tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35719203121087733832024-03-21T16:00:25.219-04:00Let's be francRachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.comBlogger77125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-11770739918824737902010-11-19T19:47:00.001-05:002010-11-26T19:51:47.880-05:00Jiggety JogEverything went smoothly this morning. We were up early (thanks to jetlag) and used our food voucher for breakfast at the hotel. The lines at the airport were long due to the fact that you go through U.S. Customs here before getting on your flight. But we had plenty of time as the agent last night told us to show up early. Our bags took forever (again!) in Orlando, but wonderful Elizabeth was there to pick us up. We headed to Taco Bell for some lunch before heading home to see Kira!<br />
<br />
Thankfully Elizabeth had the idea to go inside by herself first and put Kira out back – when Alan and I went in she barked at us first, but when she figured out who it was she got all excited and peed everywhere. Either that or she thought we were ghosts… Lol. I wish I knew what went through her mind! She did seem happy to see us; we decided to stay in Orlando for today and tomorrow and make the final trip home to Savannah on Sunday. Everything felt so normal and yet wrong all at once. I guess being home will take some getting used to!<br />
<br />
<b>Things we will miss about living in Lacoste:</b><br />
1. Hiking<br />
2. Hiking<br />
3. Hiking!<br />
4. The inconsistent Lacoste bell that never seemed to ring exactly on the hour<br />
5. Fresh food from the market<br />
6. Fresh bread<br />
7. The views around every corner<br />
8. Curvy little roads<br />
9. Roundabouts<br />
10. The metric system<br />
11. Small, efficient diesel cars<br />
12. Seeing all the fit athletic outdoorsy people (especially the older ones!)<br />
13. Saying “Bonjour”<br />
14. European fashion<br />
15. Colorful little birds<br />
16. Agriculture everywhere<br />
17. Nougat<br />
18. Muscaté grape juice<br />
<br />
<b>Things we will not miss:</b><br />
1. The hike up the hill to the house<br />
2. Everything being closed for two hours over lunch<br />
3. European parking lots<br />
4. Mistral wind<br />
5. Lack of wildlife<br />
<br />
<b>Things we are glad to get back to:</b><br />
1. Kira!<br />
2. Clothes dryer<br />
3. Consistent Internet<br />
4. English speakers<br />
5. Some more variety in our clothes<br />
6. An oven I am not afraid of! (or, our own kitchen)<br />
7. Taco Bell<br />
8. Pandora Radio<br />
<br />
<b>Things we are not glad to get back to:</b><br />
1. Pickups and SUVs<br />
2. Bad drivers<br />
3. Traffic lights<br />
4. Billboards and bombardment by advertisementsRachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-25593088053630386372010-11-18T19:43:00.002-05:002010-11-26T19:47:32.573-05:00A journey of a thousand miles...Step 1 to reach home: Check out of hotel.<br />
<br />
Step 2: Wait for car lease guy for 15 minutes in the 2 minute waiting area at the terminal. Sign paperwork, and return car.<br />
<br />
Step 3: Check in at Lufthansa, get told that you can’t carry on anything more than 8 kg, so our littlest roller bag has to be checked (thank goodness they didn’t actually weigh our other ones like Alan’s camera bag!). After groaning about paying $55 euros for an extra bag, we are informed that Luftansa give you two for free! I swear I read on their site yesterday that you only got one, but we didn’t argue.<br />
<br />
Step 4: Fly to Frankfurt, passing over Marseille and Provence on the way. Clouds were covering where we thought Lacoste and our valley would be, but we had a very nice view of the area!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDdhy6hnAXGSgbNp7_cLu36kncKVyPNcpqqbYfYv0_4W8eY9xe6BdqfdqPuN-XSnsLIFXMQ75EMWOdRc_tlP-2Hrz-IvuN1ynxjL73topwe23eWhtrRigLU2MD9tqeyi9ExzA-E6_EZWH/s1600/blog11-18-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlDdhy6hnAXGSgbNp7_cLu36kncKVyPNcpqqbYfYv0_4W8eY9xe6BdqfdqPuN-XSnsLIFXMQ75EMWOdRc_tlP-2Hrz-IvuN1ynxjL73topwe23eWhtrRigLU2MD9tqeyi9ExzA-E6_EZWH/s1600/blog11-18-2010-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marseille, Cassis, and the Calanques</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Step 5: Fly to Toronto, Canada, and enjoy their very nice in flight entertainment system.<br />
<br />
Step 6: Land a little late in Toronto and rush to customs to pick up or luggage to go though U.S. Customs.<br />
<br />
Step 7: Tell Air Canada lady we only have 45 minutes to get our flight, can they check on our bags?<br />
<br />
Step 8: Start watching the clock with the 4 other people waiting to go to the U.S., all of us with short connections, but ours in the shortest.<br />
<br />
Step 9: Hobnob with the customs guy who says he could whiz us through if we didn’t have any checked luggage. <br />
<br />
Step 10: Luggage comes 15 minutes before our flight leaves and the attendant tells us we can’t go though. She books us on the 10:15 am flight in the morning, gives us hotel vouchers, and we head back to go through Canadian customs. <br />
<br />
Step 11: I spend my first night in Canada! We contemplate that we should have asked if we could spend a whole day here, but really we aren’t prepared and it’s probably time to go home.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-19801055097612492652010-11-17T19:37:00.000-05:002010-11-26T19:42:51.160-05:00A fond farewell to Lacoste<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BSrx-QJ7pr43AYgmeywzHTLsBt-UiLuAkOzfTujDR68E82f3ivuOsbcu_If9L9hza0oE2EsIgjEFIgLVNubqD2MvgKtewb3QVW1peRFeqCUYtvsOJWwrj6pP7C1pRSGbN-4HGocRPZN9/s1600/blog11-17-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1BSrx-QJ7pr43AYgmeywzHTLsBt-UiLuAkOzfTujDR68E82f3ivuOsbcu_If9L9hza0oE2EsIgjEFIgLVNubqD2MvgKtewb3QVW1peRFeqCUYtvsOJWwrj6pP7C1pRSGbN-4HGocRPZN9/s400/blog11-17-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This sign means "You are now leaving Lacoste."<br />
We may not be able to see around the bend,<br />
but we hope whatever the road brings will be <br />
as wonderful as our time here has been.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The car’s windshield was frosted over this morning; thankfully it melted with the defroster, as we didn’t have an ice scraper! It was 7am, the house was locked and the keys were left for Madame Collette. We sat it the car watching the ice melt away to reveal the now familiar view of Bonnieux across the valley. I knew I would miss the view, and as we drove away from Lacoste we had already started making a list of things we would miss about living here.<br />
<br />
The drive to Barcelona was uneventful and much less stressful than our original trip over two months ago – how can it really have been that long?! We had carefully printed out directions to get to our hotel, and found it without too much trouble. The room wasn’t ready, so we left the car in the hotel garage and headed out to find some lunch. We had tossed around the idea of going to the Hard Rock Café, and with the realization that we wouldn’t be tourists much longer we set out for this world-wide tourist attraction. <br />
<br />
As we walked along I suddenly realized I felt short – or, more specifically, that everyone else was really tall! It was my first realization of how much I had gotten used to France… and all the short French people : ) At the restaurant I could actually understand other peoples conversations, and while it was nice to be able to talk to the waitress I missed the sound of French voices. I constantly said “Bonjour” and “Merci” and then felt very silly – what was this American doing speaking French to Spaniards, especially when I actually know way more Spanish than French? For the first time in all my travels, I felt more attached to the country I was leaving behind than to home I was heading towards.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBU8KZrRHNHDQxu7Cow9N4GSBzkMJuwXfqdJpJgmp1zow8PaLUacdYz2N0Y8Ct395GMiWCDh5FWdwJnTSDZcp8PpGfJP4jiWDeo_YK_l_t5ex6jnCJ9bbvHIq2rfHN7z7tcElVHJIQIv4z/s1600/blog11-17-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBU8KZrRHNHDQxu7Cow9N4GSBzkMJuwXfqdJpJgmp1zow8PaLUacdYz2N0Y8Ct395GMiWCDh5FWdwJnTSDZcp8PpGfJP4jiWDeo_YK_l_t5ex6jnCJ9bbvHIq2rfHN7z7tcElVHJIQIv4z/s1600/blog11-17-2010-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monument to Christopher Columbus - he is<br />
pointing to America. Maybe he is telling us something...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cbdWM5gtf4HPMB9C6mkTL7OY2UgXKQcWAmAuD18yU2e0uwZD_hxLenNIgQZb9kNsTYc-IR3_dnGhsh5iDC9v-0-medbjuNlk1mk6QC9d5UQEX7BJP3V4hknya3phOX1fJ5mnrPVrkLgj/s1600/blog11-17-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cbdWM5gtf4HPMB9C6mkTL7OY2UgXKQcWAmAuD18yU2e0uwZD_hxLenNIgQZb9kNsTYc-IR3_dnGhsh5iDC9v-0-medbjuNlk1mk6QC9d5UQEX7BJP3V4hknya3phOX1fJ5mnrPVrkLgj/s400/blog11-17-2010-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the sea</td></tr>
</tbody></table> One place I really wanted to see in Barcelona that we missed before was the Picasso museum. It doesn’t house hardly any of his famous Cubist works, but is filled with his early (and mush more traditional) paintings as well as later works, including pottery. It was a very nice museum, and it also included a temporary exhibit comparing the works of Picasso and Degas, which was quite interesting. <br />
<br />
We had brought food from Lacoste for supper (although I managed to leave the peanut butter behind – oops) and so walked back across the city to our hotel, where we watched a good game of soccer on TV before heading to bed for a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s travels.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-74757009386177709782010-11-16T19:28:00.001-05:002010-11-26T19:36:22.305-05:00The Dentelles, Mt. Ventoux, and Gorges de la NesqueThe day was cloudy, but no rain; the wind wasn’t blowing in Lacoste but we soon founds it whipping the car as we motored north. We had decided to hike around the Dentelles de Montmirail first; these interesting mountains are just to the west of Mt. Ventoux. I thought their name had something to do with teeth, but it actually means lace. Half way through our drive I realized that I had forgotten the hiking book that described the walk; we didn’t have a hiking map of the area, which put us in a bit of a hard spot. We decided to continue on our way and see what we could find. <br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the first thing we found was that the road through the Dentelles was “route barre”. The deviation signs lead down roads too small to be on my driving map, and we were soon forced to head back to the main road and try a different approach. We drove around to the east and tried again, but that road turned private after a while instead of reconnecting with our original road like I’d hoped. The next road was more fruitful; a sign for mountain climbers lead us to a trail heading straight up to the base of some of the rocks. We decided to not take our packed lunch with us but to just go on a short hike.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5fdq_YvWYf2cUqOwSZaZUkZUj7moerFVL_5Z9dbf7Y79OasTCvQxnKcFS21cmqGVN4thQGZEwdzrB6a7cH1_lzCn73Xz8EhLevoXNj6IHFfnOEaL__vGR7bXBhjI8quxw3z9mx87czcu/s1600/blog11-16-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5fdq_YvWYf2cUqOwSZaZUkZUj7moerFVL_5Z9dbf7Y79OasTCvQxnKcFS21cmqGVN4thQGZEwdzrB6a7cH1_lzCn73Xz8EhLevoXNj6IHFfnOEaL__vGR7bXBhjI8quxw3z9mx87czcu/s400/blog11-16-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
For a short hike we picked a good one; we came out right at a pass between two bits of “lace.” But the wind! It was gusting strong enough to knock you over! We climbed up to the narrow gap (which was probably exacerbating the wind issue) in fits and starts as the wind would practically send us flying off the mountain and then stop altogether for a few seconds. When it is windy in France, it is windier than anywhere else I’ve been! Going down was even harder than coming up; we had to alternate crab-walking and clinging to the rock with quick dashes in the lulls.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gvSZ0sv2st2-9foFZdWQIRNACWorRRMxy8B32ihXVWdphL-I1zZa1dGHvdZdsDNdwwXoG2_T9q0Bd7ceVsyEp5bEJNSDN309btNALJxRrHFxW1qh22he57i1gnw6HysEQ6zm5Rj7aQ0K/s1600/blog11-16-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gvSZ0sv2st2-9foFZdWQIRNACWorRRMxy8B32ihXVWdphL-I1zZa1dGHvdZdsDNdwwXoG2_T9q0Bd7ceVsyEp5bEJNSDN309btNALJxRrHFxW1qh22he57i1gnw6HysEQ6zm5Rj7aQ0K/s1600/blog11-16-2010-2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBoH6dWd3pEqb505hcoLeqsHmQVxYYgoxt1Ti2zNHaR53-kz-5YuX1sTPSjVXLBDW9kKJX-2CbnbYDEGvgO7PdEkjDzjZsYqmJlflLZgH3cy3jcUfRQXbvXxQxXHqz78d6qqoPV27bOdMw/s1600/blog11-16-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBoH6dWd3pEqb505hcoLeqsHmQVxYYgoxt1Ti2zNHaR53-kz-5YuX1sTPSjVXLBDW9kKJX-2CbnbYDEGvgO7PdEkjDzjZsYqmJlflLZgH3cy3jcUfRQXbvXxQxXHqz78d6qqoPV27bOdMw/s400/blog11-16-2010-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am sitting down and still actively holding on to the rock!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We’d worked up quite an appetite, so our next stop was at an overlook where we sat in our car (out of the wind!) and ate our lunch looking back over a lovely view the Dentelles and the valleys below, with the clouds whipping across the sky above. We could see that the top of Mt. Ventoux (ventoux, by the way, means “windy”) was still in the clouds, but having come this far we decided to go see what we could see anyway.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbvjvYh_onTaeD8dlEGFybFX-LxnonAdPQRdFRoAs0ee_eb3vkocBWAFH8c6zIVQYX_5lYgx3JIk2QcSqCGFTiuoSN4rJ894ik-F1MrnLncN9Xor9YC1P_pIyZeDnzf44H9KK7zeaZNSF/s1600/blog11-16-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbvjvYh_onTaeD8dlEGFybFX-LxnonAdPQRdFRoAs0ee_eb3vkocBWAFH8c6zIVQYX_5lYgx3JIk2QcSqCGFTiuoSN4rJ894ik-F1MrnLncN9Xor9YC1P_pIyZeDnzf44H9KK7zeaZNSF/s400/blog11-16-2010-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back at the Dentelles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The road wound up the ridge of the mountain, and we did pass a few bikers (Mt. Ventoux is part of the Tour de France and a very popular bike ride, although I’m not sure I’d make it). But as we reached the edge of the cloud we also reached the end of the road for us; it was closed for cars to the top till May. Oh well!<br />
