A triffle, a truffle

The 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.

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 From here, you can’t see Paris 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!

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!

What are you doing here?

Don't look down

For 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!

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.

The deluxe suite - with chair and table!

The trail... or waterfall, same thing!

My fig-leaf fan, which actually came in handy!

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.

This photo doesn't quite give the feeling
of how far down it was...

Up and up!

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 : )

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…

Looking down on the town

My fig leaves made it the whole way!

Brilliant perfection

I 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.

Busy as bees, but hopefully not making miel de chataigne

Alan 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.

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!

Lavender

Lavender and Lacoste

An oratory along the road

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.

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 ; )

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!