L'Art de Vivre

The art of living. That was the name of the market we visited in Arles. It was in a big, modern conference center outside the walled part of Arles. It was busy and full of local products, all of which can be found in small shops in the different villages of the Provence, so in someway it was like a tour of the entire area via the shops and products. Most of it was too expensive for me to indulge, but some of the pottery and some of the handmade art—one woman's bags and purses, especially—were to die for. So beautiful.

It may help to see a map of the area. If you look closely, you'll see both Avignon and Arles. Avignon is north of Arles and I'm staying in Le Thor, which is too small and insignificant to make the map, but is just to the east of Avignon. The body of water at the south end of the map is the Mediterranean. Arles is at the top of the little area of yellow on the eastern side of the map. Just north and east of Arles, in the little white area is Avignon. The Luberon, as this area is often called, refers to a high plateau and mountains that run through the region.

As we were leaving Arles, we passed by the old Roman amphitheater and the old city wall. We also passed through the pretty little village of Saint Remy, another of the famous tourist villages here.


Once home in Le Thor, Janine and I took a walk, really a hike through the countryside near her house. The area reminds me a bit of the Mendocino Coast in California. Not because the two spots look at all the same—they don't—but the collection of small villages, some more touristed than others and the culture of country living is similar.

Our hike was through kind of scruffy, rugged country. This is olive growing land and reminds me just a little bit of time I spent in Crete years ago. It is Mediterranean in its feel.

The magic behind our walk was the climb up to an 11th century Benedictine monastery that overlooks the plain da Venaissin. It was originally fortified with three walls, three different gates that you had to pass through in order to gain entrance.

It was abandoned in the 14th century and, if I understood the information I found about it, was used by highwaymen and bandits for many years after that. There's a huge underground cistern that the monks dug, so there was always water and it has a commanding view of the country side, a perfect spot for robbers. Makes me think of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid, only French highwayman style.

It was hugely romantic and the view is pretty much 360 degrees—in all directions. We were the only ones there and Janine, with her own sense of drama, did not tell me where we were going until we begin to climb toward it and then, to encourage me to climb, she directed my attention to the old ruin on the hill.... It was in those next ten minutes of strenuous climbing that I understood the appeal and the experience of my 19th century compatriots, finding their way to a distant ruin in the days before convenience and posted signs and tour buses... out in the middle of nowhere, perhaps even unexpectedly stumbling on such a treasure. It was lovely, of course.

After our walk we drove to the nearby village of Velleron to the Farmers Market. It was similar to the market near my apartment in Paris, but also very different. It was spread out over more area, for one thing, and in that sense didn't seem as compact or crowded. It's late November. I imagine the market feels different at different times of year. The local farmers drive their trucks and vans to the market and park behind their tables, which aren't covered, so I don't know what happens when it rains.

I had a glimpse into the way both the sellers and the buyers know one another. Just as Janine knows the people who run the chocolate shop in the area, this is a market she visits weekly. With my oh-so-limited French, I struggled to follow her conversations with the various sellers, recognizing that sometimes they were talking about the "writer" from America who was visiting, and sometimes about whether it was going to rain tomorrow—as we're planning to spend the day harvesting olives. As per usual, I couldn't say much, but here and there I managed to add some small thing.