I had been sleeping until 7:30 and 8 am, enjoying the rest very much, but today my eyes popped open at 6:30 am. Ugggh.
There was a sports exhibition set up outside on the promenade next to the hotel. We were gone for most of the day for any activity there might have been, so we didn’t see if it was busy or not. The ramp looked interesting though.
We encountered more protestors today. What had been planned as a one-day protest was gaining steam because it had been perceived as successful. I didn’t understand that the very thing the people were protesting about—high gas tax—was causing slow downs for their own people and causing them to use more gas as they had to sit in traffic. Not only was the protest gaining popularity, but becoming more intrusive with each day. I guess Paris was much worse, so we were glad we weren’t visiting there. The one positive from the protests was that they were also against the high toll fees and had closed down all the toll booths, funneling all cars and trucks in to one lane around the toll plazas. We didn’t have to pay tolls for a couple of days.
Our plan for the day started with a visit to L’Isle sur la Sourge (still in the Luberon Valley). As we drove along the country roads, we listened to the Saturday morning session of October General Conference. The sun was shining and the day was lovely. Parking was crazy to find in L’Isle sur la Sourge as it was market day, but we enjoyed exploring the different booths and shops selling flowers, antiques, clothes, produce, lavender, and olives. We bought some fruit for lunch. A quick stop at the grocery to pick up bread, sandwich meat, and cheese made for a perfect picnic lunch under the sycamores along the road just outside of Gourdes. Idyllic.
Gourdes was another beautiful Luberon Valley town. The town itself was built in to the hillside with stunning views of the whole valley stretching for miles beyond. Chris and I were content to walk around, marveling at the ingenuity of those who had built the town.
We wandered in to the court yard of a museum and the two ladies there, who only spoke French, tried very hard to teach us about the vintage emergency vehicles on display with Chris’ limited French, pantomime, and lots of nodding. They encouraged us to visit the World War I section on the third floor of the building. As Chris and I climbed the three flights of stairs, we were met with a closed door looking in to an area where we thought maybe a meeting was in progress. We didn’t want to interrupt. Turns out it was just the workers chatting, but our two French lady guides, were soon at the top of the stairs ushering us in.
They conveyed their message very well about the evolving bicycles of the era, the instruments of war, and the youth involvement in training. When they couldn’t make us understand about the ineffective bullets that had been utilized and then recreated, they had another man come over and through his crazy pantomime of a soldier falling down and then hopping up laughing as he pointed to the first set of bullets, and then of a soldier falling dead as the guide’s head rolled, we soon came to understand that the first bullets used were ineffective in actually killing people in the war until they created a new type of bullet. We were glad that we had stopped to visit, if nothing more than to learn from the guides.
Many people suggest that the French are a stoic, unfriendly sort of people. Our experiences showed us otherwise. They were always willing to help and many smiled. It is the custom to call a greeting as you meet people or walk in to shops. Doing that, with my obvious American way of messing up their language, still garnered kindness, and often a switch to their broken English to communicate.
Outside of Gourdes lived the Abbey de Senanque. In the summer time, it was surrounded by fields of lavender, brilliantly purple and aromatic. Unfortunately the lavender in fields throughout the valley as well as when we approached the Abbey, had long been harvested with its peak in July. It would have been stunning I am certain.
We had to drive a narrow two-lane road (really we would think of it as a one lane road) toward the Abbey in the valley below Gourdes. As we came around a corner, we slowed as a man up ahead began to wave at us. Luckily there was a pull out where Chris parked, along with the car behind us. He went to investigate. Another car and some motorcycles kept going, but quickly realized that their progress was impeded as the man ahead had been in an accident with the stone wall. Apparently the sun had blinded him as he came around the corner up from the Abbey. He had hit the wall with his front tire and totally bent it on the frame. The pathway coming up as well as going down was totally blocked.
While disappointed that we couldn’t visit the Abbey, Chris was able to help a little. The car that had continued on without pulling over, had to back up the hill and then maneuver around until it could drive back up the hill. She should have continued backing up past where Chris had parked the car, but chose instead the small amount of space in front of our rental to make her ten-point turn. She was frustrated with me because I wasn’t moving our car, but Chris had the keys and was still with the man who had crashed. She finally made the turn around, but I’ll admit I was nervous a number of times that she was going to scrape the front of our car in the process. She had the two ladies who had been riding motorcycles to help her move forward and back without hitting the mountain side, our rental, or the the wall.
Since we weren't going to be able to visit the Abbey, I got a few shots from our vantage point on the road above.
A police car soon arrived and began the process of helping.
Chris was able to make his turn more handily as I guided him out of the tight spot. We headed back up the hill toward Gourdes and continued on our way. We came around the bend on the narrow two-lane road and voila, right off the side of the road was Moulin de la Badelle. With the sudden intake of my breath, Chris simply pulled to the side of the road and we booth hopped out of the car to explore.
Our last stop of the day was in Gould. Oh, I wish we had been there sooner and that I could have taken more pictures in the light of day. Chris and I stopped at a cute little shop—Les Angels D’Alma—and chatted with the owner, Alma. She was from Britain and was simply happy to talk and share her story.
There was a windmill in Goult, but since it was dark by the time we came upon it, the pictures weren’t so great.
We got stuck in protestor traffic for about a half an hour on our return to Aix-en-Provence. We were finally close enough to a cross street to turn and use WAZE to take the secondary roads back to Aix.
Chris chatted for quite a while with Fredric, the concierge, before coming up to our room. Fredric, was not impressed with the protestors either. He and Chris bonded over their shared frustrations. Fredric did give us some dinner suggestions away from the touristy areas of Aix. Chris and I enjoyed dining at La Traditional ‘Chez Mario’. He had four cheese gnocchi and I ordered chicken piccata, both delicious entrees.
Chris again spent about a half an hour chatting with Fredric about our plans for Monday and suggested a number of destinations and helpful hints for avoiding the protestors. The weather would cooperate for a trip to the seaside.