<br />
A little disappointed, we decided to add another stop to our day: the gorges de la Nesque. Located in the valley to the south of the mountain, the gorge was not really on the way home but we decided to cut across and pretend it was : ) The color on the trees, while fading, was lovely, and the road and tunnels made for a very scenic drive. We’d ended up driving much more today than we’d expected, so we made one last stop to hike a short trail to another Chapelle St-Michele. It was located at under an overhang at the river’s edge, straight down the gorge wall from where we’d parked. But our legs were glad for a stretch!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpROEjfiwPPPykuUWQs1I5Xq14xBI_cCI_pjFT6BcLxtQXG8cwrXjygr5bymuszPdFGBPayNrotI8JW2BKqYQM63xHzzothH5B5axTgpo2LZlZ74tb0RZLFcDEnGmcMzYaoczY1SCdd_J4/s1600/blog11-16-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpROEjfiwPPPykuUWQs1I5Xq14xBI_cCI_pjFT6BcLxtQXG8cwrXjygr5bymuszPdFGBPayNrotI8JW2BKqYQM63xHzzothH5B5axTgpo2LZlZ74tb0RZLFcDEnGmcMzYaoczY1SCdd_J4/s1600/blog11-16-2010-5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan overlooking the gorge</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7YzI9kMY4KbZBKcCNTs118By8XyTXb0MHJKuzJWW3HfuGyBLJbt1Wz3Z_bNTqIIK0CuW9kIJQpgrNBTKNsE1DqwLq-cnJ_Sc42KbkIDpb4FG9APPXCODOfufdxSM4nEZS3IGfRP8Btbi/s1600/blog11-16-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW7YzI9kMY4KbZBKcCNTs118By8XyTXb0MHJKuzJWW3HfuGyBLJbt1Wz3Z_bNTqIIK0CuW9kIJQpgrNBTKNsE1DqwLq-cnJ_Sc42KbkIDpb4FG9APPXCODOfufdxSM4nEZS3IGfRP8Btbi/s400/blog11-16-2010-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDAVVjBgJGskQv-eb5obskZB_H5mQC3URhTyCwU0-7FbNozLm2nMa2BklEgkU5_k5lI1aD6jqEwRbnbJmGuE8-PSy7X4cLuW2sxsg51zRdVD7YngPj35duSN-3QPlr43McAOkH0idz-Cos/s1600/blog11-16-2010-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDAVVjBgJGskQv-eb5obskZB_H5mQC3URhTyCwU0-7FbNozLm2nMa2BklEgkU5_k5lI1aD6jqEwRbnbJmGuE8-PSy7X4cLuW2sxsg51zRdVD7YngPj35duSN-3QPlr43McAOkH0idz-Cos/s400/blog11-16-2010-7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGX2B_t98QfKV-l_MIOl80pi9d8VJ_ho6sTiMsqMWaelr7gNiLoga0ZdmzK0YMVStzzPRHCEnXzdbNUSB7wAEgDHrPRRHi1pU0QJtnv2lgINYcL4gLlwkScTqXhqclQ7MLwAuogcKE9jO/s1600/blog11-16-2010-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaGX2B_t98QfKV-l_MIOl80pi9d8VJ_ho6sTiMsqMWaelr7gNiLoga0ZdmzK0YMVStzzPRHCEnXzdbNUSB7wAEgDHrPRRHi1pU0QJtnv2lgINYcL4gLlwkScTqXhqclQ7MLwAuogcKE9jO/s400/blog11-16-2010-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is that an angel? Nope, just Alan... lol : )</td></tr>
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The sun started to set as we reached the car again, and the whole way home the sky amazed us with a fiery show of colors. I couldn’t get enough of it, and we had to stop a couple of times for photos. By the time we reached Lacoste it was dark, and we hurried home to finish packing our bags in preparation for tomorrow’s early morning departure.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5SSTjIMKyLoVQdnQ8ipf7U1EcNDEQwZ7weBVrLsxfZgAKR6VM_okpl0rmBgd-R3_ViFaRiLt5p4WP2jlaRQlMZ8v89O0XH7e7iehyphenhyphenpXht6JQHbncyEFrYn5jTVnXqwKQk7yF5wVxRq5W/s1600/blog11-16-2010-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5SSTjIMKyLoVQdnQ8ipf7U1EcNDEQwZ7weBVrLsxfZgAKR6VM_okpl0rmBgd-R3_ViFaRiLt5p4WP2jlaRQlMZ8v89O0XH7e7iehyphenhyphenpXht6JQHbncyEFrYn5jTVnXqwKQk7yF5wVxRq5W/s400/blog11-16-2010-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Ventoux (still in the clouds)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0QPDQkG9m5220qqvzKWzCf_NSXFm8r85ouChr4OXRhn_WPg2z4MJi3q7hon1ETQYh5MPAIWFNUdgaqwJV-TNvjYvSKsv8Av1fSGNkEaQD0cQAvGtegtXZAlcN6NOlufE9_6tbo_pU5a6/s1600/blog11-16-2010-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0QPDQkG9m5220qqvzKWzCf_NSXFm8r85ouChr4OXRhn_WPg2z4MJi3q7hon1ETQYh5MPAIWFNUdgaqwJV-TNvjYvSKsv8Av1fSGNkEaQD0cQAvGtegtXZAlcN6NOlufE9_6tbo_pU5a6/s400/blog11-16-2010-12.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photos just don't do it justice...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-24846146001474080662010-11-15T09:59:00.001-05:002010-11-20T10:00:52.355-05:00Stuck insideThe rain washed away all hope of sticking with our plan for today. We had hoped to drive to the top of Mt. Ventoux, the lovely mountain to the north that rises up out of the plane with its bald limestone top. But we could hardly see Bonnieux let alone the mountain, and so spent the day inside, packing, tidying, and getting ready to leave. Leave! It was not a happy thought. We had to get out at least a little, so we drove to Bonnieux for some bread, taking a road we hadn’t been on before to cheer us a little. Starting a fire in the fireplace cheered us a little more, and we planned to go to Mt. Ventoux tomorrow, rain or no.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-30269581259588670722010-11-14T09:53:00.000-05:002010-11-20T09:58:37.370-05:00Photos come down and the clouds come up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5s0zGzrpwEfcrUqN6XAjitNwPLkjlDY31ngOm163iUqRgVK_DGivJtKLMupBIy-fwk6cI5mTUuwYPlG_eMWC3tOHshS6i3lZFh9cBujv3cpW3ThxGqD4uIFLtSGIVSFx7T9f86noXBbCV/s1600/blog11-14-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5s0zGzrpwEfcrUqN6XAjitNwPLkjlDY31ngOm163iUqRgVK_DGivJtKLMupBIy-fwk6cI5mTUuwYPlG_eMWC3tOHshS6i3lZFh9cBujv3cpW3ThxGqD4uIFLtSGIVSFx7T9f86noXBbCV/s400/blog11-14-2010-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We spent the morning taking down the show, saddened to be taking nice prints out of nice frames but there was really nothing else to do. The mistral wind was blowing, but we got the photos back to the house, where we sorted through the ones we wanted to keep and the ones to throw away. Alan had talked to some other students about doing some trading, so he bartered two of the small matted photos for a few pieces from two of the printmaking majors. I’m excited to get home and find them some wall space : )<br />
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The clouds were rolling in, and the wind was blowing really hard, but in the afternoon we decided to take one last walk though the valley anyway. Alan never did walk to Bonnieux, so we took that path almost to the town, and then branched off to the south to walk some roads neither of us had been on yet. It seems no matter how much I walk there is always somewhere new to go around here! But the wind was tiring, and we were glad to get home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQFcK6HxDTFMuBfJBCfk9tQ4RghmRVruWpeCt9oFn_hpHBCpg20pPgT_TY1frQH13welp3LWDjpOfyordEHOkw3wbFjwwitfaQD_yEKtTANoDMbO040LNloAuLOcALQBDOifQpaLw0Wvw/s1600/blog11-14-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQFcK6HxDTFMuBfJBCfk9tQ4RghmRVruWpeCt9oFn_hpHBCpg20pPgT_TY1frQH13welp3LWDjpOfyordEHOkw3wbFjwwitfaQD_yEKtTANoDMbO040LNloAuLOcALQBDOifQpaLw0Wvw/s400/blog11-14-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Odd vine holders</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-44640453379630209502010-11-13T10:14:00.003-05:002010-11-15T10:16:52.935-05:00A walk and a farewell dinner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJluWnzfbxv3JEgbJlizIJImNRbJjl9qx7GMpSTBETRUvsmPPOAxYiiNf0GkihERHAMky0KnVPP9W3dFGBvSFKX0YSGX0SQAc-F_DAqCj3x84GyccjUn4tp22yVz_UU04Kumb1lWH2FDPv/s1600/blog11-13-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJluWnzfbxv3JEgbJlizIJImNRbJjl9qx7GMpSTBETRUvsmPPOAxYiiNf0GkihERHAMky0KnVPP9W3dFGBvSFKX0YSGX0SQAc-F_DAqCj3x84GyccjUn4tp22yVz_UU04Kumb1lWH2FDPv/s1600/blog11-13-2010-1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The Forest of the Cedars, which we went to once before, seemed like a good starting point for today’s walk. We were surprised by the number of cars in the little lot at the top; it was more tourists, or locals, than we has seen in a while! After passing a group of hikers and three serious looking runners (they had to be like training for cross country or something) the people quickly gave way to the secluded trails we have become accustom to around here. We chose a path that lead over the other side of the Luberon, down into a valley, and then back up through the valley bottom. The weather was beautiful, the path was nice, and all was going well till we came to a ten-foot high rock wall which the path definitely said to go up. Lets just say it was a good thing we hadn’t picked this particular trail when Mom and Dad were here! The rock did have toeholds and some handholds, but it was wet and slippery with the extremely heavy dew that seems to happen so often. I went up first, with Alan holding on to me in case I should slip, but I made it too the top with muddy jeans and hands being the only casualties of the climb. Alan made it up just fine as well, and we contemplated circling the spot on our map just in case we should ever come back someday and walk the same trail… but then again I don’t think we are going to forget that rock!<br />
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Tonight, the Café de Sade was hosting the SCAD farewell dinner; with Vernissage being over, the quarter here in Lacoste is finished as well. Guests were invited, so I joined in with the few other parents who had come to see the show. I happened to be talking with Shea right next to the buffet table when the first course came out; she is non-dairy vegetarian and knew that the quiche didn’t have any meat, so we grabbed our slices and some bread and headed for a table inside. What we didn’t know was that that was the only vegetarian dish of the night, except for some au gratin potatoes, which she couldn’t eat and I wasn’t sure were worth eating. The tart de pomme (apple tart) for dessert did not fill us up, but while the food was a disappointment it was fun to get to know more of Alan’s classmates. Hopefully we will be able to stay in touch, at least with the ones in Savannah.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-43749652812794940072010-11-12T10:08:00.000-05:002010-11-15T10:13:28.524-05:00VernissageI found myself caught up in Alan’s whirlwind of last minute to-dos, which was heightened by the fact that while the show didn’t open till 3pm his professor had already bought two photos and SCAD was thinking about buying two others (they only ended up getting one, however). But another large print had to be made as another person wanted a same size print as one that had already sold, and Alan hurried to make three more slightly smaller prints of the sold photos, which later also sold. Whew! Here is a glimps of all the photos he had in the Vernissage show:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-fRI60LIcrIvQnag1pPfItaEAkotY1WTtNetYZInYzWh-lHeeyE-HmSGngpbBgd0W2vh7H611PFyYkzqQDTONHUMlBrA8_lIjZoVKUbPyKD6SYyVZtvoTnmF1Jlwiw7oOx2zPACcnghw/s1600/blog11-12-2010-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN-fRI60LIcrIvQnag1pPfItaEAkotY1WTtNetYZInYzWh-lHeeyE-HmSGngpbBgd0W2vh7H611PFyYkzqQDTONHUMlBrA8_lIjZoVKUbPyKD6SYyVZtvoTnmF1Jlwiw7oOx2zPACcnghw/s1600/blog11-12-2010-14.jpg" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-66909739527789514872010-11-11T10:01:00.000-05:002010-11-15T10:08:32.444-05:00Hanging the showHanging your own show is hard enough; hanging a 50-person student show gets even more difficult. Alan and the rest of the students spent most of the day working on getting all the artwork up; Alan ended up with one photo in the metals and jewelry room because they ran out of space in the landscape room. Everyone is excited for tomorrow. I hope it goes well!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJymSWhwEq1hueON_SsGpy2AdIldw17o0NBpayzb9xoMmQJz8Vy-XTWZen_nU2OwNIqQlKe6ZRXg3wsXn2EBYOGVH5JUyFLGttMiEcOCmvaSMhLj1oLjn_KsMfXEqa35O2O91wVy-Rj17Y/s1600/blog11-11-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJymSWhwEq1hueON_SsGpy2AdIldw17o0NBpayzb9xoMmQJz8Vy-XTWZen_nU2OwNIqQlKe6ZRXg3wsXn2EBYOGVH5JUyFLGttMiEcOCmvaSMhLj1oLjn_KsMfXEqa35O2O91wVy-Rj17Y/s400/blog11-11-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan's are the two big ones and the two on the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I went a walk around the village in the afternoon – it’s hard to start saying goodbye but our days our getting shorter! We will fly home one week from today. I almost think I will wake up on our first day home and feel this was all one very long and detailed dream…<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Ventoux has snow! We hope to go to the top next week.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-rtAQSdd4NO_UT6RVpit0ytuowUJ0PvyHxdgr9fSTJYXzfcauEjL3waAal4rLy3bP6uiUJy1uuSTVboVP8dHfqXoP8IwIBxwGze6dVGAShmI59zhZqtxfSRJOCgq9PSawBW9WkQCLbKw/s1600/blog11-11-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf-rtAQSdd4NO_UT6RVpit0ytuowUJ0PvyHxdgr9fSTJYXzfcauEjL3waAal4rLy3bP6uiUJy1uuSTVboVP8dHfqXoP8IwIBxwGze6dVGAShmI59zhZqtxfSRJOCgq9PSawBW9WkQCLbKw/s1600/blog11-11-2010-4.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4TqRGtsMEhA1FC1VlEWNwY641SPEHzF1UTlWNIc73e9liQYDurTIk1qLKRk5-3Z0hmvryf6b3EDArhIZzKSHPTwMOqVMyc7MQidmgeeeYqZ3pGmw_S8YXOlzeMTuhwfG3dP5P-gwsOtL/s1600/blog11-11-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu4TqRGtsMEhA1FC1VlEWNwY641SPEHzF1UTlWNIc73e9liQYDurTIk1qLKRk5-3Z0hmvryf6b3EDArhIZzKSHPTwMOqVMyc7MQidmgeeeYqZ3pGmw_S8YXOlzeMTuhwfG3dP5P-gwsOtL/s1600/blog11-11-2010-6.jpg" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-8293941571817414702010-11-10T09:04:00.001-05:002010-11-11T09:07:16.472-05:00The fight of the ninja dust-bunniesI officially strongly dislike framing. Well, I supposed I should amend that to say “dirty glass and dust in a frame which means that it takes you a million tries to get it to look good.” I spent yesterday cleaning all the glass and frames for Alan (we mentioned the “frame lottery” before, and the frames have just been sitting in a cave since their last use – yuck) after he broke a piece of glass. Then today, part way through our pile of 14 frames, I broke a piece of glass from one of the new frames. I swear I was just picking it up... sigh. Thank goodness we were not the only ones with glass issues and SCAD was doing another glass run to Mr. Bricolage! While it was nice to have the house to spread out in, it is so dusty in here that it took forever to get the glass clean, as the moment you turned away more dust would settle! But finally everything was finished, and I have to say it looks really good! I hope everything sells… or at least a few of them. They say that every time they have this final show it is really hit or miss how much sells, so we don’t have any expectations. If we were at home there are a couple I would secretly hope don’t sell because I want to hang them up in our apartment! But unfortunately our luggage is not going to accommodate framed artwork. <br />
