Provence & Cote d'Azur - Gorges du Verdon & the gite

As July & August are the peak, peak, super peak tourist season, I had to plan a few early starts in order to avoid the hordes and the heat.  And when I say early start, I mean out of bed by 6:30am.  

On one such morning, we stumbled from our beds with eyes half-closed, and dragged crying kids out of their warm beds, and tumbled into the car for a 2-hour drive to the Gorges du Verdon and the Lac de St Sainte-Croix (thanks, YL!).  The gorge is a vertigo-inducing 700m deep, and there are 3 ways to explore it - drive around the edges of the top of the gorge, walk beneath it, or go on a boat down the river beneath it.  We quickly rented a pedal boat from the first boat rental company we saw when we arrived at 10am,  and spent the next 2 hours pedaling furiously down the river under the hot sun, while pining for the motor-powered, shaded boats with relaxed drivers in them gliding smoothly down the river next to us.  

First, he used my sunhat to avoid the sun

Then he found that this is a much cooler way

The kids enjoyed the ride.  Every now and then, they would yell at us, "Pedal faster, Mamma Baba!"  And we would roll our eyes and pant louder to get the message across.  Not sure they got it, though.

The colour of the river and the lake nearby was a bright turquoise blue, shimmering in the sunlight, a contrasting bright patch of light among browns, greens and greys.

The Gorges du Verdon is 700m deep.  I had read very positive reviews from other visitors.  But YL took one look at it and said lazily, "Oh, this is just like that gorge I hiked in Australia".  So much for impressing him.

After the boat ride, we looked for a place for our picnic of leftover roast chicken sandwiches.  We found a nice shady spot under some trees, but which seemed to have been staked out by some mobile food vendor.  YL is very French now, so he said, "They are not here, aren't they?  So too bad, this is our spot until they show up", and then threw open our picnic mat on the ground.  

p/s Just look at that colour of the lake in the background...

We finished our picnic just before the mobile vendor showed up.  But we have no idea what they sell.  Do you?

We then drove around the top of the gorge

View of the river that we pedaled down, from the top of the gorge.

A gite is a French institution as far as French vacations go.  They are self-catering accommodation with kitchen facilities.  Many are found in the countryside, and many have shared facilities like swimming pools.  

Dinner outdoors usually end prematurely due squealing kids not used to wasps and flies sharing their food with them

The chef is not really on vacation.  He was still responsible for feeding us every now and then :)  

Provence & Cote d'Azur - Avignon & L'Isle sur la Sorgue

Beware:  This Provence & Cote d'Azur series will last several posts with endless photos of brown people wincing in the sun.


Where do I even start?  We left for a quintessential French summer vacation down in the south of the country, together with hordes of French holidaymakers, at the end of July.  

Here's what we packed.  Not bad for a family of four for 2 weeks, don't you think?

At the Gare de Lyon train station in Paris.  That's who we were vacationing with.

While our first week was all about Provencal villages, the mountains, lonely country roads, Roman ruins, and natural wonders, the second week was dedicated to the Riviera sun, the sea, and the high-life of chic seaside resorts with their gleaming white yachts, casinos and dense city centers.  

In both places, the sun was relentless, and I am ashamed to say that despite my Malaysian genes, I admitted defeat.  On some afternoons while we were out exploring some village or other, I opted to cower in the comfort of the A/C of our rental car parked under a shady tree, and we snacked on chips to pass time.  Yeah, I know.  Unprecedented stuff.  (It also reminds one to be careful with what one wishes for.  We were grumbling every day about the rain, gray skies, and cold in Paris in the days leading up to our vacation.  It even started to rain soon after we boarded the high-speed TGV train in Paris at the start our trip.)

With a packed schedule, some places were really just whistle-stops.  Again, I blame this on the sun.  With a toddler crashing out by mid-afternoon for his nap, a whiny 6 year old who keeps asking how much longer we will be out, a husband-cum-toddler-carrier bathed in sweat, and myself wilting from the heat & glare of the sun, the recipe does not make for good outings.

So, on our first day, when we arrived in Avignon to see the Palais des Papes (Pope's Palace), a UNESCO World Heritage Site, we literally just "saw" it and then scurried into the shade.  

The Pope was not always in the Vatican City.  In the early 14th century, the Pope fled political unrest in Rome, and settled in Avignon.  Avignon became the center of papal control for almost 70 years after that.  Today their palace, the Palais des Papes, is one of the world's oldest and largest medieval Gothic building.

