Dispatch from Aix-En-Provence, France - Who Cez'?

Yesterday, I arrived in Aix-En-Provence by train from Paris. On the way, I first realized that I was in Provence when the train stopped between Marseilles and Aix. I looked up from my reading to see a grimy little train station but all around it and the tracks were vibrant, red, wild poppies. 

In Aix, I am staying at a fantastic boutique hotel, Hotel Cezanne, near the train station. The name should have tipped me off. Aix is all about it's most famous son, the painter Cezanne. As I explore the city, I realize that you can't swing an empty pastis bottle without hitting something named after the artist, favored by the artist, or savored by the artist - Cezanne's home, Cezanne's studio, Cezanne's street, Cezanne's grave, Cezanne's favorite restaurant, Cezanne's bar. Cez', Cez', Cez'. I even saw a t-shirt that said, "Cezanne is my Homeboy". This is all ironic given that for much of his life, Aix's bourgeoisie ridiculed Cezanne and his art. 

Anyhoo, Aix is a beautiful city and an easy one to navigate on foot. Many of the buildings have tile roofs and ochre-colored walls. The buildings contrast brilliantly against the deep cobalt-blue sky. Parts of the city seem to jump from a Cezanne painting. 

Earlier today, after exploring Aix, I decided to head east and hike the route named after...3 guesses and the first 2 don't count...Cezanne. You can drive it, bike it, or walk it and see the countryside that Cezanne so loved and painted. I decided to walk it like Cezanne did. A guide book that I read said it is a "lovely stroll". What a crock. It is lovely indeed, but it is not a stroll. It is a trek for the adventurous and unflappable.

The sidewalks, however thin in town, disappear and the road is narrow. You have to cross back and forth on the road to pick the side with the widest shoulder while cars, trucks, and motorbikes whiz by. It is not some country road. It is the D17 highway. And there are a lot of hills.

But if you make the trek, your determination is rewarded. The further you go out of town, the more breathtaking the views (in part, because you are out of breath from hiking).

A few times during my trek outbound, I thought I should turn back. But then the traffic started lightening, and I began seeing picturesque fields, trees, hills, and streams. In my beloved late afternoon light, these scenes were so stunning that they seemed unreal. The sheer beauty energized me to forge on. 

At one point, I wandered off the road and up a path. After awhile, it opened onto a hilly field of wild flowers and cypress trees, behind which was a tile-roofed mas (farmhouse) tucked amid a forest of trees, and Mont St. Victoire in the background, with that blue, blue Provencal sky framing everything. I just stood there for awhile stunned by the beauty and the sensory assault. A light breeze was delivering the smell-o-vision of the flowers, grasses, and trees. I could even smell the sunshine. I felt this unbridled sense of freedom. I could not believe I was experiencing this. I'm not too proud to admit that I teared up a little and, inappropriately, felt the urge to bust into "The hills are alive...".


There is a bus that you can take back to Aix if you only want to make the trek one way. But I decided to walk back and, as is often the case, the return trip seemed much shorter. I was rewarded by seeing a picturesque olive grove that I missed on the way out, while I was running the gauntlet. My only close encounter on the inbound was with a "femme rotund" on a scooter who was buzzing along the side of the road and almost clipped me with one of her saddlebags (at least I think it was a saddlebag...).

Now I'm back in my cozy hotel room enjoying a glass of local rose wine while I process my day. Though the day started with me exploring beautiful Aix, the image of that field and the trees in the country with Mont St. Victoire in the background is what is stuck in my mind. At the top of the mountain, I could make out the stone walls of Les Baux. 

I remember being in Provence years ago with my folks. We stayed in a beautiful hotel in the country near Les Baux and explored the countryside by car taking day trips into towns. I remember standing on the stone walls of Les Baux at the top of Mont St. Victoire, with a mistral-like wind blowing, looking down on the very valley and fields that I was standing in today. 

I realize that, while the many towns and cities of Provence are beautiful, my Provence is the countryside. It is truly unique and entirely unforgettable.