What We Did On the Way to London... and Back.

Flamingos at the Parc Ornithologique

 OK, we've been to London and back. Now let's catch up a little.

Alan and Sue arrived in Montpellier a good week before we all left for London. What did we do for that week? Well, before we left...

Sue had expressed a desire to visit a "typical" French town. We couldn't think of any place more typical that Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. We'd been there a number before and always found it charming. Plus it is near Les Baux and the Carrières de Lumiéres, the light and sound show held inside a gigantic former quarry. Again, we had been here before—that's how we knew they'd like it!  (The last part of this blog is about our first time at the Lumiéres, and this one tells of a more recent visit.) 

Our breakfast area at the hotel Le Mas des Tourterelles

Paula found us another great hotel that fully represented the charm of the region (Le Mas des Tourterelles). It was more of a bed-and-breakfast place, small, in a country-like setting, but only a 10 minute walk from the center of this small town. We toasted our arrival with a bottle of wine under the arbor in front of our rooms and went out to find a nice place for dinner. It was a Monday, a day when restaurants are traditionally closed, so finding something open was challenging. We walked the darkened streets, passing charming and classic and cute restaurants, all closed. We did finally succeed, though, and had a great dinner. We then wound our way through the darkened empty streets, and finally settled in our rooms.

Our rooms.

A tremendous storm descended during the night. I remember awaking to the sound of rain torrents and the flash of lightning. Intense, although we all seemed to sleep just fine. When I got up the next morning (and I'm usually the first one up) I took a quick tour. There was no damage, but I was astonished to see that the wine glasses we'd emptied the night before were now almost filled, with rain water! It must have really poured.

Are the glasses half full? No, three quarters!
(But that ashtray—really full!)

We wandered the streets the next morning, the weather now pleasant and the air scrubbed clean, enjoying the atmosphere as we explored the shops and galleries. We visited the house where Nostradamus was born, and considered taking the mile-long walk to the sanitarium where Vincent van Gogh stayed for a year (1889-90). Time was short, though, as we had tickets for the Carrières de Lumiéres in Les Baux, about 20 minutes away. 

One of the narrow shopping streets of St-Rémy.

Sue and Alan check an art gallery while a stranger looks on.

A quiet spot. Note the classic periwinkle blue of the shutters

We reluctantly left this pleasant burg and drove over steep, winding hills to the quarry at Les Baux. Although crowded, we quickly found a parking spot (we'd been here before!) and walked the short distance to the Carrières de Lumiéres entrance.

A scene from the Carrières de Lumiéres show on ancient Egypt.

The theme of this show was ancient Egypt. I didn't think it was as good as some others we'd seen (like with a lot of things, nothing will ever match the wonder and surprise of that first time!). But still, it's impossible not to be impressed by the huge bright images projected on those massive walls. At one point we felt like we actually were in an ancient Egyptian temple.

After the show we considered visiting the old town of Les Baux. Paula and I had been there before (several times!), but were happy to accompany our friends. Except, the day was beginning to feel complete. We decided that getting back to Montpellier sounded pretty good. And as it was still early we could take the long way home and cruise through the Camargue, maybe stop at a different ancient village, one closer to sea level.

On the way home we passed the city of Aigues-Mortes with its 13th century walls, pretty much unchanged since Luis IX (Saint Luis) built them. This city, on the shore of the Mediterranean when it was built, was the port from which Luis left for his last two Crusades. We admired the walls from the car as we drove past. Rather than stopping we continued on to the salt refinery a few kilometers down the road, where we saw the huge mountain of white crystals awaiting further refinement and packaging. This area has been producing salt since at least the Middle Ages, and is still at it: the salt we get at our local grocery store was once part of that huge mountain. (And I like that connection to 13th-century Aigues-Mortes!)

The 13th-century walls of Aigues-Mortes.

        The Camargue and the Parc Ornithologique

The Camargue, the delta at the mouth of the Rhone River, is a very special area. As with the land around most river mouths, the Camargue is low and swampy. It is famed for its white horses, black bulls, and pink flamingos. And the mosquitoes (which are well represented all along the low-lying coast here). Oh, let's not forget the cowboys, Les Guardians, riding the white horses and herding the black bulls with their long, trident-tipped staffs. 

There's a lot of tradition packed into this place!

The Camargue (in this view, without horses, bulls, or flamingos...)

Even today, after decades of development, the Camargue is still mostly empty. Oh, there's vineyards—this is France, after all. And a particular type of rice grows well there. The bulls and horses no longer roam free, although have certainly not disappeared.... but there's always the flamingos, coming and going (and staying!).

While it's possible, even common, to see flamingos all along the coast here, they really come into their own at the ornithological park. We have been there before, but this time around we had a bonus: Sue and Alan are avid birders; they could show us what we'd always missed!

Paula got this great shot of flamingos on the wing.

With a total area of 60 hectares (150 acres) we knew we would not run out of room. We strolled along (some of) the 17 km of trails, stopping often to watch the flamingos. It's quite stunning to see masses of them in the water, mostly just standing on one skinny leg with their heads under their wings. Along the shore there's always a few moving slowly on those long legs, with their head upside down in the water, as they stir up the mud to find whatever it is they eat. 

