Trip to France- Paris, Provence, Cote d'Azure and Corsica. September 1-20,2025 : Part 2

Provence

Anyway, we rose early and took an Uber to the Gare de Lyon for a TGF fast train to Avignon, about three hours south. We emerged in bright sunshine after a relaxing ride past farmlands and stone farmhouses with clay tile roofs along the way. We picked up a car at the station and headed into Avignon which is a walled city with the Palace of the Popes, the largest gothic building in Europe. Quite formidable. In the 1300’s this was the seat of the papacy and three popes reigned here. My guess is they were a bit nervous about security because the palace, actually two connected, were more fortress than palace. There are remnants of frescos on some of the walls and the size of the great halls and gatherings spaces is impressive.

The old city is entirely walled and cars are forbidden, so it was a pleasant walking environment. We had stopped for lunch on the way to the palace and of course I had to have a (very tasty) ice cream cone on the way out. The drive to our hotel took less than an hour. Our hotel, Coquillade, is set in a large vineyard overlooking the Luberon mountains. The setting is quite beautiful and peaceful, and the hotel itself is a series of stone buildings with pools and tennis courts. We have a very comfortable room overlooking the vineyards and we were pleased that we have two sinks and plenty of closet space. We had a delightful dinner on the terrace with Betsey wrapped in a blanket once the sun went down.

Saturday was a touring day. After breakfast we drove 90 minutes through vineyards, farmland, and orchards to Aix en Provence to see a very comprehensive exhibition of the work of Paul Cezanne. Cezanne was born in Aix, the illegitimate son of a hat maker who turned banker that ultimately enabled Paul to be a painter. So much of Cezanne’s work is centered on scenes in Aix, especially from the large house where Cezanne grew up. The exhibit showed the evolution of his style and transition into Impressionism. There is virtually no parking in Aix so I had the most egregious time fitting our largish car into the narrowest of garages and the thinnest of spaces with Betsey’s guiding help.

After viewing the exhibit we wandered the streets of Aix where apparently it was market day on the main boulevard. It wasn’t a food market but rather clothing of all sorts and accoutrements. We did not buy anything. Our daughter-in-law Laurie did a semester of college in Aix so in her honor I had tuna tartare for lunch since she and I usually share that dish when we are out to dinner together.

Our Google map took us back to our hotel and an entirely different route for some reason. This one wound up, through, and down the mountains in surprisingly the same time as the morning. We thought we’d stop in Gargas where the hotel is actually located, but couldn’t find anything remotely resembling a charming town. So it was back to our hotel where I took a swim and we sat poolside for a while. I am writing this on our private terrace relaxing while my bathing suit dries.

Dinner was not pleasant. We were dining in the more informal restaurant at the hotel out on its terrace. Betsey, who has the rare talent of attracting every fly in the vicinity plus bees of which she is allergic, was under attack. Then the service was abysmal and the food just ok. We did strike up a conversation with a couple (he is German, she Rumanian) who were equally unhappy. But we got through it and didn’t starve.

Sunday was a day of enjoying the resort. We awoke to a cloudless warm day with breakfast on the terrace followed by a two-mile hike through the vineyards. They grow several varieties of grapes here. The hike was vigorous and warm with good vistas of the valley and distant Luberon mountains.

Not letting a meal go by, we had lunch alongside the pool. It was Sunday so pizza it was and quite good. They give you a pair of big, sharp scissors to cut your slices. It worked. We chilled for the rest of the day including marvelous massages for each of us. For dinner we drove about 20 minutes to the town of Saignon, high on a mountaintop. Of course as we neared the top, we missed a turn and had to go down to the bottom and come up again. Whatever. Jardin sur la Toit, is a series of terraces on top of a house, now a restaurant. I had a strange concoction as a starter—very soft boiled egg, small pieces of haddock, onions and something called “bacon dust.” Strangely good. We both had guinea hen for dinner which was fine. A special treat was a “Blood Moon”  lunar eclipse. The earth passed in front of the moon, making the moon appear orangish, and then we watched the full moon slowly emerge. A luminous way to end the day.

Monday started out cloudy but soon became another sunny and warm day. This was a big doing day. After breakfast we set out for Roussillon which is an old mining village in the hills that are made of ochre, the red and yellow earth that was used (and I guess still is) to make paints. We took the Ochre Trail walk which follows the path of some of the old mines where you can see the sharp contrasts of the reds and yellow earth which was formed hundreds of millions years ago when this part of Provence was covered by the sea. The minerals and earths and salts create the ochre environment. The town itself is very charming but for the many souvenir shops selling ochre paint powders, ceramics, and olive oils. It did detract from the charm.

