Greetings from the south of France

By Jo Anne Wilson
Sun international correspondent
SAIGNON (Provence), France — I can scarcely believe that I’ve been here for two weeks. My travels from Traverse City to this remote hamlet in southern France went without a problem. The trip is not difficult, just long. A jet to Paris via Detroit and the high speed train, right from the Paris airport to the city of Avignon. From there, a 45-minute car ride east to this area of Provence known officially as the Département de Vaucluse. The closest official governmental division we have in the states would be a county. Informally, the immediate area is known as the Luberon, the name of the surrounding mountain ranges.

I’ve met a great assortment of international folks (and in that assortment, I include a few from New York City). The current guests at the Claparèdes include folks from Ireland, England and Texas. Talk about an international flair. There are many similarities to those of you who are spending your time basking in the beauty of Leelanau County. The shops and stores are crowded, the roads are full of traffic and the beauty of the countryside is the topic of many Kodak moments.
I’ve managed to arrive just as the lavender hits its peak. The color is absolutely astounding. It truly defies description and even the best photos do not convey the brilliance. It seems to vibrate in the fields. Driving around the country roads, the scent is everywhere.
Driving, however, does have its challenges and navigating through the nearby town of Apt (only slightly smaller than Traverse City) poses all the frustrations of Traverse City during Cherry Festival. This is a huge tourist area and the Europeans take their “holiday” in July and August.
I’ve found the best time to hit the supermarket is during the lunch hour, which, here, is from noon until 3 p.m. In a very civilized manner (at least in my opinion), shops and stores close and folks take a nice long lunch break. This means, however, that one can shop until 6 or 7 in the evening. The supermarkets do stay open and thus noontime shopping for groceries is a good idea.
Let me tell you how clever the French are about grocery store carts. Carts are all parked outside in the lot and chained together. To release a cart, you insert a one-Euro coin (about $1.25). When you return the cart, push in the little holder and back comes your coin. No shopping carts rolling around the lots in this country!
Another little idiosyncrasy is that you bag your own groceries. In some stores, the clerk will help, if there’s a line and you have a lot, but the other day, as I was gathering my first load of provisions, the flame-haired young woman clerk (henna red is big over here), sat patiently until I finished the bagging and then took my money.
The daily cost of living is pretty much comparable to Leelanau and Grand Traverse Counties. Property is very expensive and grocery prices are equivalent to home. The only things that are truly a bargain are fantastic bread and superb wine. A great baguette can be had for the equivalent of 75 cents (Bob Pisor, take note.) and if I want a nice local white or red wine, I can expect to pay $7 a bottle. Truth be told, some of the great local wines cost around $3.
So here I am in the land of lavender, cicadas, chilled rosé wine and the Tour de France. I can scarcely put one foot in front of the other in the intense heat from the provençal sun. I cannot imagine pedaling a bicycle along any road, least of all up the mountainside.
The French do love their cycling and they do take it very, very seriously. It is both a national sport and a national pastime and the name of Lance Armstrong is on the lips of all.
Since I’m located only 45 minutes from the historic and bustling city of Avignon, I went with a friend on Monday, to do some serious shopping for supplies for the Domaine. The big supermarché is called Auchaun, and the clerks make their way from one end to the other on rollerblades. Talk about a BIG store.
In direct contrast to the giant stores are the many fruit and vegetable stands popping up at every turn. Today, on the usual drive to the village of Saignon for my daily bread/baguette, I noted a new sign propped up along side the road. Vente de melons (Melons for sale). The small cantaloupe melons from this area are Cavaillon – the city nearby. Local apricots are also hanging ripe from the trees. My baguette was baked this morning and tomorrow it will be replaced with a fresh one.
People live closer to the earth here. There’s much less time from harvest to table. There are weekly Marché Paysan where the local farmer comes in a truck with whatever he has grown this week. It may not be much, but he brings it in hopes of selling for whatever he can. There is a flavor of such markets at the Traverse City in the summer, however, the faces, the language and the products are not the same.
Life is simpler, slower and more personal here. I stopped for lunch at one of my favorite spots. Opting to eat on the terrace, I was in the company of a couple of other guests and the three resident dogs. Dogs are king in France. They go everywhere and the French dote on their pets like a favorite grandchild. I well recall the day I saw an older couple with their tiny white terrier, in the grocery store. The dog was riding along in the child’s seat in the cart. I suppose he got to pick out his favorite brand of kibble.
I am fortunate, as I begin this year as a property guardienne. I’m here for the lavender harvest and will also be here for the annual vendage, when the grapes make their way from vineyard to vat. As always, friends, remember when opportunity comes your way, Carpe Diem.
Readers are encouraged to visit Jo Anne’s website at www.meetmeinprovence.com