Pont Saint Benezet, aka Pont d'Avignon, the French version of London Bridge.  It is the subject of a popular children's song called Sur la Pont d'Avignon.  The bridge was bombed during the WWII, and that is why it now ends halfway across the Rhone River.  

Avignon is also famous for its annual Festival d'Avignon, a summer arts festival featuring acts from all over the world.  The festival had ended by the time we arrived, but we were lucky to catch some stragglers still performing in its streets.

Aussies performing some real blues.

A puppeteer painting a caricature of the young child, using her puppet.

We stayed in a gite (self-catering apartment usually found in the countryside) near the village of L'Isle sur la Sorgue which boasts of one of the best Provencal markets.

We bought some ingredients for our dinner from the fruits & vegetables stalls.

Door knobs (yup you heard me right) of all colours, shapes and sizes.

Lavender for sale.  4 euros for a bunch.

Crafts and all manner of souveniers can also be found.  This photo reminds me of our Malaysian pasar malam (night market).

But really, the attraction of L'isle sur la Sorgue is its antiques.  It is apparently Europe's third largest antiques market, after the one in Paris and London.  We did see a couple of promising pieces of furniture, but how would we bring a chair or a console back on the TGV?

We arrived at 9am when the air was cool, and there were room to breathe and wander to admire the wares.  By mid morning, it was a zoo and impossible to stop to browse.  

We're back and we're brown!

We're back from our 2-week vacation in the sunny south of France, and I have 1,500 photos to sort through.  Suffice to say that we did A LOT in that fortnight.  

My French colleagues take 3 weeks off to stay in a rented apartment somewhere in the south, probably near a beach, and then do nothing except to pay leisurely visits to the local morning markets, get a tan in the beach in the afternoon, and go for relaxing dinners by the quay in the evenings.  Rest assured, however, that the Asian productivity ethics ingrained in our DNAs will never allow us from doing the same.  We start to feel guilty when we catch ourselves day-dreaming in the middle of a "vacation".  

So instead, we cheered on a bull race in a Roman amphitheater, marveled with awe and fright at show in the sky at the annual Cannes international fireworks competition, learned about Roman aqueducts at a UNESCO World Heritage Site, pedaled furiously in a boat to explore a 700m-deep gorge, caught the opera Turandot in an ancient Roman theatre, searched furtively for lavender fields, listened to a lecture (in French, nonetheless!) on harvesting jasmine flowers for perfume distilleries, and ogled at expensive sports cars in Monaco.

I will be back with more details, but meanwhile, here's a couple of photos to whet your appetite.

We missed the lavender season, so this balding, sparse field was all we got from our trip down south.

Seeking respite from the heat next to the port of St Jean Cap Ferrat, a seaside resort for the rich-and-famous.

Special places

I was digging for photos to be used in my previous post, when I came across these photos that we took in May, and which that I had forgotten about.  They were taken in special places around Paris, and I think they deserve a mention or two.

The Paris Mosque is the first mosque in Paris.

Built in the Latin Quarter in the early 20's as a sign of Franco-Muslim friendship, it has very tranquil grounds & beautifully-landscaped gardens, all done up in traditional Muslim architecture.  

Nearby, there is also has a hammam and a halal restaurant in traditional Moroccan/Algerian style.

We had the tagine, couscous,

some traditional pastries, and

sweet mint tea.  They were all perfect!

I thought the tables were quite unique, too.  They look like giant golden dishes.

We then went for a stroll to an old Roman arena, built in the first century A.D, when Paris was known as Lutetia.  Also located in the Latin Quarter, it is now a gathering place for youth and teenagers.  In its heyday, it could seat 15,000 spectators for the gladiatorial combats.  

Can you spot us?

View of the arena from the second level of the seating area.

On yet another spring day in May, we went to check out one of the first English-language bookstores in Paris, Shakespeare & Company, located in the 6th arrondissement near Place St Michel.  (What do you expect of a self-confessed nerd and bookworm?)

The original store was closed down in the WWII, and is famous as it was the epicenter of Anglo-American literary culture.  Its owner, Sylvia Beach, allowed writers including those of the famous "Lost Generation", e.g. Ernest Hemmingway, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald, to borrow books that they could not afford to buy and some of them pounded out their manuscripts in some obscure corner of the bookstore.  The store also published James Joyce's Ulysses when publishers in UK and US refused to.  

