Day 26: Aix-en-Provence (with an unexpected side trip to Saint-Cannat)

I’ve had an epiphany and I have to confess that I feel pretty silly about it.

You will recall that yesterday I forgot to wind up the security screens and so we woke in the dark. I was also confused about the fact that when we did wake, it was still half-dark anyway which was unusual, and I’m pretty sure that I also commented that sunset didn’t occur here in Aix-en-Provence until 8.00pm or so.

It’s almost as though we have had a time shift of an hour … kind of like what happens when daylight savings kicks in.

So it turns out that on the last Sunday in March, all of France – and possibly all of Europe – commence daylight saving time, and clocks are pushed out by an hour. I had known that was going to happen, but I’d completely forgotten.

That explains a great deal of things.

We are here in Aix for three nights, so we have 2 full days to explore.

Today we had a walking tour planned with Benjamin (Benjy), meeting at the Tourist Office in the middle of Aix-en-Provence.

But before I do that, I’m going to wind back to yesterday afternoon after we arrived here. Two things of some note happened.

The first thing that happened was that we noticed a didgeridoo lying on the ground outside the cottage (tiny house) that we are staying in, and we assumed (incorrectly) that Didier was taking the micky out of us. We were having trouble with the lock on the door of the cottage and we had asked him to show us how it worked, and when he came over we asked him about the didgeridoo.

He looked at us blankly and said (in his strong french accent) that he had no idea what it was, that a friend had given it to him, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it.

So I demonstrated how it is used (… very poorly, I might add …) we explained to him that it is quite valuable, and showed him some YouTube videos of aboriginals playing the instrument. He was so impressed that he took it inside for safe-keeping.

Or possibly to remove any opportunity for me to play it again.

The other thing that happened was that we were keen to get into the city yesterday afternoon, so we asked Didier what was the best way to do that, especially noting that it was a Sunday afternoon.

He told us to park at a particular parking station. So that’s what we planned to do.

I mentioned yesterday that Aix is much bigger than I expected it would be, but how hard can it be to get into the city, and get into a parking station, when you’ve got Google Maps as your wingman?

So off we went.

It soon became quite apparent that Aix is much bigger and much busier than we had anticipated, and at one stage I found myself in the position of being first off from a set of lights, turning left into the main street.

When in France, just remember “tight right, loose left”. How hard can it be?

Let me tell you that there is nothing quite so heartbreaking than taking a left turn into a street and realising that nobody behind you is following, but they are all going somewhere else. That will be because Claude found himself travelling along a bus lane, while all of the other vehicles took the correct turn and took the part of the road designated for cars.

Anyhow it was all sorted with a quick (and desperate) u-turn and I left it for Joséphine to figure out an alternative route to get us where we were going.

Which brings us to today. A walking tour starting from the centre of the city, near where we parked yesterday in the carpark.

Full of excitment and optimism, but no desire to drive back into the city and battle workday traffic … so we did some investigations and found that there was a Park-n-Ride facility about 6km away where we could park for €3.50 for the day in a secure, underground parking garage, and that price included the cost of my bus fare, plus the fare of any accompanying passengers in the car, and our fares back again this afternoon.

Much cheaper than parking in town, and much less stressful than driving. And probably cheaper than that fine for driving in a bus lane that will arrive in our letterbox in 6 months or so, after they track me down.

Remember that important detail – the parking station was about 6km and 6 minutes drive away from home. That will be important later.

We got Claude safely parked, found the bus stop, and got on. We arrived in town about 9.45am, with the walking tour with Benjy planned to start at 10.30.

We had a half-baked idea that we might make a trip down to Marseille tomorrow. The drive to Marseille will be nice, but what to do with Claude when we get there could be a problem, so we went into the Tourism Office and asked about the bus service to Marseille.

And so a plan was hatched to take Claude to the Park-n-Ride again tomorrow, take a bus into town, then get another bus from town (Aix) to Marseille. But that will be tomorrow’s news, because it could change.

It probably depends on whether we are still married.

After speaking with the Tourism Office, we had a quick poke around town and waited for Benjy to arrive.

Benjy was a surprise package. Young guy, and very, very British.

Not French. British. (The first thing that I inadvertently said to him was “You’re not very French!”)

Turns out that his mother is French and his Father is British. They met, married and moved back to Britain, and have now returned to Aix-en-Provence to retire.

(On a side note, he also said that his Grandfather was a Jew, but his Grandmother was French, so he is not a Jew, he is only Jew-ish. Boom, boom.)

And so Benjy shared his love of Aix-en-Provence with us. He also moonlights as an English teacher at the university in summer, and does walking tours the rest of the year.

An important clarification, though. I have always though that the pronunciation of “Aix” was “Axe”, but I’m wrong. The correct pronunciation is “X”. Or “Ex”.

X-en-Provence, like experience.

It was a really informative walking tour. He told us about the history of the area, when and why the Romans came in and took over (which goes a long way to explaining the Colosseums we have been seeing everywhere), who was in charge, and so forth.

