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It is with deep sorrow that I offer this salute to Peter Mayle, who passed away on 18 January in Aix-en-Provence. The author of A Year in Provence, along with many other notable titles that celebrated Provence, held a special place in my heart. Perhaps the following excerpt from the introduction of my book, Passion for Provence: 22 Keys to La Belle Vie, offers the best explanation.

“Falling for France is as easy as sipping a glass of pale rosé on a sun-dappled terrasse overlooking a shimmering Mediterranean cove. Moving to France is more complicated.

Peter Mayle did it, famously recounting his French adventures in A Year in Provence, published in 1989. I read the memoir over twenty-five years ago while sitting on a Mediterranean beach at Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. It was magical to be in luscious Provence on my honeymoon, but enjoying A Year in Provence while in Provence made the special event even more memorable.

In the years that followed, I eagerly awaited each of Mr. Mayle’s delightful publications. In fact, he signed one of them for me at my local bookstore in Virginia. I was charmed by his warmth and wit, as well as his scarlet socks. While I was writing this book, a recollection of those spirited chaussettes prompted me to send him a long-overdue fan letter. As his birthday was imminent, I tucked my note inside a fanciful birthday card. To my delight, he wrote back. Not only was his response a gracious thank-you for a thank-you, but it included sage publishing advice. I framed the letter—it inspires me every day.”

Soon after Passion for Provence was published last November, I sent Monsieur Mayle a copy, which he received in early December. Though I don’t know if he was able to read it, it’s my hope that during his final days, he held the book he helped inspire, and that it brought him joy.

 

 

No phantom tenor crooned from opera house rafters. No symphony orchestra performed an Andrew Lloyd Weber score. But there was a lyrical angel perched in a treetop and an Italian quartet of English-singing impersonators. The celestial being and the troubadours may belong to opposite ends of the musical spectrum, but during a pair of pre-Christmas events, they delighted toe-tapping, music-loving locals in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

On Friday, 15 December, The Beatbox, a Beatles tribute band, put in a hard day’s night belting out the Liverpool group’s greatest hits for devoted French fans. The English language school, English for French, sponsored the free event at the inviting wine bar, Le Divin, which was packed. Judging by the enthusiastic applause and dreamy-eyed expressions across the audience, the terrific group wowed the crowd with their refined, Beatles-like harmonization and delivery. Before the quartet reminded us of Yesterday, Ralph and I, (non-night owls), called it a night—just before tomorrow.

The next day, with “Michèlle, ma belle …” still swirling in my head, we were treated to another musical event—of the traditional type. It wouldn’t be Noël in Saint-Rémy without the locals-only staging of La Pastorale, a provençal version of the nativity story, written by Yvan Audouard in 1960, with music by Paul Durand. The free double performances (6 PM & 8 PM) took place in centre ville, on Place Favier, which boasts a perfectly positioned plane tree, the outpost for the story-telling angel-narrator. The amateur actors, from tiny tots to pensioners, who lip-synch their lines and melodies, are expertly made up and dressed up—the vibrant costumes are dazzling. It’s an authentic, annual spectacle not to be missed.

Le Bar Divin, all dolled up for Christmas, hosted The Beatox, a terrific Beatles tribute band.

Before The Beatbox made their grand entrance, the all-important sound check.

“George,” aka Guido Cinelli, gives a pre-performance thumb’s up.

The Beatbox in action at Le Bar Divin, in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

Another thumb’s up is offered by a delighted French couple who drove over Les Alpilles from Maussane for the concert.

The angel hovering above the manger narrates La Pastorale, a Christmas tradition in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

A happy Wise Man flashes a smile as he winds his way through the back streets of Saint-Rémy.

A pair of Wise Men hustle along young Pastorale performers to make their entrance on cue.

Adorable young angels with their delicate cardboard wings hydrate as they wait their turn to join La Pastorale.

Authentically costumed townspeople gather before the manger in the last half of La Pastorale.

From The Beatbox to La Pastoral, Saint-Rémy pays tribute–in fine form–to a wide range of music and tradition. Who knows what entertaining surprises are in store for Noël 2018?

Brrrr, chilly temps have arrived early in Provence—along with grim, gray skies. Lamenting the absence of summer’s azure canopy and endless soleil-filled days can lead to sliding spirits. But wait—Provence is prepared. To the rescue—a hearty harvest treat and community camaraderie, plus the all-important twinkly lights. The Danish may have perfected hygge (cozy comfort), but here in Provence, the locals know a thing or two about wishing au revoir to winter dreary and bonjour to joyful celebration.

Strands of stunning twinkly lights, illuminated for the Fête de Lumière, bring to life the Place de la Republique, the main square in the village of Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

 

Across the street from La Place de la Republique, the diamond-studded columns of the Eglise Saint-Martin sparkle, lifting hearts and spirits.

