We intended to go to Saint Remy to see the assylum residence of Van Gogh, but we got such a late start that we decided to put that off for another day. Instead we decided to take a drive down to Nimes area to see the Pont Du Gard, the most famous of Roman aqueducts outside of Italy.
As we’ve been conspicuously behind on our adventure updates the past few weeks, you’ll be happy to know we have finally caught up. Please check out the following several pages for our final adventures in Normandy, Paris, Mont St. Michel, the Loire Valley, Andorra and Spain, the Dordogne Valley, and finally, our arrival here in Provence.
After two weeks on the road, we’ve had enough and are ready to settle down for a while. Our digs for the next month are in a 17th century building in a town a little east of Avignon. The apartment is huge (way more room than we are used to in New York!), and beautiful, with two floors, 20 foot ceilings in the living room, and big provincial windows that open wide onto a pretty little courtyard. We are in Van Gogh country. Van Gogh painted the majority of his famous works while living in Arles, and while at the asylum at St. Rémy de Provence, which are both just south of here. And I must admit, it does look like a Van Gogh painting. Most of these farmhouses and towns have been here since before Van Gogh’s time, so really, the scenery hasn’t changed all that much. The sun shines brightly in clear blue skies each day, punctuated occasionally by intense afternoon thunderstorms. The intensity of the sun down here reminds me of Arizona, so, of course, I love it.
We arrived last Saturday afternoon and spent Sunday exploring the towns and countryside of the Luberon a bit. The Luberon is the area made famous more recently by Peter Mayle in his book ‘A Year In Provence’ and the follow up works surrounding it. If you’ve seen the movie ‘A Good Year’ with Russell Crowe (also based off a book authored by Peter Mayle), it was filmed in this region. I got to see my first lavender fields in full bloom! We were especially enamoured of the towns of Lourmarin and Bonnieux. The pictures speak for themselves.
We happily drove out of Spain and did a little happy dance once we crossed the border back into France for two reasons: one, because we felt somewhat safer (though France certainly has its rough spots), and two, because we could communicate again! Though my French is weak, I can still communicate. We couldn’t even get through the drive through at McDonald’s in Spain without asking for a translator. I hated it! Larry said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve never been happier to see French in my life.”
We headed straight north into the Dordogne region of France, which lies in the slightly southwest portion of the country, south of Limoges and east of Bordeaux. It is the region known for foie gras, prehistoric cave paintings, gorgeous green valleys, and cliff towns. I’ve always wanted to see it. I booked a room for us at an old farmhouse turned inn just outside of Rocamadour, a beautiful cliff town that has been in existence for many centuries. It grew up around the tomb of Saint Amadour, whose perfectly preserved body was found in 1166 in a tomb carved into the side of the mountain. Since that time it became a pilgrimage site for Christians seeking miracles. Jacques Cartier and his team, suffering from scurvy, visited in the 16th century to seek a cure for their ills.
The road to Rocamadour is a long, windy road that cuts up and down through the mountains. When we finally rounded the road that brought Rocamadour into view, we were practically speechless. This is a town that defies gravity, and has done so for centuries. It’s just beautiful. We found our hotel and checked in before spending the evening wandering the nearly empty streets (like Mont St. Michel – it’s more a daytime destination for tour buses but you have the place to yourself at night), up to the chapels and the site of St. Amadour’s tomb, and finished it off by a late pizza dinner on a terrace overlooking the side of the cliff. It was magical.
The next day we spent some time at the chateau which sits at the very top of the cliff and looks down over Rocamadour and the valley. Here Larry earned the cheers of onlookers as he rigged up his camera to a railing with a gorillapod, set the 20 second timer, and ran down a very long, steep flight of stairs to get in position before the timer went off.
We were truly winging this part of the trip but it worked out perfectly. We discovered we were only about an hour away from Sarlat-la-Canéda, the best preserved medieval town in all of France. It has more perfectly preserved 14th and 15th century buildings than any other. Just beyond it is Les-Eyzies-de-Tayac, which is surrounded by caves containing prehistoric carvings and paintings, some of the best preserved in the world. Literally hundreds if not thousands of these caves have been discovered in southern France and northern Spain. The most famous cave, that at Lescaux, has actually been closed to the public for a number of years because the changes in humidity, temperature, etc. brought by all the visitors were ruining the paintings. They have created a complete replica nearby – but who wants to see a replica? We did discover however, that the Font-de-Gaume cave is just outside Les Eyzies and is the last cave open to the public that contains polychromatic paintings (i.e. mixing more than one color). They only allow 120 visitors per day, in groups of 12, and are booked months in advance. However, we lucked out and were able to get a ticket for the very next day.
We drove along the road to Beynac-et-Cazenac, another gorgeous cliff town set next to the Dordogne River. Beautiful vistas across the valley.
We had dinner in Sarlat surrounded by 14th and 15th century buildings. It was like being the middle of a Renaissance village at Disneyland or something, except it was all real. Being in foie gras country, we couldn’t avoid a menu with some form of foie gras on it. I like foie gras but am not normally a massive fan. It’s usually so rich and strong tasting that after about two bites I’m done. Regardless, we did try some foie gras made from duck (the traditional foie gras is goose) and I have to say it was heavenly, so buttery and creamy. I ate it all.
