out and about

I'll start with the good.

Breakfast, in the courtyard, artfully prepared.











I wished Ed was across the table, helping me with the bread and cakes. Or, just there, reading something and saying, mindlessly, "yes gorgeous" when I ask something, equally mindlessly.

The market. Today's is supposed to be the more agreeable one. Saturday's is larger, with stalls of junk (not my words) competing with produce and foods from Provence. (You may ask -- is Uzès in Provence? They tell me it's considered the western most Provencal town. Incorporated out of a historic generosity rather than reality: Languedoc is Languedoc, not Provence.)






I went twice to the market and predictably, the early, pre-breakfast trip was quieter, funner.




















I've said this before -- the French like to rate, rank and reward their foods. This woman received the top prize for her haricots verts.






And these oils from Nimes took top honors in Paris. I wont tell you how tempted I was to take one home.






Other market favorites -- note the theme here...
















Okay, other good points to the day: I publicly acknowledge my deep gratitude to the staff of Terroirs -- the best restaurant-bar on the square and the most popular lunch place by far -- for letting me stay and work on my laptop all the way until noon (when the dining really begins).






They put up with me again, when I returned for a late late lunch (after 4), with computer again. I did eat a lot, including the best salad ever -- artichokes, tapenade, tomatoes and goat cheese in a slice of prosciutto.






And I even ordered dessert to show my commitment to remain as a paying customer (and because the idea of fresh fruit topped with melon and apricot ice cream and raspberry coulis sounded too good to pass up).






If you're in Uzès, eat at Terroirs. Food's great, the staff is professional, competent and so very good natured about the idiosyncrasies of patrons.


Another favorite moment: returning on the bus from Pont du Gard to Uzès.

This needs a clarification: I decided to do one and only one trip outside of Uzès (I'm here for three nights). Where to? Well, it's the obvious choice: Pont du Gard is possibly the best preserved Roman Aqueduct, nearly 2000 years old, once carrying water from a spring in Uzès all the way to Nimes. You don't need to read details here, but imagine this: the incline across the river is only 2.5 centimeters! How would a Roman engineer be able to build with such precision? Amazing.







So I bite the bullet and go to this fantastic and very very popular tourist spot (I saw a bus from the Czech Republic). It's a mere 12 kilometers from Uzès.






The appeal is also in the river itself: a vacationers paradise on the hot days of summer here.






But that's not a favorite moment. That one came on the inter-village public bus ride back to Uzès. This particular bus takes a circuitous route so as to hit all the villages and connect them with the big towns of Nimes and Avignon. So that the 12 kilometers by main road is for some buses, but not for this one, which, because of its village hopping becomes, in normal circumstances, a forty minute ride.

These were not normal circumstances.

A young man is training for this route and a more senior driver sits up front to tell him which way to go. The trip is made exceptionally difficult by the narrowness of the road. In one village, the experienced driver tells the newer one: if one person has their shutters open, you wont make it; you'll have to get out and close it.

These buses are scheduled to accommodate school children and during vacation, the afternoon bus is nearly empty. There is, however, a young couple with their son and they, too, sit toward the front (as do I). Such friendly, chatty types! They entertain the driver and teacher with endless stories of their harried road trips (they are from Rouen -- here, you brag that you have 300+ days of sunshine, in Rouen we brag that we have 300+ days of rain!), so much so, that I really could have continued this journey all day long. (My French improved tenfold just listening to their chatter!)


One village en route...






And the last stretch home. (He was only twenty minutes behind schedule. He took those turns very slowly!)






Home, meaning Uzès, with another (for me at least) Renoir moment:






Not done with the good points to the day!

In the early evening, before the sun set over the garrigue covered hills, I took a walk outside the town walls. There is a suggested path by the river l'Alzon.






After a kilometer or two, I come to a trail marker pointing up, with the enchantingly simple name of "la montagne." So I follow it. Up up, in the breeze of a summer evening. No one's here. It's quiet, but for the noise of the cicada and the chirp of a bird. And slowly, the view emerges. Uzès skyline. It's tough to photograph, as the sun is just starting to set right behind it, but it is incredibly beautiful nonetheless.






And as I climb higher, up this magical mountain, I see the hills and mountains to the south, to the west, famous peaks that probably mean nothing to you but they remind me of notable trips to this area and in any case, it's just so beautiful here!






It's not an intense climb, but it does take a while and by 8:30 I think it surely is time to head back.






Down to the river again and here, there's a different kind of enchantment -- of ducks, kids, local kids, families too, bringing their bikes, their soccer ball, their swim suits, to the river, dappled with the golden evening light of the reflected limestone hills behind.
















There are many many photos that would show off this river walk, but I know about a reader's limits, so maybe just one or two more?











Okay. Back to town.






