Losing Sight of the Shore: Aix I

Judy.

Here we are in Aix-en-Provence, where I feel ridiculously at home. Part of it is that my French, somewhat better than my Spanish, has been floating around my head longer, and I can more easily communicate. We’ve had a few interactions with French speakers, and I can hold my own if they speak slowly. Of course I often use the wrong verb tense, and confuse the genders of the nouns, but have been able to make myself understood and no one has yelled at me yet. Hallelujah!

I’ve always been a Francophile. You can tell me all the things “wrong” about the French, but there was not a time I didn’t love the language and the country. Paris is, of course, a favorite, but Provence is a wonder all in itself. The air and colors really are different. Aix is a well-to-do city, with expensive shops and restaurants, and beautifully dressed people, but there are also ordinary folk who wear jeans and sweaters and grab a sandwich to eat on the go.

There is a small daily market at Place Richlème with cheeses, vegetables, sausages, flowers, and all the lavender products you could want (let me know if you need some). Three times a week Cours Mirabeau, the main street, turns into a giant market with all

Spices stall at Cours Mirabeau

of the above, plus fresh seafood, food stalls, antiques, and all kinds of fabrics, from the material itself to clothing, tablecloths, sheets, hats, purses, and costume jewelry. It’s really a feast for the eyes just to walk around. And there’s a Carousel right in the middle.

Streets in the old part of the city, where we live, are wider than Cádiz, but still mostly pedestrian walkways, with the occasional car driving slowly through. Roads still dash

One of hundreds of fountains

off in all directions, ending up in small or large parks, many with fountains. This was a spa town with thermal waters, and fountains are everywhere.

There are tiny 6-person electric buses that can take you around the city. We took one route one day just to get a view of town, and the whole thing took us less than a half hour! The central area is small, so most of those who rode the bus were elderly or disabled.

The city feels open and oddly welcoming, with people nodding “Bonjour” to you—I feel like Belle in the opening scene of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. NEVER walk into a store without saying “Bonjour” to the proprietor!

Ted found a Servas day host, Nadia, and her husband René, who invited us to lunch, then drove us to a beautiful hill village nearby, Ventabren. We spent a couple of hours climbing around the quaint old town (no cars!) and over the hill past a park where it seemed the whole town was playing. We even spotted the Camino Santiago de

Compostela, which starts a few miles away in Le Puy, and walked part of it through the town. Our conversation was a bit of Franglais, but we communicated.

René & Nadia in Ventabren

Part of what helps me feel at home is that I have found something of a community. This happened in a confluence of opportunities.

One of my dear former students, Jessica, lived here for several years. When I wrote her I was coming, she put me in touch with Apryl. After our visit with Nadia, she invited us to visit their Protestant church on Sunday, with a lunch afterward. That was a real dose of total immersion—in French. While we’d been able to fake it with Nadia, at church we were on our own. We caught some words here and there, and the gist of what was happening, but were often pretty lost. Afterwards at the potluck lunch, though, we got into some really interesting conversations in French.

Lunch after church

Turns out that Apryl attends the English meeting of the same church, and she invited me to a Bible study in English where the group of women from Madagascar, Morocco, England, Norway, Canada, and the US have welcomed me into their midst. It’s good to be a part of their group.

This city was home to the artist Cézanne, and we visited the Musée Granet to see some of his works in a show entitled “Cézanne at Home.” We really enjoyed his works and seeing the influence he had on later painters.

Cézanne's "The Bathers"

Our apartment is light and WARM, with a sheltered garden where we often eat lunch and smell the clematis that climbs up the wall. Steps down the street is Pavillon Vêndome, a small 17^th century palace built for a rich man’s mistress, in a park filled with flowers. Next to it is a children’s playground, which will be fun to visit when Chris and Didi (remember them from Budapest?) bring their son Nicky to visit for Easter.