The Golden Light of Provence, 2016

There is something magical about Provence that keeps drawing me back.  Perhaps it’s the golden light of the Provençal sun with its deep rich blue Mediterranean skies.   Cézanne, Gauguin and Van Gogh certainly captured it in their canvases.

Melanie in Garden of Notre Dame de Pitié in St. Rémy de Provence.  The statue is of Frédéric Mistral, Provençal author.

Like them, I too am enchanted by the early morning light.  In the morning, the sun glides gently across rustic, red-tiled roofs;  the evening sun cascades over the verdant countryside.   When we arrived just over a week ago, the sun was a welcome change from the cold, overcast days we left behind in South Bend.  But for the next five days, rain and the blustery winds of the Mistral reminded us that these early days of spring in Provence still bring wintry conditions.   Now the sun is back and we are grateful.

Our first days here have been spent setting up household.  We’ve gone to the local supermarket, the Casino, and to the Friday morning open market in the town square.  We’ve also made trips to our favorite boulangerie and to the boucherie.   We’ve gotten our senior bus passes and new SIM cards for our phones.  And now we’re slowly settling in to daily Provençal living.  Our apartment, the same as we had two years ago, sits on a hill facing the Mediterranean.   The sea is not visible, but the glass wall that lines our kitchen and sitting area give us a wonderful view of the garden below, the trees and rooftops of the houses, and in the distance to the west, the mountains.

What has made our visits to Provence even more special are the friends we’ve made over the years, most of them through the exchange program between IUSB and the Université de Toulon-Var. Since our arrival, we’ve been welcomed and feted.  On Sunday morning, we went to the flea market with our friends, Christian and MariThé, and returned to their home for a “simple” meal of lentils and sausage with a cauliflower and asparagus salad.  There was, of course, wine and cheese.  And, bien entendu, the baguette!   After our meal, we showed our friends the YouTube video of our latest spotlight dance at our dance studio, a waltz to the music of the Cajun singer, Zachary Richard.   Christian, a big fan of international music, introduced us to the jazz of a Brazilian piano player, Eliana Elias, and to the American group, Pink Martini.  Ari Shapiro, of NPR (National Public Radio), is an occasional guest artist with the latter group.

On another evening, our landlady, and friend, Martine, brought us a delicious Moroccan soup, chorba, with lamb, chick peas and vegetables.  Another time, she surprised us, with a knock on the door and a smile, with chocolate mousse topped with almonds. And yesterday evening, we dined at another friend’s on fish and steamed vegetables with aioli (garlic mayonnaise sauce).  We’ve had very little time to prepare a sumptuous meal of our own.  But am I concerned?

Today our friend, Martine, invited us to an afternoon drive to the medieval village, Le Castellet.  Like many of the Provençal villages from the Middle Ages, Le Castellet sits atop a mountainous hill overlooking large swaths of verdant, neatly sculptured vineyards and fields.  As we wound our way through narrow stone streets, we visited several chic boutiques, a sign that this village caters to tourists.  I bought a new wallet, Melanie a salmon colored scarf that matched perfectly the sweater she was wearing, and Martine found a scented candle that she says will last her several months.  After a stop at Sanary-sur-Mer, where we casually walked along the pier, we started our journey home, during rush hour,  squeezed among a slow moving caravan of cars along narrow streets.  Later in the evening, at eight to be precise, the usual hour when meals begin here, we dined at Martine’s with Christian and MariThé, over pumpkin soup as a first course followed by mixed fresh vegetables and roasted turkey breast.  Dessert was a bowl of fresh fruit.    Dining in our friends’ homes is a delight. But our friends are quick to point out that it’s nothing more than a “repas simple,” a simple meal.  Whether it is or not is disputable, but what is clear, our palates have not suffered.

Tonight, we’ll eat at home, a simple meal of sautéed spinach and baked cod rubbed in zaa’tar, a Lebanese blend of spices.  Melanie wanted to buy it at the Friday market in the downtown square from the vendor selling spices.  Since it was unknown to her, she immediately researched it on her iPhone.   She then made a  sachet for us with the spices she had — sumac, oregano, thyme, sesame seeds, basil, and marjoram.  Since it was a particuarly sunny day, there were more people at the market than the previous Friday.  We bumped into MariThé, who introduced us to a vendor selling homemade goat cheese.  The Friday market is a real treat for us as we meander among the different vendors comparing prices and the quality of the fruit and vegetables.  We blend in as local residents.  It’s nice to see familiar faces and to know that the vendors we frequent remember us.

Yes, there is much to like here that makes us feel at home.  Yesterday in Le Castellet, we were reminded of just how special Provence is when at the candle boutique the saleslady, remarking on the beautiful Provençal day , said, “Les vignes, les collines, la mer, ça, ç’est le paradis!” (The vineyards, the hills, the sea, that is paradise!).   In that one phrase, she captured the magical charm of this region in southern France.