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The students were supposed to start hanging the undergraduate work at 4:30pm, but for some reason it got pushed back till tomorrow. So Alan and Michelle, the other grad student, went ahead and hung their work after dinner. They have a little gallery all to themselves called the Blue Gallery (it has a lovely blue door, and shutters). Alan’s work takes up the two smaller walls and Michelle has the third longer wall. I think I like Alan’s photos even more hanging up! Art is funny like that – presentation can change how much I like or don’t like it quite a bit. I hope some of the people who come like it as much as I do :)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5FthxszrJzlPzadaKpTlIzzS8I17ixAahc8IbJzbX1MLiqWyy173uki_1VfM-69y4ULXn_SbSHX6GsYXe6LxStj6utejmOO0Wx8gupgQz-JF3M60xiriYjrlr2BRkhjxIG-kb2vCHugT/s1600/blog11-10-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5FthxszrJzlPzadaKpTlIzzS8I17ixAahc8IbJzbX1MLiqWyy173uki_1VfM-69y4ULXn_SbSHX6GsYXe6LxStj6utejmOO0Wx8gupgQz-JF3M60xiriYjrlr2BRkhjxIG-kb2vCHugT/s400/blog11-10-2010-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-45476160592942905482010-11-09T09:01:00.000-05:002010-11-11T09:03:24.979-05:00Goodbye to Mom and DadWe got up and left at 7:30am to take my parents to the Marseille airport. We actually got stuck in traffic for the first time since our arrival; but luckily it only took us about 15 minutes extra, with the hold up due only to heavy morning rush hour. It was sad to say good-bye, and the house felt very empty we returned to Lacoste. <br />
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Alan and I would both like to thank my parents, without whom we would not have been able to come here to France. I hope that they had as good a time as we had.<br />
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Mom, thanks for the bread every morning, buying us treats whenever we wanted something yummy, for talking to everyone in French and arranging everything even though it’s not your favorite thing to do, and packing all the picnic lunches we couldn’t have done without.<br />
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Dad, thanks for bringing an extra lens for us to use, and for always letting Alan borrow your camera equipment, for driving us around, washing the dishes every night, and never giving up on retelling your favorite jokes : )<br />
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Love you both, glad you made it home safe and sound. We miss you!Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-43899237286636246302010-11-08T08:56:00.000-05:002010-11-11T09:01:05.638-05:00Menerbes, Mr. Bricolage, and French breadTomorrow my parent’s fly home; can it really be that time already?! Dad wanted to go for a walk around Ménerbes that we’d done before, so we set out, noting how different things looked than the last time we’d been. The olives continue to ripen on the trees; I really want to see them harvested, but haven’t so far. Well, we did see one old man picking the lone olive tree just below our house across from the Marie (the town hall) – he was sitting on the stone wall beneath it and filling his bucket; he told Mom that he walk going to make olive oil with them. Most of the olives still seemed green to me, but maybe it doesn’t matter for oil?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg60GJ7xIAbWH49DdEyhdPbuXHeRk22hJB346P0tbLCgM69Di61fM-ESRZ0O59P32i6X4muoOW38HpBsairBdiXo1-Hm_WKw1GfPusEIHB9B156TR3yyRYsi1GHJEDczDspMWHLqGleB2Eb/s1600/blog11-8-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg60GJ7xIAbWH49DdEyhdPbuXHeRk22hJB346P0tbLCgM69Di61fM-ESRZ0O59P32i6X4muoOW38HpBsairBdiXo1-Hm_WKw1GfPusEIHB9B156TR3yyRYsi1GHJEDczDspMWHLqGleB2Eb/s1600/blog11-8-2010-3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pVtgqdYykcPOqZf1DeWhumlneWmZHa3K_JMLhyJh5Js5DYBJrkTLO_xIEcJttGPTJ7i8KIOWW2cThovfiCtn7IfA0My2j6Nwj2feHl_wmNitsvEDoPmgUdiGWWWFHV7C3cLwuBvM1npv/s1600/blog11-8-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9pVtgqdYykcPOqZf1DeWhumlneWmZHa3K_JMLhyJh5Js5DYBJrkTLO_xIEcJttGPTJ7i8KIOWW2cThovfiCtn7IfA0My2j6Nwj2feHl_wmNitsvEDoPmgUdiGWWWFHV7C3cLwuBvM1npv/s400/blog11-8-2010-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found this just growing by the road. <br />
I wanted to take it home and eat it!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8l6RtuadphnyKlR0bMVByA3kerhKCGaHkWNT09gBjiwaaZlqd0DA9qIfWe8birvjULbLozTMIDp3IgGnhff9l9xHL15IkZLxK2RigKE2XK2csh66pL075Mc8H73_o961sMc8Mzp-msDb/s1600/blog11-8-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8l6RtuadphnyKlR0bMVByA3kerhKCGaHkWNT09gBjiwaaZlqd0DA9qIfWe8birvjULbLozTMIDp3IgGnhff9l9xHL15IkZLxK2RigKE2XK2csh66pL075Mc8H73_o961sMc8Mzp-msDb/s400/blog11-8-2010-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Life is beautiful. Yes, yes it is.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>After walking all the way around the hill we returned to Ménerbes proper, only to find the route barre (road closed)! Tourist season is over, and all the towns seem to be hurrying to get things fixed up before winter comes. Of course, here in Lacoste it has taken them the whole time we’ve been here to pave and paint a little parking terrace with six spots… and all the roads in the center of Ménerbes are torn up! We had thought that since we were walking, it wouldn’t be a problem; however, the road we came down was completely filled with a backhoe, leaving no room even for walking on either side. Not wanting to walk all the way back the way we came, we tried a few roads till we found one that lead us back around, through the construction (but only torn-up roads and no machines) to our car.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC7EupqhEJzOlAiNIuJx0Z0l4lo2FYDpgUHOnNCh0a6SeNHNub1dq4Y92sWtp5ie9XTi4XNZn2tJEYO3Ddp-EXxEPn3MOMrq9oUpR_2shDS0F9HK3i2pTI_FX9X7mGDD-EIJNc7jjBIyA/s1600/blog11-8-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsC7EupqhEJzOlAiNIuJx0Z0l4lo2FYDpgUHOnNCh0a6SeNHNub1dq4Y92sWtp5ie9XTi4XNZn2tJEYO3Ddp-EXxEPn3MOMrq9oUpR_2shDS0F9HK3i2pTI_FX9X7mGDD-EIJNc7jjBIyA/s1600/blog11-8-2010-5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another machine on one of the still intact streets.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The afternoon found us once again visiting Mr. Bricolage; Alan had a few frames that need glass, so Dad got to see his favorite store once more. We then made a quick run to the grocery store; and, since it is Monday and the épicerie in town is closed, we had to get bread too. French bread… now that is one thing I will miss, although it is sometimes quite the ordeal to get! Lacoste only has a bakery in the tourist season because Pierre Cardin, who owns the chateau, bought out the bakery but then only has it open in the summer months when it is most profitable. Since the French buy bread every morning, the little épicerie (grocery store, although really it is just the only little shop it town that carries odds and ends of everything from fresh eggs to Sudoku books) sells bread, which it gets fresh each morning from a bakery. They’ve used three different bakeries since we’ve been here, and the second one was our favorite, although the croissants from this last one might be the best. <br />
<br />
The traditional baguette is not our favorite, as it goes stale before you can say you want a slice, and so we stick to the “special” breads: cereal, complet, and compagne. Every bakery has these breads, but they are very general terms, as each baker’s version is very different, with a few basic similarities; cereal breads have seeds, like poppy, sesame, and sunflower, complet is whole wheat, and compagne is a heavy white (compagne means “country”). Cereal is our favorite. Nut bread is another one we try sometimes, as Mom had a really good loaf when they were in Viason-la-Romain, but we haven’t found as good a one down here. They are made with walnuts and walnut flour, and seem to come out a little dry more often than not. We go through about two loaves a day, and so every morning Mom trots down to the bakery to stand in line with the locals and pick us up some more bread; if we’ve been good, she might even bring us a croissant! So on days when the store is closed, we are always happy to be near another bakery or grocery store to get our fill of this French tradition.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOa9IKZ_Rxqj-CLyCSs0Nw3bbmNcBMzlhWU2ooea3bJIWy7tac-Iwlcag0WZNaLybuBad4djrFRiXRqovM8uFlZ_hT7UVSGFkqDdjSUraVwPSwhPm6XBx9PwvxVPgDoxT8u8ZaEVT3AhM/s1600/blog11-8-2010-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOa9IKZ_Rxqj-CLyCSs0Nw3bbmNcBMzlhWU2ooea3bJIWy7tac-Iwlcag0WZNaLybuBad4djrFRiXRqovM8uFlZ_hT7UVSGFkqDdjSUraVwPSwhPm6XBx9PwvxVPgDoxT8u8ZaEVT3AhM/s1600/blog11-8-2010-7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A nut bread and a cereal bread.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>In the afternoon, Mom and Dad worked on packing. The rain finally looked like it was really going to come down around four o’clock, so Mom and I hurried out for one last walk. Another dog adopted us as we walked through the valley, and Mom was worried he was going to come all the way home with us! Luckily he stopped when we got to the edge of the village, and hopefully found his way home.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-39793766676538493312010-11-07T08:52:00.000-05:002010-11-11T08:55:27.694-05:00A triffle, a truffleThe weather forecast for rain today had caused us to make no big plans; the weather was gloomy, but not the downpour we were expecting. Mom had picked out a town she wanted to go to despite the weather, but Dad said he didn’t want to go. So Mom and I went on a walk around the valley. Mom has about worn a hole in the walking map of our area; I think there is hardly a road down here she hasn’t walked on! When the rest of us get back from an excursion and retire to more sedentary tasks (like school work for Alan and design work for me) Mom, and sometimes Dad, set out for another walk. <br />
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This time we headed down part of a path she’d done before, but I hadn’t been on. Some truffle hunters were in the woods at one point, and since Mom and I were very curious we almost went over to ask them if we could see a truffle, but chickened out. We didn’t want to be rude or anything, and with the price and scarcity of truffles maybe they wouldn’t like us intruding. It’s tempting to try and find some ourselves (Alan even poked around the bottom of a tree once) but we really don’t have a clue, it just seems exciting! I’ve been reading a book called <i>From here, you can’t see Paris</i> by Michael Sanders, an American writer who moved with his family to France to write about a French restaurant in a small town (it’s a good read, by the by, if you want to learn about France and food), and he has a chapter on truffles; I guess there is supposed to be a bare spot on the ground under the tree, where the truffles kill off grass and weeds, and that is where you look. So I’ll keep my eyes peeled next time I am in the woods!<br />
<br />
I love coming down a rough dirt road and rounding a corner to come smack up against a tennis court and huge electric gates; it seems so ironic, and yet they do such a good job of hiding that you hardly know the huge house is there till your upon it. One we found has a nice looking chapel in its vineyard, but you can’t get to it to see inside. Another house had two donkeys and a sheep that regarded us with interest; walking with Mom will end you up in some odd places!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOoEsWLCmir7A_Yd0FeTu0KMgMLsBhddN3fC6kpnuJRfLzTbfs3-hj-OXXnGHCsuOPIuHdTx6F6omHLny4to_sz0_ahaWVWfx9Zn7Qp5vmvkaNeL1ajkGhG8Kss78RePSse-a6qFwnrk0/s1600/blog11-7-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKOoEsWLCmir7A_Yd0FeTu0KMgMLsBhddN3fC6kpnuJRfLzTbfs3-hj-OXXnGHCsuOPIuHdTx6F6omHLny4to_sz0_ahaWVWfx9Zn7Qp5vmvkaNeL1ajkGhG8Kss78RePSse-a6qFwnrk0/s400/blog11-7-2010-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What are you doing here?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-55613969319404850582010-11-06T08:44:00.001-04:002010-11-11T08:52:06.013-05:00Don't look downFor our last big hike, Alan wanted to climb from Oppede-la-Vieux up to the top of the Petit Luberon and back down. Our walking book had this route described, but after reading it and looking at the map we decided to forgo the book and just use the map, as the trail seemed fairly straightforward. What we didn’t realize that as well as being straightforward, the trail was also, in parts, straight up!<br />
<br />
