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Lourmarin & Saint Julien – two sides of Provence

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Two villages, one largish, one smallish, Lourmarin, St Julien, each at either end of the Provençal spectrum, yet each encapsulates the region’s special character in their own special way. One, the former, sports a very impressive chateau, wonderfully elegant, pale-stone homes/buildings suitable for the wealthy classes & maintained to a high degree with statues & ornate squares & courtyards, reflecting affluence & riches.

Unlike typical, perched villages in Provence, Lourmarin sits not a hilltop, but in a valley at the foot of the Luberon mountains,  overlooked by the aforementioned chateau. Famous for its winding cobblestone streets & alleys, lively cafes & wine bars, restaurants, galleries, exhibitions, & high-end boutiques, every Friday it holds a open-air market.

This vibrant event takes over the whole of the centre of the village, enhanced by views of the Luberon landscape. An avalanche of white-umbrellered vans & stalls cascade into the tripod of narrow, mainline streets, setting out bright, colourful displays of wares & produce. A bustle of well-groomed, well-attired, well-heeled, generally well-to-do, clientele, locals & visitors alike, circulate at a leisurely pace, no ‘brisk’ walking here! At different times, the tables crowd up for coffee or lunch. Bottles & glistening glasses of rosé & white clutter the tops as the beautiful people share their baskets, their anecdotes & their gossip. Friends & neighbours meeting up or just the desire to be seen?

At the other extreme is the historic hamlet of Saint Julien. A tiny settlement on the other side of the river, perched on an isolated knoll overlooking rocky plateaus, lavender fields, vineyards & the Verdon River. This place was built for the working man.

Once through the medieval ramparts, the streets are cramped & tight. There is little evidence of anyone living here other than the occasional parked car. Having negotiated a route through the donkey-sized, narrow, stone lanes to the other end of the village, the 12th century Church of Saint Julien & Sainte Trinité awaits. Built in the late 11th/early 12th century on foundations that included elements of a 6th century sanctuary, side aisles were added between the 13th & 15th centuries. The current bell tower was built at the beginning of the 18th century, as evidenced by more levelled stone work.

The ancient doors to this Romanesque church open on metal sliding tracks. With squeaks & scratches, the internal door also opens inwards and closes behind with a slight shudder. Pitch black, and I mean black! With a dull clunk, the slightest movement prompts a single, dim, automatic light to flood the chancel with a gentle glow. The full timelessness of the past can be felt. The hopes & fears of a poor, working community, the awareness of deity & devils, trials & tribulations spreads from the darkness of pre-medieval times. Life or death scenarios permeate the walls & the pews – crop failure, the weather, floods, frosts, drought, the harvest?

Outside, the graveyard could be a scene from some horror movie. Set within an ancient stone wall, dusty family crypts, rusting metal-worked crucifixes, centuries-old stones decorated with details of loved ones & the occasional faded photo, a stack of ancient headstones that have lost ownership to any particular piece of ground, & a plaque remembering all those who fell in the Great War (the names of every young man who lived in the village at the time must be written here); all could easily reveal ancient relatives in some ghoulish enactment of past lives.

Across to the edge of the flat limestone plateau, a single tree & a map stand set a watch over the distant ridges of the Verdon. More detail can be seen from the top of the water tower. These also include tops of hamlets windmill & another smaller chapel.

So, you pays your money & takes your choice. Me – I’ll take both. Together, they complete the wonderful picture of Provence.

Delving deep into the Luberon

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The Luberon is a massive, mountain massif in central Provence, famous for historic hilltop villages, lavender fields and bountiful vineyards. The River Durance flows along the edge and it is an easy drive into this low limestone mountain range that stretches for 60 km from west to east, reaching a maximum elevation of 1,256 metres. It is recognised for its rich diversity & striking landscapes. The region is famous for the production of wine, of course, olive oil, cherries, truffles, & lavender. Every hilltop seems to have an iconic, medieval, cliffside settlement perched on the top, almost beckoning the visitor in.

