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| One of A Hundred |
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| 18th Century Luxury |
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| Legal Parking |
Oct. 10, 2015- Aix-en-Provence
City of Fountains-Aix
Our granddaughter, Rylee, when asked if her seat belt was fastened said,
"Yes, and I'm ready to follow the highlighted route." And that's what
we did today. We followed that shocking pink line all the way to
Aix-en-Provence. The guidebooks I read said it was a university town, a mecca
for art, and haven for the wealthy. True on all counts. They didn't mention
hoards of people in town on Saturday.
Parking is always a problem in old towns and this was no exception. We've been using underground garages, but had trouble locating one in Aix. By the time we realized it was under several city blocks, we'd passed entrances without recognizing them as such. David had an idea. Our Lady of Parking was called on. In an instant we'd located an entrance and were fighting for one of over 450 spaces that were posted as available. Lines of cars descended as electronic signs recorded 425 spaces left, 417, etc. By the time we got to level -5, there were under 200 open spaces. We were there six hours and cars were entering for the evening with one driver following us to our car.
Always in need of a toilet, we got to use one of those automated round kiosks on the street. I've seen them on TV. For 50 cents (not $2 as in Switzerland), I used it. When I finished, it locked itself. David waited for the self-cleaning function then he paid 50 cents. The interior is large enough for wheel chair access and stainless steel. Impressive.
Aix is known as a city of 100 fountains, and that it is. There's not a roundabout or square without one. We were able to take a tram ride for the first time on this trip and it was worth it. The stucco facades of buildings are decorated with carvings, elaborately massive doors, and wrought iron balconies. The Avenues (notably Mirabeau) are lined with plane trees and reflect some of the best promenades of Europe. This was a monied city and still is. Mansions lined Rue Mazarine and were either well maintained or being restored. This was the home of Emil Zola and Paul Cezanne. They were school mates and friends. This is where Hemingway strolled and dreamed.
We visited Hotel du Caumont, formerly a mansion, now a museum. The restoration and furnishing were 18th century when it was built and occupied by a family. Unfortunately for them, the French Revolution of 1789 disrupted their lives and the house changed hands many times. In 1964, the Isenbart family sold the place to the city and it became a conservatory.
An informative and professionally done film about Paul Cezanne was presented. He came from a comfortable family and didn't have to worry about funds. But his father wanted him to be a lawyer and there was much conflict. There were many dramatizations of Cezanne and his model working. Then the screen morphed into the final work of art that was produced.
We negotiated lunch, I mean really negotiated. We walked into a cafe and a woman who was at what looked like a toaster oven started speaking in rapid French. We didn't understand, but a man at the bar began to translate. We learned that we were to order inside, sit outside, and wait to be served. We had to go outside to read the menu on a blackboard, go back in, order, go out, find a table, sit. Accomplished. We'd ordered panini. Mine was salmon and goat cheese. Usually salmon overseas is what we call lox. This time it was grilled salmon. Bon! David had a chicken one, but the best part was the bread. It was long French bread that had been greased with something delicious then panninified (heated) in that toaster oven. So yum!
We trekked on to see the Cathedral where a wedding was in process. Huge crowd. No photos. The Hotel de Ville (City Hall) was busy with brides everywhere waiting to be officially wed. I love the European system where marriage is a legal function of the "state" and the "church" can only bless what the "state" has already registered.
Trivia time. Why are streets here named Rue de Lice? That's lice to us. The Plague (bubonic, black, whatever you want to call it) made a huge impression on these folks. Over 100,000 died in Aix en Provence alone. Those lousy buggers are commemorated for the havoc they caused.
Basic dinner back in Arles. Lamb for David, Nicoise for me.
Tonight's photo is of our car beautifully parked on a sidewalk. It's a legal parking space and the first time David has had to jump a curb to park.
We sadly leave Hotel Acacias tomorrow. It has been a comfortable home the last five nights. On to Carcassonne.
Toby
Parking is always a problem in old towns and this was no exception. We've been using underground garages, but had trouble locating one in Aix. By the time we realized it was under several city blocks, we'd passed entrances without recognizing them as such. David had an idea. Our Lady of Parking was called on. In an instant we'd located an entrance and were fighting for one of over 450 spaces that were posted as available. Lines of cars descended as electronic signs recorded 425 spaces left, 417, etc. By the time we got to level -5, there were under 200 open spaces. We were there six hours and cars were entering for the evening with one driver following us to our car.
Always in need of a toilet, we got to use one of those automated round kiosks on the street. I've seen them on TV. For 50 cents (not $2 as in Switzerland), I used it. When I finished, it locked itself. David waited for the self-cleaning function then he paid 50 cents. The interior is large enough for wheel chair access and stainless steel. Impressive.
Aix is known as a city of 100 fountains, and that it is. There's not a roundabout or square without one. We were able to take a tram ride for the first time on this trip and it was worth it. The stucco facades of buildings are decorated with carvings, elaborately massive doors, and wrought iron balconies. The Avenues (notably Mirabeau) are lined with plane trees and reflect some of the best promenades of Europe. This was a monied city and still is. Mansions lined Rue Mazarine and were either well maintained or being restored. This was the home of Emil Zola and Paul Cezanne. They were school mates and friends. This is where Hemingway strolled and dreamed.
We visited Hotel du Caumont, formerly a mansion, now a museum. The restoration and furnishing were 18th century when it was built and occupied by a family. Unfortunately for them, the French Revolution of 1789 disrupted their lives and the house changed hands many times. In 1964, the Isenbart family sold the place to the city and it became a conservatory.
An informative and professionally done film about Paul Cezanne was presented. He came from a comfortable family and didn't have to worry about funds. But his father wanted him to be a lawyer and there was much conflict. There were many dramatizations of Cezanne and his model working. Then the screen morphed into the final work of art that was produced.
We negotiated lunch, I mean really negotiated. We walked into a cafe and a woman who was at what looked like a toaster oven started speaking in rapid French. We didn't understand, but a man at the bar began to translate. We learned that we were to order inside, sit outside, and wait to be served. We had to go outside to read the menu on a blackboard, go back in, order, go out, find a table, sit. Accomplished. We'd ordered panini. Mine was salmon and goat cheese. Usually salmon overseas is what we call lox. This time it was grilled salmon. Bon! David had a chicken one, but the best part was the bread. It was long French bread that had been greased with something delicious then panninified (heated) in that toaster oven. So yum!
We trekked on to see the Cathedral where a wedding was in process. Huge crowd. No photos. The Hotel de Ville (City Hall) was busy with brides everywhere waiting to be officially wed. I love the European system where marriage is a legal function of the "state" and the "church" can only bless what the "state" has already registered.
Trivia time. Why are streets here named Rue de Lice? That's lice to us. The Plague (bubonic, black, whatever you want to call it) made a huge impression on these folks. Over 100,000 died in Aix en Provence alone. Those lousy buggers are commemorated for the havoc they caused.
Basic dinner back in Arles. Lamb for David, Nicoise for me.
Tonight's photo is of our car beautifully parked on a sidewalk. It's a legal parking space and the first time David has had to jump a curb to park.
We sadly leave Hotel Acacias tomorrow. It has been a comfortable home the last five nights. On to Carcassonne.
Toby
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