Since our arrival, as we wander the Provencal markets, we have been watching and searching for one of our favorite French cheeses. Cheese here is very local and regional, and although we can find Swiss Emmentaler, for some reason we cannot find St. Andre, a triple-creme, brie-type cheese that is quite luscious and smooth. In researching it, I located what appears to be the critical French cheese website portal:
http://iledefrancecheese.com/index.php/St.-Andre/st-andre.html
and learned that it is made in Normandy, near mythical Mount Saint Michel, where the monks live in remote isolation and the island containing the monastery can be reached only at low tide.
We will keep searching, and who knows what we can find.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Carpentras revisited
We have on this trip been revisiting many spots where we have not been for a few years. Carpentras was on the list, for a visit to Jouvaud's mothership store in the town center. It is an easy 25 minute drive from our house, mostly autoroute. The last time we visited it was not enjoyable. It was on market day, Friday, and parking was impossible, the streets too crowded, and the market almost too big to grasp. I felt that it would take me a full day to walk it in its entirety and understand it and each vendor, and also that the quality of St. Remy or Apt was not there. I had, at that time, almost written the city off our list. But this visit reversed our thoughts completely. It was clean, tame, with beautiful views, and a very positive visit.
On the way in, once we arrived into the city, we immediately found a wonderful, large, health food store, Attitude Bio, as I needed canola oil for tonight's dinner. The store had every product I have found in Biocoop, as well as others, including Marius Fabre. On leaving the town I also saw a sign for the local Biocoop there in Carpentras.
We quickly found a hot spot for lunch. La Malaga is cool in the shade, but full of business people having lunch, lightning fast service, excellent food, reasonable prices, omelettes and salads were well-prepared and served well. Staff was very pleasant, especially to Avril (which is always part of how we judge a restaurant here).
We then found our way quickly to the Synagogue which is about one block away, into the small square and to the left, in a non-descript but old building with a sign in Hebrew and French. Unfortunately, we managed to arrive on a day where the building was not accepting visitors, perhaps because they are preparing for a Jewish music festival beginning Sunday.
We continued walking through to the main square, past a large, very ancient church dating from the 13th century, and I turned right, walked a little and found Jouvaud, purchasing baguettes for dinner, a few desserts to try (including the reliable cherry crumble) and enjoying the wonderful old-world ambience of the shop, of the people sitting and enjoying their coffee and sweets in the shade of the store, it was how we imagine France to be, now and always.
We then returned home to rest and relax in the afternoon breeze. Although we know the US is exceptionally hot, it is exceptionally pleasant here, in the low 80s, and perfect.
Tapas in Aix
The other night we were in Aix looking for food and D. happened, as he always does, on a fun location just a block off the main drag, Cours Mirabeau. We found ourselves in a charming and vibrant location full of young people, mostly students from the university in town, with several interesting restaurants. We settled in for a quick and light meal of tapas at Cafe Tapas, www.tapascafe.com, 6 Place de Augustin.
The meal was not expensive, and filling, our selections included shrimp, grilled chicken, sausage, hummus, and grilled squid.
We will return and maybe try another of the lively restaurants, about six, including an Irish pub.
The meal was not expensive, and filling, our selections included shrimp, grilled chicken, sausage, hummus, and grilled squid.
We will return and maybe try another of the lively restaurants, about six, including an Irish pub.
Riding in the Carmogue
As promised, I have been wanting to write about this experience for several weeks, but am still digesting it. We have visited this unusual place several times in the last few years, since discovering it. When we think of France, we think walking the streets of Paris, the views in the Alps, walking the ancient towns and squares full of fresh food, we don't think of pink flamingoes, white horses, Paella, salt marshes, and bull fights. But it is all there, waiting, as it has been for thousands of years.
For me, riding was something I loved beginning at age 7 until about age 15. It was something that was relegated to summer camp, as during the school year I was figure skating, piano lessons, and gymnastics. Riding was not something on my parents' radar for me during the school year. So, having not ventured onto a horse in about 35 years, but being someone who thinks they are in sync with animals, I rode into the Carmogue via a very nice resort and stable along the main roadway into the town of St. Marie de la Mer, Les Ecuries de L'Auberge Cavaliere, website www.ecurie-camargue.fr. The resort has charming cottages with air conditioning, nice pool and great location to the beach and town without being in the town, particularly if you plan on riding.
Although the group leader spoke almost no English she made herself clear in providing instruction to the group, and we mounted for a ride into the Carmogue on a very hot day. A reservation is strongly recommended as this is a two-hour journey, and requires some planning to arrive at 9 a.m. for the early ride, for a breakfast on the road, for a white shirt to wear in the heat, jeans or long pants, and appropriate shoes, and at least a 30 sunblock as there is no shade out there on the salt flats. Helmets were provided and fitted properly by the staff.
