On this next part of my “road trip,” if I may call it that when I’ve been traveling by train, I went from Aix-en-Provence to Vence, a town of 19,000 I had heard a lot about, and, thus, decided to visit. Nestled in the foothills of the Alps, it’s a half-hour’s drive from the bustling city of Nice (and its international airport). It is also a 20-minute bike ride (I was told) to the Mediterranean. Surrounding the picturesque Old Town is a vibrant community of shops, restaurants, hotels, and residences.
I was especially charmed by the fountains, with their potable water. Vence residents (and some tourists, ahem) regularly fill their jars, bottles, and containers of all sorts with this pure water from the spring called La Foux, as they prefer it to the tap water (which is also good, but, evidently, not as…). Vence is every inch a town of the region, in fact, a veritable icon of Provence.
As in any French town, restaurants are integral to its life and culture. The oldest eatery in Vence is the Auberge des Seigneurs, which dates from 1916. Originally, it was a relay station.
Dining outside is popular everywhere, no matter the temperature. Skies were mostly overcast while I was there, as was true in most, if not all, of the south of France for the week I was traveling. But, no matter, one appreciates the blue skies when they appear all the more!
The harmonious colors of the town, the ochres, terra cottas, roses, and blues, only added to the appeal of the place.
On one of my walks in the area, I spotted a school bus stopping, so watched the students disembark. At the risk of being accused of stalking (yikes!), I photographed this sweet kid from the time he got off the bus, to the time he disappeared up a driveway to, presumably, his home. Once he alighted, he never took his eyes off his book (photos go from left to right), of which he appeared to be nearing the end. What was the story? 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea? Robinson Crusoe? Treasure Island? I so wanted to ask him!
Throughout Provence one finds mention of painters, particularly Impressionists. Not only did these artists live here, but they left their marks in various ways. Recovering from surgery, Matisse lived in Vence, 1947-1951. While there, a nun with whom he had become close, asked him to design a chapel, and thus, at age 77, he began. He stated later it was his greatest masterpiece.
The photo on the left shows the Matisse Chapel (in the middle of the picture). The top right photo was taken in the adjacent museum and is a model of the chapel. No photography was allowed in it.
The photo on the bottom right is a model of the rooftop, with its blue peaks.
More artists, inspired by their surroundings…
Few have heard of Vence, France. An hour-and-a-half’s-walk away, however, sits its much better known cousin, Saint-Paul-de-Vence, which beckoned to me. So, I set out one day, and enjoyed a glorious walk to this hilltop town, through forest and beside streams.
Of course, I ventured inside…
I returned to Vence, via a different, delightful path.
After my week of travel, I took the train back to Montpellier. I reconnected with friends and learned that a large number of Ukrainians had reached this city and were now being sheltered in various places, one of them, the huge Olympic gym, just over the river from my current abode.
This morning, as I was walking by there to get coffee, I encountered a group of them, waiting to get into the gym. Their language and dress bepoke a Slavic culture. Seeing these distressed people up close brought home the horror of the war like nothing else could, a grim reminder of how quickly one’s life could be turned upside down, and a stark contrast to the life most of us are privileged enough to be able to live.
Fortunately, a place to take donations and money has been set up, and locals have been stepping up hugely, I understand. Hearing of their plight, day after day, and seeing these desperate people here, in our midst, are powerful motivators to help however one can.