THE COUNTRY OF LAVENDER: PROVENCE
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| lavender bath |
There are good reasons why Provence is particularly liked and celebrated. Colours, scents, summer heat, lovely landscape shapes. It is also definitely the country of lavender. Early summer, fields of lavender are blooming, stirring hords of bees, butterflies, bumblebees and humans to visit them.
A couple from Forcalquier told us that an Asian soap opera made the lavender fields around Valensole famous. Since then dedicated tours are offered to Asian customers who come by bus load to see the lavender. To be fair, these fields are quite spectacular when seen for the first time. There is the intense purple colour which varies in shades depending upon the inclination of the sun rays and the shape of the terrain, but also the dizzying fragrance and the loud buzz of insects.
The plants are aligned in rows which gives a beautiful geometric patterns, like rows of long fluffy violet tubes espousing the curve of the field.
We saw the first ones on our way from Avignon to Céreste, a small village from Lubéron where we stayed in the village hostel which is used by people going to Santiago de Compostella on the route of Arles. On that day, there was a team of young firefighters which we briefly met in the kitchen room the following morning around 7.30 AM. The boys stormed in the kitchen and expedited their breakfast of cereals and pizza - cold from the night before - washed their dishes with military discipline and disappeared in a hurry at 7.50 AM because that was their schedule and they couldn't afford to be late. In the meantime, the girls' team had briefly come in to bring back cleaning tools, they had apparently taken care of their breakfast earlier in a less spontaneous manner than the boys.
We left after them under a warm sun, only to meet a thin black cat in need of cuddling right by the church. This was the beginning of our walk through Lubéron.
The hilly terrain was used to build villages on hilltops to monitor potential enemies from afar. There is always a church which very often doubles as a clock tower. Land in the valleys is used for agriculture to produce grapes, cereals and olives. There was not much cattle to be seen. However there were some goat herds. When the terrain is not suitable for anything else, it is left as woods or scrubland.
The warm climate has attracted a lot urbanisation with many villas and second homes.
We arrived in Manosque mid afternoon. The name of the city was sounding beautiful and somehow induced great expectations. Jean Giono, a French writer, has stayed there several years in a yellow mansion, on the boulevard Elemir Bouges that circles around the wall of the old city. The mansion has now been converted into the Giono cultural center.
The old city can be entered through a couple of medieval gates. Next to the Saunerie gate, a baker was advertising selling his shop and the flat that goes with it for a modest amount because of planned retirement. The shops were an array of souvenirs shops for the numerous tourists, but there were also regular shops that are found in a larger town that serves the rural areas surrounding it. Restaurants and bars were of course plentiful.
The sad and skeletal shape of plane trees, which were without any foliage when we started our trip in April, has now been replaced by a thick cover of leaves that provides city squares with a welcome shield against for the burning sun. Café terraces, and a few benches, cosily fill-up the space underneath, allowing people to get away from the heat.
The old city of Manosque, like in Avignon, has a visible muslim population. Veiled woman go shopping on the streets, sit on squares while looking after children that are playing, young men meet in smoking lounges. Kebab shops are quite easy to find, so are oriental grocery stores.
During our stroll through the old city, we visited the Saint Saviour Church, beautifully peaceful with great lighting and soothing chants. Meanwhile police was redirecting traffic at the Soubeyran gate, something official was in the offing judging by the crowd that had gathered around a tall man with white hair and an elegant navy-blue suit, he must have been the mayor of Manosque. Three musicians had been brought in for the occasion, with wind instruments. The whole crowd moved a hundred meters towards the Soubeyran restaurant next to which flags had been mounted for a press conference: a new square was about to be inaugurated. The event has surely been covered in the next day's local newspapers!
We had dinner in an open-air oriental tapas bar, next to the office of the Communist Party and two steps away from a large building occupied by the CGT unions, which is very close to the Communist Party in ideology. Manosque used to have coal mining up to 1965 when it was closed. However the worker's culture must still be very present judging by the presence in the city center of offices for the CGT and the Communist Party.
The modern city has grown around the old city in a fairly unattractive way. It has rows of social housing with their fair share of graffitis. Beyond comes the industrial zone, which is not really pleasant for people walking and which is itself replaced, after a while, by fields of fruit trees not far from the EDF canal fed with water from the Durance. Then came a four kilometre stretch along a busy road to cross the motorway and the Durance river. We have now gotten used to such situations, we just switch-on the "you gotta do it" mode and forget about the traffic, the noise and the unglamorous road-side. The Durance had a very wide riverbed filled with white pebbles.