 

Around the corner, in the historic center, tea lights illuminate the fountain dedicated to the seer, Nostradamus, Saint-Remy’s most famous native son.

It is during this special Fête de Lumière, that merchants, like N&M Déco, deck their halls to the hilt and welcome late night shoppers.

At the popular resto, Gus, fresh oysters are offered to passersby.

A few doors down, the ritzy boutique, Escale, delights customers with posh seafood and foie gras hors d’oeurves.

Another early winter celebration takes place at the fabulous Domaine Rabasse Charavin, just outside the town of Cairanne in the southern Rhone Valley. A homemade jam festival at a winery? Far from it.

Resting nonchalantly in heirloom china, is the star of the show, the world’s most expensive mushroom–the truffle. Slivers of the earthy, smokey tuber will decorate the finished edible masterpieces.

In short order, the family of vintners whips up no fewer than 125 truffle omelettes to serve to their devoted patrons. (Three eggs, blended with a truffle mixture have been staged ahead of time, stored in the individual jam jars, placed to the side.)

Voilà, the scumptious truffle omelette, set off with a mound of fresh spinach and a split steamed potato, also sprinked with a dash of truffle bits.

Enjoyed by all–in winter coats. A small sacrifice. After all, those stainless steel tanks  protect a precious liquid!

…which is ready for your enjoyment during the Salute to the Truffe celebration. The open bar offers a delightful array of the domaine’s marvelous products, including the Rasteau and Abel Charavin, en rouge, which I love. Yes, you can take home a few cases, if you like. And we did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Star power comes to Saint-Rémy!

All last week, a film crew buzzed around Saint-Paul-de-Mausole, the psychiatric hospital where the post-Impressionist painter, Vincent van Gogh, lived from 1889 to 1890. Here, American actor Willem Dafoe was filming, “At Eternity’s Gate,” a new flick about the great artist.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, Ralph and I popped by to witness the action. We found a dozen huge, spiffy trailers, a gigantic crane, a mammoth camera and other film equipment but not a single actor.  That changed come Monday.  Well, sort of. Though we had no tête-à-tête with Mr. Dafoe, during the week, we did become best buddies with a make-up guy who enjoyed catching some rays while not transforming actors.

We also chatted with the friendly movie set chef. Each day, Ralph and I would stroll by, and I’d stop to ask the chef what he had planned for the plat du jour. Magret de canard was on tap for Thanksgiving lunch–not that he knew much about the special day for Americans. I felt compelled to fill him in on the basics. Today is the day, I told him, when Americans eat lots of turkey, watch lots of American football, and give lots of thanks. He scrunched up his nose, tilted his head to one side and said, “That’s what Americans do the day before Black Friday?”

Yep, that’s what we do “the day before Black Friday,” aka, Thanksgiving–we eat turkey, watch TV and give thanks. Especially, we give thanks.

On location at Saint Paul de Mausole, Vincent van Gogh’s former residence, Saint Rémy de Provence.

Film equipment is poised for action in the the peaceful interior courtyard at Saint Paul de Mausole.

 

Van Gogh’s backyard at Saint Paul de Mausole is lavenderless in November, but imagine summer when blossoms will abound.

An actor graciously poses before hitting the lunch tent.

Inside a make-up trailor for “At Eternity’s Gate”–maybe where Dafoe became van Gogh.

The film crew’s lunch wagon. The week’s plats du jour included porc aux olives, boeuf bourguignon and magret de canard–pas mal!

Summer in Saint-Rémy means luxuriously warm temps, bright blue skies, and heady lavender-scents. Everybody and his frère are out and about, taking full advantage of this seductively sensuous time of year. How many ways to feel the breeze? Let me count the ways.

Up, up and away. You won’t be seeing me up there anytime soon, but I bet the view is terrific and air cool.

Forget the postal truck–the electric bike is loads more fun.

But, he really wants one of these babies.

For this happy gal, horse power is the way to go. Nothing like a slow, clippity-clop down La Ancienne Voie Aurelia at the base of Les Alpilles to kick off the day.

For a bit of shopping in town, this scooter-with-a-basket fits the bill. Parking is not a problem.

Don’t underestimate his old-timer–it has 2-60 air conditioning. Just roll down two windows and rev up to 60 mph–out in the country, preferably.

Or do the same in Mint Green Truck’s flashy cousin. For extra excitement, maybe hitch a ride in the flatbed?

This guy’s got flash and judging by all that lycra, lots of dash too.

Golf cart? Go-cart? Whatever it is, what a cute little pipsqueak it is!

And here’s another pipsqueak–a very clever one. Who says you need a vehicle to get around town?

September is here and summer is winding down. But while the luscious weather has lasted, it’s been delightful observing the variety of clever and colorful means of getting ’round town. And just going ’round.

Up and over the craggy notch of the Alpilles mountains, down through vineyards and tiny villages, plus a few roundabouts and voilà, you’ve arrived!  Not at a cram-packed beach. Not at a bustling city center. Nope. You’re in a quiet oasis of calm, away from the maddening crowds, surrounded by bubbling fountains and cascading petunias—at a shopping mall!