This second incarnation of the store opened in 1951, and today it still offers free beds to young struggling writers in exchange for light work in the bookstore.  

After I paid homage to the store, and wandered around in a trance seduced by its wonky floor-to-ceiling shelves stuffed with books, the creaky wooden floor, the cosy reading corners, I got a copy of Ernest Hemmingway's A Moveable Feast, his memoir of Paris in the 1920's. 

The Statue of Liberty was, of course, a gift from France to America in the 19th century.  There are 2 replicas of the statue in Paris, and one of it is in the Ile des Cygnes, near our place.  On this sunny May afternoon, a group of young adults were playing petanque nearby.  Petanque can be best described as a larger version of the guli (an old-fashioned Malaysian game of marbles). 

This Statue of Liberty looks at the same direction as its big sister in New York.

Tour de France

The 99th Tour de France race ended its grueiling 3500-km route today in the Champs Elysees.  I still don't understand very much about the sport: there's something in it about a peloton, yellow jersey, green jersey, teamwork, a winner who is not a winner, etc.  But I can appreciate how much stamina it requires.  


We were out in the early afternoon near the Tuileries, and there was already a small crowd gathered even though the cyclists were not expected for another 5 hours.  There was a strong showing of Brits and Union Jacks were hoisted everywhere on the barricades (the Brits were the winners in the past 3 years, and they also won today). 

These were not the competitors.  The bulge in the stomach of the first cyclist is a tell-tale sign.   They got a lot of cheers from the spectators, nevertheless.

Here's the real thing.  YL staked them out for an hour and a half before capturing 10 seconds' worth of shots, and then came home.  The guy in the yellow jersey somewhere towards the back of the group is the winner of this year's Tour de France, Bradley Wiggins.  Don't ask me why he is not at the front of the race.  

And here's the rest of the herd.

It was a nice sunny day today.  Perhaps summer is finally here?

The Good Stuff

Having written several posts about French peculiarities - often in a playfully sarcastic, antagonistic tone - some could take my innocuous remarks seriously and be mistaken that I am living a miserable anti-French life here in Paris.  

I will not lie: I was not exactly jumping for joy when I accepted the work assignment here.  Others may have killed to be in my place, but YL and I were really dragging our feet and deliberated long hours to reach the decision.  Unlike some, we did not find Paris particularly enticing or beautiful or romantic or any of the other gushing adjectives you tend to find in popular literature about Paris.  It was *just* another European city, and one with which we associated all the negative hallmarks of a big city: cold residents, dirty sidewalks, foreign language, strange customs, etc.  My experience in the first couple of months of living here only reinforced my conviction.  


But naturally, there are always two sides in a coin.

So here's another admission:  I fell in love with Paris.  Eventually.

For us, Paris is an acquired taste.  It takes time to get to know the city and the people and see the truth in the gushing superlatives used by generations of writers, designers, painters and artists.  And now, with less than half a year to go, we are already starting to miss this place terribly.  Here's some of the things we will miss:

1. Beauty
The French love beauty.  You only have to look at all those gorgeous shop windows, beautiful luxury goods, glorious architecture, and you will agree.  YL often ask me "But how do they survive??" when we pass shops where they seem to sell only one or two indisputably beautiful, probably painstakingly-handmade, but suspiciously expensive items.  Where we come from, our choice of goods are mostly mass-produced, so this is lunacy to us.  Who will pay 50 euros for a stack of writing papers, regardless of how beautifully-handmade they are?  Will enough people buy them such that you can make a profit?    

But of course, that's the beauty of France.

Galerie Vivienne, one of many covered passages in Paris.  They are basically the 19th-century equivalent of the modern shopping mall, if you wish.  Beautiful architecture, beautiful shops, beautiful goods.   

Tiled floors washed in natural light in Galerie Vivienne

Si Tu Veux, a small toy shop in Galerie Vivienne, selling - what seems to us - a relatively small, albeit interesting, collection of toys. 

Needs no introduction.  They still employ artisans to hand make those leather goods.

View of the city from the top of Arc d'Triomphe.  There are 12 avenues radiating from the Arc.  Here you can see two of them, with the Eiffel in the background.

