Today’s travel info meter is set to 84% Insanity meter 103% Thursday May 25 Well, that last post was a real eye opener. Where did that come from? I must have been off my meds. See, I’m not just a one trick pony,. I can be introspective and deep. So, did you hear the one where the Dalai Lama walks into a bar in Dublin and says “Hey barkeep”…
It’s a well-known fact that I have the memory of a colander and I have 2 days to recap and no notes. I could tap Carol’s memory but that would be the blind leading the blind, plus I couldn’t remember if what she was recounting was actually true. So you can trust that most of the following is reasonably accurate. Update: due to long-windedness (the spellchecker is pleading for mercy) each day will be covered separately after all.
Our new location is quite different than all the rest. It is in a 1960s or ’70s residential complex. There are about 10 four storey buildings with about 24 large suites in each. They have quite a bit of green space between them; lawn, trees, and shrubs with lots of birds (ech, more birds; in the morning it sounds like a combination of hoot owls who just watched their puppy get hit by a road grader… all sad and mournful, and an all-soprano kid’s choir singing off-key). Birds need to party more at night so they sleep in once in awhile like I do. Anyways, (yesterday’s post seems so long ago) they are painted non-exciting colours (muted, Carol-types would say) with large windows, balconies in the rear of the suite facing courtyard areas. Not that impressive at first blush but it grows on you the longer you’re here. It is amazingly quiet. They must not allow teenagers or people with TVs.
The biggest drawback is that it is up a hill. Yes, we live in the mountains and I have scaled a few hills in my time; but not every evening when it’s still hot and you’re lugging a 20 lb knapsack and groceries, and a bottle of wine. This is not a hill where you see baby carriages being pushed up by smiling moms and dads or kids on bikes riding beside their friends while they tell stories about that geeky girl with the glasses and braces in their grade 5 class and why doesn’t she just stop putting her hand up first and making us look like backwater doofi (that one was for you puny sis). No this is a hill that makes you sweat like you’ve just been caught with your hand in your parent’s dresser with a fistful of condoms… “no mom, they’re for my friend Timmy whose parents are too poor to have condoms” (Timmy has nine older siblings).
The host is a late 50s beautifully sweet French woman who has an extra bedroom and like all the others needs to supplement her income. She speaks some English in a wonderful accent and is totally focused on us experiencing everything grand about her area. She is full of the local history and has anecdotes about her travels and her 2 sons who live away; it’s exactly what you want in a bnb, except for the hill.
Béa was only able to welcome us the first day and drive us down the hill to the old town the next morning and then she was off with one of her sons on a 3 day holiday. So, first she guided us through the little intricacies of keys that are finicky, the door on the washing machine that closes a certain way, and opening which window at the right time to get the cool breezes in the evening. I can’t get over the trust that people put in total strangers like us to respect everything they own and say “Happy travels” as they ride into the sunset. While that could be because I have that Don Johnson-look working pretty sweet these days, I doubt my biker brother-in-law, Dale would get quite the same reaction as poor Béa hands over the keys with trembling hands as she looks around not knowing if she’ll ever see her prized possessions again unless she buys them back off eBay.
Anyways, the place is completely ours so my underwear is hanging off the couch and I walk around looking to see if my tan lines are showing (remember the nude beach? No tan lines on this Adonis). Of course that’s not really the case. Carol has me whipped into Mr. Manners and we have everything contained into our little domain in the bedroom.
So with our usual 11:00 exit we trek down the hill (I suggest a tuck and roll all the way down but Carol nixes it because I might get dog crap on my shirt, but hey, it’s already on my shoe). Fifteen minutes later we’re winding our way through the labyrinth of narrow lane ways in 13th, 14th, or 15th? century Aix (all those centuries are starting to look the same) and there are a lot of very interesting shops along each side. There are only 40 boulangeries 10 butcher shops, and 61 shoe stores, so there’s lots of room for unique goods too.
All shopped out we drink, lunch, drink through the afternoon and stop at the Aix-en-Provence Tourism Information Centre which will be a regular stop for us to line up our day trips and tours.
Did I mention that this is a 4 day weekend and the busiest time here and that our original plan to rent a car (Carol’s idea, my hands are already quivering and I’m sobbing at the prospect) was quashed when we found that the only car rental shop that was open only had one car left for a meagre $310 @ day, plus fuel. (Wahoo! I WIN! No rental car for us!) “Aw shucks babe, that’s too bad” I lyingly say. (It’s a made up word and I can spell it like I want to). So that’s how we ended up at the Tourist Info.
Our relationship became a little ragged this day with much pouting and thinking evil thoughts (it’s a good thing we don’t have insurance on each other) “Your hat has a hole in it and looks stupid”… “Your pants are stained in the crotch”… “Your breath smells like a rat’s nest”… “You have a fungus on your knee”, you know that kind of stuff. We couldn’t pull the trigger on committing to the hefty tour costs, but we are in one of the most praised areas in the entire world and Plan B was to do laps around the old town for 2 days eating tarts and flan and sulking.
We became very familiar with young, sweet Marie (4 trips to see her in 2 hours, she smiled everytime, I have a picture of her to prove it). Anyways we did pay for 2 trips, one Friday, a 5 hour driving tour in the Luberon area and a 3 1/2 hour wine tour up to Cõtes de Provence Sainte-Victoire district (I have a French keyboard on our (my) tablet) for Saturday.
There will be stories to tell I’m sure! Anyways my brain is smoking and we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Au revoir.
Blue Delivery 