It’s been four years since I started writing, Shutters and Sunflowers, when I was sharing my life in Provence. I’m still writing, mostly about travel and you’re still reading, thank you, but behind the scenes ‘blogging’ has evolved greatly.

Every day vast reams of content is shared across an ever growing social media world; Facebook Twitter Pinterest, Instagram, never mind Snapchat, Googleplus and a host of others!

Spinning through this immense, tangled web, are giant, mysterious spiders, mostly called 'Google'. These are greedy spiders, they want feeding daily, to search, rank and then like victorious hunters display the most prolific content on their opening pages!

But what about YOU, the reader, aren’t we all becoming overwhelmed by too much information? I don’t want to bombard you with more! So I have been trying to compromise; posting more often, becoming more information specific, mastering some audio visual and only telling you once in a while. I'm making progress, my Twitter 'friends' have grown from 197 to over 1000 in just four weeks, tweet tweet!

I have been focusing on areas of Provence I really know, the beautiful perched village of Les Baux-de-Provence the captivating video spectacle of Carrières de Lumières and as many travel tips as possible to make your visit to Uzès as magical as possible, after all, Uzès is where this all started!

So scroll back through the posts or ‘Read More’ where I have added all the links to the last month's posts for you to click on. Please let me know what you think and thank you all of you for staying with me on this journey!

Les Baux de Provence

Uzès

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Uzès has a vibrant, ancient history, did you know that:

Uzès was first settled over one thousand years ago?

During Roman Times it was an important commercial and cultural center?

Duche d' Uzès

Uzès is the home to the first duchy of France and that it remains the oldest ducal peerage in France?

And that the family still live in the ducal castle in Uzès today?

During the reformationUzès became the fifth largest Huguenot city in France?

During the eighteenth and nineteen centuries Uzès became famous for making silk stockings?

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Duchess of Uzès, Anne de Mortemart, widow of the famous Champagne House, Clicquot, was the first French woman to obtain a driver's licence? An early feminist, she founded the French Women's Automobile Club?

During World War II, Château des Fouzes, code named CADIX and two minutes outside of Uzès, was the secret base for a  small group of cryptologists sending messages back to Bletchley Park in England.

The group included three Poles, Marian Rejewski, Jerzy Różycki and Henryk Zygalski, who were the first to crack the Enigma in 1932. They had given their intelligence to the French and the British at the onset of World War II, and continued their work, with the help of the local French Resistance,at great peril to their own safety from Château des Fouzes until November 1942 when fearing discovery by the Nazis they fled across the Pyrenees to Spain. An amazing, little known story of bravery and courage.

Let me know what you find out on your trip to this beautiful city!

Download The Uzès, Travel Guide for Uzès and the surrounding regions of Languedoc Roussillon and Provence.

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Uzès, the charming town where I was fortunate enough to spend 4 treasured months in 2012. This vibrant, Duché d'Uzès, the oldest remaining Duchy in France, dating from 1572, steeped in a rich history, was as special as I had remembered it. I felt very nostalgic returning there but also very blessed to have been able to call this small treasure of Languedoc Rousillon 'my home', even if just for a moment in time.

 The Wednesday produce market bustled for a mid February day with much to tempt us, including wine and preserves from the local nuns, still blessing us with the hand-made fruits of their labours!

As we strolled the worn, cobbled streets, below the magnificent, golden arches surrounding Uzès' Place aux Herbes, none of it had lost its appeal, its warmth or vibrancy, my memories had not deceived me! Trodden by visitors and locals for centuries and hopefully to be preserved and remain unchanged for centuries to come.

The street we had lived on stirred great emotion.

And 'our' pretty little house 'Masion Sept', where I so longed to be able to turn the door handle but was no longer entitled to. A reminder of how life is a constantly changing rhythm of kaleidoscope moments. Even when something truly belongs to us, nothing stays the same forever, time like a seamstress, specialises in altering and mending. Doors open and close, seasons change, life evolves and it is up to each of us to choose which openings to walk through, which paths to tread, which perspectives and attitudes to embrace, no matter what is thrown at our feet and who to include on our journey with us.

The country lane I used to hurry along on my morning walks

Just below the beautiful famous landmark of Uzès, La Tour Fenestrelle, and cathedral

Final images of Uzès, to imprint on my mind and add to my already overflowing collection of reminicsences.