After leaving town, the trail headed up a gorge, which narrowed and narrowed till the path and streambed were one and the same. There was a really neat arch and lots of caves, some of which had been obviously used for camping. As we got higher, the views back over the valley were very nice and different than we’d seen before; we had to stop and look at the map to try and figure out what towns we were seeing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXsr9Tzfll69DiQ8zIX3JPRbkf8QlxKgSqVZ6UqqSmTY3qN-Pc8ZIhibXs-x2pYTy2Y4wScaY3wcsHxobZmNfrrpjyQPEGiM6EPZUQgmFD0EsebPzQcwiU8IeJce7zTILvAg1vVWJUCC8/s1600/blog11-6-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXsr9Tzfll69DiQ8zIX3JPRbkf8QlxKgSqVZ6UqqSmTY3qN-Pc8ZIhibXs-x2pYTy2Y4wScaY3wcsHxobZmNfrrpjyQPEGiM6EPZUQgmFD0EsebPzQcwiU8IeJce7zTILvAg1vVWJUCC8/s400/blog11-6-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxoObBmorH8K4ZRw7jA_c6QS5yssO4srEsnJEkrNrKeKlCsPLzgHOFTQyGeC7LMktlSVESp71HECJgwO5pJ4KhpkMM2M7P1mThPOmGkyHDo1BWG5wU3HOZHmUmJVY60cpEfP8fMhnfZoE/s1600/blog11-6-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPxoObBmorH8K4ZRw7jA_c6QS5yssO4srEsnJEkrNrKeKlCsPLzgHOFTQyGeC7LMktlSVESp71HECJgwO5pJ4KhpkMM2M7P1mThPOmGkyHDo1BWG5wU3HOZHmUmJVY60cpEfP8fMhnfZoE/s1600/blog11-6-2010-3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The deluxe suite - with chair and table!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dQE0LO4v4H8ZWuuOdzVDWeqPnvDLZ-8tQnZg5dW0qcXqkVsxRVHe_AWflBA7ebrSDMiz_Cb3eGLfKtWMqX0MDdoZ7FwhOsccE8A4eDQyktjDCDO_EaFIfjHsw-trXHUXibz9Pk-u10jI/s1600/blog11-6-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2dQE0LO4v4H8ZWuuOdzVDWeqPnvDLZ-8tQnZg5dW0qcXqkVsxRVHe_AWflBA7ebrSDMiz_Cb3eGLfKtWMqX0MDdoZ7FwhOsccE8A4eDQyktjDCDO_EaFIfjHsw-trXHUXibz9Pk-u10jI/s1600/blog11-6-2010-5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The trail... or waterfall, same thing!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd63oWy8MtDU822u2xNhBcQ5nU545jsceKDsbuQDhAKLdiuTW1_ixH6xI-4cwEppM15hOaqc8XNggnFd1Vz9UCAg-Pj1f-sV0hC6WyLdmo4tHDr0Ps3yx_FlVgNBqDJMIJBfPrLKDaqBSS/s1600/blog11-6-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd63oWy8MtDU822u2xNhBcQ5nU545jsceKDsbuQDhAKLdiuTW1_ixH6xI-4cwEppM15hOaqc8XNggnFd1Vz9UCAg-Pj1f-sV0hC6WyLdmo4tHDr0Ps3yx_FlVgNBqDJMIJBfPrLKDaqBSS/s400/blog11-6-2010-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib67NYhP7sX0-P1jh0WE192IE6g8NlsOfo-mQv4jCsKpHTvnQiDuCG5g3PYS_oeWVJEmbR7KeyNUGFQ3GE1kPGE0a52PXvHH2WJ8YbKwdxK2PNKWAcPfE4xyqIXXUj1HgGzpQxZE7F_TIw/s1600/blog11-6-2010-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib67NYhP7sX0-P1jh0WE192IE6g8NlsOfo-mQv4jCsKpHTvnQiDuCG5g3PYS_oeWVJEmbR7KeyNUGFQ3GE1kPGE0a52PXvHH2WJ8YbKwdxK2PNKWAcPfE4xyqIXXUj1HgGzpQxZE7F_TIw/s400/blog11-6-2010-7.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My fig-leaf fan, which actually came in handy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There had bee a very heavy dew in the night, and many of the rocks were still slick with moisture; this didn’t really cause a problem till a bend in the path about half way to the top when suddenly we weren’t going up a ravine but around the edge of a ridge, with nothing but a long drop to our left. Mom did her best not too look. But things got worse before they got better; after we rounded the ridge, we found the trail leading straight up another one! Thankfully all the boulders had well-worn toeholds and reachable handholds, but while I had joked with Dad that this would be his legs’ “last hurrah” he started muttering that I must really want my inheritance to be putting him through this! It was actually rather fun, I thought, but the drop was a bit long and the rocks were a bit wet and thank goodness we were going up as down would have been ten times worse; the guidebook, while mentioning height issues and strenuous bits on many other walks really had said nothing about this one.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQ3RhzalUM89x7ya1tFIZhhmfUGupJZWbfO3lGsNS9J86H4c9zGs6jOOrTzpPSYCwmvYP78Ip4bjfUUNGlqirdVwDKR8A7ybvenQORpSRP0qVX_kbUz3tbfa_aLSOy0hF-Dd8iKdpKq6p/s1600/blog11-6-2010-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQ3RhzalUM89x7ya1tFIZhhmfUGupJZWbfO3lGsNS9J86H4c9zGs6jOOrTzpPSYCwmvYP78Ip4bjfUUNGlqirdVwDKR8A7ybvenQORpSRP0qVX_kbUz3tbfa_aLSOy0hF-Dd8iKdpKq6p/s400/blog11-6-2010-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This photo doesn't quite give the feeling <br />
of how far down it was...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLzanHELighavTn_mngKLzgiEX87G_zlWW1HlhUO4pYf6lLVhzloaxpZ5CiVHWe7F_XxhTKpG6OIwvDkYyaJDuJ9Hpyp7xsYrTTRUE-Q2SyaDu0_2x5hBv4uC_BWjSc2ImEPaTQTARyaK/s1600/blog11-6-2010-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLzanHELighavTn_mngKLzgiEX87G_zlWW1HlhUO4pYf6lLVhzloaxpZ5CiVHWe7F_XxhTKpG6OIwvDkYyaJDuJ9Hpyp7xsYrTTRUE-Q2SyaDu0_2x5hBv4uC_BWjSc2ImEPaTQTARyaK/s1600/blog11-6-2010-9.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up and up!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We made it to the top in one piece, maybe a bit worse for wear but ready for lunch. An overview was marked a little ways down the ridge-top road, and we decided to walk there to have our lunch. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much, but you never know till you go! So we ate our lunch sans-view, but it probably tasted almost as good as if we’d had one : )<br />
<br />
The trail down was much easier than the one up, and part way down there way an excellent view of the town below us. Alan contemplated walking up to see the church and ruins again, but we all decided we’d rather just head home. I’d collected some fig leaves earlier, and collected some more random leaves as we walked back to the car. Mom had bought some rubbing crayons at a market, made from beeswax so they don’t get your fingers sticky, and I wanted to try them out! They worked great, and I happily spent the evening coloring, making Mom put my “art” on the fridge and promise not to throw it away (she had a tendency to throw my art away when I wasn’t paying attention as a small child!). Ah, the simple things in life…<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHXJ66dSOFZiOcm_YZ8CBicRpXU7PBtvuXWYzLKaLzpkjwu6GnYTIkCVkXTqQZ-c_ZotR0QgLrWiCdBDCU88f2Lb0fa7G5rHrC5LCKoRyvDGftjqJJPw1IfkorbdjJYRzVvOQRx_e22sL/s1600/blog11-6-2010-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCHXJ66dSOFZiOcm_YZ8CBicRpXU7PBtvuXWYzLKaLzpkjwu6GnYTIkCVkXTqQZ-c_ZotR0QgLrWiCdBDCU88f2Lb0fa7G5rHrC5LCKoRyvDGftjqJJPw1IfkorbdjJYRzVvOQRx_e22sL/s400/blog11-6-2010-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down on the town</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrW-Wr48Jw01aMEj-bPy3WPy4PcymV9kXnpUdJyoWhTF2aqvnCGRUPqq_02QATVvcUxFc0PlExkSc5c2uU2z6hCKAoOioZj4pHe4Z99bx2JmVqdEhbo4Rh-BzU4JmsRezkw5T6-vATKtz/s1600/blog11-6-2010-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOrW-Wr48Jw01aMEj-bPy3WPy4PcymV9kXnpUdJyoWhTF2aqvnCGRUPqq_02QATVvcUxFc0PlExkSc5c2uU2z6hCKAoOioZj4pHe4Z99bx2JmVqdEhbo4Rh-BzU4JmsRezkw5T6-vATKtz/s400/blog11-6-2010-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My fig leaves made it the whole way!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-8826399690063463682010-11-05T10:03:00.001-04:002010-11-10T10:04:51.326-05:00Brilliant perfectionI could hardly look outside today; the bright blue sky set off the leaves to a brilliant perfection, making me feel so dull in comparison that I longed for the shadows on the wall in Plato’s cave, unable to handle the beauty and dimension of reality. This is the joy of traveling, of being soaked in the simple wonders of the world till your old skin falls off and you step forward, born anew with the eyes of a child and the knowledge of the ancients; this is the pain of traveling, to know that this sight will be torn away and the knowledge crushed by the shadowy existence of life’s responsibilities. What joy, and what pain! But having felt the joy, it is worth the pain; the pain will pass, but the joy will be with you forever, a light to take out in the dark times, to shine through the shadows and illuminate your way out into the brilliant perfection once more.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-47905196079949324372010-11-04T09:57:00.000-04:002010-11-10T10:03:01.094-05:00Busy as bees, but hopefully not making miel de chataigneAlan had hoped to do something with us today, but decided that he didn’t have time. If anything, we thought we might have to go to Ikea in Avignon to get him some frames for the show. The “frame lottery,” where all the frames left over from past students are given to the current students to help cut down on the cost of buying frames, was held last night and he got quite a few frames (he has 14 photos going up, I believe, 6 in the regular show and 8 in a gallery with just him and the other grad student) but needs three or four more. But since the store is a ways away and a small group is going tomorrow to pick up frames for everyone, he decided to stay home and work on other things. <br />
<br />
Mom and I had picked out a walking route starting at Pont Julian and heading towards Bonnieux before circling around back to the bridge, so leaving Alan to his work the rest of us went for a walk. The trail was still muddy, and it made me laugh to see one set of human prints, one set of dog prints, one set of horse prints, and one set of bike prints. Either we have a bunch of loners or a very mixed group out here somewhere!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQuO32J-pZ1P0bIp03EapHMp6wvlR1qe1oSnLt0bvhFK7zTN_EOQvwhKkiZrui8aMBb-KjetRLQi9GkVvIYe-mIBxAOkBQzD5RAJhbi8JRx1oROuK8bIwvwOhMnNNuCfd8-cbnb5QvlkPi/s1600/blog11-4-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQuO32J-pZ1P0bIp03EapHMp6wvlR1qe1oSnLt0bvhFK7zTN_EOQvwhKkiZrui8aMBb-KjetRLQi9GkVvIYe-mIBxAOkBQzD5RAJhbi8JRx1oROuK8bIwvwOhMnNNuCfd8-cbnb5QvlkPi/s1600/blog11-4-2010-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lavender</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gur26fvDLJJQSSupJ16SfdFUpPqzOawe5_AIpQpN93xGonAy5lrvqiYM56wkZbiVJh-j1u-7d9Ztgu_wNR8lfZ4GUE8-73MxCaQ1_fiISd_E8KmuIq62nM7B-Dr-HiJzlpn3PmzXVDaO/s1600/blog11-4-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1gur26fvDLJJQSSupJ16SfdFUpPqzOawe5_AIpQpN93xGonAy5lrvqiYM56wkZbiVJh-j1u-7d9Ztgu_wNR8lfZ4GUE8-73MxCaQ1_fiISd_E8KmuIq62nM7B-Dr-HiJzlpn3PmzXVDaO/s1600/blog11-4-2010-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lavender and Lacoste</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-uwcl-mjeAVNL1EoNGmSJ0TCQnvrP61GNg1I5vJG46MpEfSSdgOBat-uuQNjI-HXU3QKyFH4Zo6geFKb69O-IUnrZBmAlCZQ7dgZ-delEGmarEWEwFFNftPz4hI2XeE-mxSraXgRCcmY/s1600/blog11-4-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-uwcl-mjeAVNL1EoNGmSJ0TCQnvrP61GNg1I5vJG46MpEfSSdgOBat-uuQNjI-HXU3QKyFH4Zo6geFKb69O-IUnrZBmAlCZQ7dgZ-delEGmarEWEwFFNftPz4hI2XeE-mxSraXgRCcmY/s1600/blog11-4-2010-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An oratory along the road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>A hawk caught our attention for a while, but stayed just far enough away that we could never get a good look at him. Birds here seem to do that; I’m afraid they must get shot at all the time! I’m still chasing my elusive jay; and today (while I had to zoom this in quite a bit as I didn’t have the telephoto lens) I finally caught a jay on film! I mean on pixels? Really, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it… Any-who-how, here it is, with a horse chestnut in its beak. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgAzPbWSU1FNNj7TTyF6jmKDjMCzz2niOxRqfY1umU7M_Cni8TzWmvtZdJtcvUW_BNYT1eIFUCMmS5HN1avVVAIP71AbM-ehurneCsDaae1z22L0RwUPofAKV5i5eCoJkDrGMV65d1jaO/s1600/blog11-4-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTgAzPbWSU1FNNj7TTyF6jmKDjMCzz2niOxRqfY1umU7M_Cni8TzWmvtZdJtcvUW_BNYT1eIFUCMmS5HN1avVVAIP71AbM-ehurneCsDaae1z22L0RwUPofAKV5i5eCoJkDrGMV65d1jaO/s400/blog11-4-2010-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Speaking of chestnut, I think I forgot to mention the honey… chestnut honey, or miel de chataigne. It is seriously the most horrible stuff I have every tasted! We have been trying out all the different honeys from the region; lavender is the specialty, with acacia, sapin (which means fir – the vendor at the market explained it by saying “Noel” and making a Christmas tree shape with his hands), and finally chataigne being the varieties we have tried. The others were varied in flavor but not strong, but the chestnut, while being the most beautiful amber color, has a very bitter taste. Alan said he though it was interesting, but Dad is the only one, I think, who ate it more than once; he gave it a second chance, but not a third. We’ll leave it as a lovely surprise for the next people who come ; )<br />
<br />
Since we didn’t need to go to Avignon after lunch, we went back to Apt instead. The third time (and taking into account French lunch hours and holidays) is the charm – Mom got her shopping done, and I even talked her into buying me a huge lollipop! We’ve seen them around at markets and such, and I really wanted to know what they taste like. The white is part is very creamy tasting, and I got raspberry flavored, although they had all kinds, normal (like apple) and different (like violet and anise). It’s going to take forever to finish – about a hour later I was less than half done with the crazy thing!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC0u3Z0mff35yjIc8tWD3CyV-l-EV21aWogz1YWsuZwn-OUh6SEXqdeFSZonQcV5jWTh4ylkN2siaQaN0y5eR6f8n7FDHD7_MUi1nYrINtT6xSYxERU1FhQjv5E5ltE7tWnJOTGTZAPOX/s1600/blog11-4-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC0u3Z0mff35yjIc8tWD3CyV-l-EV21aWogz1YWsuZwn-OUh6SEXqdeFSZonQcV5jWTh4ylkN2siaQaN0y5eR6f8n7FDHD7_MUi1nYrINtT6xSYxERU1FhQjv5E5ltE7tWnJOTGTZAPOX/s400/blog11-4-2010-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-87184336345869727932010-11-03T07:52:00.000-04:002010-11-08T08:08:19.592-05:00Abbaye de Silvacane, and the Vidauque road againOne thing left on my to-see list was the Abbaye de Silvacane. Located on the other side of the Luberon in the Durance valley, it was one of the “Three Sister of Provence,” which also included the Abbaye de Sénanque that we hiked to and the Abbaye du Thoronet, which we will not see as it is really in the French Riviera. To reach the abbey, we would have to drive through Lourmarin, the very first town we went to when my parents arrived. Mom wanted to stop there again as it had lots of nice artist shops, and she wasn’t sure she remembered it well due to the jet lag!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQ_7KQy1rCFWZNF8oiUd2hH0_9knqpbA_5p9co1l4IiQdYWkp-g7zVAqM41PzIbdlXG11NeT4tdE1ZM48EWemKbopXqtt8NaS_DxSiB_mg5pzSWfqIu4Xaet6AYn8LcflDPu4CwdjlJHj/s1600/blog11-3-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQ_7KQy1rCFWZNF8oiUd2hH0_9knqpbA_5p9co1l4IiQdYWkp-g7zVAqM41PzIbdlXG11NeT4tdE1ZM48EWemKbopXqtt8NaS_DxSiB_mg5pzSWfqIu4Xaet6AYn8LcflDPu4CwdjlJHj/s1600/blog11-3-2010-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't help throwing in another photo of our valley.<br />
