Ensconced in Provence

After a week arduous drives and gîte hopping we decided that the time was right for our first prolonged stay of the trip. Enter Provence. A region synonymous with lavender carpeted fields, canvas inspiring sunsets and mistral winds. On the road south from Lyon we began to notice our first real change in the landscape. The lush green fields of the Pas-De-Calais and rolling vineyards of Burgundy were no more, with their bucolic charms replaced by an ever widening Rhône and rampant olive cultivation. Even the buildings were different. Pastel coloured shutters and terracotta roof tiles were now the order of the day.

We chose to stay in a beautiful little village named Fontvieille, which sits somewhere on the northern fringes of the Camargue and only a short drive from the nearby towns of Arles, Nimes and Avignon. It would prove to be an inspired choice and provided us with an ideal base for work, rest and relaxation. The highlight of the four days was undoubtedly our trip to Arles. It’s here between the aqueducts and amphitheatre’s of ancient civilisations that Van Gogh painted many of his finest works - Starry Night Over the Rhône and Sunflowers to name but a couple. It’s also here that he began his descent into madness, slicing off his ear before delivering it to a young girl at the local brothel.

Far from shackled but its interesting past, modern day Arles is an absolute joy. Ornate fountains trickle, Bougainvillea blooms and clued up tour guides share obscure knowledge. We dropped by on market day and spent the morning watching hawkish traders flog their wares. Exotic fruit vendors chatted with Persian rug merchants as their regulars motioned orders amid the noise, whilst vintage watches sat beside vinyl records and tribal masks snide Marseille kits. You could have supplied an invading army. Inside the city walls, cobbled warrens led a path between the statues of forgotten greats and cafe’s thronged with river cruise passengers. The town was small enough to discover on foot yet large enough to keep us occupied for a full morning. If you are ever in the area be sure to check it out.

Whilst on the subject of Provençal towns it would be remiss of me not to mention Avignon. Arguably of greater renown than Arles, Avignon’s fame stems from its hosting of seven successive popes during the 1300’s. We opted to tour the Papal Palace, an impressive building that once usurped the Vatican and now a very popular visitor attraction. The town itself also retained a decent buzz but we were both in agreement that Arles held a significant edge.

Our last day in the region was spent driving through the Camargue, a place famed for its cowboys, salt marshes and unique landscapes. Although too young to understand we informed Luna of the abundant wildlife - a mini safari of sorts. Stork, wild horses, herons, black bulls and flamingos all made various appearances. On the havens western edge we ate dinner in the walled city of Aigues-Mortes (a bastion from which crusaders set sail for the holy land in the 13th century) before venturing on towards our final French destination - the Pyrenean border with Spain and the stunning Côte Vermeille.

An artist at work in Arles