Our reward came a few kilometres farther when we discovered a couple of beautiful lavender fields. A bus of Asians just stopped and started taking selfies with the lavender. We joined them for a while!
We traversed Gréoux-les-bains, with its thermal bath, under a stiffling heat, stopped for coffee at the camping by the waterside. Another hill was ahead of us from which we discovered the Castelleras, the medieval tower of Saint Martin de Brôme down in the valley. Saint Martin is a small village with a cheerful hotel, called La Fontaine, that also run a well-stocked grocery store looking a bit like a delicacy shop in a stone cellar. Next to those is the village fountain whose water is drunk by everyone in the village. We arrived at the time of the soccer World Cup match France - Argentina. We could hear kids roaring from one of the hotel rooms every time something was happening in the match. We could actually watch in the bar where the mother of the cook was busy ironing a large pile of bed sheets in front of a large screen TV. It turned out that the kids were from an Asian family on tour in the region with their own rented car. That evening the village was getting ready for a night of barbecued meat on the city square. Better late than never because at 6pm not much seemed ready.
A couple from Forcalquier told us that an Asian soap opera made the lavender fields around Valensole famous. Since then dedicated tours are offered to Asian customers who come by bus load to see the lavender. To be fair, these fields are quite spectacular when seen for the first time. There is the intense purple colour which varies in shades depending upon the inclination of the sun rays and the shape of the terrain, but also the dizzying fragrance and the loud buzz of insects.
The plants are aligned in rows which gives a beautiful geometric patterns, like rows of long fluffy violet tubes espousing the curve of the field.
We saw the first ones on our way from Avignon to Céreste, a small village from Lubéron where we stayed in the village hostel which is used by people going to Santiago de Compostella on the route of Arles. On that day, there was a team of young firefighters which we briefly met in the kitchen room the following morning around 7.30 AM. The boys stormed in the kitchen and expedited their breakfast of cereals and pizza - cold from the night before - washed their dishes with military discipline and disappeared in a hurry at 7.50 AM because that was their schedule and they couldn't afford to be late. In the meantime, the girls' team had briefly come in to bring back cleaning tools, they had apparently taken care of their breakfast earlier in a less spontaneous manner than the boys.
We left after them under a warm sun, only to meet a thin black cat in need of cuddling right by the church. This was the beginning of our walk through Lubéron.
The hilly terrain was used to build villages on hilltops to monitor potential enemies from afar. There is always a church which very often doubles as a clock tower. Land in the valleys is used for agriculture to produce grapes, cereals and olives. There was not much cattle to be seen. However there were some goat herds. When the terrain is not suitable for anything else, it is left as woods or scrubland.
The warm climate has attracted a lot urbanisation with many villas and second homes.
We arrived in Manosque mid afternoon. The name of the city was sounding beautiful and somehow induced great expectations. Jean Giono, a French writer, has stayed there several years in a yellow mansion, on the boulevard Elemir Bouges that circles around the wall of the old city. The mansion has now been converted into the Giono cultural center.
The old city can be entered through a couple of medieval gates. Next to the Saunerie gate, a baker was advertising selling his shop and the flat that goes with it for a modest amount because of planned retirement. The shops were an array of souvenirs shops for the numerous tourists, but there were also regular shops that are found in a larger town that serves the rural areas surrounding it. Restaurants and bars were of course plentiful.
The sad and skeletal shape of plane trees, which were without any foliage when we started our trip in April, has now been replaced by a thick cover of leaves that provides city squares with a welcome shield against for the burning sun. Café terraces, and a few benches, cosily fill-up the space underneath, allowing people to get away from the heat.
The old city of Manosque, like in Avignon, has a visible muslim population. Veiled woman go shopping on the streets, sit on squares while looking after children that are playing, young men meet in smoking lounges. Kebab shops are quite easy to find, so are oriental grocery stores.
During our stroll through the old city, we visited the Saint Saviour Church, beautifully peaceful with great lighting and soothing chants. Meanwhile police was redirecting traffic at the Soubeyran gate, something official was in the offing judging by the crowd that had gathered around a tall man with white hair and an elegant navy-blue suit, he must have been the mayor of Manosque. Three musicians had been brought in for the occasion, with wind instruments. The whole crowd moved a hundred meters towards the Soubeyran restaurant next to which flags had been mounted for a press conference: a new square was about to be inaugurated. The event has surely been covered in the next day's local newspapers!