However, our next village visit was the opposite. Menerbes is perched high on a hill as all these villages are. My supposition is that these medieval towns were sited high up for security and also to allow for the vineyards, olive groves, and vegetable farms to have the low hills and flats. Menerbes was a fortress town inhabited by Protestants. In the 16th century the then Pope decided to lay siege using troops from Italy and Corsica to rout the Protestants. It took five years and didn’t succeed until the troops stopped the flow of water into the town. Fortunately, the only shop we encountered sold ice cream which provided a welcome interlude.

Our last stop of the day was to Lacoste (no shirts spotted). Very picturesque and again perched high on a hill with many steep paths to climb (our watch said we’ve climbed 14 flights of stairs today). It is supposed to be filled with art galleries and indeed it is. But the galleries all seem to be run by the French branch of the Savanna College of Arts & Design which is sited here but hasn’t opened yet for the fall semester. So most galleries were closed which was just as well since the last thing we need right now is more art. We did enjoy visiting the village albeit the climbing was getting old. We returned to the bar at Coquillade for some refreshment.

Some would say I’m a very fussy eater. I would say I am selective. For the last two nights we have driven out to small villages for dinner. The thing about restaurants in small villages is that they have small menus. Understandably, they have limited patrons and can’t offer a wide range of choices. I must say I have coped quite well although I do miss a good steak. Tonight we dined in Villars at Jardin du Fontaine. We both had halibut which was pretty good with a mix of unknown vegetables. Best was my dessert—a concoction of chocolate , caramel, whipped something on a cookie. Excellent. By the way, the French government fell today. No one in Provence seemed to even blink.

It rained overnight and was cloudy as we headed to breakfast on our last day in the Luberon region of Provence. However, it soon became sunny and warm. Perfect. Today was market day in Gordes and so of course we headed there. Gordes looks to be a more affluent village with some large villas along the foothills to the inevitable higher ground where the village sits. This was a very bountiful and extensive market, spread throughout the center of the village. Good tastings of things like cheese and pork items (didn’t touch) and jams and stuff. Plus a lot of women’s clothing (Betsey scored ) and handicrafts. We were able to find some nice items for the kids and enjoyed the ambience. An outdoor cafe on the square produced a good Caesar salad for our lunch.

We had one more village on our list for today—Goult which Betsey had read was charming with a nice cafe. Fortunately we had checked and the cafe was closed this day (which is why we ate in Gordes) but almost everything else in the town was also closed. We walked charming but deserted streets up to the top of the hill where a large old windmill greeted us, the first one we’ve seen this trip. My theory is all the shopkeepers and villagers were at Gordes’ market day rather than being open when no one was visiting in Goult.

We headed back to our hotel, and I had a second massage. I never have a second massage when we stay at a hotel, but the one I had Sunday was so wonderful, I had another one today. Never before have I not only had the most relaxing massage ever, but also never have I had my ears and cheeks massaged!

As chill as I was from the massage, I had to rally to go out for dinner. The destination was Bonnieux, a village we hadn’t visited, and the restaurant was La Bergerie. Turns out it was in a hotel and had an extensive menu. Getting there was a trial. We made a wrong turn in the town and had to maneuver through the narrowest of streets. At one point Betsey had to get out of the car and guide me through —all because of a wrong turn. Dinner was fine, but it took two glasses of wine for me to recover.

Speaking of driving, we have done a lot—350 Kilometers (224miles) since we picked up the car in Avignon. It’s a Renault hybrid and except for making all kinds of weird warning beeps depending on what rule you break, it rides fine. Once you’re off the main roads, you’re on very narrow lanes with ditches on either side. So when another car comes towards you, it’s best to shut your eyes and hope for the best. Thank goodness for Google Navigation. I can’t imagine using a map with these tiny roads we go on. The funniest thing is hearing the Google lady bastardize the French pronunciation of destinations. A factoid—olive trees and grapes were not native to Provence. The Greeks introduced olive trees around 600BC and the Romans followed in about 6BC with the grapes. Somewhere they say is an olive tree still growing that dates to the original planting.