Over several days we explored this picturesque area, gasping at the mountain layers, appreciating the thrills of mountain road climbing & the adrenaline-induced, motorised spirals of valleys & ravines. We sampled the typical Provençal settlements, falling in love with some, feeling the atmosphere, absorbing the feel of ancient stones. We felt the history as we passed large mixed forests, harvested farmland, rows of vines & olives with barns & huts in various states of ruin or readiness, preparing for this year’s harvest. Vast, wine estates, their pristine, stoned production facilities & barrel cellars reflecting the gold Provençal sun & guarded by pillars of dark green Cypress, seem overly prepared with crates lined out over the ground at the head of each line of vines & large amounts of machinery waiting in the wings.

The historic hilltop village of Ansouis is the first on our list, one reason being the presence of a weekly market – always up for a market! The village is typically Provençal, perched on a rocky hill around an ancient church & a majestic chateau. The latter was originally built in the 9th century and is still inhabited. Many of these medieval buildings house galleries & studios & exhibitions, even concerts & operas.

Having climbed the short walk up to the centre, we established the market was over the peak & down the far side at the bottom of the hill. Remembering we had to walk back up the hill, we trudged down to find three stalls selling meat, fruit/veg & cheese – just not worth the effort,

A few km further on lies Cucuron, another really attractive, quiet medieval town. Giant, 200-year-old plane trees surround The Bassin, a large rectangular pond within the centre of the Main square, & provide shade for village activities, the weekly Tuesday market & the many outdoor cafes that lie around the edge.

Within the walls of the Old Town, narrow, stone-paved streets wind up to the church and an old castle. Dotted amongst the shuttered cottages that line the narrow cobbles are small, individual cafes & restaurants and craft shops & quality boutiques.

It is a ideal place to wander & absorb that Provençal atmosphere.

Apt is an important town for the region. Founded by the Romans it boasts several authentic ruins, As always, the Old Town consists of narrow, shady, medieval streets, public squares & historic fountains to cool us all down.

Sunday lunch in Ambruzzo

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It’s Sunday. We arrived at our beautiful, traditional farmhouse yesterday, meeting up with our pals C&D. This is situated along a narrow track through mixed arable farmland with glorious views across to a chequerboard landscape of clean cut, but compact fields of harvested wheat, bubbles of olive groves, lines of vines, model railway buildings & even a couple of fishing lakes with the Adriatic beckoning in the far distance.

We are delighted to hear that just 10 minutes walk down our track is Starinieri Agriturismo, a special farm offering rooms, and meals at a weekend…and yes, they can fit us in tomorrow for lunch.Under clear blue skies, we wander the track, absorbing the smells of the Ambruzzo countryside, taking in the mosaic of colour, texture & shape around us & sharing the joys of life & friendship, we arrive at the farm.

On the lawn rows of tables are laid out beneath & between billowing white cotton sheets that gently whisper to each other in the lightest of breezes. The great thing about this place is that though there is limited choice, what there is, is home reared & home grown, high quality ingredients & local produce, all from the farm & all very tasty. We shared three starters of lentil salad, cheese & charcuterie & delicious cheese balls in tomato sauce; Primo was either spaghetti with mini meatballs or asparagus & bacon ravioli; Secundo: lamb chops & sausages with potato; cheesecake or tiramisu.

It also helped that the other tables were taken by locals, a child’s birthday party & a large communion party, both of the latter setting the atmosphere & creating an ambiance of family & joy that we were quickly involved in.

And the very best was the farm’s wine – excellent Montepulciano Ambruzzo, sold at 4€ a jug which holds one litre. Such a bargain. We consumed 3 such jugs. After 5 hours at the table – excellent food, excellent service, excellent company, excellent ambiance, we shuffled our way home, feeling very happy & very content and fit for little else for the rest of the evening.