A kind of shrimp, apparently; the color of the shrimp is what gives color to the birds' wings. Well, that and the algae. (Actually, it's the algae that gives color to the shrimp, too!)

Paul tries--unsuccessfully--to get a video shot.
Sue looks on... and laughs?

Héron cendré—a grey heron, minding its own business.

Seeing these birds always puts me in mind of the flamingos in "Alice in Wonderland," where those heads and large beaks served as mallets to wack the ball (a hedgehog, as I recall). They do look a bit silly.

Until you see them in the air, where they are quite lovely. That bulbous head (mostly beak, really) on its long neck is balanced by the long thin legs trailing behind. And the contrasts between the white body and the dark orange wings with their black trailing edge is a wonderful thing.

Another of Paula's great aerial shots. Striking coloration!

Sue called this a blue-legged Avocet, although it has a pretty great name in French:  Avocette élégante 

After a couple of hours of such intense aviary activity we were ready for lunch, so we made our way a few km down the road to Saints-Maries-de-la Mer, a coastal town reputed for the Gypsy festival that occurs every May. Roma people from all over Europe come for a week-long celebration of music and shared meals, a sort of gathering of the tribes. 

We were there for the festival in 2016, and found we were mostly ignored—this was an event of, by and for the Romas. A return a few years ago showed that now it's become quite the tourist attraction. While the Romas still mostly ignore the tourists (although there's always someone willing to entertain the tourists for some coin), the huge crowds make getting around—and in and out of town—difficult. 

This traffic circle leading to Saints-Maries-de-la-Mer is decorated with the emblem of the Camargue, with its three powerful symbols: the heart, the anchor, and the cross.
Oh, and the trident tips, a nod to Les Guardians, the Camargue cowboys.
(From Google street view)

But this time we were there at the end of the tourist season, long after the Romas—and most of the tourists—had left. It was quiet and mostly unremarkable, but we had a nice lunch and walked on the beach before heading home.

And then we went to London.

But you probably already know that; in case you don't, you can read all about that trip here.

        Colmar, Strasbourg, and Le Grand Est

Well, so. On the way back from London Paula and I, not wishing to rush straight back to Montpellier, made a stop to visit Colmar and Strasbourg.

These two cities, about a half-hour apart, are in that region of France known as Le Grand Est (the Big East). Geographically, it is located in the, er, east, sharing borders with Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, and Switzerland.

Parts of this region have been hotly disputed, passing back and forth between France and Germany. Germany took control after the disastrous (for France) Franco-Prussian War of 1871. France got it back after WWI, Germany took it again, and it was finalized as part of France (again!) after WWII.

Needless to say, there is a very strong German accent to the place, in both the architecture and the food. Oh, and the language, too! We heard a lot of German in the streets (or maybe it was Alsatian, the local dialect, although it was very Germanic to our untrained ears).

Lovely! Typical scene in Colmar: half-timbered houses on a canal. With a bridge.

We had high hopes for this visit; I'd been wanting to come since I passed through here on my first trip to Europe in 1973. But, our trip didn't work out quite the way we'd hoped...

We arrived in Colmar—well, the Strasbourg airport, which is in the direction of Colmar—and I was feeling a bit funky. I spent the next day in bed, nursing a cold. Paula ventured out, returning in the afternoon with bright tales of a very picturesque town.

A street corner in Colmar. The half-timbered houses, while reminiscent of those in Brittany, are actually quite different.

I did get out a little bit the next day, and the town is very cute with its old half-timbered houses and canals cutting through. And flowers! Lots and lots of flowers.

Scene (seen?) from a bridge in Colmar. Inevitably, this area in the city is known as "Little Venice".

A store front in Colmar.

We moved on to Strasbourg for our last days in Le Grand Est, and it was Paula's turn to to lie abed with a cold, while I went exploring and returned to tell tales of the wonders of the city,

The spire of the cathedral in Strasbourg. It's hard to get a good view, with all the buildings packed in!

The astonishing façade of the Cathedral, Notre Dame de Strasbourg.

Neither of us found this arrangement very satisfying. The next morning we were scheduled to check out of our rental at 11, but Paula still felt pretty funky. Our host graciously extended our stay, but we still had to leave! And our flight out was not until 7 that night. So, lots of time to kill!

The cathedral at night. During the day the dark stone looks... well, dark! It's much more impressive at night.

Paula rallied as we took to the streets in the rain, suitcases in tow. We did find a pretty nice cafe where we ate lunch and hung out for a few hours. (Nice thing about French cafes: once you buy something, you're pretty much never chased off.) The afternoon wore on, the rain slowed to a drizzle, and eventually we bundled up with our things and made it to the train station for the trip to the airport.

Paula was pretty much recovered by the time we got home, but overall it was not a satisfying trip. We were glad to see these two Germanic-flavored towns we'd heard so much about, but the trip was not at all as satisfying as we'd have like.

        We'll just have to go back...

Paula's favorite from Colmar: Paul in front of the Colmar church.