The leaves are just so nice!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> So off we went to Lourmarin, which was just as nice as we remembered. Many shops were closed, either for the season (which many do – the Café de France here in Lacoste is closed till the spring) or because it was only 10 o’clock in the morning and the French, while punctual about close right at noon or before for their two hour lunch breaks, are not always so exact in their morning opening times. But we enjoyed the mostly empty streets, which for part of the time echoed with my hiccups; as many of you probably know that when I get the hiccups, I get them extremely bad and they are almost impossible to get rid of. Alan finally made me hold my breath, put my head between my knees, and swallow – and it worked! I’ll have to remember that one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEKciB4DdDz2nxFxsATP77BhGm-PKedJyo24cKOOLKsUVDKTuGtOeH6haNgQ6xxyTZ_HvRgNiafYqsesJZ7uuIVysCxSZC2fIostxoK9izO_B7txJjW8gE2mpKjYK7nvViX_WJwms9hZ2/s1600/blog11-3-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMEKciB4DdDz2nxFxsATP77BhGm-PKedJyo24cKOOLKsUVDKTuGtOeH6haNgQ6xxyTZ_HvRgNiafYqsesJZ7uuIVysCxSZC2fIostxoK9izO_B7txJjW8gE2mpKjYK7nvViX_WJwms9hZ2/s1600/blog11-3-2010-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue in Lourmarin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Driving up to an abbey is not nearly as fun as hiking to it – you just don’t get the same feeling. There are no monks in the abbey now, so we just paid our entrance fee and got to wander around the restored buildings. The location, so close to the river, was originally a “forest of reeds” (Sylva cana) and that is how the abbey got its name! The church is interesting because it is built on a hill, so has different levels to account for the slope of the land. A few deviations are made from the normal bare Cistercian style: they have decorations on the top of the columns, and they even indulged in a few colored windows.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUak3DygaK128b7t5XZep-Cll7AwIiAoYFHq_VuuVbOiq0mAvyEHUxQXW-rNCdf1VaISI-6CP-OD4tFkoThTNzkpxOzWdLHNqON_0VU-eIeeQYw2T5Qd2Uhhfaq6ambPUZEzsoFEsiXRUN/s1600/blog11-3-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUak3DygaK128b7t5XZep-Cll7AwIiAoYFHq_VuuVbOiq0mAvyEHUxQXW-rNCdf1VaISI-6CP-OD4tFkoThTNzkpxOzWdLHNqON_0VU-eIeeQYw2T5Qd2Uhhfaq6ambPUZEzsoFEsiXRUN/s1600/blog11-3-2010-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the church</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFP3sWHWxcqrCI4svWofhZYcJ-udmT2FbK1ae0mHE-MsDC2e3xLA0v734nNiaavMeut5RV1Rlc0IaXNOYvx7VHJ4xjFwNrq9yvR07D5tKjt9P9S1Fafgl27PqjjSmkleR1OA0S6tsCuJ0/s1600/blog11-3-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZFP3sWHWxcqrCI4svWofhZYcJ-udmT2FbK1ae0mHE-MsDC2e3xLA0v734nNiaavMeut5RV1Rlc0IaXNOYvx7VHJ4xjFwNrq9yvR07D5tKjt9P9S1Fafgl27PqjjSmkleR1OA0S6tsCuJ0/s400/blog11-3-2010-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <i>only</i> fireplace</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcyfoP47QVIR8prbF4kDY19XfVBvuXY2O87R2GT0ijBGKfmA3NozA1zokGpJgw9s4QusLllxNpI0VxqR-KIeV4eUK2Du7OQwCDPkNSKIFwrtbF3F9NTTHd2lltkLeBxzc0KkrHNuK-_C2/s1600/blog11-3-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcyfoP47QVIR8prbF4kDY19XfVBvuXY2O87R2GT0ijBGKfmA3NozA1zokGpJgw9s4QusLllxNpI0VxqR-KIeV4eUK2Du7OQwCDPkNSKIFwrtbF3F9NTTHd2lltkLeBxzc0KkrHNuK-_C2/s1600/blog11-3-2010-5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many old abbeys are used for music events and art shows.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibapRkvfMFc3RCOPMhJXrwil0TA16T_iCICxFjqDGUwZ59poZGQDOZ1fbgK4j1DbrqyOh5gl5AlUchU76wSSsRxsSTV9gcrGg3XT1wGMjEb3HPZXADLJo-jx08_BEYyLMF4h8-KaTqNM1Q/s1600/blog11-3-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibapRkvfMFc3RCOPMhJXrwil0TA16T_iCICxFjqDGUwZ59poZGQDOZ1fbgK4j1DbrqyOh5gl5AlUchU76wSSsRxsSTV9gcrGg3XT1wGMjEb3HPZXADLJo-jx08_BEYyLMF4h8-KaTqNM1Q/s1600/blog11-3-2010-6.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qjchkxY7gUX0Tc5yeXe00iiIF3u_Bh8osyLvblHuXrUHvPF_tukTPbNkphIAVPUf61BdilF8WN5XcE1tvd8cExhD9m_4nuPpFGKTejU2Xjb3sHVDLvfJwCo3O0o3HF_yHwTwCkPxh7Fm/s1600/blog11-3-2010-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qjchkxY7gUX0Tc5yeXe00iiIF3u_Bh8osyLvblHuXrUHvPF_tukTPbNkphIAVPUf61BdilF8WN5XcE1tvd8cExhD9m_4nuPpFGKTejU2Xjb3sHVDLvfJwCo3O0o3HF_yHwTwCkPxh7Fm/s1600/blog11-3-2010-7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dormitory; monks slept on the floor on <br />
straw pallets, fully clothed (remember: no fireplaces!).</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgMGBk9xOim-aJtP6AHjHKDguw5pBuDCtXqf3XF6R7p-I-EeQiCX61rn-rRUdIalbb3RDSWIU3U5QXUNObxuDyPLn-j9y4JhKTe7e9EFar_END_4rud7bM-8Eb_kE-tZfBi5iMrNJ3gjR/s1600/blog11-3-2010-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgMGBk9xOim-aJtP6AHjHKDguw5pBuDCtXqf3XF6R7p-I-EeQiCX61rn-rRUdIalbb3RDSWIU3U5QXUNObxuDyPLn-j9y4JhKTe7e9EFar_END_4rud7bM-8Eb_kE-tZfBi5iMrNJ3gjR/s1600/blog11-3-2010-8.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNnKuMC85_MS5dkJFE5xHCFPpAhNzA-Mfc1NPhCYbXzDd6XbIm2dfWi3Charv1qCva-N6KGHX3N-hzLXM9kHnVwR7JDa__9OdQp1z9b8XhcQl3XOni6zGmdIXhTkUcZskSY9JH2WeYogY/s1600/blog11-3-2010-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieNnKuMC85_MS5dkJFE5xHCFPpAhNzA-Mfc1NPhCYbXzDd6XbIm2dfWi3Charv1qCva-N6KGHX3N-hzLXM9kHnVwR7JDa__9OdQp1z9b8XhcQl3XOni6zGmdIXhTkUcZskSY9JH2WeYogY/s1600/blog11-3-2010-9.jpg" /></a></div><br />
A picnic lunch was packed and ready to eat when we reached out next stop at the Gorges of Régalon. But on the way there, Mom had us keep our eyes open for what was marked on the map (but not mentioned in the guidebook) as an “ancient suspension bridge.” We did have to look very hard, as it was right next to the new (non-suspension) bridge over the Durance. A pull-off next to it had some picnic tables, so we stopped to get out and have a look. We aren’t sure how “ancient” it was, but it did have a wooden floor.<br />
<br />
The gorge was just up the road, but the signs pointing to it had been covered with tape. We didn’t think much about it, but parked our car in the empty lot and ate our lunch at one of the stone picnic tables. After we had finished, Alan and Dad wandered over to a small build which looked like it was at some point an information center. They soon found out why it wasn’t open; a sign posted on the side informed us that the whole gorge was closed, and had been since February of 2009! Now why does my 2010 guidebook still have it listed as a place to go?? Apparently, the cliff edges were not stable, and the whole gorge is deemed unsafe. They had a little map posted as well with an alternate suggested walk, but we decided it didn’t look very exciting. During lunch we had been discussing if you could see the Vidauque road which Alan and I drove before Mom and Dad arrived (Alan had wanted to go back at sunrise but we never made it), so I suggested that maybe we should drive the road again instead and walk around on top a little. Alan again had to be back at 4:30pm for class, and we absolutely had to stop at a grocery store on the way home (remember when we tried to go on Sunday? Yeah, still hadn’t made it to one and we were seriously running out of food!), but we figured the road would take just about the right amount of time. <br />
<br />
The views, with the color in the valley, were very nice. One of the fast trains went flying through the valley, adding romance to the scene as only a train can. We didn’t see birds like we did before, but we did see the sea! It was brilliantly lit by the sun, with the shadows of boat lined up by the port, probably still left over from the strike. We walked along the top for a few minutes and remembered again that we wanted to hike up to here (or close to here) from Oppede-le-Vieux. But it was time to go, so we descended to the valley again, filled up on food and fuel, and returned Alan to his class work.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcMqyCyVDHpxT8K0rAyTv5gZ6qDf9VpEpwopdGOf_-IZLu4Vt0X_IX8fjGXmBdyWLuzSLKh5KwbmTvP5op2JzdUMPFm699Rpgin0MGY-ES-AB3Vcyvjz2CjS5VSbpTzEtc0qnyW2D5bBK/s1600/blog11-3-2010-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcMqyCyVDHpxT8K0rAyTv5gZ6qDf9VpEpwopdGOf_-IZLu4Vt0X_IX8fjGXmBdyWLuzSLKh5KwbmTvP5op2JzdUMPFm699Rpgin0MGY-ES-AB3Vcyvjz2CjS5VSbpTzEtc0qnyW2D5bBK/s1600/blog11-3-2010-10.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The highest ridge in the distance is the Dentiles (sp?), <br />
yep, because it looks like teeth - don't know if you can see it, <br />
the photo might be too small.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BV3GzhTXk6y0gZ7dL9wwMVK2pOlZZK8kwaAc_tRuEIDzjBv3GJEv-HBeemmnafNz7EYDAL-Dpiydee1GsqO1ZbmcxkN2zR2RQuP5H-lbGobV055AqyBt7zDvGiezL-WwH60SFtkGO8hu/s1600/blog11-3-2010-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BV3GzhTXk6y0gZ7dL9wwMVK2pOlZZK8kwaAc_tRuEIDzjBv3GJEv-HBeemmnafNz7EYDAL-Dpiydee1GsqO1ZbmcxkN2zR2RQuP5H-lbGobV055AqyBt7zDvGiezL-WwH60SFtkGO8hu/s1600/blog11-3-2010-11.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remember this rock from <a href="http://letsbefranc.blogspot.com/2010/09/roads-less-and-more-well-traveled.html">before</a>?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMcGoficnkloJGyGjHXoxyjgn8Ru-21pi1GL09XEEcNWXAkrKX8jM6X2N_tb52wGhKJEdvuc3ctzQ4OUJKbjSog43SAGhKFkSCK21GKpMwby8KE3sJMFfnXmAQ32Wpo1zlwlp9v21IBx3/s1600/blog11-3-2010-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMcGoficnkloJGyGjHXoxyjgn8Ru-21pi1GL09XEEcNWXAkrKX8jM6X2N_tb52wGhKJEdvuc3ctzQ4OUJKbjSog43SAGhKFkSCK21GKpMwby8KE3sJMFfnXmAQ32Wpo1zlwlp9v21IBx3/s400/blog11-3-2010-12.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the sea?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlcQZ-qVLx68nC9BmP2bWx4Gn85xdIG_RzZJtQFuCbaoopCbr80Di2JqDn62r9MBsv7rDvJXzD8heayuQdBSQ6ZSA5QCF3L5U-YrEuOOqm8vZGTnYIxuH2HN7Seb1RtE492nguW1NqYC_/s1600/blog11-3-2010-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidlcQZ-qVLx68nC9BmP2bWx4Gn85xdIG_RzZJtQFuCbaoopCbr80Di2JqDn62r9MBsv7rDvJXzD8heayuQdBSQ6ZSA5QCF3L5U-YrEuOOqm8vZGTnYIxuH2HN7Seb1RtE492nguW1NqYC_/s400/blog11-3-2010-13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This truck is along the D900, our main road to everywhere. <br />
It's a neat old thing. much better than just a sign : )</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-91678843835782846452010-11-02T07:46:00.000-04:002010-11-08T07:51:45.435-05:00Roussillon, twice as niceAlan is getting very busy preparing for the end of the quarter and Vernissage, the final show put on by the all the students showing (and selling) some of their work from the quarter. But he was free in the afternoon, and so we proved we’re starting to run out of places to go by returning to Roussillon.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj3CmQ5hntXVcwCPxTERuiqHMRSOQ6rB5UqeAE-enrC-r9o3gvpH9EsQwzKgC0tZ-EFBQvK_PIM6l2zaaI8NyzKahGSqGRkMkRgibbKueegkbHnud9PEM5QxI5x03BipZGxsgfRQAGqaz/s1600/blog11-2-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj3CmQ5hntXVcwCPxTERuiqHMRSOQ6rB5UqeAE-enrC-r9o3gvpH9EsQwzKgC0tZ-EFBQvK_PIM6l2zaaI8NyzKahGSqGRkMkRgibbKueegkbHnud9PEM5QxI5x03BipZGxsgfRQAGqaz/s1600/blog11-2-2010-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can't help taking door photos around here;<br />
this is one of Alan's favorites.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY041dPLwF2OstBGOf-2Y-GQgUTZ80AP7qI7a9v8vQiYgm0hNOa9E4YjLFcq704YCEuaO23xFA6ku192f08nU-NR6h-o-FIPHftbUFoVnnh2oUD7BV7z2IJiaRVcS5SmWx6QzqzhDGrnNS/s1600/blog11-2-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY041dPLwF2OstBGOf-2Y-GQgUTZ80AP7qI7a9v8vQiYgm0hNOa9E4YjLFcq704YCEuaO23xFA6ku192f08nU-NR6h-o-FIPHftbUFoVnnh2oUD7BV7z2IJiaRVcS5SmWx6QzqzhDGrnNS/s1600/blog11-2-2010-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Said to be one of the prettiest squares in Provence</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPKmhsETeaRCBI_6xM4dT5LeKbCy-ttG8xWET4mMyH9Cwl8vUZCL6HR7_Wor_63yXwGRXTpz4Hq7natd1lArm0nvBkOwtsS1HjRYmQs-ulRAx-Gc6XrHeSRObIauS7SWCOditI3NCo-Rs/s1600/blog11-2-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPKmhsETeaRCBI_6xM4dT5LeKbCy-ttG8xWET4mMyH9Cwl8vUZCL6HR7_Wor_63yXwGRXTpz4Hq7natd1lArm0nvBkOwtsS1HjRYmQs-ulRAx-Gc6XrHeSRObIauS7SWCOditI3NCo-Rs/s1600/blog11-2-2010-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doors at home are going to feel so boring!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>There were less tourists there than last time, and while we still admired all the little containers of ochre we refrained again from buying any. Our goal, besides seeing the town without all the haze of tourists, was to go on a walk we’d picked out on the map. Alan had to be back to class by 4:30pm, so we only had about two hours of walking time after we had finished looking around the town. The route wound through woods and fields, with some nice views looking back at the town. One part was lined with what we think were pear trees – the ground was covered with fruit, but while they looked like pears they were no larger than a plum.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-ACbNv3LUG5GEh6Pg7Ak0dDW-_79-hFBavLjtrDKhHz1b43dSjkrvIsQXMHEwtlX24iZUAwif8rj0GDYIzk0SCYSxVPdenjKZT8XNDvxMcaZVdrB7wrda4Zd6REjBuSD0YU1U2hMw9kV/s1600/blog11-2-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT-ACbNv3LUG5GEh6Pg7Ak0dDW-_79-hFBavLjtrDKhHz1b43dSjkrvIsQXMHEwtlX24iZUAwif8rj0GDYIzk0SCYSxVPdenjKZT8XNDvxMcaZVdrB7wrda4Zd6REjBuSD0YU1U2hMw9kV/s320/blog11-2-2010-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNcDKU3Y-AKtJoJRlYTUftjvsF2GG90EdsQBTcSN9ilNhXqHHrklofgmG7CQ2qy-cVkrso8HX2DK5uUnXRt-VUPtwZvxgCIIKs4FE6dsyllbN_-7EpyxfNZGiSWgyeAMFWUwRCejkXacy/s1600/blog11-2-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJNcDKU3Y-AKtJoJRlYTUftjvsF2GG90EdsQBTcSN9ilNhXqHHrklofgmG7CQ2qy-cVkrso8HX2DK5uUnXRt-VUPtwZvxgCIIKs4FE6dsyllbN_-7EpyxfNZGiSWgyeAMFWUwRCejkXacy/s1600/blog11-2-2010-5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are lots of very nice houses in unexpected places;<br />
I love this one's drive.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We reached the half-way point having used up about half our time; however, going back was going to be uphill whereas the first half had been all down hill. So Alan and I set off with the car keys and plans to get the car and pick my parents up along the road. We made good time, minus some skirting of very large puddles in the trail, and finished our 7 km in plenty of time to pick up Mom and Dad and get Alan back to Lacoste in time for class.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-9198892095150012772010-11-01T08:53:00.000-04:002010-11-07T09:04:42.287-05:00A dog a day makes the rain not so grayThe rain is still hovering around, descending when the mood is right and letting the sun slip a few rays few when it gets distracted. The fall colors continue to increase in beauty, and every glance out the window leaves you in danger of standing there entranced for a few minutes before getting the camera to take another picture of the same vista, hoping that maybe a few pixels can record the range of sight, sound, smell, winds, rain, fog, leaves, trees, grass, birds, smoke, houses, and people. It’ll be better than nothing, but its like trying to stuff the genie in the bottle; he might grant your wishes next time but how do you capture him in the fist place?<br />
