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So here we are again in St Remy de Provence. We so enjoyed this town on our last visit (2013) that a return was inevitable. Of course it has been an English destination since the mid 19th century so we are not exactly original. But it is a perfect example of the Provençal bastide town – all roads and housing gathered together in a clump encircled by a defensive band; now of course a boulevard.
But St Remy has a claim to be a very very old settlement. Sometime long before the current era the Celtic/Ligurians settled in the hill just north of the modern town. The Greeks saw it and liked it enough to conquer, pillage and replace. Both settlements have left remains at Glanum but it is the Romans who have left most – they came just before the current era and took over the Greek remnants. And boy did they build! Today there is a vast and fascinating collection of three ages of civilisation and several eras of Roman development. Last time we went and we shall return this time. Last time we were not nearby – staying at St Gabriel, at the western end of the range of limestone hills that dominate the area. These are Les Aprilles and yes they are indeed a sort of miniature Alps. Rarely more than 300 metres or so they are deeply fissured and the effect is of a miniature mountain range. They are a detached chunk of the Monts de Luberon (to the east) and only about 15k long by 5 wide. St Remy is point north and Les Baux de Provence point south in the middle. Our site is Le Parc de la Bastide about half a kilometre from the town centre. It is generous in pitches and roadways, with ample shade and a wondrous array of bushes, trees and shrubs – including bamboo which grows here in profusion. We have a pitch carefully sheltered for the first half of the day so that it never quite overheats. But our pitch gets sun for us to sit in from about 10 a.m. Of course as a result of the delay we decided to hasten our run down – stopping at each halt for only one night instead of two. This means the process becomes a bit more hectic and we arrived -1100 kilometres in four days of set up, knock down, drive and do it again – fairly tired and have enjoyed a very quiet week. We have walked into St Remy twice (me four times) and done the lanes, the market, the cafés etc. fairly thoroughly. We went for the first time to the Lac de Perioou which was the Roman source of water and so one of the oldest dams and reservoirs in Europe. A trip to the Mont de Caume proved we were not yet up to reaching the heights (dominated by a huge radio array) – they omitted to mention the 8 kilometre walk up 300 metres, down 200, up 100 metres and reverse! Today (Sun) with the weather unsettled for the first time we decided to head north and west and visit some town we thought we had not been to before. But two out of three proved to be forgotten not new! We did meet a charming Scottish lady who settled nearby four years ago in an old mill. I think she was hoping for our parking spot and had not the heart to simply drive off – so chatted. When she gets home she will tell her husband and he will ask where we were from and she will realise she never asked... Glasgow, by way of Edinburgh and Morocco incidentally.. So to a brilliant Sunday lunch of asparagus (brilliant), a Thai recipe of chicken, stir fry and rice, local strawberries and ditto a fine rose. Tomorrow is Monday – and so it shall be ferme la Lundi.... Monday, April 27: And so it came to pass and the French shops were duly closed... but the heavens my children were open wide and it did rain. For just on 30 hours it did rain. It was not fierce as in a deluge but it was wet. Very very wet. And very fine. And very, very continuous. The weather man said it would cease at 3 a.m. Tuesday. He (she?) may have been right as at 4 a.m my bladder did awake and it was a dry morning outside. Tuesday, April 28: And cameth the wind, from the north-ish. Chillish and hard. I am prepared to call it Le Mistral as it did bang the doors and set the dogs to barking, as foretold. Now we need to get a bit serious here as the rain is merely aggravating if in this case somewhat flooding. Even so our now four year old and trusty and oft-admired awning has a fault – it tends to allow one panel of the roof to fill with rain and belly terrifyingly earthward. A broom suffices but it causes the material to sag. So for some time her indoors has nagged at me to usurp an old awning pole and bend it to create a ridge in our roof. My Martian rebuffs failed to dent her Venusian confidence and so I tried a trick or two and one worked, much to my damaged machismo! But the wind is another matter. We use storm poles from our tenting days to ensure our awning stays up however flexed nit may be. But the noise my children would silence elephants. This was a real door banging Mistral (it means merely major oddly) with sudden gust of 60 kph amidst the steady 30kph breeze. Each one seemed to come from a different direction. Our dog did not bark in French fashion but boy did he cower at times! Oh and the fridge door compartment snapped off... |
A panoramic view from the tower - click to enlarge
May pictures HEREWednesday, April 29: To the Abbeye de le Montmajour, an astonishing 13th to 17th century concoction on the Arles road. Built initially by monks who ground out the rock graves and managed them for silver, they turned their hands to draining the adjacent swamps and farming the result fertile acres. And they did so well they could cavort and indulge and had to be put in their place, sharply. But they bounced back and built another fine abbey alongside the first. Both survive to varying degrees.
