If I'm tired of cheese...

... it must be time to go home. Before Leo resigns. I am off to Paris tomorrow morning and will have an afternoon to spend in the museums before flying home. I am sad to leave such a beautiful place, but looking to forward to seeing all my beautiful boys. I'm also looking forward to some Mexican food and margaritas!

more big old rocks

To conclude the tale of the four-day road trip, when Mary and I left the beach we drove north to Nimes. We got caught in the French truck protest called "l'escargot".... the name evokes the result of the protest quite nicely. But we made it to Nimes just in time to meet my friends Nancy and Chris, whom Leo and I got to know in London several years ago. They have a house not far from Nimes, and I left Mary to spend the night there. I had a great time catching up with Nancy and Chris, and getting to know their friends Bella and Gigi, who were also visiting, as well as their lovely neighbor Jane. Jane has spent most of her life visiting that town and took us around to see some of the hidden sights, including the beautiful, sprawling farm house she stayed at as a child. To my delight, there was a little prehistoric menhir (remember the dolmen? a menhir is the dolmen's single friend) in the garden. Two megaliths in one trip. Doesn't get better than that.

Nancy and Chris very kindly drove me back to Menerbes the following day, stopping along the way to see a variety of interesting sites, mostly more big old rocks, my favorite kind of sight. We saw the Pont du Gard, which was as fabulous as I imagined, and also a very nice little triumphal arch near the Roman town of Glanum.

We have a winner!!

I have the answer to the reader's challenge, and we have a winner. First let me say that I approached this question like an archaeologist, and I failed. There are at least two other similar objects placed around the village of Menerbes, so I was certain that these were culturally-specific, functional objects. I peered at them, I studied them, I walked around them. I was totally frustrated that I couldn't figure them out. Anyway, I finally found someone today who knew the answer. Turns out, Monsieur Christian was correct: they are simply objets d'art. A local sculptor makes them. They are meant to resemble little chairs, which of course is why half of us thought of potty chairs. So Chris, you win a Fabulous Provencal Prize! I will try to find something more masculine than lavender soap.

NOT Barcelona

After leaving Niaux (see below) we were supposed to go to Barcelona. The plan was to park the car in Perpignan, a French city not far from the Spanish border, and take a train to Barcelona. We are not allowed to drive the car out of France, hence the complex plan.



Sadly, we missed our train by literally five seconds, and there were no more trains to Barcelona that night. By this point it was evening and we had no back-up plan. However, my clever friend Mary looked at the map and spotted Collioure nearby, on the Mediterranean coast. She said, "Matisse painted there. It must be nice." So off we went. We figured from there we could get to Barcelona in the morning.

And nice it was. I will post only a few pictures, but let me tell you, this place is heaven. Barcelona was forgotten very quickly as we parked ourselves next to the sea and basically stared at it for the next 24 hours.

Cave

Our roadtrip continued from Carcassonne (see below) to Niaux Cave, a cave in the Pyrenees with Paleolithic art. I've always wanted to see one of these caves, so this was very exciting for me. It was really incredible. You go in with a very small group and a guide and a few flashlights, and walk over a mile deep into the cave. After going through all these twisting passageways, you end up in an incredibly large vaulted space, and that's where the paintings are. Bison, horses, ibex, all drawn or painted as though they are floating through space. So incredible to think that they've been there for something like 14,000 years. The cave actually continues even further into the mountain, with more paintings deeper in, but visitors are not allowed any further. It's just as well, in a way, because it is somewhat frightening to be so deep in the cave. Someone in our group burst into tears at some point; it seems she started to fall behind the group and had a little panic attack or something. Anyway, it was amazing and made me want to see more cave art.

Carcassonne

I've just returned from a four-day road trip. I have so much to tell, I'm not sure where to start. I suppose I could tell you that you people in the US don't know from high gas prices, but nobody really wants to hear that. It's a good thing that the money here is this fake monopoly stuff called euros or I might really be stressed out about the prices.

Anyway, I went on a road trip with my housemate, Mary, who drove the Mercedes that belongs to this program we're part of. Not a bad way to travel, and Mary gets full marks for European driving skills. I get partial marks for navigation. Our first stop was Carcassonne, which is a medieval fortified town in the Cathar region of France, just north of Pyrenees. It's quite breathtaking. It has to be appreciated mainly as a 19th century endeavor since it was rebuilt rather fabulously by Viollet-le-Duc. He did a wonderful job but there is something rather Disney-esque about it, especially when the busloads of tourists start arriving. Luckily, we had arrived late in the evening and so got to the site first thing in the morning, before the other tourists, so it was enjoyable for a quick visit. The pointy, slate-covered turrets you'll see in the photo are a V-l-D confection. They may not be authentic, but you've got to give the man credit. They look good.

reader's challenge

I don't know if I actually have any readers, but if you're out there, this is your shot at glory. You have a chance to WIN a contest and a FABULOUS PROVENCAL PRIZE. I don't know what that is yet; probably lavender soap because that's the only souvenir I can find, but don't let that stop you from participating.

