Helen and Neil from Australia: A guided walking tour of Provence, almost à la carte.
And both manage a smile below, despite finishing a 400m climb to the perched village of Eze, high above the Côte d'Azur. Based in the small riviera town of Villefranche sur Mer, we would spend half the week exploring the coastline villages and paths. We are on the Nietzsche path here, a path the philosopher used to take on his many trips to the riviera.
From the top of the village of Eze, in a cactus garden, overlooking the Riviera. And yes, we climbed starting at sea-level, all the way down there!!!
The peninsula in the background -- the one behind the leftmost flowering cactus -- is called St. Jean Cap Ferrat. It was our warm-up walk the day before: 11km around the peninsula on a coastal path surrounded by lavish homes.
Some of the hilltop homes of Eze, perched like an eagle's nest over the Mediterranean Sea:
Eze village, below which, hidden from the tourists that crowd the village (and there were many!!!), we find a secluded spot to eat our picnic lunch:
In the afternoon we hop on the coastal train and only 10 minutes later reach Monaco. Not planned in the itinerary, Helen and Neil wanted to visit this independent state, where escalators are as prevalent in the city streets as in shopping malls and casinos:
Only 2 square kilometers of land for only one country. And so what can't be built in sprawl needs to be built in piles: piles of appartment buildings as tightly packed as puzzle pieces, turning to seek the sea as a field of sunflowers seeks the sun.
The next day we head on the coastline train to the east. And which Riviera town is Helen closest to in the photo below? You'll never guess. It's a pristine island with hardly a building in sight, 8km of beautiful shores and walking paths where we cross few travellers.
Haven't guessed yet? It's Cannes. Just a kilometre off the shore, on the island of Sainte Marguerite. No Louis Vuitton here, no film festival, just a set of tracks lined with eucalyptus and pine, tiny idyllic coves offering hours of quiet contemplation...
Speaking of tiny idyllic coves offering hours of quiet contemplation:
In the afternoon we reach Nice: its shops, markets, streets bustling with people, its cafés filled with blondes holding dogs and listening to honky-tonk bands...
Enough of Nice. We needed some countryside in the heart of Provence, far from the crowds. And no better place than based in the Auberge des Seguins, lost in the Luberon mountains, a centuries-old goat farm restored magnificently into a hotel. As a base for two nights, we would explore the forgotten hamlets and paths, passing beside truffle-oak plantations and cherry orchards...
Helen and Neil inside their bedroom, once a shelter for the flocks...
The auberge in the evening (how's my tripod shot?), my room the closest in the picture, and in the background a cliff that attracts amateur rock climbers from all over the world.
Speaking of amateur rock climbers:
Though we're by no means rock climbers, we still manage to attack a set of vertiginous limestone steps, 3000 years old, in the Buoux fort (steep drops to the left of the picture). And a round of applause for Helen, not a fan of heights, who manages to surpass herself, leaving her comfort zone without shouting explitives at the guide or at her husband.
After two days we leave the auberge behind and cross into the Petit Luberon, with southern winds hinting at the possibility of rain (which hold off all week!!!)
The town of Bonnieux, set above the Calavon plains, one of the towns in Peter Mayle's A Year in Provence.
The tightly packed homes of Bonnieux, and Mont Ventoux in the far background, above the church spire.
In Bonnieux, after finishing the last walk. Usually it's a bad sign to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but in this case it leads Neil into the cobbled streets of town, alive and well, extatic after a wonderful week along the trails of Provence.
Thanks for a great week Neil and Helen!!!
