Saturday, September 28, 2002

    Another day of excursions, to three towns! Carpentras, Pernes-les-Fontaines and Gordes, another of France's 100 Most Beautiful Villages. We used the white guide to good effect. We were hoping to have supper in a one star restaurant, but the red guide's two possibilities were "tout complet." More on that later.
    On the way to Carpentras, I read in the white guide that we were seeing Mount Ventoux, home of the devils that sent the cold winds from the north. It is ringed by chapels, perhaps to help in exorcising the demons.
    In Carpentras, we visited St. Siffrien's Cathedral, where we picked up a good English guide. The cathedral was begun in the 15th century and worked on until 1902! We began our tour by parking in a "metered" space right by the church square. It took a minute to figure out the system: buy a timed ticket from a machine at the street corner and leave it in view on your dashboard. In one corner of the square between the cathedral and the Palais de Justice was a fantastic old monument, the twenty eight foot high Roman Triumphal Arch. It was erected in the first century AD. The white guide: "Of all the ancient Provencal monuments, this shows the bizarre Celtic quality of Gallo-Roman art at its most stylized extreme, with its reliefs of enchained captives and trophies." Indeed the art was odd, the chained captives were tall sculptures, larger than life size, and one was wearing a fur or skin.
    Across from this, sticking out from the cathedral wall, was a remnant of the original twelfth century cathedral, part of the cupola, used in the 15th century building as a bell tower that is now gone. Odd, but it shows how these cathedrals are living churches, not just monuments.
    Next we walked around the back of the cathedral to find a way in. We could hear singing coming from inside. B said, "Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring? Father should be here to help." It turned out that our route around was a lucky one; the first door we came to was the Porte Juive, where Jewish converts were taken in to be baptized. The decorations were beautiful, but most importantly, B, reading the white guide, discovered "Carpentras' famous curio, the small sculpted Boule aux Rats—a globe covered with rats" over the door! We had a good look at "the rat nibbles" through the binoculars, and there were indeed about six worn rats evident.
    Inside we found that a wedding rehearsal was in progress—the singing was a choir rehearsing behind the altar. I lit a twenty hour votive candle for my mother in the Chapelle de la Sainte Vierge. We found the Nail Chapel, and learned that Saint Siffrien doesn't exist in any official lists of Catholic Saints!
    Next we went to Pernes-les-Fontaines, a tiny town with 37 fountains, one for every 190 residents. Apparently someone wanted to have a better one than their neighbors, and the thing caught on. We walked around and found seven of them, most just small spouts on the corners of a building with a basin underneath, a few more elaborate. Silly but fun! Just by luck, we noticed a set of steps and a sign about the castle. We all walked up, with sets of stairs becoming more steep, until at last we were up on top in a tiny courtyard, with marvelous views all around. A very nice man took a picture of all three of us with Mt. V. in the background.
    One of the restaurants we were trying to eat in was in P-l-F, but it was closed for the afternoon break and we could not get an answer on the phone. B tried knocking, but although we thought we could see someone inside, through the window, no one would answer his knock. We decided to press on. We were passing through L'Isles-la-Sorgue and needed a rest stop, a bit of car lunch. The center of town was pretty, and the roads were a bit confusing. So we pulled into the little parking lot at the square. E also wanted to find a phone to try and work some more on lining up her Paris hotel. The convenient phone booth on the square took only phone cards! So I foraged among the pharmacies and tabacs and bought an inexpensive phone card. We all used it, calling restaurants and hotels. As B and I ate our car lunch on a bench under the big old sycamores lining the square, several games of boules were going on. There were some spectators and some players, and some took turns doing first one then the other. As we left, B read the map and used his intuition to find our road. We were off.
    Earlier, we had thought we might stop in Fontaine-de-Vaucluse, whose interest is the cave in the cliff, source of the Sorgue River. It's supposed to be a dramatic sight, and would have made the day a Two Fontaine Tour. But time was passing, and so we went straight on to Gordes.
    Now we were in Provence, home of Peter Mayle and all that. The countryside looked more settled and managed than ours in the garrigue, and as we neared Gordes the houses and grounds were certainly much nicer. Provence is supposed to be more expensive than Languedoc, one reason we decided on Peret!
    Finally, Gordes—a dramatic hillside town that is full of tourists. The architecture and town layout were very like the hill towns of Tuscany. Gordes is also home to another one star restaurant, our final red guide choice for the day. But the phone number in the red guide was wrong! When B called it, a woman told him there was no restaurant there. We decided that B would go back down the road to the place; he had noticed it coming in and said it was just outside town. He also wanted to stop and take some pictures at a particular vantage. E and I would explore while he was out, and we would meet back at a little bar on the church square.
    E and I wandered. I bought eau de lavande (lavender is a specialty of Provence) and I saw beautiful jacquard fabrics that I think should be our craft.
    We did meet up at the appointed time, E and I had separated to do our own independent exploring. I found her and B ensconced in the bar. Some things had gone well and others not. B said that he saw staff eating at the restaurant, but they refused to answer the door. "I know they knew I was there," he said. "They watched me walk around the front, and I was knocking loud enough. They were closed, that's all. Quel dommage for me." But he had found his vantage point from which to take pictures.
    "There's a perfect stopping place, it's the exact little spur of rock to walk out on to get the best view. And they've got a little pull off on the road, and it's the only place you can stop all along the road in. Perfect setup for tourists."
    E had gotten a recommendation from a shop keeper, and she and B made a reservation for us at de Teston, right on the square. When I sat down with them, and we all had our aperitifs, B pointed to the big tabby cat that had come over to join us. He wanted petting (the cat, I mean, not B). The cat was named Gisby, and he ruled the roost. After his petting, Gisby sat for a while behind the bar, then made himself very comfortable on a service platter on the bar!
    Supper was OK. The white guide had warned us, and it was correct, that Gordes was a tourist town, and the restaurants were pricey and not the best. But it was still a wonderful supper, just not the best in France. Pumpkin and cheese soup and a very light (perhaps vegetarian?) pate for appetizers. All plates served with the same sides of carrots, eggplant and mashed potatoes very nicely flavored and in a shape. For our main plates, B had rabbit, E had pork and I had fish. I also managed to order a plain salad, not from the menu. B pointed out that though we had a rather too nouvelle supper for our tastes, the olive oil on my salad was the best we had yet. "It's Provence," he said. "We'll never find anything like that at home."
    And once again, I had a nice car nap as B and E navigated home.

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