Recipe no°19: Eau de Provence

3 oz. pastis (anise-flavored French liqueur)
a small flagon of water, preferably local

Find yourself a lovely, sunny terrace table and order up your pastis. Mix to your pleasure with water, and sip over ice. Savor the tongue-numbing flavors...




It's 8 o'clock on a Friday night (or 20 hours, as we call it over here) and I'm unwinding at home, having sent the 'rental units off to Lyon on the train but a few short hours ago. I promptly blew off steam by purchasing a few Esprit shirts (stop! buying! stuff! now!), and now am waiting for C. to come over, enjoy some wine, and re-hash our respective last weeks. But she's taking too long to get here, so let the re-hashing begin without her...

As my "glimpses" proved popular with several readers last week, let's continue in the same format.

Glimpse #1: I arrive in Aix-en-Provence, after a long wind-thrashed layover in Valence (yes, I chose to wait for a late train out on the quai). Not five minutes have passed when my translation skills are requested again, this time to haggle with a parking-lot attendant who overcharged T. & W., and I'm supposed to argue with this man even though the couple in question lost their ticket. Hm. Luckily that one's put off 'til later, and I find out that W. managed to change his 500 euro bill in a tiny bank! We zoom off to Cassis, and I endure/enjoy a harrowing boat ride to visit the calanques, which are quite beautiful. (I don't feel like explaining; Google it, people!) A word to the wise: a warning of "mer agitée" translates roughly to : "You might be hanging on for dear life and wondering why anyone in their right mind would bring a child on this death trap".

A deceivingly calm port.

Glimpse #2: I ask my mother to pick me up an apricot croissant for breakfast.

I like my apricots sunny side up.

Glimpse #3: We visit the market in Arles, where I hope to recreate the idyllic picnic I experience there a few months ago, in the jardin d'été. Unfortunately, it literally rained on my parade and we were forced to make do under one of the arches of les arènes, the amazingly well-preserved arena where bullfights are still held. Not today, folks. We spilled tapenade on the steps and swigged wine out of a bottle; we carved up tomme de savoie and hard pepper sausage and laid it on damp slices of fougasse, the local bread. Not quite the déjeuner sur l'herbe I had hoped for, in fact more of a face-stuffing sur le concrete, but it did the trick.

A market image I will cherish.

My first, sunnier trip to Arles, where I was able to photograph the local gladiators.
Luckily this was not a "mise-à-mort" spectacle.

Glimpse #4: We traveled to Les-Baux-de-Provence, a small medieval village which reminded me of Le Mont St. Michel. It was still raining, and we got the full medieval mud-slopping experience as the rain shower became torrential. I ended up having to take my shoes off and walk down the cobblestones in several inches of water, and despite our copious rain gear we were quite soaked. It was totally worth it. For a better view of Les Baux, in the daylight, see my friend Rachel's photo, who seems to be currently leading a parallel life.

Soaked but loving it. The bright colors were helpful in a crowd, I found.

Glimpse #5: The sun finally graces us with its presence, and we head down to the Camargue, to see the "world-famous" white horses (apparently you learn about them in Austrian elementary schools), along with black bulls and pink flamingoes. As we're reading about where to stop, we come across these passages in the guide book ("The Rough Guide to Provence & the Côte d'Azur"):

"There's really no ideal time to visit the Camargue. If you have the sort of skin that attracts mosquitoes, then the months from March to November could be unbearable...you'll need serious chemical weaponry. Biting flies are also prevalent and...the other problem is the wind, which in autumn and winter can be strong enough to knock you off your bike. Conversely, in summer the weather can be so hot and humid that the slightest movement is an effort."

Well, most mosquitoes consider me filet mignon, and I left my H-bomb at home. I roll up the windows, and make the move to put on a life vest and lock my door as well after reading this:

"For drivers and cyclists the main thing to be wary of is taking your car or bike along the dykes. Maps and road signs show which routes are closed to vehicles and which are accessible only at low tide, but they don't warn you about the surface you'll be driving along. The other problem is theft from cars. There are well-organized gangs of thieves with a particular penchant for foreign licence plates."

Whew! thank God we rented in Lyon.

I'll enjoy that world-famousness from the car, thank you very much.

Glimpse #5: We visit a brocante, or an antiques/way-overpriced junk fair. There are many interesting images to share, but I'll stick to my favorites:

Corkscrews throughout the ages and various sundry objects.

This looks like something my dog Toofy would hang on her mantel, if she had one.

Ancient music boxes (I think) that cost over 100 euros each.

Cute or creepy? You decide.
There were plenty of terrifying hairless dolls, and
such nightmare-inducing marvels as a box full of
blue, lashed doll eyeballs. Only 1 euro each!

Translation: "Male thieves, female thieves, warning.
You risk making a huge! huge! investment in dental work and hospital bills (2 dead - 8 injured)"

Glimpse #6: We stop at a restaurant, and imagine my relief at seeing this posted on the door:



Glimpse #7: There are many fascinating sights along the road. Stopped at a light, I wonder...is that Batmobile rides to the left?




Glimpse #8: Tuckered out from our navigating and planning, T. and I take a little sieste.

FIN