We were then literally whisked off the street and piled into a 4 wheel drive, speeding off to Chateau-Arnoux. The ride was jolly as two teenage boys, their mother, myself and Stephen had a lively conversation aquainting ourselves, amongst other topics.
We drove along the main highway, turned off onto smaller country roads, drove through the small township and began a winding, narrow ascent up narrow roads. By now the light had faded from murky blue and established itself into a starlit warm, balmy evening. We climbed winding roads for about 5 to 10 minutes and pulled up in the driveway of a beautiful, rustic and charming french home.
I plonked my bag in the guest bedroom and congratulated myself on winning the lottery. As you can see the bed was large, there was a beautiful ensuite and the house was teaming with arty books, post cards, posters, framed art work, artefacts, sculptures and tastefully decorated furniture. Even the toilet room was an adventure. I was able to relax whilst surrounded in even more books and REALLY interesting art, both contemporary and classic.
We joined the youngest son, about 14, who had succeeded in preparing and cooking a gorgeous Tarte aux pommes, via telephone instructions from his mum.
Shortly after arrival, we sat in comfortable chairs outside on the terrace. The alcohol, banter and goodwill flowed.
After we all had relaxed into each other's company, dinner was served: delicious, hot home-made ratatouille, traditional to the south of France, with soft fresh pasta and green salade.
Voilà!
Next was the light and delicious Tarte aux pommes, followed by a stunning selection of a variety of fresh frommage. Yum.
When I woke up the next morning, I luxuriated in a heavenly shower, excited to inspect the property as Stephen had told me that it was pretty cool.
I wasn't disappointed. I was in PARADISE! The house sported its own rambling fruit trees,
studio,
swimming pool,
and a view that would rob you of your breath. A visual banquet.
I couldn't stop myself from snapping this brightly painted truck parked by the wayside. If you think that it looks as though it could be serving Mr Whippy ice-creams, I'd have to agree with you. For all I know, it could be a truck that sucks effluent out of public toilets. he he he.
We encountered the familiar and typical narrow passage ways. Steps, stones, flowers, tables and chairs, shoes outside doors, etc.
On reaching the summit, Stephen and I became silent to inhale the magnificent 360 degree view. My eagle eyes spotted a bush of wild blackberries. I don't think Stephen was too impressed, but distant childhood memories of Mum delighting over wild blackberries came to mind. (Roadside spraying soon stopped us from eating them.)
Snap!, another Kodak moment.
I savoured the sharp, sweet flavour with child-like abandon.
I turned around to be confronted by a tall, good-looking gentleman with chestnut brown eyes and a warm smile. I apologised for disturbing the peace. He quickly refuted. He was aware that we were the visiting NZers. He was the father of the three teenage boys. He lived in a neighbouring house. He offered for us to join him with a coffee. I was gutted that we didn't have time. However, I eagerly agreed to his offer of tasting some green grapes growing at his front door. Cool, ay?
Before we knew it, our bags were placed in the boot of a cute little manual car, and the 19 year old boy and his father were chauffeuring us to the train station a few minutes away. It was an opportunity for H to further his driving his skills in a manual car, (driving lesson with foreigners aboard).
At the train station, I learnt how to purchase a ticket. We bid farewell to H and his dad.
The train to Aix en Provence was a good excuse to relax and imagine what adventure the weekend will bring.
No comments:
Post a Comment