Provence Travel Note: Artists

Art note on the south of France: as extras beyond Roman ruins (infra), Provence offers trace of Van Gogh (at Arles) and Cézanne (at Aix-en-Provence). Not the art itself: I didn't notice any Van Goghs at all in Arles, though you can see any number of sights that look pretty much as they did when Van Gogh painted them (plus one obviously phony “yellow house”). Though how the locals put up with all that blue-and-yellow in the tourist bric-a-brac is beyond me.

Aix, too, does everything it can to squeeze a few dollars out of the local deceased celebrity. And unlike Arles, Aix actually has a bit of the artist' work. They don't brag about it much, and with good reason: a panel says “we don't want you to think this is just the rejected or the forgotten,” but one suspects that that is exactly what it is. There are lots of “Cézanne did x here” sites. There is even a Cézanne studio which you will like or not, depending on your taste—a sort of a glorified junk shop full of stuff that either was or should have been there when the artist was at work. I thought it was pretty cool myself: did a nice job of conveying a bit of flavor of what it might have been like when the painter himself was in occupancy.

Undocumented extra: it's hardly essential, but I must say it added frisson to leave Provence for Paris and the Musée d'Orsay, where you can see all the Cézannes and Van Goghs that you cannot see at Aix or Arles.

Provence Travel Note: Roman Ruins

Another France travel note: before Paris, we spent some time tromping the Roman ruins in Provence. Executive summary: on the off chance that you're looking for a place to get started on Roman ruins,I'd say this might be the place. Granted, it's not Rome and it doesn't have a Coliseum, but it's got an elegant sample of just about every type of building you might want. I give the prize to the aqueduct at Pont du Gard. You've always heard that the Romans were great builders, but you don't really believe it until you stand under these arches and recognize how they built these things to transport the water over miles and miles, all gravity powered, and enough to support great cities. I've never been anywhere near so close before, and it is a wonder to behold. Mrs. B might vote for the theater at Orange and I can't quarrel: surely the most completely preserved I've ever seen.

And that is just the head of the hit parade. You've got baths and an amphitheater at Arles; also the hint of a forum, some bits of a city wall, and more than a hint of circus. You've got another amphitheater at Nîmes. You've got a pretty well laid out community at Glanim, and a couple of upscale villas at Vaison. Several good archaeological museums, including a wonderful marine museum at Marseilles.

And the surroundings are easy to handle (at least in May; I bet it miserable in the August heat, or the winter winds). Communities are pleasant and prosperous (though I read somewhere lately that the Czech Republic now his a higher per capita income than all of France excluding Paris). Worth a visit, as Michelin would say; hey, worth a side trip.

Restaurant: Reveillon at Marseilles. Down-homey, good on codfish and duck.

What I Learned Last Week in Provence: It's the Salt

There's a reason caramel taste so good in the south of France: sea salt. Once they tell you, you know. Subtlety, complexity, a distinctive tang. As they say on the Simpsons--it's a party in my mouth, and everyone's invited.

Meditation on French Food

Don't ask why but several times in the last couple of weeks, I have had the privilege (ahem) of attending multi-course French banquets—fish plus meat plus dessert with undocumented starter and closer plus (once) a separate cheese course.

It was all astonishing and done with great craft and care but—well for one thing, the food, although good enough, never quite lived up to the preparation. If you come from California (or New York), the truth is you just don't have to go to France for great food.

Marcella Hazan has a theory about French culture and French cuisine. She says that the French are a public people who are into display; the fanciest restaurants tend to be the best. Italy, by contrast, is a homebound culture, and the best cooking is simple and direct: find good ingredients and make sure not to get in their way.

This afternoon in Paris, we shopped the street market on the Rue Mouffetard. We picked up lettuce and tomatoes and cheese and a nice light Rhone red. With a bit of that Arabic olive oil (see previous post) and the leftover breakfast baguette, we had about the best meal I've had in two weeks. OH, and anchovies, did I forget to mention anchovies.

Checking in: Paris

Well, we've left the Roman ruins behind us, at least for now. This afternoon we flew up from Marseilles to Paris & tucked ourselves into a friend-of-a-friend's cavernous pied-à-terre behind the Pompidou Center. Seamless except for an absurd and costly directional error in the cab from Orly, as much my fault as the driver's but he insisted on eating the whole thing. Still on the subject of eating the whole thing, we ended the day at a comforting Sephardic deli in the Marais: if you fancy eggplant dip, this is for you More anon.

Checking in: Vaison

Checking in from Vaison in the Haut Vaucluse, a town that would make at least the quarter finals in the quaint sweepstakes. Earlier today, the remarkable Roman theatre at Orange, which may have something to do with the duc d'Orange, little or nothing to do with duck a l'orange (or is that just a canard oh tee hee), Anyway, Vaison: they've got winding old streets and a medieval fortress quarter; tomorrow we will scope out the Roman ruins.

The local paper says:

MENACE: floods, forest fires, avalanches, earthquakes ... natural risks are numerous in our region.

Do tell? Well, we are on the top floor so I guess we won't get buried. The paper adds that the central government has ordered the prefecture to identify the "eight most important risks" and to "elaborate plans for prevention."

Uh--prevent an earthquake?

Tomorrow, to fresh fields and pilasters new. Customary mindless yapping will resume in about a week.

Greetings from Arles

When I was a tad with my first adult apartment, I had a print on my wall of Van Gogh's "Field at Arles." I had not the slightest notion where Arles was; might as well have been the back side of the moon. Now I'm here; it is not the back side of the moon. Interesting Van Gogh stuff; wonderful Roman ruins. More later, gotta run.

Off Again

They say one important key to promoting blog traffic is to be dependable: post regularly in a way that will let your readers know roughly what to expect. Okay, that's one (maybe two) more reason(s) why Underbelly remains just a tiny clan of the stubborn and faithful, huddled around the campfire to find off the dark: I don't take care of business, I keep going away.

I'm off this morning for three weeks in France. We'll be mostly down south in Provence, and I give you my absolute word that I (a) will not buy a ramshackled old country house; and (b) will not restore it into a twee bed-and-breakfast for all my upscale American friends. No; rather we will mostly be looking at stuff like Roman aqueducts, continuing to indulge our curiosity about ancient ruins (but I wouldn't be suprised if we knock back a bottle or two of the health-giving ordinaire along the way). We'll end with a few days in Paris, which sounds like about as profitable as taking a freight car full of $20 bills and setting fire to them, but perhaps a bit more fun.

Once again, I will be taking my baby laptop, but perhaps not using it. OTOH using Google's new "delay" command, I (think I) have set up a few items here for posting over the next couple of weeks, so as to give the appearance of continued life. Nothing earth-shattering--mostly old notes that I culled while I was cleaning up my office yesterday. Anyway, enjoy, and (Lord willin and the creek don't rise), I'll be back the first of June.