I was mounted onto a horse named Romeo, how appropriate, given my love of Shakespeare, and romance. He was a large and headstrong horse who quickly tested me as we rode past some tasty plants, striding off the path to grab a quick snack. The first time he caught me off guard. The second time, about 10 minutes later I was aware that I definitely needed to show control over this large animal otherwise it would not be a pleasant ride, so I grabbed the reins and pulled tight and re-directed him back to the path.
The dynamic among the horses was quite apparent, who wanted to follow and who wanted to lead, who got along with who.
The ride was quite spectacular as we crossed the flats and headed toward the water, looking the birds, plants, other horses and the white-walled and thatched-roof cottages that are traditional Carmogue dwellings. This is not a mediterranean-style home or building, but something peculiar to this region. One can picture gauchos of Spain riding here, in this remote area.
The air is salty and pungent but not the thick brine smell I love in New England. We road across the flats, and came to the water where sea gulls were bobbing on the water along side numerous other birds. Finally, we came to the area where large flocks of pink flamingoes waded in the water with their heads down, feeding, looking almost like the large mechanical monsters in a Star Wars movie, picking up their head periodically to swallow, breath, observe us, then return to fishing.
We stopped to allow the horses to rest and have a snack in the brush, a plant and grasses they seemed to enjoy, and we began to trot back. The horses seemed to know that they were headed home and wanted to move faster, then the walk out, occasionally breaking into a trot and then a canter. Frankly, I was not prepared for that level of riding. My prior experience had been English-style, trotting involving posting, and cantering and beginning to jump.
This was not really western style where your legs are completely extended in the stirrups, but more modified, too short and too long all at the same time to be comfortable and have control. But I managed, got Romeo to slow down, and got back safely, on a horse happy to be back in his stable and getting some cold water to drink.
The experience was truly memorable and one to repeat.
For me, riding was something I loved beginning at age 7 until about age 15. It was something that was relegated to summer camp, as during the school year I was figure skating, piano lessons, and gymnastics. Riding was not something on my parents' radar for me during the school year. So, having not ventured onto a horse in about 35 years, but being someone who thinks they are in sync with animals, I rode into the Carmogue via a very nice resort and stable along the main roadway into the town of St. Marie de la Mer, Les Ecuries de L'Auberge Cavaliere, website www.ecurie-camargue.fr. The resort has charming cottages with air conditioning, nice pool and great location to the beach and town without being in the town, particularly if you plan on riding.
Although the group leader spoke almost no English she made herself clear in providing instruction to the group, and we mounted for a ride into the Carmogue on a very hot day. A reservation is strongly recommended as this is a two-hour journey, and requires some planning to arrive at 9 a.m. for the early ride, for a breakfast on the road, for a white shirt to wear in the heat, jeans or long pants, and appropriate shoes, and at least a 30 sunblock as there is no shade out there on the salt flats. Helmets were provided and fitted properly by the staff.
I was mounted onto a horse named Romeo, how appropriate, given my love of Shakespeare, and romance. He was a large and headstrong horse who quickly tested me as we rode past some tasty plants, striding off the path to grab a quick snack. The first time he caught me off guard. The second time, about 10 minutes later I was aware that I definitely needed to show control over this large animal otherwise it would not be a pleasant ride, so I grabbed the reins and pulled tight and re-directed him back to the path.
The dynamic among the horses was quite apparent, who wanted to follow and who wanted to lead, who got along with who.
The ride was quite spectacular as we crossed the flats and headed toward the water, looking the birds, plants, other horses and the white-walled and thatched-roof cottages that are traditional Carmogue dwellings. This is not a mediterranean-style home or building, but something peculiar to this region. One can picture gauchos of Spain riding here, in this remote area.
The air is salty and pungent but not the thick brine smell I love in New England. We road across the flats, and came to the water where sea gulls were bobbing on the water along side numerous other birds. Finally, we came to the area where large flocks of pink flamingoes waded in the water with their heads down, feeding, looking almost like the large mechanical monsters in a Star Wars movie, picking up their head periodically to swallow, breath, observe us, then return to fishing.
We stopped to allow the horses to rest and have a snack in the brush, a plant and grasses they seemed to enjoy, and we began to trot back. The horses seemed to know that they were headed home and wanted to move faster, then the walk out, occasionally breaking into a trot and then a canter. Frankly, I was not prepared for that level of riding. My prior experience had been English-style, trotting involving posting, and cantering and beginning to jump.
This was not really western style where your legs are completely extended in the stirrups, but more modified, too short and too long all at the same time to be comfortable and have control. But I managed, got Romeo to slow down, and got back safely, on a horse happy to be back in his stable and getting some cold water to drink.
The experience was truly memorable and one to repeat.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Car Karma
How to describe car karma - it is that amorphous energy surrounding how we drive, what we drive, where we drive, and most importantly where we park.