Here is the challenge. Above, I have posted a picture of an object found in this very house. What do you suppose it is? Leave your guess as a comment, below. A correct answer will win a Fabulous Prize. (full disclosure: I do not know what this object is. But I will find out).

uphill

Yesterday my housemate and I went hiking. I discovered something fascinating... in places other than Houston, hiking can involve hills. I knew this once, but the six or so years that we've lived in an incredibly flat landscape allowed me to forget. We've actually changed our vocabulary about the activity, taking the kids on "nature walks" rather than hikes, since I guess, unconsciously, traipsing across a flat coastal prairie at the slow pace demanded by short toddler legs just didn't feel like hiking.

Well, anyway, yesterday I HIKED! Up a hill. Then down again. It was kind of steep. Are you getting how novel this was? Not only the activity, but the scenery, which was mountainous. I must say, I totally get why people vacation in Provence. This place is really, really pretty. It's kind of absurd. We drove out to the trailhead, passing an aqueduct (!) and a series of quite picturesque stone house with pretty shutters. After hiking up then down the large hill, we decided to walk into town, to see where all the tourists parked near us were going. Yeah, duh. Because we just happened to be at the absolute prettiest place in all of Provence, Fontaine de Vaucluse. There is a spring there, set in a deep pocket of the mountain, which sends a beautiful, rushing stream through a valley, past more picturesque stone houses, a Romanesque church, a ruined Medieval castle. Because it's been such a rainy spring, I guess, the whole affair was practically bursting its banks. I took about 100 pictures because I've really never seen such a pretty place.

mosaic

I am quite triste to realize that my time here is half over. It's going by very quickly. My work is moving along, not as quickly, but at least it's moving. I went on an outing today, to see a man who makes incredibly beautiful mosaics. He lives in a village improbably far from anything else, on top of a mountain. Equally improbably, many other people live there. His house is at the top of the village, much like this one, and there were truly incredible views from there.

He is sort of an amateur archaeologist, though I think that unfairly denigrates his knowledge. He picks up stuff at Roman sites, mostly roof tiles, and mostly at sites that have already been excavated and abandoned by archaeologists, so I can't fault him for treasure hunting a little. He uses these found materials to make his mosaics. They are really fabulous, and I'm not the only person who thinks so. He was describing a project he did... it was a swimming pool for the family of Jules Verne, perhaps predictably with a 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea theme. He says he never wants to make another picture of a fish.

chatting with the boys

Since I’ve been away I’ve been chatting with the boys on Skype, which makes it much easier to handle the long separation. If you’re not familiar with this technology, basically we chat through the computer, and can see each other, so it’s like a video phone. Leo is very patient with the process and usually ends up with at least one squirmy boy on his lap and the other one leaping around him, both showing off for me on the computer. They get a little excited, which I think is probably a little tiring for Leo.

They also like to push, rather enthusiastically, the buttons on the computer. Which generally breaks the connection. So Leo has to keep them from doing that. Today, he sounded a little exasperated as he gently asked them not to push the buttons. I told Jamie I had a deal for him. If he could resist pushing the buttons on daddy’s computer, when I got back to Houston, I would set up a computer for him to use (I remembered that I have an old laptop I don’t use anymore). He looked pretty interested. He was sitting very still, a rarity, and paying close attention. “A toy computer?” he asked. “No, a real computer.” I said. “I’ll resist,” he whispered, reverentially.

bakeries

It's been a few days since I posted anything, because really nothing much has happened. But I guess this means I'm settling into normal life in rural France. And what occupies people in normal life in rural France, apparently, is the bakery.

It's not unlike the cult of the bakery in Houston, where people swear by their favorite place. But there, you mostly go to the preferred bakery a few times a year when you need a cake. Here, it's a daily business. You've got to get fresh bread at least every two days, and preferably every day, because you need a vehicle for the cheese, and the jam, and the butter, and the honey. And something to soak up those rich creamy sauces. But the bread is more elusive than you might think.

In our little pocket of the Luberon, for example, there is a clear ranking of bakeries. We do have a baker in Menerbes, and she is actually open in the middle of the day, when nobody else is. So I go there and get bread for lunch, or a grown-up version of a pig-in-a-blanket, which is a rather transcendental concoction of pastry surrounding a sausage and mustard. Heaven. BUT, among people who actually have standards for their baked goods, our local baker can't even be mentioned. She doesn't count. Her baguettes, it seems, don't even rank. So the people of Menerbes must drive down the hill and across the valley to one of the other towns for bread. But even that is not so simple... the much-coveted bread of Apt is not available on Monday. The also good, but not so good as Apt, bread of Goult is available on Monday, but not, we discovered, this week because she is "en vacances." Try Lumieres, they said. Down the hill again we went. And so on. The day of the week, the time of day... it's so complex that I feel I need a spreadsheet. And should you wish to combine errands... say, hit the fruitstand on the way to the bakery, well, good luck.

