Provence 1

This is the first time I have been in Provence in early summer. This is what I have missed until now: olive trees in full yellow bloom; warm, lazy lunches by the ex-pat pool; plump, deep red cherry-picking, and eating; opening the shutters every morning to clear blue skies with temperatures climbing each day to 28 or 29; early walks through the sweetly-scented pine forest; the intense, bright, hot heat of the middle of the day; multiple swims in the pool; balmy evening meals outside as the sun sets fat and golden behind the Dentelles, hazily pink in the evening sky.

My sister’s beautiful house lies amongst pine trees and bright purple lavender in the Vaucluse area of Provence, north-east of Avignon and east of the Rhône Valley. The views to the west are wide: across a small to the tiny village of Suzette, its houses clinging tightly to the hillside and, beyond, the Dentelles range. ‘Dentelle’ is French for ‘lace’ and the name reflects the scalloped edge which ha been carved out after years of weather have eroded away the rocky crest of these limestone hills.

I arrived to be whisked straight away to dinner with friends of my sister at a village restaurant with outdoor tables and delicious food. As usual the dishes were a creative and artistic delight. There was an evening market on with stalls of products by local artisans and three friendly little grey donkeys to pull a cart and delight the visitors.

The following day was no less of a gourmand’s delight as we were invited to a lunch by the pool of other friends. Although the sun shone fiercely, we stayed cool in the gentle shade of pines, sipped iced rosé and ate a feast of salmon, salads and strawberries, with, of course, the inevitable platter of fromages from around the region.

A few days later, I caught the train via Marseille to St Cyr-sur-Mer, a small seaside town on the Mediterranean with an old centre and market square, where my French friends, Dominique and Gilbert Fredon have their home. They are dear people, both teachers, although Dominique is now retired, who love to hear about New Zealand and show me around their area.

Outside the high season of July and August, there are few tourists around France, and this area is no exception. The campgrounds and beaches, which must be avoided at all costs in those months, are still almost empty in June, yet the weather is a dream. We buy fresh almonds from the local organic market, visit ridiculously picturesque villages perched high on hillsides and walk along the cliff tops on the stony trails of a coastal walkway which runs for twelve kilometres between Bandol and St Cyr. Dominique is older than me but, despite my recent biking, could easily leave me for dead if she wasn’t far too polite to do so. She is sporty and fit, full of energy and life, warm and caring, and an inspiration to me to not let life pass me by. I enjoy her company and learn lots of new French words, as always.