Which is a surprise since this area was at the heart of the religious wars and terrors of the medieval period – Cathars, schismatic Popes, Vaudoir heresies and Hugenots and all. These places were built like fortresses and had to withstand sieges. This one has a 60 metre tower with amazing views – its 125 steps I can confirm. But finally a king Louis (one of 'em) got fed up with their excesses and wealth and stopped it all. Good job because soon after came the Revolution and then Bonapart and the lot was sold to a dealer for shekels to be paid over 12 years. Except she didn't, although she stripped the panelling and stuff and flogged it. The sale was annulled, it was sold again to an estate agent who flogged off the best stone and then rented out the remains as homes for the discerning and had working middling sorts. Later 19th century Arles decided to rescue the place and by 1948 it was a national monument. Well worth the visit. Requiring some stuff for repairs and things we commissioned our Dotty sat nav to find us a big Leclerc. Sort of managed it and we arrived to find it boarded and shuttered and grass growing across the car park! Aggravated we set off for St Remy and as left Arles discovered why Leclrec was shut down – they built a bigger, better one on the other side of town! But it failed to produce all we needed even so. Becoming unsure about Leclrec – could be the Tesco factor. |
We went on a walk today which follows and illustrates the time Vincent Van Gogh spent in St Remy.
I am a fan of Van Gogh - his vision produced a totally new way of painting the world. He took the impact of the brush stroke to a new level, creating a world that flows across the canvas yet is precise and illustrative of how it can seem.
He came to the clinic at St Paul de Mausole as a volunteer for his mental problems (after the people of Arles asked for him to be removed from an institution there! An early ASBO?). I have read that today we might diagnose him as bipolar but whatever he found a fellow mind in the director of the clinic, who saw art as therapy and encouraged his brilliant patient. Vincent was allowed out, free to stroll although always under supervision - his own demand it seems. He was only here a year before moving to Auvers but in that time he started and mostly completed 150 works - an astonishing ouvre. He painted what he saw and we have wonderful evocations of the Provencal countryside - irises, olives, cypresses, vines, lavender, cornfields, harvesters, reapers, rocky hillsides, pines - every feature of this lovely place. But Vincent was never satisfied and so we have these images over and over. It must have been that OCD was part of his problem. But we benefit - subtle changes of light would have him back at his easel refining and perfecting yet another L'Etoile de Nuit; without which Don McLean (whom I also admire) would have had no refrain.
Image of him is a self-portrait done at St Remy - all those done there show him three-quarter face, looking left.
I am a fan of Van Gogh - his vision produced a totally new way of painting the world. He took the impact of the brush stroke to a new level, creating a world that flows across the canvas yet is precise and illustrative of how it can seem.
He came to the clinic at St Paul de Mausole as a volunteer for his mental problems (after the people of Arles asked for him to be removed from an institution there! An early ASBO?). I have read that today we might diagnose him as bipolar but whatever he found a fellow mind in the director of the clinic, who saw art as therapy and encouraged his brilliant patient. Vincent was allowed out, free to stroll although always under supervision - his own demand it seems. He was only here a year before moving to Auvers but in that time he started and mostly completed 150 works - an astonishing ouvre. He painted what he saw and we have wonderful evocations of the Provencal countryside - irises, olives, cypresses, vines, lavender, cornfields, harvesters, reapers, rocky hillsides, pines - every feature of this lovely place. But Vincent was never satisfied and so we have these images over and over. It must have been that OCD was part of his problem. But we benefit - subtle changes of light would have him back at his easel refining and perfecting yet another L'Etoile de Nuit; without which Don McLean (whom I also admire) would have had no refrain.
Image of him is a self-portrait done at St Remy - all those done there show him three-quarter face, looking left.