The route that keeps giving

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From Rome in the west, the autostrade rises into the Appenine Mountains. These stretch all the way down the Italian peninsula, the spine on which the nation depends. It means that most regions, & Ambruzzo is no exception, stamp their identity on coast, the Adriatic in this case, & crag alike. The commerce & industry of the suburbs soon relinquishes its grip on the land & the road gently rises through heavily wooded ridges of deciduous oak & ash & chestnut & walnut & countless other species I am unable to name. Ancient hilltop villages & stretched valley settlements, dusty & stoned, with a modernist halo of buildings around a historic core, appear at regular intervals, providing intrinsic interest to an already inspiring landscape.

The road continues to rise & travel through several dark, troll-favoured tunnels, the longest being 4 km in length. Each time we emerge & new scene greets us until we are truly in mountain land with truncated, helmet shaped peaks competing for height & reputation, bare of any real vegetation with only rough screed slopes trying to keep alive some scruffy bits of grass & an occasional stunted, spindly tree. It is like driving through a congregation of monks, moving through circular tonsures onto bald pates & soft rises.

Then it is out into the true Grand Sasso d’Italia revealing the true glory of Italy’s mountain core. Traversing lumpy peaks & trascending valleys on intestinal roads lined with abundant yellow gorse, the sight of ancient villages peering from balloons of foliage or tucked into the shelter of a valley side, becomes common place. The sat nav takes us down a slalom of a country lane. As the heavy, silver lined sky combines with the grey lumps of mountains, the yellow-brick road leads down through time, to the broad valley bottom.

Time stands still – it could be Roman times through rich woodland, the occasional small patch of tilled earth hosting a small olive grove or a handful of almond trees. No vehicles, no buildings. Just interacting with the scene & the place.Eventually the trip is complete. We descend from the heights of the Appennine passes to the coastal strip of the Adriatic.

Back to reality – out of town shopping centres, scruffy developments, uninspiring landscapes. But what a glorious journey between the two seas.

Blazing the coastal trail to Bosa

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My biggest surprise in driving the coast road south to Bosa is just how green & flowered the island is.

A patchwork of hay grass, some lying flat awaiting raking, mixes it up with meadow flowers of white & sunshine yellow. Lines of mixed deciduous woodland trees mushroom up alongside stretching olives & the occasional patch of pine. Lightbulbs of flowering gorse blaze in clumps, illuminating the course of a track, the side of the road or highlighting a crag of rocks or a tamed wild rockery. The colour palette is so varied, blues, lavenders, pastel purples, even lilacs thrown in there along with a brief flash of rather garish crimson poppy and all against a background of greens on one side & the turquoises of ocean & sky on the other.

The route attracts bikers & enthusiastic cyclists. For the most part the road is wide, the surface smooth – a joy to drive/ride. There is no room for cafes or bars or tourist tat here; Just the occasional view point where riders can share anecdotes & appreciate the serenity & beauty of the open road & the clear blue sky.

Don’t be fooled by the functional feel of the modern buildings you first meet as you enter Bosa; nor by the very ordinary street market, which by 1pm consists of a few lonely stalls, unloved & seemingly unwanted by their traders.This is one of the most beautiful villages in Italy.

The old town lies at the bridgehead over the Temo River. This meant that it prospered – agriculture was king on the plateaus inland with the water transporting grain & products to & from the coast, whilst the river also provided access to the sea, and fishing and trade created wealth from the surrounding ocean.

Ignoring the gate keepers at the small restaurant gurding the entrance, head into the maze of narrow cobbled streets/alleys of the old town.

Here, the multi-storeyed terraces stretch so high above that the shadows reign supreme and the sun has no hope of surviving down at street level.

The river is lined on both sides with buildings dating from past times – on the far side mostly warehouses stretch in an unbroken line from the bridge towards the sea. Opposite, warehouses share the riverside with merchant’s houses.

Domes, steeples flaking facades peer over each other and jostle for position alongside the bank providing a textured backdrop of colour, texture & position.Above the village, the 14th century Malaspina Castle stands guard, protecting the village from ancient enemies & invaders.