Touring the Lubéron

The Lubéron in a plane stretching on both sides of the mountain that gives it its name. The hills are craggy and there is white limestone atop the peak. The land is cultivated with grapes, olive trees, ancient plane trees, and fields of purple lavender. This is the Provence of the two amazing French films, Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring, that I saw last spring. Ah... je comprend.

It was a glorious day. Warm and welcoming and full of mischief. We talked writing and politics and the ways of the world. It was fun. Very fun. The scenery was sumptuous and, my god, we had our own private tour guide, taking us down back roads to view points, telling us stories and just being a kind friend.

L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is a village built on an island in the River Sorgue. It has waterwheels and lots of ducks and ancient narrow streets filled with antiques shops. And the church of Notre Dame des Anges, which I'm proud to say, I recognized as having a French Baroque interior. It took me awhile, but finally, as I stood there looking at the putti on the back wall, I murmured to myself, isn't that Baroque? And now I've read it is. It was originally built in 1222, which is why my first comment was Gothic. It was "rebuilt" in the 17th century and I'm pretty sure that there was a statue honoring Jeanne D'Arc in one of the niches.

We visited two hill towns—Gordes, which perches on a granite hillside and looks positively medieval, and Roussillon, which is made of ocre red rock that looks like it came from Utah. And we visited Le Thor where Janine lives with her delightful French husband and their two sweet children, Juliet who is nine and Liuk who is six. They have a classic old farmhouse that has huge beams in the ceiling and lots of character.

It was all one could ever need to have a memorable day in the French country side. And it was a rite of passage in a way, as I was, this very day, exactly halfway through my stay in France. I am sad to see time passing so quickly and feel myself growing just a little tense with the thought that all this will be over all too soon.

I don't mean to sound like a tour guide. I think I'm a bit brain dead when it comes to writing because I'm surrounded suddenly by people to talk to. What a concept!

It was also a cat day. Since arriving in France, dogs have ruled. The French, indeed, love their dogs. But today I met a cat in Roussillon who deigned to allow a stranger to pet her, and I met Teddy who lives at Janine and Hervé's house, and is still mostly a kitten. Teddy (at least in his mind) is pretty much Hervé's cat, and the relationship between them was très amusant. Teddy's favorite perch is in Hervé's lap with his paws on the table. Hervé, I surmise, finds Teddy's sense of entitlement a bit much. Unfortunately I was too entertained by them to think to get a picture. This cat is not Teddy; this is the nameless cat of Roussillion.

The day ended when we caught the local train home from Le Thor's tiny station and walked Avignon's narrow streets back to our little hotel which is tucked into middle of the walled part of Avignon. We ate a late dinner at a nearby restaurant and sighed contently numerous times. It was a long, full, fully satisfying day. Merci bien to everyone who helped make it happen, including all the cats and children and quail, and even the pigeon who flew low under an arch and almost ran into me.