We used Marseille as our base as it is easy to fly into and out of from Blundon. I found a great little self-catering loft studio run by a glamourous older French lady. She has turned her property on the outskirts of the city into a profitabe business. Her own home (fabulously French shabby chic, filled with beautiful antiques that made me drool, drool, drool) sits alongside a suite, double bedroom and the studio. The grounds are full of mature trees and a swimming pool. However, it was very cold, so we didn't brave the chilly water!
Although it was a lovely little self-contained flat, we were very tired of climbing down the ladder every time we needed to use the loo in the middle of the night! Let's just say the novelty wore off very quickly.
The studio where we stayed:
Marseille:
P rented a kick-a** Chrysler with sat nav that served us very well. At the beginning of the week, we drove all the way to Monte Carlo in Monaco. Having never been there before, I was blown away by the jaw-dropping sight that greets you as you drive in to the city. Huge, ostentatious buildings perch on the mountainside, falling away dramatically into marinas with multi-million dollar yachts. The very air of Monte Carlo stinks of money.
The women were stylish in white linen, gold jwelery and designer handbags. We were definitely out of place in our faded jeans and cut off shorts, by hey, someone's got to provide the contrast!On the way back from Monte Carlo, we drove through Nice (shabby without the chic, we didn't bother to stop) and Cannes (not to sound jaded, but just another seaside town).
The next day, we drove to Aix En Provence. The morning flea markets were a delight with vendors selling everything from fur coats to vintage bedding to soaps (the specialty of the region). After lunch, we drove to Uzes, where Olive lives.
Olive has visited us several times in Blundon, where she still has a house a couple of miles from where we live. She also came to our wedding on the Small Island last November. However, this time we were on her turf. It was another jaw-dropping experience when we walked into her 400-year-old house in the town centre. P and I looked at each other and it was like, "Wow!" Set over five floors, her house consists of a cellar, huge living and dining area, quaint walled garden, three bedrooms, several bathrooms, numerous little nooks and crannies and a storage loft on the top floor. We could fit our house in Blundon in it three to four times over! Definitely impressive.
That evening, Olive took us for a delicious three-course meal at one of her regular restaurants. A bottle of local wine accompanied our squid salad (tender and flavoursome), pate (ditto), grilled fish and duck with coffee sauce. My dessert was a smooth creme brulee and P didn't even get a look in!
When we woke up the following day, Olive took us on a whistle-stop tour of the shops (she didn't let me buy anything, not even this adorable enamel ashtray that I really wanted!), the cathedral and the Vichy's house. When I say house, I mean villa. The views overlooking the town remind me of sun-bleached rooftops you see on travel shows.
One of the things I wanted to buy was a nice painting of the area. However, P and I didn't see anything that we liked. Most of it was garish tat for the undiscerning tourist ie, not me! When we were at Olive's house, I saw a painting that one of her friends had done. It was exactly in the style that I wanted, so Olive took us to her studio to see what other paintings she had.The artist showed us a selection of her watercolour originals and I picked two different but complementary pieces showing the cobblestone streets of Uzes. Olive tried to discourage me from buying both of them (to the silent horror of the artist I'm sure, who was too polite to say anything at the time!), but I had to have them both. One is a more detailed work where the artist experimented with a pencil technique. The other is a simpler and crisper watercolour. Quite different styles but hung one on top of the other, they look perfect together.
Olive is one of my poshest and most cultured friends and she wanted to take us to Pont du Gard, the most visited site in the region. Having not ever done any Roman history, I didn't even know what an aquaduct was. I was reluctant to go as I would have preferred to continue shopping (it's true what they say, you can't take the materialism out of the Small Island girl) but Olive insisted. Now when a striking six-foot tall muscle-bound 'Grace Jones' insists you do something, then you do it if you know what's good for you!
I am so glad that we went to the Pont du Gard as it was my third jaw-dropping moment of the trip. The 2,000 year old monument is huge and the sheer scale of it takes your breath away. Set against vibrant blue skies at one end, and an inviting river at the other, it defies any description that would do it justice.
As we sat having a juice soaking in the ancient and mind-blowing atmosphere, I told Olive, "You were right and I was wrong, this place is amazing!" Gracious person though she is, Olive did allow herself a smug little smile.
Although most of our week in France was wonderful, like any country, there are also aspects of it which are rather unpleasant.
1. The majority of the Southerners we met were friendly and helpful, in spite of my refusal to even say hello or thank you in French ha ha. However, there was one miserable old geezer to wouldn't take a photo of us in Aix. I don't understand that at all. I come to your country and spend my hard-earned money, and you can't even take 15 seconds out of your day to press a button? He's too ignorant to realize that without tourism, the entire region would not be able to feed itself, and that includes him.
2. The complete lack of public toilets. We had to hunt high and low for them and if you can find one, you have to pay between 0.20 - 0.50 Euro to use them. There was one day where I was so desperate that I went in a public carpark. If you can't provide me with a working toilet, then I'll just have to make one myself! No regrets though, better on the tarmac than on the car seat!
3. The horrendous traffic system and driving. There were many days where P and I were stuck in traffic in the city centre, even if it wasn't rush hour. The streets are narrow and virtually every car has a ding or 10. When a tunnel is shut, there is no signage. Just terrible gridlock where the police stand around and chat while frustrated drivers blare their horns. The French obviously do not have the word 'indicator' in their language and if they do, then they certainly don't know what it means or how to use it.
Would I visit the region again? Yes, if only to see Olive. P and I both agreed that we would skip the coast and drive straight inland next time. I am really glad we went as we have needed the break. And it's always good to visit a place that you have never been before. However, I am very happy to be back in my own home, where I can have rice and stir-fry instead of another bl**dy baguette!
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