D. has amazing car karma. He finds parking spaces in unlikely places, even here in Europe. He manages to squeeze large vehicles through narrow spaces designed for horses, not even carriages.
But, that said, here in France, his car karma takes an odd turn. Everywhere we go, there is always someone following us, turning in front of us, we seem never to be alone on the road, even in the most remote places. It does not seem to matter if we rent the car from Germany, France or Switzerland (as we have done them all), or whether it is a Volvo, a Mercedes, a VW, a Citroen Opal or Renault (we have also done all of those), the karma remains the same.
At our house, we are next to farms, with few houses. But as soon as we pull out of the gated, fenced driveway into the roadway, here comes a small "rat-can" of a car which would never survive the streets in the US. It would be crushed by our oversized SUVs and Ford F150s. Here they speed happily along, cutting off tractors, and racing alongside motorcycles.
One of the most bizarre experiences the other day was a tractor-trailer pulling up on a small but main thoroughfare across from the lone ATM machine in the town. The driver jumps out, as we are pulling away from the ATM, blocks traffic while he gets his money.
We then observe another truck driver down the road, hiking across a major, busy roadway, jumping over a barrier with his food, carrying it back to the truck.
The evening we traveled to Fontvielle for dinner at Le Planet, we set up Emily to guide us, even though I believed I could get us back there following the local signage. Emily took us over hill and dale, on the other side of Les Baux than we usually travel, on a treacherous, winding road, climbing over the mountain, via a roadway that required blasting through mountains of rock to build, with cliffs waiting to swallow us if we deviated from the road. Even on this road, with spectacular views of the valley and Alpilles, drivers seemed compelled to pass us by.
So, we continue our merry travels, trying to anticipate which car karma will present itself, which rat-can will pass us going 65 on a back road where we are driving 45, and where D. will find his next miraculous parking space. We feel it is the ying and yang of the voiture, the positive nature of his parking karma is balanced by the negative experiences driving. Oh well, c'est la vie.
D. has amazing car karma. He finds parking spaces in unlikely places, even here in Europe. He manages to squeeze large vehicles through narrow spaces designed for horses, not even carriages.
But, that said, here in France, his car karma takes an odd turn. Everywhere we go, there is always someone following us, turning in front of us, we seem never to be alone on the road, even in the most remote places. It does not seem to matter if we rent the car from Germany, France or Switzerland (as we have done them all), or whether it is a Volvo, a Mercedes, a VW, a Citroen Opal or Renault (we have also done all of those), the karma remains the same.
At our house, we are next to farms, with few houses. But as soon as we pull out of the gated, fenced driveway into the roadway, here comes a small "rat-can" of a car which would never survive the streets in the US. It would be crushed by our oversized SUVs and Ford F150s. Here they speed happily along, cutting off tractors, and racing alongside motorcycles.
One of the most bizarre experiences the other day was a tractor-trailer pulling up on a small but main thoroughfare across from the lone ATM machine in the town. The driver jumps out, as we are pulling away from the ATM, blocks traffic while he gets his money.
We then observe another truck driver down the road, hiking across a major, busy roadway, jumping over a barrier with his food, carrying it back to the truck.
The evening we traveled to Fontvielle for dinner at Le Planet, we set up Emily to guide us, even though I believed I could get us back there following the local signage. Emily took us over hill and dale, on the other side of Les Baux than we usually travel, on a treacherous, winding road, climbing over the mountain, via a roadway that required blasting through mountains of rock to build, with cliffs waiting to swallow us if we deviated from the road. Even on this road, with spectacular views of the valley and Alpilles, drivers seemed compelled to pass us by.
So, we continue our merry travels, trying to anticipate which car karma will present itself, which rat-can will pass us going 65 on a back road where we are driving 45, and where D. will find his next miraculous parking space. We feel it is the ying and yang of the voiture, the positive nature of his parking karma is balanced by the negative experiences driving. Oh well, c'est la vie.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Paris Plages - Beaches in Paris on the Siene
Nice article, hope the weather improves:
http://www.france24.com/en/20110719-summer-beaches-france-paris-plages-louvres-right-bank
http://www.france24.com/en/20110719-summer-beaches-france-paris-plages-louvres-right-bank
La Fabresse - new store
As you may know if you have followed this blog for a few years, we are big fans of this Olive oil which has now won the gold medal in France for the best olive oil in the country, for three years in a row.
They have now opened a store in Eygalieres, on the main street, in addition to their location in St. Remy.
Still wonderful oil, with added products, soap, tapenades, etc. but I am returning for the oil.
They have now opened a store in Eygalieres, on the main street, in addition to their location in St. Remy.
Still wonderful oil, with added products, soap, tapenades, etc. but I am returning for the oil.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)