This isn’t a run of the mill, scruffy retail therapy center. Mais non. The new McArthurGlen outlet mall in Miramas—45 minutes from St. Rémy—is a sparkling (albeit faux) French village of pastel “houses,” flower-filled window boxes, open squares with umbrella-shaded benches, not to mention a bistro on every block, and spacious, sparkling toilets on every corner.

While walking from boutique to boutique, you’re treated to these vibrant geraniums, which brighten up a hot summer afternoon on “main street.”

Though chances are you won’t see any “villagers” in traditional dress, you can find boutiques offering luscious, locally produced olive oil.

And there’s not just shopping here. Art appreciation is also on offer, this sculpture of a noble steed, a case in point. Around the corner, a Rodin exposition was in progress, as well.

And when your credit card and feet need a break, this inviting table awaits.

Here, in a shopping mall of all places, in the middle of summer, in the middle of Provence, you can find peace–and perhaps a special treasure at an “interesting” price. Who knew!

There’s nothing half-way about mid-August in St. Rémy. It’s the highest of high season, and the town pulls out all the stops. Tons of tourists come to town, and judging by the sturdy metal barriers positioned along the ring road, bulls are not far behind. In this cowboy-centric region of Provence, horses and bulls often take center stage. This weekend is no exception. From Friday night through Tuesday night, bulls blast around the municipal arena and also run freely in the streets—escorted on both sides by mounted horses—kids ride ponies on a parking-lot-turned-dude-ranch, flowered carts carrying beaming beauties in authentic traditional dress circle the historic center, rousing band tunes fill the air, and grilled meat dinners are on offer. Of course, rafraîchissemnts, refreshments, are available par tout. And, to culminate the vibrant summer festival, a concert featuring an impersonator of the French idol, Johnny Hallyday–it promises a spectacle that is “100% Johnny!” But first, some local musicians…

The toe-tappin’ band sets the festive tone. The crowds begin to congregate for the bull event. Some spectators have already snagged the best seats atop bales of hay.

Bulls? Where are the bulls? Someone said there would be bulls!

 

OK, we’ve got horses now. We’re getting somewhere.

All ready to go. But where are those bulls?

Patience. A young rider epitomizes the calm before the storming of the streets.

Oh, there they are. Bulls buck in the truck. The mounted steeds position themselves to escort the pair of bulls through the streets. When the warning shot is fired, the guy on top of the truck, will release the doors.

And away they go! But not too far. Just half way around the ring road to another truck where they’ll be ushered up the ramp; after a short rest period, they’ll reverse course. A few round-trips later, they’ll be whisked back to the ranch–where, I’m sure, delicious feedbags await, an apt reward for the stars of one of St. Remy’s treasured traditional festivals.

 

 

 

It’s a warm, lazy Sunday. Today, an easy stroll fits the “fitness” bill. With St. Remy behind us, we meander down a country lane towards Chateau Roussan. En route, we observe several members of the animal kingdom are unaware it’s a day of rest.

First, there’s the mellow zebra cow surveying its wooded domain.

Then, a young stallion, rarin’ to go. Let’s not be late for the rodeo!

A busy bee gathers nectar with frenzied speed.

A carved cicada door-knocker awaits the Sunday lunch visitors.

A gecko explores its surroundings–possibly looking for a way inside? Last night, its very real cousin was successful at doing just that chez nous. It took a netted pool skimmer and a broom to convince it it would be much happier spending the night in the cool outdoors. And, we were much happier it finally took the not-so-subtle hint.

 

A colorful carousel stands still the morning after what looks to have been a very festive night before at Chateau Roussan.

And back home in Clos Mozart, forty minutes later. And now for a much needed siesta, known in these parts as a “sieste.”

 

 

 

Marseille’s Orange Velodrome was the site of the final time trial for the Tour de France 2017.

Inside Marseille’s massive velodrome, which holds over 67,000 fans…

An early competitor rounding the first bend just outside the velodrome…

View from an upper deck of the velodrome over Marseille’s highrises, dwarfed by sun-baked peaks…

A trio of happy worker bees, appropriately outfitted in orange and black.

Hope they’re wearing sunscreen!

King of the Mountain fans sporting their support.

Chris Froome hydrates before blazing out of the velodrome. He came in third in the last time trial but claimed victory overall.

Lucky lions enjoy the cool spray of the Rotonde fountain on a sizzling August day…

The clock tower stands guard over the Hotel de Ville square.

The beautifully restored Caumont Art Center features a gorgeous wrought iron staircase.

 

Tempura shrimp  make for a delightful starter to a summer lunch.

Summer love at first bite: Coconut-ginger sauce, topped with coral lentils and cod filets, garnished with vibrant cumquats and spring onions.