The next day we spent at two different caves, the Font de Gaume and Les Combarelles, where I gained a new appreciation for prehistoric caveman paintings. These are no stick figures scratched or painted into the side of the cave by prehistoric men who could barely rub two sticks together to create fire. When you see these up close and understand the complexity of their construction and the artistry that it involved, you are truly awestruck. These men used techniques that were not seen again in Europe until the Renaissance. They used perspective. They used cubism, made famous in our time by Picasso. The paintings in the Font de Gaume literally covered the cave from top to bottom. It is truly a reverent experience to see them in person. Nearly all of the carvings or paintings are of animals, most commonly bison or deer, but also wooly mammoth, lion, and others. They are also always in peaceful positions: resting next to each other, grooming each other. There are no representations of hunting or fighting. There are only a couple of instances of human representation (involving male/female relations and the female anatomy – some things do not change!). Truly, if you are ever in the area, you must find a way to see the Font de Gaume especially. It was one big WOW.
Of all the highlights and beautiful scenery we saw while in the Dordogne, I have to say one of Larry’s highlights was the following: While driving through the countryside we passed some serious-looking cyclists. Whether they were training for the upcoming Tour de France, or whether they were just serious recreational cyclists, I don’t know. Regardless, as we passed them, Larry rolled down the window and said “Lance Armstrong.” They responded with their middle fingers. Larry laughed all the way down the road. I must admit, so did I.
After reluctantly departing the Loire Valley we headed south for a few days in Barcelona. We decided to take the longer and more arduous route through Andorra just to say we’d seen it. At 181 square miles, Andorra is the sixth smallest nation in Europe, lying in the Pyrenees between Spain and France. It relies on tourism and its status as a tax haven for almost its entire GDP of $3.6Bn. It was quite a steep and curvy ride but absolutely gorgeous. There were wildflowers blooming all over the mountainside and it was breathtaking. Truly the pictures don’t do it justice.
We drove through northern Spain and past Mont Serrat with its beautiful jagged peaks before arriving at our hotel on the outskirts of Barcelona.
I have flown through Barcelona while traveling for business but never stayed, and this was Larry’s first visit to Spain. We were both looking forward to seeing a little bit of the city, eating some tapas, and of course visiting La Sagrada Familia. We spent the better part of Sunday afternoon at La Sagrada Familia and I have to say that my opinion of it changed once I visited it in person. In all photographs I’ve ever seen it’s never been an appealing building to me aesthetically. Just not my style. While I thought it was interesting and very unique, I never really liked it. Larry perfectly summed it up when he said it appears “oozing” in all the pictures. As we walked up to the “passion entrance” we were both struck speechless by the structure itself and the sculptures (done by Josep Subirachs) that adorn that facade. It is truly moving in person.
La Sagrada Familia is the master work of the renowned Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi. Construction began in 1882 and is still ongoing, being funded by private donations and entrance fees. They expect it to be completed by 2030. Gaudi worked on it for a total of 40 years of his life, and lived long enough to see the Nativity facade completed (he did the sculptures there himself to remind those working on it of the importance of their work) and one of the towers. In the end it will have 18 towers total, the tallest being that which represents Christ, the others representing the four Evangelists, the twelve Apostles, and the Virgin Mary. The tallest tower will be one meter lower than that of nearby Montjuic, as Gaudi felt his work should not be taller than that of God.
As a child, Gaudi was somewhat sickly. In order to get him some exercise and fresh air, his mother would take him on nature walks for hours. It was from these walks that his interest in nature and nature’s architecture, combined with his natural aptitude in geometry and math, created the unique style that is his own. Every column in the Sagrada Familia follows the same geometrical patterns that occur in nature, some of which had not been used in architecture before: helicoids, hyperboloids, paraboloids, conoids, and ellipsoids. With helicoids he created the double twisted column, a new column in the history of architecture. His love of nature shows in every aspect of the building. For example, the columns inside the chapel itself are tree trunks, with their leaves sprawling out over the ceiling. Literally hundreds of animals are sculptured into the facade.
We rode the elevator to the top and then walked down. Great views.
We topped off the night with some tapas, including my favorite, the Spanish omelette.
Day 2 in Spain started out great but ended up with Larry carrying a ruined wheel on his head for a mile to a 24-hour repair station. We had a great day shopping and walking through La Rambla and through a very large open air food market nearby, where I couldn’t resist trying some of the yellow watermelon. It tastes the same but it’s just so wrong, like purple cauliflower.
We spent some time down on the beach watching the joggers/rollerbladers/dog walkers and enjoying the Mediterranean breeze.
After that we decided to head back to our hotel. Along the road, two people on a scooter honked and pointed down at our car. I opened my door and peered out to discover we were driving on a complete flat. We pulled around the corner at the next intersection and then spent 3+ hours trying to find somewhere to get a new wheel, after we discovered we had no spare tire, only a spare repair kit, which didn’t fix ours because the puncture was along the sidewall (see Larry’s post about the various crime attempts and successes during our Barcelona adventure).
Day 3 in Spain started out bad and ended bad. See Larry’s previous post. No need to re-hash. But I’m not bitter. I will make one disclaimer in slight defense of Spain: the guys who got us were not Spaniards. The reason that the southern European countries are so bad for petty crime is that they have a high level of immigrants, particularly from northern Africa. The guys who got us looked like they were probably Algerian, possibly South American. You would think that would prompt said southern European countries to get more serious about immigration and border control.
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