Download The Uzès, Travel Guide for Uzès and the surrounding regions of Languedoc Roussillon and Provence.

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“Parlez-vous français?” - “Oui, un petit peu” - was my response when I arrived in Uzès in January before I had began learning French. By the time I left at the end of May I was able to truthfully answer the same question a little differently:
“Oui, je parle français, si vous parlez lentement” - 'Yes, if you speak slowly!!'

The improvement, (although there is still much work required!) is in large part due to my delightful and endlessly patient French teacher, Maryse, who greatly helped me my learning french more than anything gave me the confidence to speak, however incorrectly and however terrible my pronunciation! Twice weekly, 3 of us struggling students gathered in her petit salon where we were gently encouraged to listen, repeat and often just share whatever came to mind. Maybe that was the key to our progress, no worrying about conjugating verbs or whether the noun required a ‘le’ or a ‘la’, we just chatted, searching our limited vocabulary for a word that would fit, stumbling often but conversing none the less and laughing as we did so. My fellow classmates, as anxious as I to improve their learning french became my new friends. Interesting people with different life journeys, from California, Sweden, Australia and Britain, bound together by our shared love of France and our joy at being able to live there, even if just for a moment.

It was with great sadness I bade then 'au revoir', yet I knew it was just that, an ‘au revoir’, for I would certainly be returning to this beautiful region and to Uzès. Uzès, the "Premier Duchy of France," in the Gard region of Languedoc Rousillon, southern France, just 45 km west of the magnificent and now much beloved medieval papal city of Avignon and 25 km north of the Roman stronghold of Nimes.

Uzès, this enchanting bastide rooted in a rich history had seduced me with its charm and authenticity. Its ancient, winding cobbled streets, its elegant squares, shaded by gently worn, golden, stone, shuttered buildings.
The glorious Ducal Castle, cathedral, and renaissance mansions. At its heart, Place-aux-Herbes, dominated and sheltered by the broad leaves of long ago established sycamore trees. Place-aux-Herbes fringed with its splendid arches, offering an array of enticing restaurants, many now old favorites, 'Pizza du duche', 'A Cote', 'Le Terroir' and 'Zanelli', where one could sit and enjoy the chatter and bustle and gentle sound of the Places’ glorious fountain. Place-aux-Herbes, host to carnival, the annual truffle fare, art fares, pottery exhibitions, brocants and renowned twice-weekly regional markets. Marchés, which had become such a part of my routine; smiling locals with linens, ribbons, baskets, and flowers, cheese makers, olive growers, and an abundance of fresh produce.
Uzès, with its unique, beguiling atmosphere to which I would always be bound had given me the feeling of having lived one hour, one day, one moment, back in time...........

Download The Uzès, Travel Guide for Uzès and the surrounding regions of Languedoc Roussillon and Provence.

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Have you ever wondered what is behind ‘that door’,  if you turned the door handle who you would find?And if you did, how many people the property enfolds, how old they are, what their lives involve, how the house is decorated, what stories the walls keep, whether there are any tell tale signs of the occupants, like a row of small children’s shoes as you walk in? I often think of these things, especially when I am somewhere where several generations have been ensconced.

I would love to be able to turn the door handle and walk back in time! These properties have doubtless seen significant changes of use, maybe from being an inn, to a shop, to a private home.

 A few hundred years ago, such tall, imposing,shuttered buildings maybe housed several families but now are the pride and joy of one bourgeoisie

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For many years I have thought that the reputation that the French have for their cooking is highly overrated; he questiom often asked is can the French cook?!
People who visit France, or even people who have never visited France, rave about French restaurants, about French chefs and indeed all things food related ‘en France’ but ‘pas mois’.

I have always felt somewhat confused that whilst the variety and standard of fresh produce available to purchase is excellent this is not always reflected when you eat out leading me to question whether indeed the its true that that the French cook well. As someone who loves to cook and enjoys food I am often disappointed when I eat out, regardless of where I am. I admit, I am not a great fan of small, overpriced portions, even when they are presented as small works of art! At the risk of sounding like a certain Mr Ramsay (who I am also not a fan of!!!), what I enjoy the most is fresh, flavourful food which I wouldn’t perhaps cook myself…
So to get to the point, can the French cook?  I have always enjoyed excellent pizzas in France, cooked to near delicious perfection ‘au feu de bois’ (in a wood fired oven).

