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| Provence and Beyond (http://www.beyond.fr/villphotos/baux-photo-gallery) |
Moons ago, first side trip to France
from England. Fly London to Nice. Destination: Les Baux de Provence.
Gourmet Magazine had published a mouthwatering feature on
Hôtel
Oustau de Baumanière.
Of course I no longer have the article, nor do I have personal
photos. The hotel website provides some, as do Mr. and Mrs. Smith
(mrandmrssmith.com) and other travel websites.
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| Provence and Beyond |
Les Baux is a steep and picturesque
village, fortified since the Middle Ages, perched in scenic Provence.
The old cobblestone streets on the rocky ridge seem unchanged since
then. Exposed rock formations in the region have provided defensive
positions throughout history dating at least to Roman times; even
ancient Celtic artifacts have been found here. Magnificent views from
the crowning chateau-fortress ruins look in all directions to
Avignon, Arles, St-Rémy,
and Aix-en-Provence, all of which made great day trips. Somewhere in
that landscape between Les Baux and St Rémy
was a particular, quiet, shady village of the kind that makes you
think, I could stay
here; how closer to perfect can it get? A passing magic moment. Alas, the name slipped into the fading files
of my mental filing cabinet.
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| mrandmrssmith.com |
The town was almost secondary to the
hotel and its Michelin two-star restaurant. Oustau Baumanière
backs against the spine of rock and at the time we were there, was
not as extensive as it is now.
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| mrandmrssmith.com |
This photograph comes closest to how I
remember our room.
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| mrandmrssmith.com |
Our first dinner night was a bit
intimidating, having to struggle with French in translating and
ordering for two. If only I could recall more of it (actually, more
of any meal there) other than the failure of receiving kidneys instead of boeuf tournedos. For which I shall never be forgiven, and undoubtedly have mentioned more than once. However, some
comforting things can never be misinterpreted: RHONE
WINES!
I
remember the other ignorant failure too: plugging my North America
curling iron into a French socket and burning off a chunk of hair.
Again, no photo; be grateful.
The point being that even as a first French culinary/wine-tasting venture, it was an introduction to the chateaux et relais network for travel to come. No less consequential, it rekindled a serious travel bug for historical and archaeological sites.
©
2016
Brenda Dougall Merriman
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