We had dinner in an open-air oriental tapas bar, next to the office of the Communist Party and two steps away from a large building occupied by the CGT unions, which is very close to the Communist Party in ideology. Manosque used to have coal mining up to 1965 when it was closed. However the worker's culture must still be very present judging by the presence in the city center of offices for the CGT and the Communist Party.
The modern city has grown around the old city in a fairly unattractive way. It has rows of social housing with their fair share of graffitis. Beyond comes the industrial zone, which is not really pleasant for people walking and which is itself replaced, after a while, by fields of fruit trees not far from the EDF canal fed with water from the Durance. Then came a four kilometre stretch along a busy road to cross the motorway and the Durance river. We have now gotten used to such situations, we just switch-on the "you gotta do it" mode and forget about the traffic, the noise and the unglamorous road-side. The Durance had a very wide riverbed filled with white pebbles.
Our reward came a few kilometres farther when we discovered a couple of beautiful lavender fields. A bus of Asians just stopped and started taking selfies with the lavender. We joined them for a while!
We traversed Gréoux-les-bains, with its thermal bath, under a stiffling heat, stopped for coffee at the camping by the waterside. Another hill was ahead of us from which we discovered the Castelleras, the medieval tower of Saint Martin de Brôme down in the valley. Saint Martin is a small village with a cheerful hotel, called La Fontaine, that also run a well-stocked grocery store looking a bit like a delicacy shop in a stone cellar. Next to those is the village fountain whose water is drunk by everyone in the village. We arrived at the time of the soccer World Cup match France - Argentina. We could hear kids roaring from one of the hotel rooms every time something was happening in the match. We could actually watch in the bar where the mother of the cook was busy ironing a large pile of bed sheets in front of a large screen TV. It turned out that the kids were from an Asian family on tour in the region with their own rented car. That evening the village was getting ready for a night of barbecued meat on the city square. Better late than never because at 6pm not much seemed ready.
The next day, we headed towards Esparron sur Verdon which was in the next valley on the shore of an artificial lake operated by EDF to produce electricity. The countryside with the lake and the stony hills around it was quite spectacular. Many villas and campings were overlooking it, including Flowers, a naturist camping.
We came down from the hills through a stony path and came out right by the outer visitors parking of Esparron. It was about half past noon, cars kept coming and there was a palpable excitement in the air. People were quickly stepping out of their cars, picking-up their beach and picnic gears and dashed away towards the village and on to the lake shores. Esparron has an old part with a church and a castle built on a small hill which is now overlooking an emerald green creek of the lake. I was fascinated by the rush to the water of people in bathing suit. People needed to conquer their picnic and beach space before the others. Even though bathing is not allowed, it is somehow tolerated at people's own risk. The reason is that EDF can trigger large movements of water to maximize the level of electricity production it requires. The flow of water can then create current and quick temperature changes to chilling levels. EDF does not want to be held liable for any accident hence the official ban on bathing. We ate a sandwich on a large stone in the shade of a tree and resisted the temptation to put our feet in the water for fear of blisters given the heat and the distance separating us from Quinson, our night stop.
We, however, went to taste the water in Quinson, where the Verdon is a bit wider. It was very cold. Only the legs went in. Two couples came next to us, of Arabic origin, the men had to be brave in front of their wives so they felt compelled to go as far as possible in the water, but as much as they achieved to keep their legs a little longer than we did they left it at that. We had dinner in a bar restaurant called le Bar du Cours. It had two entrances on two different streets as a result of the reunion of two adjacent houses. The upper one had a garden under mulberry trees. Three women were running the place, an older one in the kitchen and two younger ones serving. They were all very prepared for the heat and wore only very short skirts with mini tops. When walking-in we asked if we could have dinner, the younger one answered: yes, but only if you smile to me! She told us later she was a health worker, helping old people at home. Serving at the restaurant was a second life over the summer to help the older lady that she considered as her mother.
We came down from the hills through a stony path and came out right by the outer visitors parking of Esparron. It was about half past noon, cars kept coming and there was a palpable excitement in the air. People were quickly stepping out of their cars, picking-up their beach and picnic gears and dashed away towards the village and on to the lake shores. Esparron has an old part with a church and a castle built on a small hill which is now overlooking an emerald green creek of the lake. I was fascinated by the rush to the water of people in bathing suit. People needed to conquer their picnic and beach space before the others. Even though bathing is not allowed, it is somehow tolerated at people's own risk. The reason is that EDF can trigger large movements of water to maximize the level of electricity production it requires. The flow of water can then create current and quick temperature changes to chilling levels. EDF does not want to be held liable for any accident hence the official ban on bathing. We ate a sandwich on a large stone in the shade of a tree and resisted the temptation to put our feet in the water for fear of blisters given the heat and the distance separating us from Quinson, our night stop.
