Here we are once again in southern France in our little adopted town, Le Pradet.  It’s always a joy to be with our friends again – to enjoy the clear blue Mediterranean skies; to savor the aromatic coolness of French rosé; to relish the taste of the myriad cheeses; to eat a flaky croissant; to bite into a crusty baquette; to savor a mouth-watering fruit tart.  We decided long ago that our trips to France would not be touristic; we would just blend into the local culture and follow the rhythms of daily life.  When we go to the local open-air market, we are greeted by Mario who is always delighted to see us and from whom we weekly purchase our filet of cod (cabillaud in French).  Until this trip, we were greeted as warmly by the cheese vendor. We learned that after the death of his wife a few months ago, he sold his business to a younger couple, Florian and his mother, whom we are getting to know.  

At an earlier time in our marriage, Melanie and I fleetingly thought about buying a second home in France. We were visiting Melanie’s cousin and her husband in Britanny who often spent summer vacations in France in their caravan. At the time, they were living and working in England.   One day, walking along the streets in Dinan, we glanced in the window of a real estate office and noticed a listing for an attractive apartment. The price was listed in francs.  A couple of years later, after the adoption of European currency into euros, the price nearly doubled.  Did we miss a good investment opportunity?  Perhaps. But frankly, it would have been a stretch financially. Even though that opportunity slipped away, we still have now what we had dreamed about then – living in France. And, we didn’t have to buy. Since retirement in 2013, we’ve come almost annually to Le Pradet, a small town along the Mediterranean. In early 2000s, when I was vice chancellor of academic affairs at Indiana University South Bend (IUSB), I was instrumental in starting an exchange program of professors and students with the University of Toulon-Var. Because that exchange has lasted until now, we have many friends in southern France. We are fortunate to have a friend whose apartment attached to her home is available to us whenever we visit.  Instead of living in Britanny we are living in Provence. 

Our trip here this time was not without its misadventures. We arrived at night about four weeks ago by train to Marseille from Barcelona where we spent several days as a post extension to our Viking cruise on the Douro River in Portugal. (I’ll do a separate posting on that cruise later).  When we arrived at the train station in Barcelona, we discovered that I had made the train reservation for September 6, instead of August 6.  Luckily for us, with the help of a railway agent, we were able to purchase a new ticket even though the train was supposedly full.   And we discovered, just before boarding that we had left one of our bags in the train station.  Again, lucky for us, Melanie was able to retrieve it quickly before boarding. Our traveling missteps began anew upon arriving in Marseille.   We stepped into the dark night once we left the train station. Our hotel for the evening was just down the street, yet somehow as we descended the stairs, we took a wrong turn.  Disoriented, we were two hapless strangers hauling luggage roaming around the dark streets, an easy target for those seeking mischief. My phone GPS wasn’t helpful. Happily, a woman out for a late night stroll noticed two bewildered travelers and and pointed us in the right direction. 

The next morning after a somewhat restless sleep, we walked to the Old Port to join a friend for lunch. And, you guessed it reader, in my search for La Canebière, a street leading to the Old Port, I once again took a wrong turn, and after wandering through several narrow city streets, we reached our destination.  Once there, we happily stumbled upon our friend, Dolorès, who was patiently waiting for us.  After a brief walk, we dined on seafood pasta and grilled fish at La Dorade, one of the many cafés along the streets that lead to the Old Port.   After lunch, the three of us took a ferrry boat to the other side of the port where Dolorès delighted in pointing out the imposing architecture of City Hall and the surrounding buildings. We could easily have spent the rest of the day with this lovely, under five feet tall, eighty-four year old friend, but if were to reach Le Pradet before dark, we had to retrieve our rental car. We spent our first evening in Le Pradet with our friends, MariThé and Christian catching up over wine and cheese.

We spent our first couple of days lazily readjusting to life in Provence.  We shopped for groceries at the supermarket , bought fruit and vegetables from the open-air market, strolled around the central plaza and park, settling into the rhythms  of daily life. We always feel at home here. Delicious food and good wine define life in Provence as well as the sunshine and the occasional Mistral, the strong winds off the Mediterranean. We’ve had several meals with friends – lunch, dinner, an evening apéro, the latter an informal gathering of what we in the States would call heavy appetizers. One of the things we most enjoy here is taking short, and sometimes longer, road trips exploring the beauitful Provence countryside and quaint Medieval villages. There are myriad vineyards and orchards tucked among the hills and lovely little towns perched on steep rocky inclines. The roads are narrow with many hairpin turns. Though the panorama is beautiful, focusing on the road is critical, or we might find ourselves sliding down a gulley, or worse, a hillside. Barriers are practically non-existent along the isolated, rustic roads. 

