Provence Roadtrip (in Photos)

Driving around the south of France has always been a dream for me. And I only ended up on the wrong side of the road three times!

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If a picture is worth a thousand words, by my calculations, this post is about 18,000 words long... for the first time, I'm letting the pictures do the talking.

Carcassonne

First sighting of Carcassonne, the only stop on our roadtrip that's not actually in Provence

Castel Chambres, the 13th centry castle we stayed in just outside Carcassonne

Nîmes

The Roman amphitheatre in Nîmes

Maison Carrée, built c. 16 BC

Pont du Gard, the tallest Roman aqueduct

Avignon

The Papal Palace, from the 125 years when Avignon took over from the Vatican as the seat of the Pope

Inside the cathedral at the Papal Palace

Gordes

A random field of poppies near Gordes. Also the only place those socks will ever be camouflaged.

Sénanque Abbey, built in the 12th century.  It was Sunday morning, so the monks were singing

The view from Gordes

Gordes itself, moments after I fell in love with it

Aix-en-Provence

Flag in Vauvenargues, with Mt Saint-Victoire (Cézanne's mountain) in the background.

A Weekend at Paris Photo

Earlier this year when we visited Dubrovnik, the place I'd always dreamed of going, I asked Paul what was #1 on his list. He only had one answer: Paris Photo, the world's biggest art photography fair. 

2011 is its 15th year, and for the first time it's in the Grand Palais. Though I'd been to Paris before, I was only too happy to oblige and return!

I'd never visited the Grand Palais, and found it hard to comprehend such an enormous glass structure could have been built over 100 years ago. It made a majestic setting for an incredible art fair.

There were hundreds and hundreds of stalls, and almost all of them felt unmissable. We spent six hours visiting all of them and still felt like we'd only just scraped the surface. My favourite work was by a Swiss photographer called Christian Tagliavini. His work involved elaborate, surreal costumes and models who appeared to have impossibly long necks.

After leaving, we grabbed an almost raw hamburger from the cheapest place on the Champs-Élysées (not recommended!) Just before nine o'clock we raced towards the beams of light we'd been able to see canvassing the sky all evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower doing its hourly sparkle.

It was further away than we'd thought, and I started to lose hope of making it, when suddenly we reached the Seine and were greeted with the glorious sight of the glittering Eiffel Tower across the water. Definitely a moment to remember!

After the debacle with our accommodation last time in Paris, we were determined to stay somewhere more central. Because we didn't have much money to spare, we opted to spend the night near La Defense, the futuristic quarter of Paris. It's cheaper because most tourists are looking for the romantic, historical side of Paris. Having experienced that before, we were happy to try something new.

On our second morning, we explored La Defense to see the Grande Arche, a modern architectural marvel created to be a 20th century version of the Arc de Triomphe. A monument to humanity rather than the military.

Given its proximity to the financial heart of Paris, the Grande Arche is the natural home for the Occupy Paris movement

 

Looking from the Grande Arche with the Arc de Triomphe visible in the distance.
Occupy Paris protesters to the right, and their police minders in the foreground.

After leaving La Defense, we caught the metro to the Père Lachaise Cemetery. Basically, if they're French, famous, and dead, you'll find them here. It's possibly the most famous graveyard in the world because of its elaborate gravestones and rustic beauty.

We realised very quickly that Autumn was the right time to come here. The crisp Paris air made the leaves crunchy under our feet.

 

Walking around such an old graveyard is a very strange feeling. I kept thinking of my favourite painting ever: Orphan Girl at the Cemetery. Naturally, being a little theatrical, when we stumbled across her artist's gravestone, there was only one pose I was going to strike!

The highlight of the visit was definitely Oscar Wilde's grave. It's an inspiring sculpture of tarpaulin and scaffolding at this time of year.

As we left the cemetery, the sun made our shadows longer, and the light started to soften into a warm haze like all those old French paintings.

We walked to Belleville Parc, stopping in a patisserie on the way. I bought this incredible sweet, despite having no idea what it was. It turned out to be two large meringues stuck together with a thick white chocolate cream and coated in coconut. Perhaps I was just starving, but it may have been the most delicious thing I've ever tasted!

By the time we collected our bags from the hotel it was dark. We deliberately ran early for our airport bus so we could catch the grand Paris Opera House by night.

I had the Phantom of the Opera stuck in my head all the way home.

Life Lesson #28 - The French Way

I love our accommodation in Nice. But I wasn't sure I would when we first arrived.

The hostel is located across the road from the local Hippopotamus bar. When we walk in, we find ourselves in a dark, humid restaurant. A cockroach munches on crumbs on one of the tables.

A niçoise woman in her 70s who really should have been wearing a bra rushes up to us with gleaming eyes and missing teeth shrieking "Nouvelle Zélande, Nouvelle Zélande?".