I adore their moules, with frites of course, infact most things avec les frites are pretty good, even 'tartare de bœuf'!! However in general I have found French cuisine to be overly concerned with parts of the animal most of us would prefer not to know about, over fussed with and lacking in fresh vegetables … until now!
In the space of 3 weeks, aided and a betted by my friends ‘Américain’ I truly experienced the type of food, which

justifies all the acclaim bestowed upon the French chef!!

We didn’t eat in any Michelin starred restaurants (where, when you are paying a fortune you should be impressed), we ate in moderately priced, local restaurants.  L'Artemise and Le Bec à vin  in Uzès and La Gousse D'Aile in St Remy de Provence being some of our favourites.  Ambience and service 'par excellence' not a strange body part, pizza or frite insight, where taste, flavor, presentation and value were all ‘très délicieux’!

Click here to download a free PDF guide to Uzes and the surrounding area of Provence and Languedoc Roussillon

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Life perspectives change maybe just like the seasons. Right now Uzès is bursting into life. The new leaves have gently uncurled, already beginning to form their natural canopy of shade along the streets and in Place aux Herbs. Shops and restaurants, previously closed are opening everywhere and there has been an influx of people for the Easter weekend. It is fun to watch them stroll across the Place aux Herbs, so obviously tourists with their ‘holiday garb', clutching cameras with that familiar look of curiosity and exploration. Probably looking just as I did when I arrived and probably to the real locals still look!

We have a whole weekend to enjoy together. Chris’ recovery from surgery has been
excellent and smooth, right from when the ambulance drove him home and the nightmare of the previous 3 weeks has begun to fade. As so often in life when you are immersed in a drama it seems never ending and then almost as quickly as it turned you life upside down it is over and things gradually resume to normal leaving you with some scars and bruises, the lesson being that nothing lasts forever, good or bad. Our dear friend Kristen, from California, has come and gone. For 5 days she sprinkled her joy and friendship arriving with her grandmother’s WWII nurse's uniform to help tend the patient!

 Together, in-between ‘hospital duty’ we revisited many of my favorite spots, Les Baux en Provence, Pont du Gard and Avignon. Seeing these sights through others eyes, what they notice and comment upon and equally what they don’t see is fascinating.

Pondering this whilst sipping a coffee outside the Palais des Papes as Kristin was doing the tour, (I declined, a 3^rd time in one month seemed excessive!!) As I stirred by cappuccino I first reflected on the very many different ways the French served their coffee. Each time I thought I was ordering the same thing and each time ‘quelle surprise’, so many different interpretations! Café crème, café au-lait, café longue, never mind espressos, americanos, cappuccinos, all presented in a myriad of ways depending on where you ordered and yet not a Starbucks in sight, phew ‘quelle délivrance’! Café crème for instance could come with frothed milk, too much milk, too little milk, with whipped cream, without, in a tall glass, in a mug, or in a cup with a saucer. A plethora of different presentations.

In some regard a bit like the people I was watching in the square in front of me. All the same and yet all uniquely different. Many clad in the ‘uniform’ of jeans, but adorned slightly differently, sneakers, ballet flats, boots and heels. With scarves, without, sporting hats or not, smiling, scowling, looking absorbed or perplexed or bored or just exhausted.
Most posing for photos outside a world famous landmark, which they had travelled far and wide to marvel at. A moment held in time to be secreted away, uploaded, downloaded and stored in a private collection of memories. Some to be printed and lovingly mounted, included in a carefully crafted album of vacation reminiscences along with the ticket admission stubs, postcards and other vignettes of treasured travels. Others merely stored within in the bowels of a personal PC, photo collections maybe to be glanced at once or maybe not at all. People doing the same thing but all so different, just like my coffee experiences all different but yet the same. Different people on different days, playing the tourist. Relishing the experience or letting it pass by like a dandelion puff that blows almost unseen in the air right in front of our eyes, sometimes to be captured and noticed sometimes not. The rich tapestry of an every day tourist day unfolding in front of my eyes……

Download The Uzès, Travel Guide for Uzès and the surrounding regions of Languedoc Roussillon and Provence.

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Yesterday as I went to see Chris after his surgery my journey again took me along tree lined vineyards carpeted in a soft kiss of white blossom petals. Tractors slowly churning the rich soil, men toiling alone, bedecked in large hats to protect themselves from the intensifying sunshine as they pruned the vines and fruit trees. I meandered through a gorge and approached a medieval bridge, which zigzagged its way across the ‘Rive Gardon’ just a few miles downstream for the Pont du Gard. I remembered Kate’s recent comments when we drove this road together, that as she looked down over the parapets she could almost see the Roman centurions sitting in the dusty, dried up riverbed lacing their sandals.