2. Five weeks' paid holiday
Coming from Singapore/Malaysia, where 2 weeks' paid holidays per year are the norm, FIVE whole weeks just seem indecent.  I didn't even know how to use it.  When I started to plan our summer holidays,  I told my colleague that I will take one week's holiday in Provence, come back to work for a week, then take another week's holiday in Cote d'Azur, also in the south of France.  She looked puzzled, and then questioned me, "But why don't you take 2 weeks off in one go?  They are both in the south."  And with that, my world view expanded just a tiny bit.  So now we'll be off for 2 weeks' vacation in the south of France next week. 

For the French, it is not unusual to take three or four weeks' off in the summer.  That is why Paris is 80% tourists and 20% residents in the month of August.  In fact, most people have 7-10 weeks' paid holiday per year, depending on seniority and other factors.  So five weeks is pretty measly by comparison, but hey we will gladly take it. 




3. Subsidized holidays
Still on the topic of holidays, all large and medium-sized companies have a comite d'enterprise (employer's committee) which organises social events for employees, negotiates benefits such as canteen services, lends out camping or skiing equipment, etc.  For me, the most exciting thing is the subsidies for family holidays.  Flights, train rides, and accommodation are all eligible for reimbursement depending on the salary of each employee.  A lower-income employee will receive a higher percentage of subsidy, and vice versa.  For some, this can represent more than 50% discount on their holiday bill.  I only became eligible to this benefit this year, but it's better than nothing (You tend to lower your demands after living in France for a while).  Woo hoo!

Hurrah for subsidized family holidays!

4. Cheap efficient public transport
A one-way metro ticket costs EUR1.20.  A monthly pass costs EUR62 (within Zone 1 & 2 of Paris).  With the Oyster Card for the London underground, a one-way trip costs GBP2.70 or GBP112 per month for Zone 1 & 2 of London.  

Now whether the Paris metro system is efficient or clean is completely debatable, but the network is extensive, and relatively dependable.

At least those funky, Art-deco Hector Guimard-designed metro entrances and signs make the ride more inspiring

5. Good quality fresh locally-grown/raised food
Again, where we come from, and especially in Singapore, we are surrounded by supermarket-packaged fruits, processed food, imported meat, etc. In France, there is a tremendous amount of passion for locally-grown fresh food.  The morning roving markets are a part and parcel of French life, and it can be difficult to find out-of-season fruits & veggies even in your most Americanised supermarkets.  


Fresh fruits and vegetables tastes different.  Non-farmed livestock tastes different.  This difference, we will miss.  Especially my chef.

The Sunday morning organic market in Raspail

6. Customer service (regular customers only)
Only towards the end of our stay that we realise that customer service DO exist, but only residents are privy to that.  Once you become a regular, you will notice that the cold icy facade of your local shopkeepers melt away to reveal their warm and soft insides.  The chap who mans the cashier of our local Franprix (a common no-frills convenience store) now greets YL and his brood with wide smiles, happily bags YL's purchases, and liberally stuff Ju's hands with sweets every time they go there.  

La Fete Nationale

Today is Bastille Day, 222 years after the storming of the Bastille fortress-prison, which eventually led to the start of the French Revolution.

On a normal summer's day, we would not have been courageous enough to brave the crowds gathered along Champs-Elysees to watch the traditional parade with 2 kids in tow.  So it was simply out of the question on this uncharacteristically dreadful drizzly Saturday morning.  Instead, we watched the grand show of French might and pomp on TV in our pyjamas while slurping up our breakfast cereal and crepes.  And I am happy to share our TV  with you :)

The parade took place between the Arc de Triomphe and the Place de la Concorde. You can see the Arc in the background, and the modern skyscrapers in the business commune of La Defense beyond that.

The mandatory display of air gallantry: spreading the colours of France over the city of Paris.

A regiment marching along to present themselves to the French president.  

The fireworks at night is another regular feature of the 14 July celebrations.  Last year, I stayed home to watch the live streaming of it on the laptop, but managed to catch about 10 minutes of it down the road from our apartment.  This year was no different, especially since the kids have discovered the iPad, and would much rather watch Mickey Mouse at home than to go out to the streets to watch some pfffh fireworks.  But since I am Mamma, and they are only puny 6 and 2 year olds, I am still all-powerful.  So they pulled on their coats and shoes, and trudged down the road with me to watch some of the show. 

What we saw down the street.  There was a party atmosphere with music blaring from the corner brasserie.

YL, on the other hand, ventured out to try to capture some photos of the event. 

This is what he had to endure to get those shots.