The first thing I notice are the festering sores on both her arms. The second is the piles of paperwork she's just stood up from. Dozens of handwritten bookings on plain A4 paper scattered over a small desk with a faded green manilla folder marked "internet". So that's where my online booking went.

I'm feeling uncertain about the sanitation of a twelve bed dorm in this place. Which is when she mentions the studio flat they've got for an extra €8 a night. "oui, parfait" I hear myself saying, before worrying that it's some scam I haven't come across before.

As soon as we agree to the private flat, she leaps up and locks the restaurant, giving the keys and a short explanation to some surprised outside diners.

Then, she leads us around the corner, up the road and down another street. We get off the rickety elevator at level 3, then walked down to level 2. I would have known this in advance if I hadn't forgotten what the French word for 'broken' meant.

When we arrive, I decide quickly that it's perfect. It's so French, unlike the cookie cutter hotel rooms we get so sick of.

Large shuttered windows at one end of the room open facing a courtyard filled with fighting pigeons. The tiny bathroom and kitchen are at the other end, and a loft style bedroom is up a ladder on top.








There's even half a bottle of cognac on a small shelf for no apparent reason. This is the real thing, and I'm so glad we're here.

Marseilles

I was warned not to expect too much from Marseilles. The crowded, crime filled, rat infested city would have nothing to offer me. Perhaps as a result of keeping expectations low, I've been pleasantly surprised.

Though our hotel cost a little more than we usually spend, its a great little boutique one in the heart of the Vieux Port which normally goes for more than triple what we paid.




Though the smell hit me before we'd even left the Metro station, the old town fish market by our hotel is lively and undeniably French.

Though the beach at Anse des Catalans was crowded beyond anything I've experienced before, the atmosphere was friendly and the Mediterranean was a crisp relief from the beating rays. Plus, it was unreal being able to swim with Chateau D'If, the prison-castle-island made famous in The Count of Monte Cristo, visible just out to sea.







This is the first time I've seen French bakeries right next to Italian gelaterias. With a fresh apricot croissant and a three scooper, I think I'm in heaven.

Last Day in Paris: L'Autre Jardin

We checked out of our hotel on a high today, because we were going to take the train into the countryside to visit Monet's house and garden, including the famous lilypond. We were looking forwards to hiring bicycles to ride through the countryside and enjoying fresh baguettes on the banks of the Seine.

But it turned out that A) our tickets weren't valid for that train, B) we couldn't afford the extra, C) there were less trains than Paul had realised when planning, D) while speaking to an agent to figure out points A - C, the only train left.

So we went to Versailles instead.

The photos are lovely... but in truth the day was hampered quite a lot by the hordes of people. We had to queue for 45 minutes just to buy tickets, then when we were ready to enter the Chateau, that took another hour and a half. In the blistering heat. We paid several euros for a 7-Up, and it was worth it.

This is about a third of the queue for the Chateau. No shade.

An example of the crowds inside the museum.

The only crowdless photos are of the roof.

In the courtyard afterwards.

We left feeling a bit disappointed, to be honest. I felt similarly when I visited five years earlier, but for opposite reasons. Last time, the whole place was under scaffolding, the grounds had iced over, all the fountains had been drained, the trees were bare, and the statues were covered in tarpaulins. This time, it was lovely but impossible to really experience anything. The opulence was difficult to even appreciate, as you were always 20 people back.

When we left Versailles, we picked up our luggage where we had left it in Gare du Nord and headed to the airport. On the wrong train. Luckily we realised our mistake before it was too late, and got on the correct one. But got off at the wrong terminal. Luckily, I had allowed plenty of time to get through, and we didn't miss our flight. But Immigration at Luton took so long that we missed our bus to town. Ah, the dramas of travelling.  I love it, really!

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Day Three in Paris: The Louvre

I'm getting sick of the crowds. It turns out that it's school holidays in Europe, which I probably should have checked before we booked. We're now paying for it every time we want to do anything. Which is making me regret the incredible weather a little bit. It's really beautiful... but makes long waits a tad unbearable.

Surprisingly, the Louvre was one of our better queues. Just 45 minutes.

We stayed until the museum closed. The highlight for me was easily this painting, which I have been obsessed with for years, and had no idea was even at the Louvre. Her expression has always entranced me. It's much more personal (and theatrical) than most paintings of the area. I tried to copy it more than once (with dismal results, as you can imagine).

Young orphan girl at the cemetery, Delacroix, 1823-24

After we left the Louvre, we returned to the Eiffel Tower for sunset.

The queue was so long that the sun was almost down by the time we got up there. We walked up, because the queue for the stairs was shorter than the one for the elevator. It still took over an hour... and then we had to start climbing!

...But the view was worth it.

We even got to watch the tower do it's hourly sparkle from three different points of view, perhaps the most unique of which was in the elevator on the way down.

We had planned to grab a quick chocolat chaud on the Champs D'Elysées afterwards, but we were too tired after the long day at the Louvre, so we headed home instead and slept very soundly!

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