Where am I now?

I see this black symbol of the Camargue region everywhere.  The cross represents religion, the spikes on the cross represent spearing the bull, the anchor represents the importance of fishing and the heart, the love for this countryside. 

While all these adventures were unfolding, I was waiting for one critical part of my trip to come together.  I would be spending a month with a family teaching them English and living in their home- a cultural and language exchange of sorts.  I could be placed anywhere in France- The alps, Paris, the Atlantic Coast, a large city, a small farm in Burgundy?????  Finally, I found out that I would be splitting my month between 2 families living in Provence.  Could this be any more perfect?  The most loved area of France for many tourists, for painters and for writers AND one of the most expensive areas to visit!  Here I am with a lovely home, a room of my own and 3 french home-cooked meals a day.  I am staying right now with a really cool family in the beautiful town (a small town like I prefer) of Saint Remy De Provence.

Beatrice and Thierry have two daughters named Marion (16 years old) and Romane (12 years old) Here are some of the things I have been doing wIth them (or on my own)



Marion et moi at the Party

A SUPRISE PARTY AT MARIE'S

On the first night in town I went to a surprise party for one of Beatrice's friends.  Outside, in a beautiful yard and warm weather, we were drinking champagne and eating various types of Quiche's.  The children played in the yard until well after their bedtimes.  At first, the adults were very shy to try to talk to me in English-even the ones who knew it well.  Eventually,  after a good buzz several people tried to talk more.  But I could not understand one guy at all, Beatrice leaned over and explained "he's not making much sense in French either." The night led to dancing out on the terrace.   A melange of French music and Ameican music was playing loudly with no worry about the neighbors.  Funny how all the woman sang along to just the English songs.  "I, I will survive. As long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive!"  Pëople would cast glances my way and I was proud.  Nothing tops American rock and roll.
  

 

As usual, it was mostly the women dancing.



THE CAMARGUE CULTURE

I soon learned that there is a lot of pride in the old Provencal culture.  In particular, this region extending down to the Mediterranean Sea surrounds a Marshy delta called Camargue.   Here you find native pink flamengos and other shore birds.  In the more dry feilds between the marshes you also find two distinct symbols of the Camargue culture; the rather small white horses (they start out grey/brown and turn more white as they get older) and the rather huge Taureaux (black bulls). There is a strong cultural heritage here- a Provençal version of the Wild West-consisting of french "cowboys" and bullfighting.   We drove down the Saint Marie de La Mer on the Mediterranean Sea and I got all of these symbols wih my own eyes.  You will just have to take my word on the bulls and flamengos because the photos are lousy.  

In the fall, a group tours from town to town dressed in this traditional clothing of the late 1800's.  Horse-drawn carriages parade down the streets and men ride the white horses.  But the most excitement comes from the bulls who are let loose on the streets and kept under control only by the men on horseback.  It just so happens that my first weekend in Saint Remy was the weekend they came through town.  

 

The bulls are herded down the narrow streets of Saint Remy.  While some people choose to stand behind temporary gates put up, others (often teenage boys) can watch on the sidewalk or run along side and many do-just a few feet away from the bulls.  I stood next to the back of a big open truck with a ramp leading into it.  As the procession ended and the horse-drawn carriages disappeared down the streets, the bulls were let loose (didn't get photos of this). They were chased full speed down the street towards the truck and onlookers (myself included) The bulls (about 10 of them) stormed towards us and into the truck where the door was quickly shut on them and the horses reared up.  The men and horses were dripping with sweat and a smell of burning flesh (their hooves) wafted through the air.  

In those last moments; I am sure my heart was beating as quickly as the hooves on the cobblestone streets.                                

THE MARKET

The market is beautiful and fills most of the downtown area of Saint Remy.  The younger daughter Romane is the only one who has the day off; so we went to look around.  Food is in abundance, but so are clothes and crafts.  I found the food more beautiful of course.

Romane: Say Cheese!



You cannot tell but these loaves are the length of Romane's arm and as wide as her waist.

Berry, Berry Beautiful

Like the cigarettes, of course.

                                                                                                      

We sampled sausage in all shapes and of many animals inluding wild boar and donkey.  Some sausage has olives in it, some walnuts, but all pretty darn good. 

THE LAKE ABOVE TOWN

In the same location of an original Roman aquaduct (necessary for a naturally dry area) is the current man- made lake.  You can enjoy the beauty, but cannot swim since it is the drinking water source at times.  Lots of people were having picnics with their dogs (french bulldogs).  SOO CUTE.