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Provence had never lured me. I guess I'd OD-ed on Peter Mayle's books, and the idea of a rocky cicada-ridden region swept by incessant, bitter mistral winds that drive the residents to the brink, just didn't cut it. Provence? Nah! I'll go to Burgundy, thankyou.
OK, Mr Mayle spent much longer – more than just the year he so famously wrote about – at Menerbes, a stony, hitherto unknown village in the Luberon, one of many once-unknown villages in the hinterland. But he concerned himself with setting up house there, doing battle with the local tradespeople, and honing his boules skills.
Not having the luxury of that much time, I jetted in to Marseilles on an airbus one afternoon and three days later sped off again on the TGV (France's very, very fast train, capable of speeds averaging over 300kmh) en route for Paris.
By then I had revised my opinion of the place, totally, for on my equally fast learning curve, I was taught several important things:
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This article continues with details of what I learned about Provence – its history, its sensuous attraction, its food …and much more. The article also includes information on accommodation provided, local food and cuisine, things to do and see.
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(finishes…)
So that’s it. Multi-decibel seduction. And at last I start to get the idea of what had entranced Monsieur Mayle and made him want to stay and put down roots in this stony land. He too had been seduced by the buzz of this wild region.
Olives and wine, lavender, seafood and sugar. Hardly a recipe you'd want to try, but in Provence it works just fine. Warmed by the sun, mellowed out over a few centuries or so, the mix is magic.
Maybe, I should try to stay longer next time, I decide, as the train speeds away from Marseilles central station.
A year should be about right, I figured.
©Sally Hammond 2006
Picture Credits: ©Gordon Hammond 2006
(Sally and Gordon Hammond travelled independently to Provence)
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