<br />
In the afternoon, we decided rain or no rain we wanted to get outside. Alan suggested that we go to the Gorges of Oppedette where he had gone a week or so ago. The half hour drive flew by as we enjoyed the scenery – yellow is the predominate leaf color here, although many vines are red. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpY7yRTU81EikX9-abTeRuOlGzfH7YfI6uKakp40tCiotWrmgVi8yR1bEaQGMUyysya2soEMkam43exnk84oASA198P89qHVeL7NUBN-lGDXWnx566FxoLI12OMWWfQh4PLb0sVFPumjCT/s1600/blog11-1-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpY7yRTU81EikX9-abTeRuOlGzfH7YfI6uKakp40tCiotWrmgVi8yR1bEaQGMUyysya2soEMkam43exnk84oASA198P89qHVeL7NUBN-lGDXWnx566FxoLI12OMWWfQh4PLb0sVFPumjCT/s400/blog11-1-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We parked and overlooked the gorge before walking a little loop trail along the top of the cliffs. As we reached the turnaround point in the trail we heard sheep bells just to our left! Cutting across a little side path took us out to a country road covered in a herd of sheep. The shepherd had two dogs – one seemed to be the traditional shepherding dog who at a whisper from the shepherd would race around the edge of the herd to keep them going in the right direction. The other, a big white dog, was the protector of the herd. We’d read about them on a sign before another hike; it said they were left with the sheep to keep them safe, and as long as you didn’t bother the sheep they wouldn’t bother you. As we were popping out of the woods, the protector dog came over and barked to announce our arrival – the shepherd said something to the dog, and he left us alone but kept an eye on us, just in case we were about to steal one of his sheep! He never seemed to herd the sheep, but walked in the herd, stopping and sitting down when he got to the middle and walking again once the sheep had passed him and he was at the back. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJspTFEXF0H9iHMY3-jO3i-1sTGqeGsVUqAuuxXynZqljPSGvju-omGL61SL382-mrLTfEUlwo8e9CJyoCalzYzjPKWBS_Fhu_-OyJJCpIgcmYM9EE7wqDha0Sb3PjDa2ckI_z6vWDwZLQ/s1600/blog11-1-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJspTFEXF0H9iHMY3-jO3i-1sTGqeGsVUqAuuxXynZqljPSGvju-omGL61SL382-mrLTfEUlwo8e9CJyoCalzYzjPKWBS_Fhu_-OyJJCpIgcmYM9EE7wqDha0Sb3PjDa2ckI_z6vWDwZLQ/s400/blog11-1-2010-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvmw7PFWSj5ySYUwjDbaC9Pu7aQvv3AbjVRq9ksifTAiCpw3txASr61GmyoiphS5n3R64p3aVODxjLiPXTlOfaGXou2sD77s6uea1D0kr_Er-DeCd9qdi4JXv_uvVUL8I7A-n24FyXKSe/s1600/blog11-1-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvmw7PFWSj5ySYUwjDbaC9Pu7aQvv3AbjVRq9ksifTAiCpw3txASr61GmyoiphS5n3R64p3aVODxjLiPXTlOfaGXou2sD77s6uea1D0kr_Er-DeCd9qdi4JXv_uvVUL8I7A-n24FyXKSe/s400/blog11-1-2010-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5OfAEbiCJpYmHVglRwGkPxBfuOk9WpJVnDc6SlTpqCVKDRbJvY2jmSpMpGW0WzImh1-J31f2cW67dR2oMfCcnhojldBDjLfmXKIPbWzl_JcTYUgoT7NBd1ma9U7UPpiyTioTTwkDYrhW-/s1600/blog11-1-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5OfAEbiCJpYmHVglRwGkPxBfuOk9WpJVnDc6SlTpqCVKDRbJvY2jmSpMpGW0WzImh1-J31f2cW67dR2oMfCcnhojldBDjLfmXKIPbWzl_JcTYUgoT7NBd1ma9U7UPpiyTioTTwkDYrhW-/s1600/blog11-1-2010-4.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The GR (national) trail markings we often follow</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8krUy9G4lvlMDOvHB5FgIWgVfdz1V0gRAr9hWM4em9NIsSRnMqNB61HRcftTo8GopQKni9LhAanbHhxXFCYQSOXPK9q9p2txYKFoDw73PcNdhRKw6HLA7Ke2OiJQwZlO3jvNS5AFwL72Q/s1600/blog11-1-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8krUy9G4lvlMDOvHB5FgIWgVfdz1V0gRAr9hWM4em9NIsSRnMqNB61HRcftTo8GopQKni9LhAanbHhxXFCYQSOXPK9q9p2txYKFoDw73PcNdhRKw6HLA7Ke2OiJQwZlO3jvNS5AFwL72Q/s400/blog11-1-2010-5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We walked back to Oppedette and through the town heading to the bottom of the gorge. As we passed the main street, we saw a dog (I always am looking at the dogs!) that Alan said they saw last time, but it didn’t seem very friendly. We didn’t think much of it, but it followed us down the hill. I noticed it took off on a side path, and shortly we realized that we were not going the right way any more! Deciding that the dog might know something we went back to the path it had taken, and sure enough he was waiting just a little ways down the trail. Most French dogs give people a wide berth – Kira could pick up a few tips on not needing to greet every person you see! – which makes it hard to make friends with any of them. But when we came to another split, the dog going again on a different path than we wanted, it looked so sad when we stopped following it! So I encouraged him to come with us, and after a little convincing he came up to me and let me pet him! He has the same ears-back nervous-tail-wags expression that Kira does, but after a good ear scratch all was well and we both happily trotted to catch up with everyone else. Every time we stopped he would stop and wait for us, giving us a what-are-you-doing look.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUxbW2IUR80bEwBktNHAb0aR38Jy2rF3zsQ9_cTx7BdpjuNr6UYX4I8sLBGiW0WJeeQph8oO9Z-1-PHkWDjGpk9hxN50eDRqWC9pz-l7Bpr8JDpLO3i-Tb-ugDl8bwVOLokTihOumB4Qn8/s1600/blog11-1-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUxbW2IUR80bEwBktNHAb0aR38Jy2rF3zsQ9_cTx7BdpjuNr6UYX4I8sLBGiW0WJeeQph8oO9Z-1-PHkWDjGpk9hxN50eDRqWC9pz-l7Bpr8JDpLO3i-Tb-ugDl8bwVOLokTihOumB4Qn8/s400/blog11-1-2010-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and our adopted guide dog</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Alan hardly recognized the bottom of the gorge when we got there – last week the streambed had been almost dry and now if was a rushing little river! There was no way to get across, so we turned and followed our trusty little guide up another trail back to the village.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZmc4tFpg8HtnYEZaiWNpFgIxexWNvErIj291Nx-xH1NrCTCkS7i1cRMJwNCfvGlfF-oOby6rFJypV-A5jhiAMnexcwMmLwe039t5X9zoZFqOlpgEEa0UrlKk2wTE8Va4wXziA7oy66bW/s1600/blog11-1-2010-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZmc4tFpg8HtnYEZaiWNpFgIxexWNvErIj291Nx-xH1NrCTCkS7i1cRMJwNCfvGlfF-oOby6rFJypV-A5jhiAMnexcwMmLwe039t5X9zoZFqOlpgEEa0UrlKk2wTE8Va4wXziA7oy66bW/s1600/blog11-1-2010-7.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWzI1y-Kvu_y99ikFxB0A5K10bcbyDTt_QC7V6OhbCODCyc_O1t2lg8HH3izR5_z3-zaueEEX9blhjm9tzjY-tUniauBwsreCkmC5xayyqcLaGWc8Mxp3NINEyDQAhJAb3G5EelBG7znU/s1600/blog11-1-2010-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWzI1y-Kvu_y99ikFxB0A5K10bcbyDTt_QC7V6OhbCODCyc_O1t2lg8HH3izR5_z3-zaueEEX9blhjm9tzjY-tUniauBwsreCkmC5xayyqcLaGWc8Mxp3NINEyDQAhJAb3G5EelBG7znU/s400/blog11-1-2010-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The clouds were thickening again, but we decided to stop at the town of Viens just down the road anyway. We could see the tower of the chateau from the gorge, and when we got there the old town was larger than we had thought! We finally reached the tower, but what was really neat was this crazy cloud forming over the valley! It had two big mounds of cloud with a dip in between, and you could see the moisture flowing from the top of one mound, into the dip, and up the other side. We stood and watched it for a while before returning to the car and continuing home.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaXqcgqVAMOqnaikDu9CgVGv35iB7j2hHoY47RyFyLHsw725jxjt3D6PC1JfswbJ7VdjYUdLEFRZINdhvOnwnXsfpktveSNg7kOHEXUzjGMNYD2-25lumUyuGa-BcU61243eKnYOezU2iG/s1600/blog11-1-2010-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaXqcgqVAMOqnaikDu9CgVGv35iB7j2hHoY47RyFyLHsw725jxjt3D6PC1JfswbJ7VdjYUdLEFRZINdhvOnwnXsfpktveSNg7kOHEXUzjGMNYD2-25lumUyuGa-BcU61243eKnYOezU2iG/s400/blog11-1-2010-9.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church in Viens</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQftm7VMHundBUUSl6Y558pWgiEstbf6wdePaKnR95nI7kcsLKUNdPwRDIGTKCeZww9jXatFUcUdHEKPkE1rBroqGc0CAoLRxn-s247fJFBPFAgIG2wi9t5wn8BHOPxKopwHC_daezmCFK/s1600/blog11-1-2010-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQftm7VMHundBUUSl6Y558pWgiEstbf6wdePaKnR95nI7kcsLKUNdPwRDIGTKCeZww9jXatFUcUdHEKPkE1rBroqGc0CAoLRxn-s247fJFBPFAgIG2wi9t5wn8BHOPxKopwHC_daezmCFK/s400/blog11-1-2010-10.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's All Saints Day, which is French national holiday, <br />
and many people go put flowers on graves like we <br />
do for Memorial Day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-67739154558292822752010-10-31T15:08:00.000-04:002010-11-04T15:13:39.324-04:00In which the rain does not stay on the plain in SpainThe rain was still coming down in wave after wave over the socked-in mountains, and the forecast offeres no hope of a break until maybe tomorrow afternoon! We holed up in the house with photos and quilting, books and knitting, blogging and chatting to occupy the time. Alan has been in a cooking mood as he made us yummy lentil-rice patties last night, a bean soup for lunch, and curried potato crepes and sweet crepes for supper!<br />
<br />
Speaking of food, our only real venture out was in the afternoon to try and go to the grocery store. Mom also wanted to try and get the few things in Apt that we had missed on Thursday, but a rainy Sunday afternoon was even deader than a Thursday lunch! Not a single shop was open except one café, and we didn’t see a single person. We fared no better as all the grocery stores were closed. We even drove to Coustellet to try the store there, but struck out again. The French take time off seriously! But it was very pretty driving around, as the fall colors are really lovely and cloudy weather actually shows them off better than sunny days.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLFa3GgT66ALp2c2Z17vcgG5SfmrKzcCfeXkp40kmBE0BApQ1hmy6jaAmjvB3NwtHFWhP6lu_7PV3ZTgq3pAsIl2-3iL-KfbW0ACZ6FygMn7INcUvDoK7VKr8g1tqhjj4EJOr7uzHcg9v/s1600/blog10-31-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLFa3GgT66ALp2c2Z17vcgG5SfmrKzcCfeXkp40kmBE0BApQ1hmy6jaAmjvB3NwtHFWhP6lu_7PV3ZTgq3pAsIl2-3iL-KfbW0ACZ6FygMn7INcUvDoK7VKr8g1tqhjj4EJOr7uzHcg9v/s400/blog10-31-2010-3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The whole valley</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ypqeRRIiYU-_tDS6GblbpyXOQay2Dzc6PA-wyEPnOdFcGbhs31cX5ZxK_9XwUBSTCj4jJgNuOg4IMoJcqfIyizXy7jdgqvLC_vbMhMsxuXZNBQ-lla0M45VoYEpoXm_UguhaoYQEIvXA/s1600/blog10-31-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ypqeRRIiYU-_tDS6GblbpyXOQay2Dzc6PA-wyEPnOdFcGbhs31cX5ZxK_9XwUBSTCj4jJgNuOg4IMoJcqfIyizXy7jdgqvLC_vbMhMsxuXZNBQ-lla0M45VoYEpoXm_UguhaoYQEIvXA/s400/blog10-31-2010-4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our neighbors say that this year is unusually colorful.<br />
We lucked out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unwilling to let the outing be a total waste, we came up with an un-store related mini-excursion on the way home. Where we turn off of the D900 (the main road just to our north that runs east to west, which is still only two lanes and half the time you are on it you get stuck behind a tractor. The roads back home are going to feel enormous!) onto the little D106 (the one and a half lane road that is the norm for most roads – no center stripe, lots of curves, and thankfully not much traffic) to come to Lacoste, there is also a sign for Chapelle St-Verrran. It is not listed in any of our guidebooks, and we had finally spotted the little sign indicating where to turn off onto an even smaller road (yep, it may only look like it is one car wide but it is still a two-way street!) that presumable led to the chapel. In search of a little adventure to add to our rainy day, we turned off and wiggled our way past a few houses and on to a dirt track leading past vineyards and woods. Everything way soggy and running with water, and we were about to turn back except Alan didn’t want to pull onto the grass to turn around because the ground was so soft we might get stuck. Just ahead we saw a small pull-off with some gravel that he could use to maneuver, but when we reached it we realized that that was the parking spot for the chapel! <br />
<br />
At first Alan was going to stay in the car as the rain had picked up again, but the woods sheltered the chapel some, and really while he is sweet he decided he wouldn’t melt. Mom and I were already walking around the small building, which was simple but beautiful in the way only small chapels stuck in out-of-the-way spots can be. We didn’t stay long, but continued on home satisfied with having discovered another hidden gem of Provence.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4MCUn_gz6NGNY7Qv9z8x3D97xKaBlW0w-YuGVHwq477Q7YuWahwODhyphenhyphenDE2Hzzk9cSVD48w-mUWy_JphbULPhhRLOA3aGpTyetYD8qtwcrsSM8gRy8WIUaJ2WAiQatcIYWgMr0TqIuuaoQ/s1600/blog10-31-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4MCUn_gz6NGNY7Qv9z8x3D97xKaBlW0w-YuGVHwq477Q7YuWahwODhyphenhyphenDE2Hzzk9cSVD48w-mUWy_JphbULPhhRLOA3aGpTyetYD8qtwcrsSM8gRy8WIUaJ2WAiQatcIYWgMr0TqIuuaoQ/s1600/blog10-31-2010-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our trusty little car in with the colorful vines</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2s2RmsqSZqAG7gozR_-Qq7tKeoHjRw02MpDHwOcIiB5Z_kSoLZBJdg9IxLwMUW3ERzMe8D1uARn2und_dGRj-GDjqyZ-ktCH5Wx5FTUdTi0WIB9w2-1k1ZBlN-hGUGpVElwvVwbkc3RsN/s1600/blog10-31-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2s2RmsqSZqAG7gozR_-Qq7tKeoHjRw02MpDHwOcIiB5Z_kSoLZBJdg9IxLwMUW3ERzMe8D1uARn2und_dGRj-GDjqyZ-ktCH5Wx5FTUdTi0WIB9w2-1k1ZBlN-hGUGpVElwvVwbkc3RsN/s1600/blog10-31-2010-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom reading the chapel's sign (in French, of course!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-64784247449474961762010-10-30T14:59:00.001-04:002010-11-04T15:08:47.901-04:00Rain, rain, go away<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYwY2PH-RWJzbUBBQUZnZIYv5a0O-Vu6hxPDzjmwAloc9AXmFNZWRjfL497dHNCgAE5Ql4V2agSWOYx3n6ozraC_rryZFYYr6S6Q2U63ZBUSaU9nfP3rySJ8ZYZ0iM_26dfZm3W_GbUcT/s1600/blog10-30-2010-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCYwY2PH-RWJzbUBBQUZnZIYv5a0O-Vu6hxPDzjmwAloc9AXmFNZWRjfL497dHNCgAE5Ql4V2agSWOYx3n6ozraC_rryZFYYr6S6Q2U63ZBUSaU9nfP3rySJ8ZYZ0iM_26dfZm3W_GbUcT/s400/blog10-30-2010-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Camargue bulls</td></tr>