Yes, time in this sleepy, unspoiled part of France seems in many respects to have stood still. Crops to be planted, tended to and nurtured, people working the fields to earn a living. Little has changed over the centuries or been touched by ‘progress’. Only the occasional road sign and the sudden pathway of electric pylons reminded me that I had not stepped into the past.

Of course the incessant car screeching up behind me desperate to overtake on an almost blind corner helped to jolt me into reality but most of the time I just marveled at the peacefulness of all I beheld. The beauty of the spires of a medieval village suddenly coming into view as I turned a corner. All of it so soothing to my anxious, fretting mind as I drove to a hospital hoping that all was well. A reminder that the basic, simple things in life are and always have been the most important, your health first and foremost.

I pondered on what happened to people before the miracles of modern medicine when having beavered in the fields and labored to build the villages so beloved by myself and many others, people injured themselves. I imagined a life with unrelenting pain and agony, pain I had recently witnessed in Chris’ face and felt grateful that in that respect it was good to be alive now where science could mend our broken bodies. I thought how life is so much about balance. How fortunate we are to live in a time where medical intervention can restore us to health. Yet ironically an age which drives us all to meet so many deadlines; answer phones, respond to emails and texts, to tweet and post and all manner of other things. How so much of life balance is out of kilter, how within this connected, global village we all exist in we are expected to be responsive ‘24/7’. How we are all striving to get to this ‘somewhere’ that doesn’t actually exist, this goal post or place when ‘things will be calmer’.

I reflected on my own morning, sending emails to 3 different continents, putting out fires with clients who faked concern for Chris but then in the next sentence were demanding answers from him regardless of the fact that today he was having surgery.

I thought of the words of a poem I hold so dear ‘The Station’ by Robert Hastings. For so many of us our life is like the train journey of this poem. We travel along cheered on by waving people as we whizz through each of life’s station consuming ourselves with life’s busyness looking forward to getting ‘there’. Only we never get ‘there’ because the journey is the ‘now’, this very moment, the joys, the tears and all the messy bits in between called 'life'.

It reminded me why I had come to this beautiful part of France in the first place. In truth partly to escape, because in my heart I truly believe that life is not about the destination but the journey. Having the time and more importantly taking the time to stop and notice the vines, the blossoms and the church spires.
When I got to my journey’s end and was sitting by the side of the man I have loved for over 34 years, slowly waking from surgery I gave thanks for his recovery and held his hand with renewed determination that we were going to slow down and take the time we had together to smell those cherry blossoms and very soon I hoped.

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A medical crisis in Uzes is not something I had anticipated. I never expected to have to learn such french words as 'infirmière’, ‘douleur’, ‘ordonnance’, 'chirurgie’ - nurse, pain, prescription, surgery… There are of course other words which have a much easier translation - 'agonie', 'hôpital', 'le médecin'.
The distressing reason for my newly acquired increased vocabulary is that 'mon pauvre mari' was admitted to hospital with a slipped disc.

The hospital has been fine and we have managed to understand each other with our combined ‘franglais’. Today he moves to a private clinic for possible surgery. Although very upsetting and worrying and a medical crisis in Uzes is not an experience we would ever have sought, we have faith in the care he is receiving and trust all will be well.
Even this horrid turn of events has not been able to dampen our enthusiasm for life
here. The fact that your own life is in crisis yet life around you continues, provides calm and reassurance that 'this too will pass'. The children's carnvial, laughing, chattering, excited voices, went ahead as scheduled in 'Place aux Herbes'.

The winding streets basking in the golden light, as more shops and businesses sping to life with the approach of Easter and the beginning of the influx of tourists. Driving to the hospital, albeit following an ambulance, stirred the heart. albiet I was in the middle of a medical crisis in Uzes Field after field of vines still showing no evidence of spring growth and silvery, green olive trees softened with the pink blossoms of cherry and almond orchards now in full bloom.