And dinner. Another high point! I had asked my innkeepers where I can eat something light, given my late and copious lunch. They suggested the Italian place, Via Curti. You can just have a main dish or a couple of appetizers.

Well maybe he can!

The setting is lovely -- under a fig tree and grape arbor...





The menu is small, but so tempting! I choose the tomato mousse with a tomato sauce, over fresh tomatoes swimming in olive oil. (I asked for the recipe. I got a smile and a shake of the head.)





Then a pasta dish with warm arugula pesto. Oh my.






I was good enough at least not to order dessert.

I walk briefly to the square, so vibrant, even now, so full of vacationing people...






...and, leaning against the noble walls of Terroirs, I can check my phone  for messages from home. And it is a sweet little pause. In the center of the square, a man is entertaining children with his various gadgets and tricks.






I note that it is maybe 10:30 and all the little tykes were up still and not at all grumpy at this late hour.






It's what they're used to, right?  Long hours at the table, long evenings. (Though I had to smile at this family, with three teenagers, this afternoon at Terroirs: they all had iPhones and they ordered Coke Zero.)






Were there weaker points to the day? Not really. The WiFi issue has arrested my work progress, but I can't truthfully call that a bad thing! I suppose I was a little taken aback by the whole approach to the Pont du Gard. The Tourist Center is rather massive and though it offers refreshments and shopping opportunities for the ever ready to spend Euros visitor, for me at least it takes away from the experience of the Aqueduct.

Oh! I can't leave you with a photo of kids drinking Coke Zero! How about the moon? I looked it up: it was full on September 19th. But you can pretend, right? Over Uzès, it looks mighty bright tonight.

Uzès

If you read the NYTimes travel section, you probably will have noticed the article that appeared there just a couple of weeks ago on the Languedoc town of Uzès. The author described Uzès (and yes, you pronounce the "s" -- you never know with these French towns) as an undiscovered Languedoc gem. Say what? There is a gem in Languedoc that I don't know of, indeed, have never heard of?

So I am in Uzès. And here's a dangerous thing: the Internet at my Bed and Breakfast does not work for my little MacBook. And in Apple solidarity, my iPhone refuses to connect there as well. And so I am at a cafe on the main square and it is a vast square, with many cafes...





...and one of them has quite good WiFi. The point is that you have to order something. It's almost evening. A sip of rosé seems right. I ask for the smallest carafe. No, no. That's not how it works here. They bring a bottle, put it on your table and you pay for however much you consumed. I have a lot of Internet catching up to do. How is this a good plan?

[Update: I drank 2.9 Euros worth. I'm offering no further explanation.] 

Let's go back now: morning in Barcelona. Actually not much of one. A quick cafe croissant at the hotel bar (thank you, management, for treating me to it, for no reason at all except you're nice)...






Then I'm off. (Here's the somber entrance to this enchanting little place.)






I have a 9:05 train to catch and so all I see is the series of blocks between my hotel and the train station.






They do include the Parc Joan Miro, so that's nice (though you've seen it before -- this isn't the first time I crisscross this place to get to the train station).











(Barcelona, like most every city these days, has a bike rental program going. I'll leave you with one photo of a daring young thing on a red bike.)





Okay. I'm at the station in plenty of time, which is good, because there are multiple checks and balances. Spain has had some rough times with trains in recent years.

There isn't (yet) a fast train between Barcelona and Paris. You have to take one to Figueres and change there (Figueres just got linked this year). You switch along with everyone else. A mass exodus from one train, to the one standing on the other side of the platform.

And now I'm riding the train from Figueres to Nimes (Nimes is the closest train a grand vitesse stop on my way to Uzès) and it isn't really a long trip -- just three hours, in a huge, luxurious arm chair (this is second class?) and a plug for my computer. And now we're passing the border and the Pyrenee ridge and of course this plunges me right into the great Roussillon plane (hello, Sorede!), with the mighty Canigou peak to the west, without cloud cover today...






...past the Corbieres hills (giving us some of the best rose wines ever!), past the etangs that flow out of inlets right by Franqui beach!






...and past Bezieres -- my first introduction to the Languedoc region back in 2006 when I spent my three weeks just west of it, in Pierrerue (a hamlet so small that I learned never again to rent in places that didn't at least have one cafe and one bakery)...





...past the salt fields of the Camargue (yes, flamingos and wild horses, even today!), all this beautiful countryside  spinning rapidly by me, like a tape that has been unwound over the years and now it's spinning back, a rapid spin of images, with all these terrific memories.

It's true that, with the exception of one unusual weekend in September, all my trips to the Languedoc region have been in June and so it feels especially poignant and odd to be here at the end of the summer. I swore I would never come to southern France in July or August and yet, here I am and it feels like I'm watching a movie set -- not my life, no, that would be June. June!

