A Detour, Roussillon, and Meeting an Idol

We left Gordes still entranced by the fetching little town and headed east, still with a few stops remaining on our planned tour of the Lavender Trail.  Happily a few hours behind schedule we decided that we had time only for Roussillon, so we encouraged Braeden to nap for the 20-or-so minutes we had between stops.

Travel being what it is, we got a bit sidetracked when we made a wrong turn and saw a sign for a vineyard, Domaine Chappelle Saint Heyries.  As we were passing the sign I heard my wife utter an almost imperceptible sigh and that was enough for me to yank the wheel and turn up the narrow dusty road to the vineyard.  After all, how often can you stop at a vineyard in Provence for a tasting?

We pulled to a stop at the tasting room, a cozy-looking little building overlooking the plains below, and climbed out of the car.  The owners of the vineyard were clearly having a large family meal out on the veranda, and they smiled and welcomed us as they tidied up.  Braeden was particularly interested because there were a few kids there ranging from 18 months to around 11 years, and he shyly wandered up and engaged them.

Juliann tasted their wines and ordered a glass of rose and a bottle pour emporter, to go.  We sat for awhile in the shade, enjoying the laughter of the kids playing and soaking up the views.  Then we hopped in the car and returned to our voyage east.

Once we straightened out our wrong turn we found Roussillon pretty easily, as it was visible from the vineyard.  I unfortunately didn’t have much time to enjoy the quaint rust-colored town as I had a conference call scheduled with my business partners that day.  The demands of my business usually are taken care of early in the day but occasionally I have to get on the phone, so on that particular afternoon I left Juliann and Braeden to explore Roussillon on their own while I found a quiet place overlooking the plains to conduct some business.

J and B covered the whole town while I was on my call, and after about an hour I met them at a restaurant overlooking a gorge.  Braeden was enjoying a cold glass of milk and Mommy had a nice glass of crisp rosé.  I ordered a mojito and we all sat and talked about our respective afternoons as we enjoyed the view from the near-empty restaurant.

It was quite late in the day when we left Roussillon, so we decided to head back to Aix.  The drive back was quiet and restful and we slept well that night, having taken in some of the most beautiful sights of Provence.

We had planned to stay in Aix-en-Provence for only two weeks, as we did in Annecy, and after our day trip on the Lavender Trail we had one week left.  With the time remaining we decided we would see some sights in Aix, then head back to Cassis to see the Calanques the right way, by plunging into them headfirst and swimming.

I also finally made good on a promise initially made back in Paris to tackle a French dish.  I looked up my good friend Ina Garten’s recipe for Coq au Vin (my first choice was Boeuf Bourguinon but it was a bit more complicated, so I decided to screw up the simple one first) and we headed to the market.

This was our first real trip to the market and it launched many, many more visits because it was so much fun.  It was being like being in the world’s best grocery store, getting to practice your French, and diving into some of the most interesting parts of a culture all at the same time.

The vendors were wonderful and put up with my broken French, helping us in any way they could.  The patrons knew nothing of a line, we all just made a conglomerated mass and knew we would get our orders placed eventually, and we patiently waited.  The produce was bright, the cheeses fragrant, the seafood icily fresh, and the olives and sausages succulent.

It was nothing less than a festival of French food and it’s one of the things we’ll remember most about France.

We filled our bags and headed back to our flat, cracked a bottle of rosé, and started cooking.  Two hours later we sat down to one of the best meals we’ve ever had thanks to Ina and the French markets.

A few days later we decided to stop by the Musée Granet where we had heard there were some Picassos and Giacomettis in residence.  I’d read A Giacometti Portrait while a grad student at Columbia and it has stuck with me ever since.  It’s the story of a fellow, James Lord, who has a friend, Alberto Giacometti, who is a famed artist.  Lord agrees to sit for Giacometti for a portrait and then recounts the story of all his visits with the genius sculptor and painter.

For anyone who is interested in what it takes to dive deeply into a discipline I highly recommend reading A Giacometti Portrait.  It reminds me of de Kooning’s account of the first time he walked into Arshile Gorky’s studio.  He walked out thinking, “This dude is on another level.  What I’ve been giving is not enough.”

For all my CrossFit friends, it’s like that first time you trained with someone who was far, far better than you and you realized how much harder you could really work.

The museum was small and much to my delight it was easy to find the Giacomettis.  I felt much like I imagine a teenage girl would feel meeting one of the members of those terrible bands they listen to, and we stayed, soaking up the work, for as long as we could before the boy got tired.

Next:  Life in Aix and doing the Calanques the right way

A bientôt!