</tbody></table> We woke up to stormy weather, and while it hadn’t actually started raining yet we knew it would. We’d been hoping the 60% chance of rain was wrong, but it looked like we would just get to see a few things before heading home. After checking out of the hotel and packing the salt-covered car, we headed up around the bays and marshes that make up the reserve and back down to the sea again to reach the salt pans with their industrial town of Salin-de-Giraud. The town was very different from other towns, but then the salt companies originally made it for the workers. Brick (brick! I haven’t seen any since we got here!) row houses with random gingerbread trim were an odd sight to our eyes.<br />
<br />
We were the only people in the parking lot overlooking the pans and a huge salt heap, which had all sorts of equipment, including a bulldozer driving around on top of the salt. Not the most appetizing thing to think about… The wind was absolutely howling. We could hardly walk, and I found it hard to breath when facing into the wind!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rOyX8B-waps3-iCxYEDhPC_rayUVRnLRpFKn1onhYZGIeXimqpokbWFhb4fRBIXIhm3sh-bf6vifc9aYSPUXVRsEuP3iLqK2ctUjp7LONjr407z-ttoL5IXybbjHIV4nWSg5u9SAP-Pv/s1600/blog10-30-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="101" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rOyX8B-waps3-iCxYEDhPC_rayUVRnLRpFKn1onhYZGIeXimqpokbWFhb4fRBIXIhm3sh-bf6vifc9aYSPUXVRsEuP3iLqK2ctUjp7LONjr407z-ttoL5IXybbjHIV4nWSg5u9SAP-Pv/s400/blog10-30-2010-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure why the salt off to the right is pink?</td></tr>
</tbody></table> We drove down to the very edge of the sea, but the wind was blowing so hard that we didn’t stay long. Some kite surfers drove up as we were leaving and later we saw their kite from a distance, but I don’t know how they kept from being blown to Africa!<br />
<br />
Just a little ways back from the shore we made our only real stop of the day at the Domaine de la Palissade, an area outside the sea walls and dikes that is allowed to flood and behave as the Camargue would naturally. The rain had started, but we decide to walk the shortest one-mile loop anyway. We saw some of the birds we saw yesterday, and one of the black kites that we saw in an enclosure (there is a photo of it in yesterday’s blog). <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaooL6-ZseVeTkFQ9T7FA07Qk8dkquUOYWfRj2ZkhJuGnc3QUUvJgI7KBevatjAi2jXj5_MhHoMPh5LOXAnyIEn6Fd2BZKWBSVHXr5ivNdYq-PtimiEgB6cYQIAvVqaDe06lVI5H1hSe-/s1600/blog10-30-2010-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCaooL6-ZseVeTkFQ9T7FA07Qk8dkquUOYWfRj2ZkhJuGnc3QUUvJgI7KBevatjAi2jXj5_MhHoMPh5LOXAnyIEn6Fd2BZKWBSVHXr5ivNdYq-PtimiEgB6cYQIAvVqaDe06lVI5H1hSe-/s1600/blog10-30-2010-3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rhone river</td></tr>
</tbody></table>We stopped back at the entrance to look at the horses tied up and waiting probably in vain for a rider all day. The rain was getting harder, so we decided to get back in the car and drive to a scenic spot where we could eat lunch in the car. There was a road marked red on our map that ran out along the dykes and made a loop back up to the paved road we wanted to be on to leave, so we headed through the town to see if we were even allowed to drive on those roads or not (red according to the map legend was restricted). We had made it almost to the fork where you could chose the paved road up or the red loop when the paved road we were on deteriorated into a dirt road with huge dips with puddles in the bottom. Mom didn’t want to go on, but we would have to back track a long ways to get around it and we could see the signs for the road split ahead. Alan said he thought it was fine so we continued on. The red road at the split was in considerably better shape than the bit of road we had just been on, so we decided to take it. It was a lonely, rainy, windswept scene of rocks and marsh and sea all around us. Our map wasn’t really detailed enough to track all the twists and turns, so at one split we finally stopped for lunch. We hadn’t really seen any other cars before, but as we were eating a couple drove by in each direction. Mom said that the road was getting too rough and made us turn around, so we went back to the paved road. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4giftwBwRVNRlvi3iCyDpd5NQKW-hRzn0z_I49YQfd3ZtwJm7BG-kmE2k8o_DQA-4SkdwTl8YoO4IR3hL24ld6IJnbuOlDLJJEK4t7L5rz81eGJsRgg8KmAPj4gQN9n8FZXvSQl5-6lz/s1600/blog10-30-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE4giftwBwRVNRlvi3iCyDpd5NQKW-hRzn0z_I49YQfd3ZtwJm7BG-kmE2k8o_DQA-4SkdwTl8YoO4IR3hL24ld6IJnbuOlDLJJEK4t7L5rz81eGJsRgg8KmAPj4gQN9n8FZXvSQl5-6lz/s1600/blog10-30-2010-4.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14_qEN35D5wI51J3Iszjdaji7TAEnOW9wG7mAtym4WMSrfgc4Z0k4BbvaWzu_TS0er-o5H8Vw3T4xRZ3x5PNMxVhuZ88sKbiqKcebMatwjVHb2OiOoUiZYqEfFZq1HMI6iDnuPDE-zrUg/s1600/blog10-30-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh14_qEN35D5wI51J3Iszjdaji7TAEnOW9wG7mAtym4WMSrfgc4Z0k4BbvaWzu_TS0er-o5H8Vw3T4xRZ3x5PNMxVhuZ88sKbiqKcebMatwjVHb2OiOoUiZYqEfFZq1HMI6iDnuPDE-zrUg/s1600/blog10-30-2010-5.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the road - someone spent a lot of time <br />
putting rocks on posts!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Last night on our way to supper Alan and I had spotted a sign for an exhibition of nature inspired furniture (the poster showed a really neat chair made from the stump/trunk of a tree) in the Chateau d’Avignon, which was just a little ways back down the road to Ste-Maries-de-la-Mer. Since it was really raining now and we decided to go see the show before heading home. We pulled up to the gate only to see another car parked there, talking to a security guard. A sign in the gate said “Fermé” (closed) but we had checked the hours and knew it should be open. So Mom hopped out to ask what was happening, and got the very odd reply that the chateau was closed due to the wind. What?! We want to go inside a museum but can’t because it is windy outside?? It didn’t make any sense. Oh well. <br />
<br />
We headed home, a little saddened by our unsuccessful day. Going to another abbey that I do want to see before we leave was tossed around as we seemed to leaving the rain behind as we got closer to home. But the clouds didn’t look like they’d hold back for long, and sure enough as we were carrying our bags up from the car the rain really started coming down again. <br />
<br />
The fireplace at home had been tempting us for some time, so in honor of a cold, rainy, gray day we had a lovely fire to warm us and cheer us up for the rest of the evening.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNLHlunr6P3Nmy8KK6bzkH_sCWC8jUsSJnZSbXOAlQm02oAYcU0gNvoOX7pM0tytcqCdWlsR0KNv5V3deftypFctIJpwGcDaGWR_l_HsfcVvoSxkHT2BYpihlT_QOvqYK4I6Ns0LxabOx/s1600/blog10-30-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNLHlunr6P3Nmy8KK6bzkH_sCWC8jUsSJnZSbXOAlQm02oAYcU0gNvoOX7pM0tytcqCdWlsR0KNv5V3deftypFctIJpwGcDaGWR_l_HsfcVvoSxkHT2BYpihlT_QOvqYK4I6Ns0LxabOx/s400/blog10-30-2010-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-78282047825724989112010-10-29T14:39:00.002-04:002010-10-31T14:48:47.788-04:00La CamargueBags were packed, we were out the door, the old potter at the end of our tiny alley wished me and my suitcase “Bon voyage,” and we were off to La Camargue for a two-day visit. The reserve covers 328 sq miles of salt marshes, birds, wild horses, and wild bulls in the Rhone delta at the edge of the Mediterranean Sea. Salt flats occupy areas close to the sea, making and selling a variety of salt from the average to the gourmet. Other areas have been cultivated for farmland, while some of the land has been left in its natural state. When Mom first visited the area when she went to school in France they didn’t walk around the area much as the bulls are wild and dangerous; today, however, they are all fenced in, though this hasn’t improved their tempers and most are raised and sent to the bullfighting arenas. <br />
<br />
Some of the horses still run wild, retaining their distinct breed that has lasted through the ages. Born brown, like the famous Lipizzaner stallions, they turn white at around age four or five. Many are also tamed and used for the “promenade aux chevaux” (horseback rides) through the Camargue. I wanted to go on a ride, but no one would go with me, Mom having always stayed as far away from horses as possible with a horseback-riding daughter, and Dad said he turned over his “someone has to go with her” responsibilities to Alan. Alan has never been on a horse (shocking! I know) and said that he would like to at least be able to communicate with the person in charge if not the horse for his first time. I supposed I understand… <br />
<br />
The only town and place to stay is Stes-Maries-de-la-Mer, an ocean town with a very Spanish flavor. We went their first, as with the holiday weekend we wanted to make sure we got a room before exploring. It was only about a hour and a half drive from Lacoste, and we got two of the four rooms left at the hotel recommended by Alan’s professor. The town is at the bottom western end of the arch that makes up the reserve, so we headed back up the way we had come to stop first at the park information center and plan our day.<br />
<br />
The park information center is right next to the Park Ornithologique; however, we had trouble finding the building until we realized that it was all boarded up! Every guidebook said to stop there first, and we have current guidebooks, so I don’t know what happened. But since we were there, we decided to just go into the bird sanctuary. And it was wonderful! They have some birds in cages with signs and information, as well as bird feeders and open areas with trails. The bird population here changes seasonally, but with 400 species to choose from (160 of which are migratory) there is a lot to see! Pink flamingos really steal the show; they come here in the thousands in the spring, but we were quite satisfied with the hundreds we saw. Boy, are they noisy! <br />
<br />
They have a version of the great blue heron, which were very pretty as well. Ducks abounded, and we got to see some nutria (little muskrat-like animals) as well as a beaver. Swans, egrets and ibis rounded out the bird families, although there were lots of little birds flitting about. We ate our picnic lunch next to a flock of flamingos before finishing the 7 km walk.<br />
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By the time we finished exploring this, our first stop, we had run out of time to get to the other walking areas we had picked out. So we headed back to town along another smaller road which lead us along the sea. As we got close to town, we could see kite surfers out in the water. Alan still is looking for some photos for his outdoor lifestyle and culture categories, so we stopped to watch. The wind was still blowing very hard, and some of the kite surfers were flying 25 feet in the air. We walked along the beach for a ways, Mom and I picking up shells and rocks. I spotted a snake in the sand, which was rather startling and scary. It hardly moved, as I am sure it was cold, but still is not something I want to see on the beach!<br />
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After moving our things into the hotel, we walked around town. According to legend, the town is built on the spot where a boat, set adrift by the Jews without any oars or sail, landed with a boat-load of people: Mary, the mother of James, Mary Magdalene, Martha and her brother Lazarus, St. Maximinus, Mary Salome, the mother of James Major and John, and Cedonius, the man born blind. Sara, the black slave of the two Marys, was left behind but wept till Mary Salome threw her mantle out over the water, allowing Sara to come join the rest of them in the boat. After landing, everyone else went their separate ways, but the two Marys and Sara stayed here till they died. The gypsies come here in pilgrimage every year; they revere St. Sara. The church is fortified and contains relics of St Sara, as well as the boat in which everyone arrived.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiie6qwn4-NJd3hi7qMXfVEQJZlCNpXy6qENzL_WTr-eimWkSov2whZV7pKI5Y1edkGTrrvrRPBhTSaUhq4s7wGfEW5y2EjsfsSj1kcGt8ZQI9Rg2QtVsMM_jJ1ZlU6vHe-Lp6ZBaWLphe0/s1600/blog10-29-2010-17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiie6qwn4-NJd3hi7qMXfVEQJZlCNpXy6qENzL_WTr-eimWkSov2whZV7pKI5Y1edkGTrrvrRPBhTSaUhq4s7wGfEW5y2EjsfsSj1kcGt8ZQI9Rg2QtVsMM_jJ1ZlU6vHe-Lp6ZBaWLphe0/s1600/blog10-29-2010-17.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We picked out a Spanish restaurant to eat in, and it was going to have live flamenco music; however, after sitting down we asked about their two vegetarian dishes only to be told they both had chicken broth as a base. So we left in search of our stand-by vegetarian option–pizza. The next restaurant had lovely décor, and I really wanted to take home the bottle they used for water! But everyone talked me out of it, and I am a little worried about getting everything in our suitcases to come home. I guess I’ll just have to look at the photo!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiInivuKELyILugW1yWjBjSiBG9rEoOFYSX8L3DNk2wKwFU-zspXE6eApXTZS9aTVaCPDNbdo95x5ye9Rx-WXXMPVCScTHZAoSx2NfGeaITVfxI_IwienJkTAcN-lGrvpwDXefrOWzTnSvh/s1600/blog10-29-2010-18.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiInivuKELyILugW1yWjBjSiBG9rEoOFYSX8L3DNk2wKwFU-zspXE6eApXTZS9aTVaCPDNbdo95x5ye9Rx-WXXMPVCScTHZAoSx2NfGeaITVfxI_IwienJkTAcN-lGrvpwDXefrOWzTnSvh/s1600/blog10-29-2010-18.jpg" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-17605771574216524932010-10-28T14:33:00.000-04:002010-10-31T14:39:12.728-04:00St-Saturnin-lés-AptYesterday at Les Baux they had an aerial video of ruins in the Provence region. We were pleased to see that we’d been to most everywhere they featured, but one that we hadn’t (although it was on our list) was St-Saturnin-lés-Apt. Having made no other plans for the morning, we set out to cross it off out list. <br />