We, however, went to taste the water in Quinson, where the Verdon is a bit wider. It was very cold. Only the legs went in. Two couples came next to us, of Arabic origin, the men had to be brave in front of their wives so they felt compelled to go as far as possible in the water, but as much as they achieved to keep their legs a little longer than we did they left it at that. We had dinner in a bar restaurant called le Bar du Cours. It had two entrances on two different streets as a result of the reunion of two adjacent houses. The upper one had a garden under mulberry trees. Three women were running the place, an older one in the kitchen and two younger ones serving. They were all very prepared for the heat and wore only very short skirts with mini tops. When walking-in we asked if we could have dinner, the younger one answered: yes, but only if you smile to me! She told us later she was a health worker, helping old people at home. Serving at the restaurant was a second life over the summer to help the older lady that she considered as her mother.
We left Quinson early in the morning, under a bright blue sky and made our way through the hills towards the lake of Sainte Croix which derives its name from a village overlooking it.
The lake of Sainte Croix, like the few smaller ones all the way to Esparron sur Verdon is the result of the dam of Gréoux les bains. It was constructed in 1973 and used water from the Verdon river to flood an area of fertile arable land in order to produce electricity. This has transformed the region completely, attracting a new kind of tourism, beach goers and water sports amateurs. Swimming is officially forbidden, except in a small area in front of Sainte Croix were bathing is monitored.
A few kilometres away from Quinson we walked along the lake of Montpezat and found a delicious place for picnic, in the shade of tall trees on a mat of long green grass. In deeper places, the water appeared surreal green.
We resumed our walk through some woods and more lavender fields. Then the path went into the forest for a little while and suddenly a flash of turquoise hit our eyes through the foliage. As we moved closer to the edge of the trees the Sainte Croix lake appeared majestically, making one wonder for a second if one were not on the Riviera or on some tropical seashore. But, no, it was a sweet water lake- albeit artificial. The orange-coloured earth cliffs made more dramatic the turquoise of the water and the royal blue of the sky that was patched with grey-white clouds.
We arrived, an hour later, in Sainte Croix with its lovely situation about one hundred fifty meters above the water level. However we were told at our hotel that they couldn't provide us with rooms as a result of a big water leakage, so they drove us to another place, called le Castellas, two kilometres ahead, where an elderly lady ran a quiet place with a beautiful view on the water. She had a dozen cats, a faithful dog and a husband. She told us that each cat had its own territory, that is to say each had conquered its own rosemary bush in the scrubland in front of the hotel. She told us there was a path to go down to the lake shore. So we went with our walking sticks through the bushes and reached the blue waters of the lake two hundred meters elevation lower. The next question was where to enter the water. In some places the shore is covered with unpolished stones - very uncomfortable to walk on - and in other places it is very muddy, where pastures used to be before the lake was created. The mud can be quite deep. We resorted to face the stones. Once swimming, everything was magical, looking at sky, the blue water and the mountains on the horizon announcing the Verdon gorges at the other end of the lake.
We had thought the pizzeria of the Castellas would be opened in the evening, but it wasn't as we went there. We were good for more walking down to Sainte Croix along the road but we found a restaurant with a nice atmosphere and view, for some, on the lake. It was better than skipping dinner!
The next morning we went back to Sainte Croix and descended to the lake shore. There was a small market meant for the customers of the few campings down there. The path went up again to the plateau, making us sweat profusely under the combined heat of the sun and the reflection from the lake. Once up there we discovered large lavender fields with beehives along them. One of them was probably two or three kilometres long on the egde of the plateau by the lakeside.
We reached the northern tip of the lake and continued towards Moustiers Sainte Marie. We had a vale to cross and on our way down we saw the village of Moustiers through an opening in pine trees. The village was like hanging midway on the mountain slope, it looked very Tibetan from that distance. But of course that was just an impression. A waterfall is splitting the village from top to bottom. The two sides are connected through a very tall bridge of stone. Moustiers is listed on all tour guides because the location is unique. It is also known for its ceramic, hand-painted in blue and yellow colours primarily. The village is all set to receive tourists coming from the lake side in beach attire, there are dedicated souvenir shops for them, cheap eateries and sport adventure shops. But there are also more upmarket visitors judging by a few high-end restaurants in which customers do nonetheless walk-in wearing shorts and order rosé wine, which is associated with summer. Monaco, Nice are not too far after all. The church is quite special with its roman style tower with apparent bells and two entrances on different streets. Further up the cliff, along the opening of the waterfall, a chapel is nested in the rock with a fantastic view over the village and the valley. A golden star is hanging from a iron cable connected to both sides of the cliff opening. Putting the touristic aspect aside, Moustiers really has good vibes.
