An Average Summer Day in Provence
Summer in Provence is a four month extravaganza. It usually lasts from early June to the end of September. The village of Calvisson is a strategic dream, as it is ideally located between the cities of Nimes and Montpellier. These are major destinations for low cost flight carriers. Calvisson blends the quaint charm of Provence and the testosterone charged thrills of the Camargue. Camargue is known for its wet lands where black bulls, white horses and pink flamingos roam free.
In Calvisson, my daily routine starts with a blissful ritual: breakfast and newspapers. As it rarely rains, breakfast is taken in the courtyard, under the bay leaf tree. While an English breakfast tea is a staple, newspapers may vary from the global eye of the “International Herald Tribune” to a more local focus with the regional “Midi Libre”. For me, there can’t be a perfect breakfast without a newspaper. It is a habit I acquired when living in New York City. The frequent house guests are invited to join me in this ritual. Thus breakfast is real quality time, taken at a leisurely pace in spite of the occasional and obvious impatience of some first time guests. The morning air is still balmy, with a soundtrack provided by the many birds which have colonized the bay tree.
The next stage of my charmed “Provençal” life is more pedestrian, literally. Outfitted in my gym gear, I walk to the distant garage to pick up my car for a 7 kms drive to the fitness club in the village of Vergeze. The club is lavishly equipped, thanks to the royalties paid by Perrier water. The Perrier spring is near-by. My car is privileged to have a covered place. Less fortunate Calvisson cars are simply parked in the narrow streets. Calvisson has spread out from its medieval core to a surrounding modern but non descript suburbia. In medieval time, the original city planners were more concerned with self-defence than with a smooth traffic flow. They had obviously not anticipated the automobile pandemic of the XXI century.
The result is permanent gridlock. Although “no parking” signs are posted everywhere, no one seems to pay any attention. Obstructing traffic is not considered an offence by the locals. The village police, a four member strong force, seem to know where the owner of every illegally parked car lives. The police spend a substantial amount of their time knocking at the door of the offender in order to get the car removed. The car is immediately parked in an alternative “no parking” area. In Calvisson, only the serial offenders may occasionally be fined. Like in other French cities, a number of parking spots are earmarked for handicapped people. In Calvisson, the disabled seems to greatly outnumber the number of available spots. The handicapped drivers tend to concentrate near the village’s landmarks such as cafes, bakeries and tobacco cum lottery shops.
A large part of my day is dedicated to entertaining my guests in cultural and gastronomic pursuits. Calvisson is better known for its outstanding historic heritage than te creativity of its restaurants. The village is facing a worrying and increasing gastronomic deficit. Calvisson is nonetheless a village with a past. Its claim to fame is through its association with a disgraceful character. During the Middle Age, Calvisson was the fiefdom of non other than Guillaume de Nogaret. This gentleman of dubious ambitions was fondly referred to by his peers as “advocatus diaboli” . He could easily qualify as the patron Saint of New York lawyers.
As the character is both fascinating and controversial, many books have been written on Nogaret. He was a man of many feats. Legend has it that during an argument, he slapped the face of the Pope who not too long after passed away. He was also instrumental in masterminding the largest royal robbery of all time. He helped the King of France in seizing the extensive assets of the Templars. As this was not enough, the King then had the whole lot of them arrested in one night and sent to be burnt at the stake. It was reported that Nogaret died “with his tongue horribly thrust out”. The man is still the subject of many evening chats over a glass of pastis. But this is another story.
These days, local newspapers don’t speak much of Nogaret. As the football World Cup is heating up in Germany, you would expect heavy coverage in the local media. Not at all. In this part of Provence, guys kicking a ball don’t attract much attention. It is the bull season which makes the headlines. Camargue bulls are heros. If they valiantly play their part, they retire with honors and often road-side statues. The bull and horse shows have just started. Calvisson is located on the Northern edge of Camargue. Last week-end it featured its first bull running of the year. Many more will follow. This part of France is a football-mania free zone. Are you wishing to avoid the World Cup media frenzy? Unless you are sheltered in South Dakota and are already subscribing to the Sioux Falls Tempest, I would suggest you switch to the “Midi Libre”!
The World Cup obsession hits every four years. Calvisson could start promoting its football free status to the many football widows of the world. In four years from now, I will gladly welcome them and share with them my average summer day in Provence. They will discover the land of black bulls, white horses and pink flamingos under the gaze of Guillaume de Nogaret.
Beatrice Labonne,
22nd June, 2006.
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