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The chapel is all that is left of the ruins of a castle that covered another flat bit of hill with drop-offs on either side that this area seems to have so many of. The village nestles up to the base of the rock. I really enjoyed the church—it had a neat rostrum among other things. We walked through the town, past the castle ruins and up to the chapel (which is closed). The olives are ripening on the trees in the area, turning a lovely purple color on their way from green to black. On the way back down, we walked across the dam to the next little ridge and down to the old windmills. One was open so you could look up and see the gears and mechanics inside the building.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This dog really wanted to be friends - it looks like a tan French version of Kira!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the little black dog head peeking out of the foliage? </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttGjsVU7L-CvyIybTa_huxUiB8bfiddYcHwUk3HS5zYCe_wNlzQYPgDYKIAaYQKkkocrjkF95ACU7nlBEhfLYfhZbaXyXvGuEHnlfRpBwAhQJCNs3MrVzjbXx4ykvyr7AOb9dR92N__fc/s1600/blog10-28-2010-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Mom had a few things she wanted to get in Apt, so we stopped there on our way home. Unfortunately it was noon, so shops were closing right and left, leaving the streets empty except for people hurrying home or sitting in cafes. The French take their two-hour lunch breaks seriously, and I am almost surprised that the waiters aren’t off at noon for their lunch as well! A city in the daylight with empty streets gives an odd feeling of emptiness, which is aided by the plane trees in town that have been trimmed for winter, leaving their bare knobby knuckles reaching for the sky. We left the city to its noontime rest and headed home for some lunch ourselves.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDb6Tx4wxEDzHZCWo6em4N_SyeH9in3uASpwu0kxPwgw_wJ7QUyKnbsFBsHPL_Ap36vwqLK_6seIMnsiRVNSkIaq2-lyggTvOYJ5EVyWe8b6lyrMC9zhTK_HARrajFRE3KePp0pRe-BJEW/s1600/blog10-28-2010-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDb6Tx4wxEDzHZCWo6em4N_SyeH9in3uASpwu0kxPwgw_wJ7QUyKnbsFBsHPL_Ap36vwqLK_6seIMnsiRVNSkIaq2-lyggTvOYJ5EVyWe8b6lyrMC9zhTK_HARrajFRE3KePp0pRe-BJEW/s1600/blog10-28-2010-14.jpg" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-39537847448357137702010-10-27T14:22:00.000-04:002010-10-31T14:32:23.835-04:00Les Baux, Gorges de Oppedette, and pizza!Critiqued in the more opinionated guidebooks as being not worth a visit because of the number of tourists, not because the site was uninteresting, we decided to give Les Baux a chance. Built on top of a bare rock about 3,000 ft long and 650 ft wide with vertical ravines on either side, the town and castle were home to a contentious bunch of warlords who were always causing trouble. Finally in 1632 the castle and ramparts were demolished on the king’s orders, and the town was fined 100,000 livers plus the cost of the demolition!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCPzTPgIcJMbafuvCO9nBbEtYjsXVAD7cGEWYCB9oC3n-awJFWuhxd-4VZOhDwI2lRqBuhwpMM4rJR1Hi_JR_8V4_gpBMVKd0DrP9bzobY0gvTiUY8TM_9OwxvAsJLi4rXhqvgZbjGUSv/s1600/blog10-27-2010-9.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Les Baux</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMCPzTPgIcJMbafuvCO9nBbEtYjsXVAD7cGEWYCB9oC3n-awJFWuhxd-4VZOhDwI2lRqBuhwpMM4rJR1Hi_JR_8V4_gpBMVKd0DrP9bzobY0gvTiUY8TM_9OwxvAsJLi4rXhqvgZbjGUSv/s1600/blog10-27-2010-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>It was a cold and windy day, but the town still boasted quite a few tourists. Most were families though, not tour buses, out for the long weekend (November 1st is a national French holiday, and all the school are out for two weeks). The town, completely rebuilt for tourists, is the first place we have been that felt fake-touristy to me. Every door was a shop, and there were none of your staple stores (baker, butcher, little grocery, etc.). Looking across from the town, the valley below is called Val d’Enfer, or Hell Valley—the rocks and caves were the inspiration for Dante’s Inferno. At the end of the town, we paid our entrance fee and received an audio guide to the castle and ramparts (although they had very nice signs in English as well as French, so we got to skip the audio guide for the most part).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAID3OkO1QhLwYxlDeG96Y5fdU_OrOEDNkWEtkxBIg8WM_Nr1Ztc5u8bprJysZu9N2gI1p5Je4ilFQT7OM97X6Jw6HH6ryY_T1eWq_RdJT3_hWhUEMtgupo3zHf-Gas7CXTjsunBZ3b54/s400/blog10-27-2010-4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The town, and the Val d'Enfer</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbAID3OkO1QhLwYxlDeG96Y5fdU_OrOEDNkWEtkxBIg8WM_Nr1Ztc5u8bprJysZu9N2gI1p5Je4ilFQT7OM97X6Jw6HH6ryY_T1eWq_RdJT3_hWhUEMtgupo3zHf-Gas7CXTjsunBZ3b54/s1600/blog10-27-2010-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>I could immediately see why so many families had picked this spot for a vacation! The castle was full of fun things to look at and explore. One of the first things we came to were a group of siege weapons. One, run by women because all the men ran the even bigger machines, could fire up to once a minute. The biggest trebuchet could hurl a 308 lb object over 600 ft., but they could only fire about twice and hour.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdcgArYraelmxCLClfO9TzIUTzfzAFr9XJ9CcROQKxap41qvE_UMJp0BcJ_A_VZWe3Ry6MaifryhRkCTmz8Vg3fXRrpa5HmFXq-G_iQiXkJG9xzCGNtFtr3OQP55DDGYkn3ce6msxxPBi/s1600/blog10-27-2010-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghdcgArYraelmxCLClfO9TzIUTzfzAFr9XJ9CcROQKxap41qvE_UMJp0BcJ_A_VZWe3Ry6MaifryhRkCTmz8Vg3fXRrpa5HmFXq-G_iQiXkJG9xzCGNtFtr3OQP55DDGYkn3ce6msxxPBi/s1600/blog10-27-2010-2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Next we climbed up some extremely worn stairs up to the Tour Sarrasine—I could see how annoying if would be there were lots of tourists as the stairs were really only wide enough for one person at a time. The wind was blowing extremely hard, which made everything a bit more treacherous. After we climbed back down and we went to the base of the stairs going to the top of the donjon (or keep). A large sign was posted saying it was forbidden by law to climb up, the there was nothing blocking it off and they had installed handrails everywhere so we aren’t sure what they really meant.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom and the very worn steps</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGLV0RXB_o4t7FPW0Pkc93Ro-pu4Xsjqy1LKiLhef5r_80Bg6Eg_VrI-ZV4n_I9PuHGPjPU6SmQAVrix6kczBCrt4F6EPqGzUgqPlKx2xpaLpbeU1583c3twCaGHXW5tzkFCjzLwhCZuH/s1600/blog10-27-2010-5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The steep roof is a battering ram</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGLV0RXB_o4t7FPW0Pkc93Ro-pu4Xsjqy1LKiLhef5r_80Bg6Eg_VrI-ZV4n_I9PuHGPjPU6SmQAVrix6kczBCrt4F6EPqGzUgqPlKx2xpaLpbeU1583c3twCaGHXW5tzkFCjzLwhCZuH/s1600/blog10-27-2010-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2-r711yZfqqO3woOCMxcuRWp0X8OIkKw3AUDt6XUQTnC37UeL-3Iqqj-UdbrZ8XYWaKlaoD-bFkLWBCCn42Eu3GYsUtfbIxP9Qj2plRC1ijR8UMygDOignKPqfD1maYbvMllKG7dKwDp/s1600/blog10-27-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2-r711yZfqqO3woOCMxcuRWp0X8OIkKw3AUDt6XUQTnC37UeL-3Iqqj-UdbrZ8XYWaKlaoD-bFkLWBCCn42Eu3GYsUtfbIxP9Qj2plRC1ijR8UMygDOignKPqfD1maYbvMllKG7dKwDp/s400/blog10-27-2010-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyM-1saVW9jHSuo-O96XA2-58ESVQKawzWQBi0hjf7IrvDboc7jwd9envo9X4lrYKF20h_5NjMO44xtCjvmSj_ifSM7ejZLi0OnFNNIr5xU71K4YFzO303VwmB_G2JZViBuAfAlHA-VYL/s1600/blog10-27-2010-7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'll give you a penny if you tell me <br />
what the square holes in the rock are. <br />
Give up? A dove cote!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyM-1saVW9jHSuo-O96XA2-58ESVQKawzWQBi0hjf7IrvDboc7jwd9envo9X4lrYKF20h_5NjMO44xtCjvmSj_ifSM7ejZLi0OnFNNIr5xU71K4YFzO303VwmB_G2JZViBuAfAlHA-VYL/s1600/blog10-27-2010-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIKnn3mSsVfnj70pj4k-ku8MvpOlATkFxcxFJdRKOpXlw6JWfmQ1KgZE1r5QHSVOcTWcSGokc3xqobjUqwaL0EiNS-fIfYEHcPPSynpdwxCdmQsbQ9y2BUmjCTuzp3odPHjWB2v5k9jw4/s1600/blog10-27-2010-8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnIKnn3mSsVfnj70pj4k-ku8MvpOlATkFxcxFJdRKOpXlw6JWfmQ1KgZE1r5QHSVOcTWcSGokc3xqobjUqwaL0EiNS-fIfYEHcPPSynpdwxCdmQsbQ9y2BUmjCTuzp3odPHjWB2v5k9jw4/s400/blog10-27-2010-8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We had packed a picnic lunch in case the weather was nice, but decided it was much to cold and windy. We picked a little restaurant in town, and Mom and I had a “crepe formula,” which meant we got a savory crepe + green salad + a sweet crepe. It was good! We’ve made crepes twice at home, but we’ve got to try to make them thinner as ours have come out about twice as thick as theirs. Our savory ones were stuffed with mushrooms and cheese, and for the sweet one I had almonds and honey in mine. Yum!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhce632al-REMbv5wjSbrQDFx9nz1Aqa7p-F2RjiGrwMVCyqybdh1tl8uKCjWXgfHXtb6RMAgpGqcFzVYLT8vfswzMrB8aZGySBHEEf06d2CBYtt9-yUKAGJJCz5cG7dcYYwaJs5neZEv0T/s400/blog10-27-2010-10.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crepe!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhce632al-REMbv5wjSbrQDFx9nz1Aqa7p-F2RjiGrwMVCyqybdh1tl8uKCjWXgfHXtb6RMAgpGqcFzVYLT8vfswzMrB8aZGySBHEEf06d2CBYtt9-yUKAGJJCz5cG7dcYYwaJs5neZEv0T/s1600/blog10-27-2010-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>Alan went with his class to the Gorges of Oppedette. The town of Oppedette is another typical hillside village, but what he was more interested in climbing around the gorge. He and Elliot, another SCAD student, set out around one of the longer trails around the gorge in search of some bat caves. The trail was very rocky along the edge of the gorge, with lots of scrambling, handrails, and ladders. The river at the bottom of the gorge is La Calavon, with is the same one that runs through the valley to the north of Lacoste.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DngtQ1DJdnsrXt4BSCqqQN6F9FR6_pZzZ-a2Y5JlV93pzLjWyp8Kj3IHFudALobmU901SCZ-lE2Ho694a8g5bOdQAmOwvQRApnbFTJjEqtDjNL-kUUI0F4NK4GPlce66zn_qT0Ro8Rtc/s1600/blog10-27-2010-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DngtQ1DJdnsrXt4BSCqqQN6F9FR6_pZzZ-a2Y5JlV93pzLjWyp8Kj3IHFudALobmU901SCZ-lE2Ho694a8g5bOdQAmOwvQRApnbFTJjEqtDjNL-kUUI0F4NK4GPlce66zn_qT0Ro8Rtc/s400/blog10-27-2010-11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvT1XWUK36H5wIlZioxng8ijz2kJAW13q9FD5D8o7pLUzxB4Rly0FDofVHBy3g68oE_N2fO4qJvxNzAR7MExZtU02miYBtf0b9fUZvF2JIt7l6j9GJIZDZz1wanciKu03GjR9S_MejuX2p/s1600/blog10-27-2010-12.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elliot descends to the bat cave (but there were no bats).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another hiker on the narrow trail</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGt7a3JxBVqLvzp4ztXUK36sBxaV-kS8KvLkgN54mNECUAg2JP8iQtwPQdM2WSpShyphenhyphenAiNpua0KFiZVW-BdGd9MTSyHsSArbINmByPo8qi0WIAjq0Xp5Uh8nm7F4dEVUQTuGkE5we5KKuj-/s1600/blog10-27-2010-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRAUtLfR5Av2MljcyMJrGGNtFVx9TZxFcUNxJiiatvptzm6vxSqqZiCeE9kk_XPdj0wRcsi-lySou6qTLXj4AxDud-L_TLt8gjcY5p74e_A5ArVZWDSCTgnBgucxVvpkDIPaGXf3Aq12E/s1600/blog10-27-2010-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRAUtLfR5Av2MljcyMJrGGNtFVx9TZxFcUNxJiiatvptzm6vxSqqZiCeE9kk_XPdj0wRcsi-lySou6qTLXj4AxDud-L_TLt8gjcY5p74e_A5ArVZWDSCTgnBgucxVvpkDIPaGXf3Aq12E/s400/blog10-27-2010-15.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Wednesday night, if you remember, is the night the pizza man comes to town. We tried to get pizza last week, but he didn’t show up. We thought maybe he was done for the season, but Alan’s professor said that he always comes, and she was planning to get pizza herself tonight. So we decided to try again—unfortunately, so did all the rest of the SCAD students! We went down at 7 o’clock (like restaurants, the pizza guy doesn’t really arrive till then) to find a long line of students waiting for pizzas already. Apparently last week the oven was broken, but it was working hard tonight! An hour later found us still waiting, and at 8:20 pm I finally trotted off home with one pizza while Alan took our second one with him to his professor’s lecture on her current photographic work (which had started at 8:15, but he was not the last nor the only one with pizza!). Mom and Dad had given up and eaten some before I came home, but they made room for a few slices of the thin-crust, hot-out-of-the-back-of-a-van pizza.Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3571920312108773383.post-14996115334131445672010-10-26T12:59:00.000-04:002010-10-27T13:02:32.481-04:00Another market, but not just another church!Since Alan hadn’t been to Gordes, we decided to hit up their market and explore the town. It was more of a goods market than a food market, but he got the last few photos he needed to finish out his market project (the class ends next Wednesday! Can the quarter really almost be over?). The rest of us did a little more shopping for needs as well as wants, enjoying just wandering and looking around.<br />
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On the way home we stopped by St-Pantaléon, whose church dates back to the 5th century (just the nave – the rest dates to the 12th like almost all the churches in the area). After tracking down the key to the church from a local, we were able to get inside the to see the stained glass window, which were very pretty. The church is built on a rock, and carved into the rock are tombs, most of which are child-sized. According to legend, people would bring babies that had died before baptism here to be resurrected for the length of Mass and baptism, after which they would die again and be buried. Kinda crazy!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tombs in the rock</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaorLVNhZkCBVyxvtN3ZTn0RFAOprcYQqcPm9YtuVJG8clZS1yCwDBBS4AJrRkb2G_x2eBDrfADFrXLrI3eTy3IkodA4zoM9mzVT6ASIXQqE7dG-9XUZdDTjsmAQykDh9UCqjx9LciuUXR/s1600/blog10-26-2010-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaorLVNhZkCBVyxvtN3ZTn0RFAOprcYQqcPm9YtuVJG8clZS1yCwDBBS4AJrRkb2G_x2eBDrfADFrXLrI3eTy3IkodA4zoM9mzVT6ASIXQqE7dG-9XUZdDTjsmAQykDh9UCqjx9LciuUXR/s1600/blog10-26-2010-6.jpg" /></a></div>Rachel O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10387320444801953906noreply@blogger.com0