My, but it's beautiful in August too! Who knew...

I get off at Nimes and I take care of my train reservations for the rest of the week and now I have an hour to kill. My memory of Nimes will be that it has a river running through it -- right along a sidewalk, A paved river and on this hot day, offering interesting possibilities for the young and old(er).










Oh, it has other attractions -- this city of famous olive oils and Provence like overtones. The amphitheater, for example.






Cafes, too. Always the cafes. (Tell me she does not remind you of a woman in a Renoir painting.)






But I'm most smitten with the water. In all shapes and forms.











I'm back at the station. There's a Paul bakery here and so I pause for a lunch. A somber lunch, because I am alone in this empty place with the disturbing painting of very young chimney sweeps reaching for a piece of bread.










Okay, out in the bright Nimes sunshine, I catch a bus to Uzès. Forty minutes for 1.5 Euro. How is this possible, I ask my innkeepers later. We pay taxes! -- his simple answer.

It's a beautiful ride -- right through the garrigues that are so characteristic of this area (they're a Mediterranean combination of shrub, oak, rosemary etc. -- growing on limestone soil; there's a love of this scrubland that spreads to a total infatuation with the foods and wines that come out of here).

I have the front seat which offers some limited picture taking opportunities.











Ah, there's Uzès. With its 11th century castle tower for all to see, for miles beyond.






So how is this town of 8,000? Well here's a piece of truth: the NYTimes article not withstanding, it's not undiscovered. True, the visitors appear to be predominantly French, but there are many of them. Not quite like you would encounter in Provence in the summer (I've seen not a single tour bus pass through), but still, it's no Sorede (which, admittedly, is one third the size). Maybe, too, it's different once we're done with August and the French call it quits on the vacation season. My innkeeper tells me he's highly agitated until the month comes to an end.

I notice this nod toward visitors right away as I walk with my little case through the blissfully pedestrian-only streets. There are shops. Lovely things that French people like to buy: fabrics, art for the garden, delightful summer cotton frocks and hats, hens -- how tempting is that - glass hens! (Can you imagine anything more awkward to carry on trains for the rest of the week?)
















In Sorede, there's nothing to buy and in Paris everything is too expensive so it poses few dilemmas and few sessions of trying on this or that, just to see, with wistful exists and mumbled words -- no, I cannot, I should not, no, not this time.


My Bed and Breakfast (l'Albiousse) is discreet: a building like many others. There are just four units, carefully restored and kept up in a beautiful fashion...





...and really not very much within my price range in normal times, but these are not normal times and so they are having a 30% discount. I grabbed. And it's perfect and I try not to mind the WiFi issue even as it means a lot of cafe-rosé time for me, only maybe at other times I'll switch to Badoit or ice cream.


I spend the rest of the day strolling around town. Nothing ambitious, no great plans to see anything. Just trying to get a sense of the place.

Many of the villages around me have an evening market at least once during the summer months and I have hit upon such a day in Uzès. The market starts at dusk and runs until midnight and the emphasis is not on produce but on candies and quiches and crepes, jewelry and wines, little olive trees and artsy little shirts and shawls. There is music and champagne if you're so inclined (these French locals are so inclined)...






...and as the evening progresses the space around the castle fills. (Do note the guy in lavender buying things made with lavender.)






(Yes, they consider themselves close to the Catalan culture here. Not as much as the villages closer to the border, but enough so.)






(And yes, I almost bought a young olive tree. Then I thought that maybe it's not allowed...)






I pause for a while to listen to the Bad Guys play. (In one of those photographic moments of  -- what just happened here?? -- I see that a boy on a scooter zipped by just as I clicked.)






Here he is, later, in a more stationary pose.





The Bad Guys are good  -- a jazzy trio that performs music about as American as it gets. I ask the guy on the sax where they're from and oh so predictably he says -- New Orleans.
Touring here? -- I ask.
He laughs. Well now, that would be along tour. Going on fourteen years! Actually, we live in France now.
So you like it here?
There are worse places to live in!


I eat dinner at a small restaurant, far off the main square. My hosts suggested it (Ma Cantine). For the locals, that's for sure. The proprietor sits down and chats with diners who all seem to be familiar faces. Fresh and honest food. I have pate followed by chicken. Keeping things simple.











Late. Very late. The main square is exploding with people, lights, people, people.






Wonder off a bit and it's quiet.






And pleasantly cool. Not enough for a sweater (for me; the people here are quick to take out The Scarf), but breezy, in a summer kind of way.






Is it a full moon tonight? I miss the immediate gratification of having all questions answered instantly through the Internet.





I stroll to the edges of town, not quite sure of my way. Tomorrow. I'll step beyond the borders tomorrow. This evening, I'll stay with the cobbled streets of Uzès.