Sunday, September 28, 2002

    Elizabeth opted to stay home, relax and write postcards. She reported later that she spent the entire day on the roof terrace! B and I drove to Cambous to see the ancient prehistoric village and to St. Martin de Londres. We found a gravel pull off parking lot for Cambous, but the location of the site itself wasn't so obvious. Across the paved road from the parking area was an auberge, with a small dirt road running back from it. The little road was marked with signs for the site, but it was also marked "Sauf Riverains" with a no-entry bar around the lettering. We had seen the same in Gordes. We tried to use our French phrase book to puzzle out what the no-entry signs might mean. Residents Only? Watch out for Residents? Danger of Residents? We couldn't figure it out, but thought we'd better just park in the pull off.
    We walked along the dirt road, with the auberge's restaurant to our right, an estate of some kind on our left, then outbuildings on the right and little apartments or motel rooms on our left (two ladies were sitting out at a table, having wine). Then, nothing except the rocky road stretching into the garrigue. A man and woman were walking back toward us. When we met, they told us the site was closed until 2, and that it was a kilometer walk away.
    We decided to look at a nearby town in the meantime. The white guide said that nearby Saint Martin de Londres conceals "one of the most exquisite medieval squares anywhere," so we popped up there briefly. We parked in the village square and looked around. Hardly exquisite. Cute, maybe; bustling certainly, but not exquisite. Oh, but trust the white guide. Another look a little further on, and we read "The ensemble has a church to match…" They were talking about the town's place l'eglise; shades of Carcassone! We went back to the map posted at the parking lot, found the church on the map and B confidently walked us the few blocks to the church square. It turned out to be so beautiful we decided to come back after Cambous to take pictures and enjoy. So from our little walk in St. M. de L., we hurried back to Cambous.
    Walking through the garrigue to the site was interesting. There were piles and swales of the local white and gray limestone rocks scattered all about. We wondered if any were made by hand, or if they were all natural. It may well have been a kilometer back to the site, and we passed several families strolling along, in city sandals and nice clothes, with kids running here and there like excited puppies. There may have been a puppy or two as well! A beat up old and low slung sedan came barreling along the rough track and bounced past, kicking up stones and white dust. We surmised it was the guide scrambling to arrive ahead of his tourists.
    The site was quite interesting. There was the car that had passed us, now parked, and a Brit caretaker/guide—a Crocodile Dundee look-a-like—who sold admissions and gave a brief introductory talk in French. After we toured and photographed the site, we asked him about its condition. He said that the ruined parts had been "partially" reconstructed. Apparently some of the doorways may have been built up a little, although he was a bit vague on just how much. The site is about five acres, the nearest existing spring is now 2 km away. Scientists believe there were four groups of about ten huts each. Does this mean there were four families? Four groups of ten families? No way to know!
    Right in the middle of the groups of huts we saw one of the pits where clay had been dug. After the clay was excavated, refuse was dumped in the pits. Of course there may have been other springs in the area thousands of years ago, but it's interesting to wonder if being near clay was more important than being near water. There was a reconstructed hut on the site; we're not sure if it was an old foundation or not. Outside the hut, opposite the side door, was an outdoor oven. I guess the Neolithic people spent a lot of time outdoors. B would have loved it!
    It was fairly late afternoon when we finally headed back to St. M. de L. This is one of my favorite places so far. On our return trip, B guided us about by a different route. This time we came into the square through an ancient arcade, with B as he so often does eagerly walking on ahead. He turned to me as he came out into the light, and I was still in the arcade. "I'm having a complete deja vue," he said. "We've done this before." I was taking his picture just as he turned to tell me.
    The white guide is right. St. M. de L is a gem. There is the beautiful medieval church, the exquisite courtyard—sunlight and shadows and arches—a picture from every direction. From the white guide: ". . .one of the most exquisite medieval squares anywhere, picturesquely asymmetrical and surrounded by houses that have not changed for centuries. The ensemble has a church to match, an architecturally sophisticated 11th century building with a rare elliptical cupola. A recent restoration, clearing out the dross of a brutal 19th century remodeling, has uncovered some charming fragments of the original decoration. St. Martin on horseback, carved Celtic spirals and neo Byzantine capitals."
    We came home relatively early because we planned a last night supper at home for Elizabeth (leaving Monday) and Duncan (leaving Tuesday). We shopped at our Peret alimentary, since Duncan had recommended the meats there. B kept telling the grocer to cut the steaks bigger! Finally the grocer played a joke, waving his knife right over the middle of the joint of meat, as if to cut a twelve inch thick steak. Everyone laughed at that.
    When B made the fire in the funny little "barbecue" in the corner of our rooftop terrace, it didn't want to burn hot. "OK," he said, "I admit, I don't know how to work this one." Supper was ready but for the steaks, and we all four were sitting on the terrace as he cooked. He kept blowing on it like a bellows to make it burn, and of course joked around with it, amusing us with his travails. We drank four bottles of wine all told, which led to the usual discussion of everything over and after supper.

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