Spring has arrived in southern France, shutters have been flung back, windows opened, thick coats been replaced with shirts and blouses, sweaters tied carefully over shoulders and scarves everywhere! The streets have become even more crowded with chairs and people embracing the warmth of the spring sunshine. ‘Clio’ and I have discovered many ways to navigate the 45km journey to the hospital and have abandoned the AutoRoute for the gentler calm of the country lanes that twist and turn through the fields and actually get us there just as quickly but feeling calmer and more relaxed

My poor friend Michelle, having braved the long journey from California, was here throughout this medical crisis in Uzes. Although a real disappointment for her, I was so grateful of her support and to have a smiling face and an open bottle of wine to return home to each night from the hospital. Michelle even succeeded in making my birthday special despite everything, whisking me away to a stunning boutique hotel, a welcome evening of escape!
Most of our plans were abandoned replaced with different unwelcomed ones but those that constitute ‘real life’. Together we experienced the efficiencies of the French health system, nurses and doctors visiting the house, helpful pharmacists explaining drug procedures and everyone encouraging me on with their smiles and stoic words of encouragement ‘bon courage’, could there be a more appropriate phrase for me right now?

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As I woke on Wednesday morning, contemplating the day ahead and my life in Provence, I thought that to celebrate the year’ s extra day, February 29th, I should be doing something special, other than focusing on work. Then I remembered with a quick thrill that today was market day. Not the all consuming bustle of Saturday but a smaller affair, still overflowing with the abundances of the local area.

That my reaction to a stroll round a market, even in the chill of winter filled me with such joy made me smile.

The truth is though, that for me, every day here, living my life in Provence seems special, some more special than others, but isn’t that how life should be? Living in the ‘now’ enjoying the gift of each day as it enfolds, rather than rushing through it and wishing it were ‘a few days time’ to the day ahead where we have made ‘plans’ to 'fill our hearts with joy'. Actually we can fill our hearts with joy even momentarily, each and every day, looking at the bough of newly open blossom, the smell of freshly cut grass, when someone we don’t know smiles at us……… if we only have the time to notice.

Maybe my delight in the market is that here, where the pace is slower, there is time to contemplate the ‘ordinary’ it is just part of life in Provence! Hardly fair though to label ‘ordinary’, a market set within the walls of an ancient  bastide, surrounded by the seeing eyes of worn sash windows and shutters, afterwards to sip coffee outside in the ever warming sunshine, in February!

Last Saturday we ambled our way through the beautiful Luberon Valley, ('The Peter Mayle country') about 60 miles east of Uzès. Retracing our steps of three years ago, we went through the charming town of St Rémy de Provence and on to the Luberon villages of  Bonnieux, Ménerbes, Gordes. Finally twisting to the southern side of this breathtaking vine laden area to the small village of Lourmarin.
I had fallen in love with this delightful little “Belle Ville de France” on my first visit and I was not disappointed. It’s south facing aspect, nestling under the hills of the Luberon gave it a warm glow of contentment as it basked in the late afternoon sunshine. Restaurants overflowing with people laughing, enjoying a late lunch or a coffee out with friends, we wound through the delightful cobbled streets and I contemplated how I might get some of the treasure from the ‘petite magazines’ into my suitcase! A skilled master at cramming things into my travel bags I realized that perhaps this was a place to return to with an encouraging girlfriend rather than face ‘mon mari’s’ dumbfounded look and shake of the head as he muttered to me in complete despair ‘well why do we need that and where on earth are you going to put it?’ Is that ever even a consideration when we are tempted by some absolute ‘must have’ treasure’?!!!!!

Sunday took us on a different and quite magnificent stroll to the Pont du Gard. Guided by well posted footpath signs we abandoned ‘Clio’ in a field and set off through the trees. As we meandered through an olive grove and scrub oaks, we could have been in California and hoped we were heading the right way.

The walk took about 30 minutes and eventually tipped us out by the river and ‘voilà, there was the Pont du Gard

It was quite breathtakingly unexpected even though it was actually what we were expecting to reach!
A Unesco World Heritage site since 1995 and deservedly so.

The highest known Roman aqueduct in the world, spanning the Gardon, it was built around 500 AD and carried water from the hills behind Uzès to the vibrant Roman city of Nimes, some 20 miles away, for nearly 600 years.

In the Middle Ages the batteries were cut in the second floor and it was used as a road bridge.

During the 16^th century a degree of restoration work was competed to preserve its integrity.

A road bridge was attached to it 1743- 1747 and finally in 1840 it was classified as an historic monument.

It is a site to be behold.

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