Blue skies of Aix

Romy, a bike ride and the vineyards

I took Romy for a bike ride to pick some of the wild poppies growing everywhere. We brought her Easter basket and she was delighted to 'papote' while riding in the front seat on the bike. She babbled about Marguerite and Colette and the new tree house papa was building for them, about the cats, the beach and the flowers. Singing out "coquelicots" all along the path, as if calling them into her basket. We stopped to examine the new growth in the vineyards that surround our house. New leaves fleshing out brilliant and green. I've loved being here through each season - witnessing how the fields shift and change.

La Vieille Bastide

The order of our move here was particular. #1: House. #2 Sell the other house. #3: Find jobs and stuff. When people ask us about it, they often look at us with arched eyebrows, questioning the order. But, the house was really key. As the French say, it was a 'coup de coeur' (to fall in love immediately) - we walked in the house and forgot our other life. Immediately imagined the one we could have here.

This house is full of saga - it is palpable. Colette was convinced she felt and saw ghosts when we first arrived. I don't doubt it. It sounds dramatic, but we are living among 400 years of history and layering our story on top of it. We feel undeserving sometimes.

We went caroling around Christmas time to our neighbors (we have 3 near us). Each has a very specific take on our house. Historically, it was built and then theirs were built in relation to this house. I can always feel the scrutiny in their eyes when we meet - sizing me up: am I a good attendant/curator of this place? (I have a few strikes against me right off the bat as an American - I am seen as having very little appreciation for history, my own is far too short). To them (and maybe objectively) we are merely a historical episode in the long thread of this story. We listened to one of our neighbors play back some of her memories in this house when she was a girl; she had lived here with her family when the house was configured differently. The stonework out front chronicles a time when there was a large pond in front of the house and she spoke of when she and her sisters would try to catch the fish swimming in it. She has stories from the staircases, the old kitchens. I want to have her over and follow her around as she narrates the space.

All of the neighbors are curious about what we are up to and how we are changing the house. They are all connected in some way to it. Most riveting is the question of water! Jean-Marie, the prior owner of this house, was not exaggerating in our introductory meeting when he cited water as the key issue in this region. Both lack of it and flooding. Everything is extreme in Provence. When it rains, we are inundated. One of our neighbors has taken the others to court over water pathways and lines of property in relation to rain. Xavier is making good friends by having huge pits dug around our house, filled with stones, and then re-covered (puits perdus) - essentially, pits to consume the floods.

I like the small details best. The ceilings and the walls and the floors. Nothing we fill it with is interesting compared with the bones of the house itself.


















This is the original kitchen/oven of the house (on an upper floor) - now laundry room


I love where the floors meet like a strange puzzle that wasn't assembled quite right






Shutter people, heads holding the wooden shutters open when the mistral comes whipping things around


And the roof tiles. Xavier told me that these tiles were originally molded on women's thighs - hence their shape!

Sunsets

Currently measuring quality of life in sunsets. It is like this almost every evening. The cast of the light here is like nowhere else, I think. No wonder so many great artists turned up here.

La Sainte-Victoire.

This week my dad and my former boss in New York both pointed me to a great piece in T Magazine on Simone de Beauvoir's early days in the south of France and her passion for the alps and hiking in this region. The article was written after the author had found a copy of de Beauvoir's The Prime of Life (La force de l'âge) in which de Beauvoir chronicled her solo treks. There is a great quote out of the book: in thinking of nothing but "the pleasurable sensation of possessing legs and lungs and a stomach." I love de Beauvoir's abandon - admire it immensely. The article cites her response when cautioned against hiking alone: "I had no intention of making my life a bore with precautions of this sort." I hope my girls will live life with a similar sense deep in their bellies.

There is nothing that brings me back to my childhood more than hiking. Coming from a family where my dad crafted itineraries for every vacation around a group of mountains (and where we famously had to try out to go on the vacation), the rhythm of breathing up a trail makes me downright homesick.

Aix-en-Provence's icon - muse for Cézanne and other artists who loved this region: La Sainte-Victoire. Since we arrived in July, I have wanted to climb this mountain. It sits there, hovering in the distance, calling. This past week I finally did, with a good friend Karine. There are many ways up the mountain - trails from all sides, long and winding or more technical with climbing routes. We started at Lac du Bimont - an emerald colored reservoir near Aix. It was about 2 hours to the top. The first part of the trail is a simple stroll toward the mountain, engulfed in typically mediterranean vegetation. Wild rosemary and thyme fill your nostrils as you hike. Fantastic. The path is limestone, rubbed smooth and slick at times. The last 1/3 of the hike is a pretty good scramble up - a lot of fun. This mountain is a pilgrimage. We hit it in October, during the week, which meant very few people; I am sure in summer months it is packed. I wanted my dad on that hike with me.

