Surprisingly, it’s rare that David and I fight on a road
trip. It’s also rare that David and I don’t fight. We can fight about
everything including the proper route from our Right Bank Parisian apartment to
our favorite grocery store, La Grand Epicerie, on the Left Bank of Paris. He
likes to remind me that he has lived in Paris since he was 17 and that he knows
every street by the back of his hand and I like to remind him that I have a
better sense of direction than him no matter what city we are in. Our fighting
tactics are always the same: David likes to yell in French and I like to bring
up things from the past into every argument. It works for us. We usually end
every argument with, “Well, it looks like we’re going to have to agree to
disagree.” What this means is that we both think we are right yet we are too
tired or hungry to continue so we like to wrap up our argument with a sandwich
and a nap.
However, on a road trip, we miraculously see eye to eye. We
both don’t mind getting up in the darkness of the early morning, having the car
totally organized and starting our adventure. Such was the case yesterday for
our petite road trip to Provence. David does everything in his power to make
sure my comfort is a priority so he basically transforms my seat in the car
into an Air France first-class cabin complete with reclining heated massage
chair, beverage, light snack and a movie. David’s favorite part about a road
trip is stopping at French gas stations. He loves them and I hate them. David
looks forward to his noisette café and his weird ham and cheese baguettes. He
asks me what I would like at the gas station and my response is always,
“Something American.” I think it’s unnatural not to have a Slurpie, nachos and
a powdered doughnut on a road trip.
David always says that the reason why we continue to bear
each other’s existence is because we both enjoy doing the same thing, going to
flea markets being one of them. We work well together at a flea market,
perusing at the same pace, showing each other equally
aesthetically pleasing items and only rarely do I have to say, “Put that down,
David, it’s ugly.”
David is slightly more relaxed than I am at a flea market.
He likes to stop for a pre-fleamarket coffee and I like to dive in like an
obsessed barracuda right into the thick of it. I like to be the first one at a
flea market and if I am not, I spend the rest of the day wondering what I
missed.
No worries yesterday because we arrived at exactly 9 AM to
the L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue Sunday farmers market and brocante. We arrived just as
the vendors were setting up… Just the way I like it. However, our first snafu
occurred… My wheelchair was squeaking. Not just a light squeak, it was a heavy
duty, ear piercing obnoxious squeak every three seconds as the wheel turned. It
was driving me mad. The good news is that I am a complete MacGyver when it
comes to “situations.” ( I have used a meat cleaver for a hammer since before Gracie was born.) Considering we were at a farmers market in Provence, I
knew the best thing to do was to buy the local olive oil at the first booth we
saw. With our €12 bottle of olive oil, David poured it with a heavy hand onto the
right wheel of my wheelchair and presto, “situation solved.”
I was both easily impressed and equally not impressed by our
first day in Provence but I thought I would be totally honest with all of you
with my observations.
First things first, L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue is shit for
antiques. It’s also shit for little brocante accessories. When I first went to
L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue in 2007 to shop for our antique store, I literally wanted
everything in the entire town. Every vendor had something unusual, remarkable
and well priced. Yesterday all I saw was ordinary, boring and overpriced. To
put it quite simply, the town was definitely picked over. We can blame the
Americans. They came, they saw, and they conquered. This town was dry. I have
to say, Paris is still the best for antiquing. There, I said it… And it’s true.
The vendors in Provence are grasping at straws to showcase anything
extraordinary. Over the course of the five hours that I was in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue,
I only purchased five items. Only five items! The good news is that I did find
one item that is one of my most favorite pieces that I’ve ever bought, so not
all was a loss. Don’t worry, I bought one for all of you as well and it will be
available on my little online shop. Hint: Ancien taureau.
To be fair and not punished by the law, I had to give my
caregivers a little break after the first three hours. We found a super chic
little café/deli right on the main road of the village called Le Jouvet. Don’t
you love when a shop just gets it right. This little place certainly did. They
had me at the vegetable tart in the window and sealed the deal with the fruit
tart. We selected a perfectly Provence sandwich of roasted peppers with pesto
on soft bread. Delicious. I also spied a whole refrigerator filled with gelatos
in little glass jars. On our way out of town in the late afternoon, my
caregiver popped out of the car and bought me a gelato of refreshing cassis
with Moroccan mint that I ate all to myself and didn’t share a drop because I
can be a real peach like that.