It is all so worth it, though, when lunch means a fresh baguette, a fresh tomato, and some incredibly creamy cheese. Just don't tell anyone I bought the bread in Menerbes.

medieval fortifications

Went on a field trip yesterday, to Arles and Aigues-Mortes. Arles is a Roman & medieval city, best known as Van Gogh's muse for some of his most famous paintings. It's a beautiful city with an incredible Romanesque church and a variety of Roman ruins scattered throughout. From there, we headed out to a marshy nature reserve alongside the Rhone before it empties into the Mediterranean. Out in the middle of this marsh is a city called Aigues-Mortes. It was built by Louis IX as a launching point for his (failed) seventh crusade. The city is an amazingly well-preserved relic of the Middle Ages, with complete fortification walls and an enormous tower. When you build your walls six meters thick, they tend to last a while. 

And what do you think Sarah liked best?

Was is the crenellated ramparts?

Circus

A few nights ago I went, along with my two housemates, the program director, and her two kids, to a circus. Together we made up approximately 65% of the total audience. More math: we outnumbered the performers by three. Does this give you some sense of the scale of this circus? Yes, there were three human performers involved, along with a dancing horse and a counting dog. I took pictures to try to capture this indescribable spectacle, but the pictures actually make it look grander than it was.

Brangelina sighting!!

Just kidding. I couldn't resist. But don't you think dolmens are more interesting, anyway?

Dolmen

Absorbed by Neolithic and Paleolithic thoughts, I decided to head out to find the local prehistoric monument, the dolmen. It turned out to be a couple of kilometers from town, but it was a lovely walk alongside farms and vineyards. The dolmen was great, though not surprisingly, the folks who built the road nearby seemed not particularly interested in showcasing the monument. They didn't destroy it, which is something, but it's practically buried in the roadside ditch. Makes it pretty hard to imagine it in a prehistoric context.

I got down into it, hoping to feel a magical vibe. Some animal was rustling around under the leaves, though, and I realized a scorpion or snake bite was more likely than a magical vibe.

the neighbors

I'm told that my neighbors include John Malkovich, down the street, and Brad and Angelina. I haven't seen any of them yet. Nor have they asked me over. Also, the mayor of Menerbes apparently produced the notorious film 'Emmanuelle.'

Yes, I'm working...

I’m reading Lewis-Williams’ book, The Mind in the Cave. In it, he forges a new interpretation of cave painting. He begins by talking about the way that the materialist science of recent centuries shapes our thinking and our explanations. He offers this quote:

These questions are not just about ancient history. They take us to the heart of what it is to be human today. It is not simply that we are more intelligent than other creatures, that we are masters of complex technology, or even that we have complex language. These are glittering jewels in the crown of humanity with which we are comfortable. On the contrary, the essence of being human is an uncomfortable duality of ‘rational” technology and ‘irrational’ belief. (18)

and once more, in reference to the impact of Darwin’s ideas:

Suddenly, Westerners who had access to Darwin’s ideas could ‘see’ things that they had never noticed before. (22)

Just as, he writes, a 16th century visitor to the Niaux cavern saw, but did not notice, the incredible art on the walls, The contemporary belief in a short human history did not allow him to recognize the paintings.


It is something along these lines that I aim to do in my current work… to ‘see’ the imagery of the neolithic Near East in a fundamentally non-materialist way, and therefore to interpret it in a new way.

Arrival

I have arrived and am still absorbing my surroundings... that will take a while since they are rather incredible. I'm in the house of Dora Maar, an artist and a mistress of Picasso. Her presence is still very much here; art, photographs, and books about Dora Maar, surrealism, and Picasso, as well as a variety of works by and books about other artists, all breathe life into the house. The house itself is built out of, and on top of, limestone bedrock, and the rock pokes out of the walls and stairways in seemingly random places and reminds you that you are attached to the hill. We are pretty much at the top of the town, all of which is perched on this hill, sort of organically, thanks to the limestone construction, which makes the buildings seem to grow out of the hill. The house is rather tall, and my room is at the top of the winding stone staircase, so from my windows I see the tippy-tops of the cypress trees, the sky, and a pretty incredible view. 

The first night there was a thunderstorm, which from my aerie was fabulous. The windows aren't covered, so from bed I could see just the sky, full of lightning, and hear those cypress trees blowing and the shutters clattering.

It's actually possible to get lost in the house, although it has only four bedrooms. From my room at the top you descend a few stairs to another bedroom, then further down to two more bedrooms, then another level to the living rooms. There are several doors to the outside & terraces, and another staircase that sprouts off at that level, going up to workrooms and down to office and gallery space. If I take the wrong staircase I can't get back to my bedroom. There's even an elevator in a space that was blasted out of the limestone bedrock, so that from the garage you go through a medieval-looking arched passageway-tunnel and find yourself, surprisingly, at a very modern elevator. It's very bat-cave.