside village dotted with white and grey dry stone walled homes, cobbled meandering paths and shops, cafes and galleries tucked in ancient stone walled buildings.
Gordes is also where one of the country's few remaining Cercle Rupublicains is still functional and how. It has to be seen to be believed. The cafes were set up as meeting places for those fighting the influence of royalists and the church and operated on subscription basis. The Gordes Republicain was founded in 1912 and became a hub of the Resistance movement during World War 11. Even today with royalists around, it still functions on the same principal of its original charter, annual membership still continues and it is run by an elected president. It's biggest plus point is the tiny balcony which offers awesome views of the Luberon Valley. It's minus point - waiting time is beyond anybody's patience! Instead we took the deep sloping cobbled pathway behind it, glared with envious eyes at the balcony occupants and managed to get some breath taking views of the Luberon valley.
And somewhere in the valley lay the Abbey of Senanque, close to lavender fields. There was no time to visit it, but its history turned out to be fascinating. It is said to be a true example of Cistercian architecture and incredulously like as in the 12 century it has a community of Cistercians living in the Abbey as per the rule of Saint Benedict. Above all, it has a guesthouse for those willing to share the monk's life of prayer in silence and contemplation, participate in the household chores, eat meals in silence and contribute to the living expenses. The monks however live in the monastic enclosure so one got to live with oneself in silence.
A