During the four days we’ve been in the Luberon we have seen so many picturesque villages—all with very similar characteristics—up high on a hill, very narrow streets, history going back as far as the 1300’s, and all charming in their own way. The French don’t believe in changing much except their prime ministers.

Nice and the Cote d’Azur

We left for Nice a bit late since the hotel had mislabeled our car key and went frantic trying to find it. But in due course we headed out for a comfortable ride to Nice, mostly on a very smooth and uncrowded super highway, although a fair number of tolls. In about three hours we arrived. Our hotel Du Couvent is in the old city and to access it you need to get the police or the hotel to lower a bollard. You’re supposed to call them from outside the old city and they come and let you in. One problem, we were missing a couple of digits on the number. Finally a bellmen came down, let us in and guided us to the hotel. Du Couvent was indeed a convent for 400 years until the 1980’s when the order had dwindled to seven nuns. It’s now an upscale Marriott boutique hotel that took ten years to renovate. Our room is a bit small as you would expect in a nunnery, but the bathroom works and the shower is quite good.

We were supposed to pick up the Feinsod’s at the airport, but the complications of accessing the hotel were too complicated, so we suggested the Feinsod’s take a taxi. After a light lunch for me and a huge bowl of cherry tomatoes and separate salad for Betsey, I took off to return the rental car. That presented no problem except a huge thunderstorm ensued, the cab I was in couldn’t open the bollard, and I had to walk from there to the hotel when hail started coming down in droves. I sheltered in a narrow doorway which helped a little, but returned to the hotel soaking wet. I appreciated the hot shower.

We united with the Feinsod’s at dinner time at the hotel and caught up on each others travel adventures. The Feinsod’s had a wonderful trip to Sicily and appreciated the great planning that our travel agent, Celestielle had done.

A Day of touring—St Paul de Vence, Tourettes-Sur-Loup, Gourdon

After breakfast at the hotel we headed out to meet our guide for the day, Jacques. A very interesting fellow who was trained in art history at the Louvre and teaches at Nice University. We drove out about a half hour to St Paul de Vence, up in the hills and a favorite haunt of artists. Aside from Paris, St Paul de Vence is the second most visited town (after Mt Saint Michel) in France. It was the home of Marc Chagall, and it turns out Jacques’ grandfather came from the same town in Russia and became fast friends with Chagall in France. Jacques referred to him as Uncle Marc and knew him quite well. Chagall gave the family several paintings. The village itself is walled because in the 14th century the German border was only miles away, and the fortification was built to keep the Germans out. Some things never change. The village is filled with small art galleries with some very interesting and beautiful art. Too bad we are in deaccessioning mode these days. On some of the doorways Jacques pointed out where the coat of arms of noblemen had been gouged out of the stone plaques over the doors at the time of the French Revolution. We visited the tomb of Chagall in the nearby cemetery. He is the only Jew buried there, and his sarcophagus has hundreds of visitors’ stones laid on top.

From there we drove on to Tourettes-Sur-Loup which is rarely visited by tourists (they don’t allow tourist buses for example) but where the focus is violets. Apparently violets generate the town revenue because there are few tourists. The violets are grown for perfume, soap, candy, etc. Since this wasn’t violet season, we could only see the end products. It is called Tourettes because the tower (hence Tour) is a short one (the ettes) because an earthquake knocked down the tall tower, and they didn’t want to take a chance again. This area is close to a big fault in the Mediterranean and has frequent but very small earthquakes almost daily that you don’t feel because the fault is so deep.

Our last stop of the day was in Gourdon at the top of a mountain. It was a favorite vacation spot of Queen Victoria, and I can see why. It has stunning views of the valley and villages below all the way to the Mediterranean. We can see Nice and Cannes in the distance. Betsey says I take photos of every alley in every village. She is correct because they are always so scenic and often capture the vistas beyond.

A further word about our guide Jacques. He has quite a history. He is Jewish and his family came from Russia, escaped the holocaust, with some family in Israel (his wife is Israeli), some in England (where he was born), and he has guided for many luminaries, including Presidents Bush, Clinton, and Obama. We heard all of this and more as we drove through the day, right up until he dropped us off near the hotel so we could walk back to our rooms and rest before dinner. We had a wonderful and delicious dinner at Nespo with very cordial service. A highlight was the dessert we all shared—-half-baked chocolate chip (three kinds of chocolate) cookie pie with ice cream and whipped cream -or chantilly as they call it here. MagnifIcent!

