Musings on Languedoc...

Blog Note:  Apart from an errant shot or two that I might rattle off with my camera or iPhone most of the pictures I use are taken by Rob Davis.  Rob brings a passion for photography to the table that I lack, although judging from the shot below I make for difficult subject matter.  I think the camera adds ten pounds...and that might look good on Amaury but not on me!

Amaury and I playing Frenchmen at the train station cafe.

April 19th, 2009

The only real downside of a party is cleaning up. I’ve found over the years that there are several fundamental principles of party cleanup. First and foremost, it needs to be approached like a military campaign, the trash disposed of, the assets recovered and cleaned, the equipment returned to its proper place, order restored.

I was up early and while Rob and Amaury slept my loyal troops (ie me) returned almost everything to order. The final dizzying assault on the mountain of dishes was completed as they roused themselves and we then made ready to drop Amaury off at the train station.

After doing so Rob and I spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon at the antique market in Sommieres. It was the first time I had attended that market and, while there were some good deals, I walked away with only a couple of things, including a nice little oil painting I had procured for 20 euros.  Rob was luckier, picking out some nice things and a special surprise for Denise, his wife.

The antique market in Sommieres

We lunched on Croque Monsieurs and rosé at a little riverside café in Sommieres and spoke of how different Provence and Languedoc are. It’s a subject that has preoccupied me for some time and finding the right words to express it is an important piece of helping people understand the experiences that they can find here. As beautiful as Provence is it is a place that seems to come at you in a somewhat contrived way. The streets are cobbled, the flowers are arranged, the stone is dressed, the architecture is artful. Everything has been put together as if for presentation and, not surprisingly, this arrangement is appealing to the many tourists that flock there to stroll amid the tiny little shops that sell lavender and herbes de Provence and local wines.

Languedoc, by contrast, is like the country mouse or the poor second cousin of the stately residents of Provence. There is a more primal feel to the region, an “it is what it is” jauntiness that revels in inconsistency and chaotic flourish. The harmony that one feels in Provence is replaced by a medley of independent notes, a few jarring but so many extraordinarily beautiful. It is the real South of France and not just the other “South of France”. And for what it is worth I think people are far more interested in real these days than concocted. We’ve had our fill of being marketed to, of being lead by the nose and conned into believing that this thing or that is just what we wanted. I think we’ve matured a little, we can discern beauty anywhere in the world and sitting in a little café in Sommieres, by the side of a river and within spitting distance of a 2000 year old Roman bridge is a little bit of heaven, even if the buildings are in need of a little paint and there are a few too many cars driving by.  And while there re cars there are alos horses.  Nothing is perfect and that is perfect.

Shots from our lunch table.

Rain clouds had been forming for a couple of hours and as we made our way back to the farm we could see showers all around us. Curtains of water appeared to descend from the cloud banks perhaps a mile or two away and for a while we did not get hit. But we had stopped the car and taken a walk up a hill, through a vineyard to the old Roman road that leads to the Chateau de Montlaur to take a few pictures. We got caught in a little rain there, enough to make us cold and wet and desirous of a fire and perhaps a little port.

Kind of an odd cloud formation amidst the rain.

We made our way home and settled down to a quiet evening with a good meal, some good wine and an early sleep.