We spent a glorious day traveling those roads one day with friends, MariThé and Christian, and their friends Pascal and Soraya. Luckily for us, Christian was driving as the roads were steep and narrow, uphill and downhill, in endless twists and turns. We traveled deep into the countryside. Our destination was an ancient village, Saint-Martin-de-Pallières. Our friends were eager for us to visit the Medieval castle and underground cathedral there. To our dismay, we could not visit either. There was a wedding in the castle and the cathedral was locked. Instead, we walked around the narrow cobblestoned streets and enjoyed a picturesque view of the expansive valley below. From there we drove to Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume to visit the cathedral in whose crypt lie the remains of Mary Magdalene. We spent a few moments there in prayerful meditation. I lit a candle for a special intention. Before returning home, we sat in a café directly across the cathedral to enjoy a refreshing glass of wine.

Walking is an essential activity here. We’ve enjoyed strolls along the Old Port in Toulon, ambling along the city’s streets, casually soaking in the daily comings and goings. One afternoon, we stumbled upon a braderie (store sales). The streets in Toulon were lined with merchandise in front of stores. Crowds looking for bargains, elbow to elbow, moved slowly in waves. Clothing and other items were being sold for as little as five to fifteen euros. We were not tempted to buy except for a small colorful pottery dish. Other afternoons we’ve strolled to the beach, just a ten minute walk from our apartment. To get there we descend, then walk briefly up an incline and then walk down one hundred and two stairs, turn right, pass through a locked gate for which we have the key, turn left and walk a few yards to the beach. There we enjoy sitting along the rocky wall in the shade reading a book, people watching, walking in the sand, and occasionally, getting our feet wet in the cool water. We’ve yet to take a dip.

The most memorable moment of our visit in Provence was the day we celebrated Melanie’s eightieth birthday at a restaurant on the Mediterranean with several of our friends. She thought only she and I were going to a very nice restaurant. Imagine her surprise when she was greeted by friends already waiting for us at a table overlooking the Mediterranean. We dined that afternoon on bouillabaise and pasta with lobster. There was wine of course and a delciious chocolate cake for dessert. Our friends gifted Melanie with a beautiful Provençal tablecloth and napkins. Lunch began at 12:30 and we did not leave until well after four. It was indeed a joyous day.

France is universally known as a gastronomical haven. The meals we’ve been eating at our friends’ homes have been delectably divine. One day our friend Danièle cooked an unforgettable meal of rabbit cooked in a delicious sauce with olives. The meal was paired with an equally fine white wine from 2003! We’ve never drunk a vintage wine! Jacques’ wine cellar has over two thousand five hundred bottles of wine. I mistakenly picked up a bottle and almost dropped it. That would have cost me several hundred dollars. I decided not to touch any more bottles. Just looking gave me a thrill. We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting over coffee and a raspberry tart.

On another afternoon we went on a gentle hike with Olivier and Valérie in an area called Provence verte (green Provence), more specifically the Vallon du Sourn. Walking among the lush greenery along a gently moving stream, the Argens, nestled among steep rocks stretching up to the clear marine blue skies was enchanting. Afterward we lunched in a small quaint town, Cotignac, that Melanie and I had visited just two days earlier. It’s astounding how cafés, with tiny kitchens, can prepare meals so beautifully presented. Here in France the presentation of a meal is as equally important as its taste.

A favorite pasttime for us here, besides visiting historic sites, is being part of the local cultural arts scene. We attended with MariThé, a two-woman lively play of various skits about their friendship over time. In the intervening moments between each kit, the women flipped over two large painted canvasses depicting the different landscapes at different times in their lives. It was an enjoyable comedy but sometimes we got lost in the rapidity of the dialogue. Thankfully, their gestures and movements across the stage enabled us to better appreciate the play. Before we leave, we’ll hopefully be able to buy the printed version.

One sunny afternoon, we took the ferry to the island of Porquerolles where we happened upon an exhibition of modern art at the Fondation Cormignac. Both Melanie and I, who are neophytes in appreciating modern art, found this exhibit fascinating. There was one work consisting of a large circle made up of shiny black orbs, which would slowly change color as you walked by.

One of our favorite movie theaters in Toulon is Le Royal, where foreign and French films are shown. One afternoon we saw an engaging Norwegian film, “Valeur Sentimental,” with French subtitles, about the dynamics and complexities of familial relationships.

And, needless to say, the architectural grandeur of churches and castles astonish even the most casual observer.

One morning Martine invited us to do a guided tour by the Office of Tourism of the old city of La Garde. As we climbed and turned into narrow cobblestoned streets, we had an inkling that we had walked these streets before. This time it was much more interesting as we learned about the town’s early development in the twelveth century. Perched on a hill, the town offered breathtakingly expansive views of the landscape below. For me, visiting the Roman chapel and the workshop of a wood craftsman at work were the highlights of the tour.

After the tour, we joined Martine at her home for a delicious fish soup accompanied, of course, with a bottle of rosé. Our time here is rapidly coming to a close, but before leaving there are other meals to share with friends. The invitations never seem to cease. But if the air controllers strike happens as planned on our scehduled day of departure, we may have a day or more in Provence.