It was a short walk Friday morning to meet Guy, our guide for the day. It was warm and sunny as we drove up into the hills to Eze, our first stop. Betsey and I figured out that we had been here in 1994 when we stayed at the famous Hotel Chèvre D’Or. It is still here, indeed expanded, and hangs on the side of the cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. Actually all of Eze hangs there with incredibly narrow streets and lots of tourists. It still has lots of charisma and the views of the sea are wonderful. All day long we had really magical views of the mountains, the villages, and the sea.

In contrast to Eze, Peille, farther up in the mountains, had no tourists. Zero. It’s why Guy took us there. Not only did it not have tourists but also we encountered very few residents as presumably they were at work, and there are virtually no stores in the village. So we had it all to ourselves and wandered the narrow lanes. It was obvious that this was not a tourist town because there were some exposed electric lines to be seen. In the more tourist villages all the electric lines are buried in the walls. A great idea.

From a historical standpoint, our last stop of the day was the most interesting. But first we had a very good but endlessly long lunch at a restaurant perched on the edge of the mountain. Most of us had pasta because we are very close to the Italian border. St Agnes overlooks Italy and is high above the last French towns before the border. It is also where the Alps begin, coming out from the sea and extend all the way up to Switzerland. These are called the Maritime Alps and it is also where the famous Maginot line was drawn at the outset of World War II. While St Agnes has many large bunkers built just before the war, Guy told us that the Maginot line didn’t hold because there were lots of open spaces in between the bunkers. Only 10% of the bunkers are above ground here because an underground “city” was created 180 feet underground that housed 300 troops and was heated and air-conditioned while the village had neither. Indeed, the village didn’t get electricity until the 1950’s. After lunch we walked through the village which, frankly, was the least interesting one we visited. But I appreciated the history and was glad we visited.

We headed down the mountain and stopped at an overlook to see Monaco and Monte Carlo—the most expensive real estate in the world. Historic Monaco is only a small spit of land into the sea, and its only city, Monte Carlo, is mostly built on reclaimed land. Of course, several mega yachts were anchored off shore.

We headed back to our hotel enjoying great vistas of the sea coast and stopped for a lemonade on the terrace of our hotel. Guy was a very good guide, more laid back than Jacques but as knowledgeable and good to be with. Both came to us from Tours by Locals which has never sent us a clunker. We had a very good dinner in the old town at Chez Acchiardo, in business since 1927 and recommended by the Cokin’s. Then a stroll through the incredibly bustling narrow lanes and a stop for a mediocre ice cream. I think the town is especially hopping because there is an Iron Man Triathlon on Sunday so lots of fit people in town. That sparks a comment about what we’ve witnessed the last two days—bikers. Men and women of all ages charging up these narrow mountain roads to the top and then zooming down. So many of them and such a dangerous sport here. I did not see a lot of electrics either.

For our final day in Nice we explored the old city. Our hotel is inside on the edge, so we checked out and left our luggage. A short review of the Hotel Du Couvent —we feel they carry the convent idea a bit far. The rooms are adequate but  a bit austere and lack normal amenities for this quality hotel. Like towel bars or at least hooks to hang towels. Or fresh fruit at breakfast since they only serve “local” fruit which is the same type of plum that neither Betsey nor Esta , who are fresh fruit specialists, took to. For us it doesn’t yet live up to the status it claims. I should point out that our travel agent had said there were no great hotels in Nice.

Anyway, we headed to the flower market which was at one end of a very big outdoor market offering everything from cactus, to charcuterie, lots of fruits (why couldn’t the hotel shop here?) soaps, nuts, souvenirs (of course) and lots more. A festive place. We kept strolling the very narrow and food-place filled lanes, filled with people eating, drinking, and enjoying conversation on this cloudy day—our first.

We visited the palace of a noble family. A bit understated:

We stopped for lunch at La Table Alziari whose ravioli is supposedly famous. We think it’s famous because it marries French and Italian influences by being beef-filled ravioli with a French style burgundy wine sauce. It was ok and we topped the lunch off with “Bests & Worsts” of the Cote d’Azur. We climbed the steep hill one last time to our hotel to relax before heading to our boat for the cruise to Corsica. We had been told that Nice wasn’t particularly “nice.” We actually felt it was quite nice. Pretty clean, some interesting architecture, a vibrant scene. I wouldn’t want to spend a week here, but for our stay it suited us just fine.