All at once

I have a long list of things I want to see and places I want to go - all within an hour’s drive of our house near Aix-en-Provence. I’m putting most explorations on hold. Our house and getting settled in is proving to be a true feat. We have 45 projects going all at once: painting the house, unpacking boxes, new furniture to sand and restore/move into proper place, power washing/staining the outdoor furniture, ripping out old closet structures/setting up the new, installing a watering system for the yard, new kitchen cabinets, removing parts of the walls in our bedroom (our bed won’t fit into the ‘bed alcove’ - common feature of 17th c. design), ripping out carpet in one small section of the house - refinishing the floors (we will eventually put the customary tiles of this region there), installing a fence around the pool (Romy!), repainting the shutters on the house, preventing Romy from squeezing the kittens too hard, working with an architect (Xavier’s fantastic cousin who lives 15 min from us - we love him and his family) on finishing a back portion of our house for airbnb and guests, deciding what goes where (!), working with the mayor of the town to get a number on our house, the list goes on and on. I don’t believe I have ever felt quite so inundated with things to accomplish. I also feel really excited about the prospect of seeing these projects completed. Xavier remains dauntless. Not an ounce of hesitation. He wakes up and announces what he will begin - dives in and doesn’t come back up for air until about midnight.


The view out one of the windows on the top floor of the house. A field of Provence sunflowers.


Appreciating the details in the house while unpacking boxes this morning.


Fabrizio, the Italian painter, hard at work. Admired by two little ones.


I have stopped to admire the sky. Over and over. When the stars come out at night, we see the whole thing. Like a huge dark bowl above our heads, glazed with stars. After putting the girls to bed, sometimes I float in the pool with my ears under the water, rim of water just around my face, gazing up. Sensory therapy.



Colette and Romy feel as intense as everything else. Colette - daunted by the whole thing. We were driving to a little farm the other day and she told me, “Mom, I really like New York better than this place - even if we didn’t have a pool.” I was tempted to push back and list the reasons Provence is so great. Instead, I just gulped and said, “I understand, Colette. I miss New York too. What do you miss most?” She had a good list (Claire was at the top).

She is still feeling the influence of Our Lady Of Lourdes catholic school. She was pensive this morning and said, “Jesus and God are in our heart. I really want Jesus to come out. I want to see him. Maybe he is stuck in my heart forever.”

Colette thinks about safety quite a bit (thankfully, since the topic never seems to cross her little sister’s mind). “How many numbers strong is this house?” and “What is kidnapping?” (almost in the same breath). Oh, Colette.



Romy wants to be helpful. In fact, if you let her ‘help’ she will happily do your job for an hour or more. The trick is your work is unraveling in the process. She looks up and says, “I good jobbing. See?” Indeed.

We have lots of little lizards around - Romy is very impressed. She gets as close as she can and says, “I want to hold him. So sweet!” Moving her shoulders and arms in a cradling motion. They inevitably scurry away. “I miss him. He is gone.” The lizards are lucky she can’t get a hold of them. The kittens have a different story. She pulls their tails and squeezes much too hard. We are constantly steering her to be gentle…they protect themselves - they scratch and bite her. She is undeterred. There are moments she is overcome by their cuteness. She is shaking while petting them, placing her head on their body to ‘caress’ their fur. They paw at her wild hair, thinking it is a little creature itself.

We miss Marguerite terribly. Excited that she will come every other weekend and lots of her vacation time - more time with her is a total treat for everyone.

All in all, this feels like a mammoth affair. Mustering all the grit I have to keep up.






Xavier, a great papa (the candy bracelets are a nice touch). He pauses to play with the girls and the kittens - that is about it.


Art study in the front yard.


Meeting new friends at our house.


Even Colette's shadow is getting accustomed to the new place.




Trips to the market - lots of fun. This pic sums up each of the girls personalities.


Provence bounty - feels like such a luxury to have all of this at a market just down the street.

Provence in April.

Xavier and I took a lightning trip to the south of France this past weekend. The light in that region has a pull – its own force. Really powerful even in the early spring. We stayed in Aix-en-Provence, lured by honey alleys and pewter shutters – violaceous blooming trees. Streets for ambling. We explored the city and the countryside around it – walked through olive groves lined with blossoming fruit trees. The scope of outdoor exploring/unearthing beauty is endless. Honestly, I would stay forever, never returning.





















I spent an extra bit of time in the region after Xavier had left. I explored the tiny hilltop village Saint-Paul de Vence. I had heard it referenced many times when discussing the south of France with people. I was charmed, but also suprised by how almost synthetic it felt. Strolling down the very authentic cobblestone streets (about as wide as one's outstretched arms) - I looked up down, awed by the perfection of the buildings and the position of the plants and the boutiques (the town is overrun by shops). It is literally an imagined, tiny French village - preserved and kept for tourists. I wondered if anyone really lived there.













I also stayed in Antibes. I know one other little town down the shore pretty well, but I always like to search out the "Sentier du Littoral" (coastal path) when near the coast in France. Antibes did not disappoint. Start at Plage Garoupe (park there) and the path winds beautifully along the coast - remote and far for about 2 hours around the Cap d'Antibes. I did the hike close to sundown - pretty stunning.