The lake of Sainte Croix, like the few smaller ones all the way to Esparron sur Verdon is the result of the dam of Gréoux les bains. It was constructed in 1973 and used water from the Verdon river to flood an area of fertile arable land in order to produce electricity. This has transformed the region completely, attracting a new kind of tourism, beach goers and water sports amateurs. Swimming is officially forbidden, except in a small area in front of Sainte Croix were bathing is monitored.
A few kilometres away from Quinson we walked along the lake of Montpezat and found a delicious place for picnic, in the shade of tall trees on a mat of long green grass. In deeper places, the water appeared surreal green.
We resumed our walk through some woods and more lavender fields. Then the path went into the forest for a little while and suddenly a flash of turquoise hit our eyes through the foliage. As we moved closer to the edge of the trees the Sainte Croix lake appeared majestically, making one wonder for a second if one were not on the Riviera or on some tropical seashore. But, no, it was a sweet water lake- albeit artificial. The orange-coloured earth cliffs made more dramatic the turquoise of the water and the royal blue of the sky that was patched with grey-white clouds.
We arrived, an hour later, in Sainte Croix with its lovely situation about one hundred fifty meters above the water level. However we were told at our hotel that they couldn't provide us with rooms as a result of a big water leakage, so they drove us to another place, called le Castellas, two kilometres ahead, where an elderly lady ran a quiet place with a beautiful view on the water. She had a dozen cats, a faithful dog and a husband. She told us that each cat had its own territory, that is to say each had conquered its own rosemary bush in the scrubland in front of the hotel. She told us there was a path to go down to the lake shore. So we went with our walking sticks through the bushes and reached the blue waters of the lake two hundred meters elevation lower. The next question was where to enter the water. In some places the shore is covered with unpolished stones - very uncomfortable to walk on - and in other places it is very muddy, where pastures used to be before the lake was created. The mud can be quite deep. We resorted to face the stones. Once swimming, everything was magical, looking at sky, the blue water and the mountains on the horizon announcing the Verdon gorges at the other end of the lake.
We had thought the pizzeria of the Castellas would be opened in the evening, but it wasn't as we went there. We were good for more walking down to Sainte Croix along the road but we found a restaurant with a nice atmosphere and view, for some, on the lake. It was better than skipping dinner!
The next morning we went back to Sainte Croix and descended to the lake shore. There was a small market meant for the customers of the few campings down there. The path went up again to the plateau, making us sweat profusely under the combined heat of the sun and the reflection from the lake. Once up there we discovered large lavender fields with beehives along them. One of them was probably two or three kilometres long on the egde of the plateau by the lakeside.
We reached the northern tip of the lake and continued towards Moustiers Sainte Marie. We had a vale to cross and on our way down we saw the village of Moustiers through an opening in pine trees. The village was like hanging midway on the mountain slope, it looked very Tibetan from that distance. But of course that was just an impression. A waterfall is splitting the village from top to bottom. The two sides are connected through a very tall bridge of stone. Moustiers is listed on all tour guides because the location is unique. It is also known for its ceramic, hand-painted in blue and yellow colours primarily. The village is all set to receive tourists coming from the lake side in beach attire, there are dedicated souvenir shops for them, cheap eateries and sport adventure shops. But there are also more upmarket visitors judging by a few high-end restaurants in which customers do nonetheless walk-in wearing shorts and order rosé wine, which is associated with summer. Monaco, Nice are not too far after all. The church is quite special with its roman style tower with apparent bells and two entrances on different streets. Further up the cliff, along the opening of the waterfall, a chapel is nested in the rock with a fantastic view over the village and the valley. A golden star is hanging from a iron cable connected to both sides of the cliff opening. Putting the touristic aspect aside, Moustiers really has good vibes.
images:
1/ lavender bath
2/ Manosque, Porte Saunerie
3/ Esparron sur Verdon
4/ A dip in the lake of Sainte Croix
5/ Moustiers Sainte Marie
1/ lavender bath
2/ Manosque, Porte Saunerie
3/ Esparron sur Verdon
4/ A dip in the lake of Sainte Croix
5/ Moustiers Sainte Marie
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| Porte Saunerie, Manosque |
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| Esparron sur Verdon |
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| a dip in the lake of Sainte-Croix |
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| Moustier Sainte-Marie |
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