He took us on a big rambling walk of the old French parts of the city, and then into the old(er) Roman parts of the city. He showed us the school where Paul Cézanne (artist) and Émile Zola (novelist) attended and were childhood friends.

Apparently nobody liked Cézanne’s paintings when he was alive, so nobody wanted them after he died. Well, nobody smart wanted them.

So (apparently) many of his paintings were sold to “stupid Americans” who thought that they were buying something special because it was “French”, and now all of the wealth of Cézanne’s paintings is held elsewhere, not in France.

The last “stupid American” who sold a Cézanne only got $260m for it …

He told us how there were many mansions built along the main street – Cours Mirabeau – by Generals and nobles, and that the bigger the doors that they have, the more prestigious they were.

He also showed us some really important stuff like where the best pizza shop is (and what to buy), and where the best patisserie is in Aix-en-Provence.

And we went to both for lunch, of course.

He told us some fun facts, like a boulangerie cannot call itself a boulangerie unless they actually bake the products on site. If they bring them in from elsewhere – even if it is their own bakery somewehere else – they can only call themselves a patisserie.

We also learned that while France has 3 principles – Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité – Aix-en-Provence actually have 5, adding Generosity and Probity.

And another fun fact: we learned that all cafes in Aix face south to pick up the sunshine, because the French love to sit outside at cafes and people-watch.

One of the things that France is known for is its cheese. But in this area of France, it is (apparently) too hot for cows, so goat’s cheese is a major product.

Following the walking tour, we went off in search of lunch. Benjy had recommended a pizza place called Lumberjack Pizza. Now, I know what you are thinking … we are in France and that doesn’t sound very French. And if we are going to eat pizza, we should wait for Italy. Right?

But we went there anyway, because we were told that they serve a goat’s cheese and lavender honey pizza – a speciality of the area.

And it was so good.

After lunch we just decided to do a bit of a wander around the streets of the old town and see what there is to see … but experience has taught us that a really good walking tour covers off everything we want to see, and all we can do is go back and take another look at some of the more interesting things.

I have spoken previously about the narrow streets and narrow footpaths. I have also spoken previously about the number of electric vehicles around because of the emission problems that they have in many of these towns and cities. All of that creates a new problem.

We were wandering aimlessly around the old city on streets with virtually no footpath, so we were walking on the streets. Electric cars make virtually no sound, so you get a bit of a surprise when a vehicle has come up silently behind you and honks their horn to get you off the street.

It was another cracker of a day. Blue skies, and a light breeze. By lunchtime it was pushing 20 degrees and we were down to short sleeves and carrying all of our jackets.

By about 3.00pm we had seen everything that we wanted to see, so we asked ChatGPT for a suggestion for a scenic drive around Aix, and it proposed a nice drive on the Route Cézanne, to Le Tholonet and Puyloubier.

They didn’t like Cézanne when he was alive. Now everything is named after him!

Remember earlier I said that we parked 6km and 6 minutes away from our AirBNB?

We asked Joséphine to take us on the Route Cézanne, setting our initial destination for Le Tholonet. That was a 20 minute trip in the countryside.

So off we went … a couple of wrong turns, a missed exit on the roundabout. Joséphine tells me to take the 4th exit from the roundabout, and I lose count going around the wrong way.

After one particular wrong turn, Joséphine announced that she was “recalculating” and that we should follow the A-something road for 15km, which seemed a bit far, but then with my appalling sense of direction, anything is possible.

It’s a funny thing driving on the right-hand side of the road because your mind starts to play tricks on you. You train youself that everything is back to front.

You use your left hand to operate the blinker.

You use your right hand to select the correct gear or release the handbrake.

You look to the right (not the left) to check your centre rear-view mirror.

And because you spend so much time telling yourself that everything is back-to-front, you start to make silly mistakes: a “turn right” announcement is translated to “turn left”.

“Be in the left lane” translates to “be in the right lane”.

Argh! So it might not all be Joséphine’s fault after all.

After a 45 minute loop around Aix, we found ourselves driving past the turnoff to our AirBNB which – you may recall – was 6km and 6 minutes from where we started at the Park-n-Ride.

Not to be beaten, we randomly picked a nearby township that looked interesting and set that as our destination.

The winner was Saint-Cannat – a sleepy little township of 1,500 people where nothing ever happens.

Except for today.

I’m fairly certain that every single one of them was out in their vehicle, either parked (or double-parked), or driving around the township collecting their kids from school.

On the bright side, we got cheap fuel for Claude, and I snapped a picture of a McDonald’s with a green and yellow sign.

We decided to head for home. We got back a bit after 5.00pm, and MBW did another load of washing.

Our impression of Aix is that it is a very pretty, and very clean city. Bigger than we expected, but a beautiful spot to visit and spend a few days.

Last night we were pretty excited to find “Outback Truckers” on one of the many channels on the TV in our AirBNB. But sadly it was all overdubbed with French, so we couldn’t follow along.

We need to do some more planning for our trip to Marseille tommorow and weigh up the stress of driving there, versus the convenience of getting there quicker than public transport.

Unless of course we make another tactical error and end up on the A8 and find ourselves heading back towards Paris.

Don’t laugh.

Ciao

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