With what the town lacks in quality antiques, it certainly
makes up in charm. A beautiful river runs through the village with
crystal-clear water, healthy moss, shaded with overgrown fig trees. The
buildings are typical Provence… mustard yellow, pink salmon, milky ivory with
(for lack of a better word) perfect shabby chic shutters. What I really liked
about the town is that there was no Newport Beach style cutting back of
anything overgrown. Weeping wisteria, sunny forsythia, those pink shrimp
colored fluffy plants that remind me of Sonja Rykiel’s hair texture… It all
just grows at its leisure and there is not one site of some asshole with
clipping shears.
Armed with our five little treasures, we had to get to our reservation
for our late afternoon lunch. My friend Heather from Lost in Arles, recommended
a restaurant that she knew I would love… And she was right. Definitely check
out her blog regarding the restaurant, Le Jardin du Quai, HERE. Not only did I
want to have lunch at this restaurant but I wanted to live there as well. It’s
the house and environment that I’ve been looking for.… Old charming house, pea
gravel, carefree garden, shade trees, fountains, hidden statues, creeping ivy…
A hidden gem. We were seated at the perfect stone round garden table under a
beautiful old tree. First things first, a glass of rosé wine was in order. The
menu was prix-fixe… Appetizer of salmon with onions and vegetables, main course
of a beauty of a roasted lamb leg with onions and mushrooms and finishing with
a dessert of juicy blueberries with lemon meringue and crème fraîche. What I
also loved about this restaurant is that everyone seemed to be genuinely enjoying
themselves and had a fortunate look of, “We are so happy to be here.” The only
drawback to this restaurant were the chairs. This is the only time I considered
myself lucky to be sitting in a custom wheelchair which was 20 times more
comfortable than the chairs at the restaurant. The owners definitely need to do
something about this… I suggest wicker with ivory cushions.
After lunch, we took one more walk through the town and then
decided that it was time to go. Even though I didn’t get to see as many
antiques as I would like, I was just happy to be out in the sunshine of the
South of France with my husband. When you get to this stage of my life that I
am in (near death :-)), you learn to appreciate what makes life grand… The
trees, the sunshine, the river, chirping of the birds, strawberries, vegetable
tarts, farmhouses, and an occasional antique.
So that’s it for my first adventure this summer to
Provence. Our next trip down south will be to Aix-en-Provence where my friend lives
and has expertly described (and promised) the following… “June is one of the
absolutely very best months in Provence. The weather will be summery warm, the
many dozens of white, pink and apricot coloured oleander bushes will be in full
bloom, trying to compete with the elegant roses in the rose garden. But, of
course this won’t be easy … To give the oleander a head-start we planted them a
bit everywhere on the property, while the roses are concentrated in the rosary.
The swimming pool is heated, of course, and we can splish
splash for hours, which is best to be done with a cocktail in our hands.
The best hours to stroll around the narrow streets in Aix
are late morning and early evening. I suggest a tour through the farmers’
market to start with. We’ll sample our way through the freshly cut melons from
Cavaillon, the sweetest Mara strawberries and the white peaches Provence is so
famous for, until we have elected our merchants and fill up our baskets. For
cheese we have found the absolutely number one address, our fromager is
originally from Corsica, is capable of eating a whole truffled buffalo mozzarella
by himself and knows all about cheese. We’ll then stop at the stand that sells
all kinds of salami, from tiny to quite amazing in diameter, flavoured with
nuts, black and chili pepper, mushrooms, truffles and other interesting
ingredients. David will have fun trying them all, especially when we sip our
mojito in the evening, enjoying the sunset from our terrace.
We’ll sample our way through C.’s specialities and we’ll
show her some new recipes. She has reached excellence in paella and her
spaghetti with homemade pesto Provencale have gained reputation all the way to
Lugano! I’ll prepare Wiener Schnitzel, thin, crispy, and light and topped with
fresh ruccola.
J.C. will make you discover some rosé wines from the
region and fuller Italian red wines. J. will shake up new cocktails and of
course, there is no way around a real pastis with olives at the Les Deux
Garçons.
We’ll share a million little joys while we walk through
the garden, enjoy the views, watch the birds and the butterflies, pick the
fraises de bois … directly into our mouth, sit next to the fish pond and keep
the breath when Adorable comes to nibble on our fingers, talk and chat for
hours, laugh when one finishes the sentence the other one has just begun. Love,
S.”
I’m mean, c’mon, am I the luckiest girl in the world or
what? I don’t have time for ALS, I have a whole summer of Provence ahead of me
and I invite all of you.… But you’ll have to put up with David as well. If I
have to, you have to.… He may be loud and bossy but at least he’s
French, endearing, handsome and dresses well. It could be worse, he could be
passive and wear a fanny pack. So, summer in Provence here we come.
A toute!
