A Weekend in Provence

Saturday

An early start. We were instructed to meet at the train station at 7:40 am. The DePaul students all sat together before realizing that the group across the aisle from us was going on the trip as well.

A couple groans and confused looks crossed our faces as we realized that we would have to make friends with people in a group that outnumbered us. Plus it was early and we were not exactly in the mood to make pleasant conversation with strangers; except Brad. Brad is always in the mood to make pleasant conversation.

We boarded the train and found our seats. Headphones went in and eyes shut as the train started its three hour journey to Avignon. I, of course, slept the majority of the time, but when I did have my eyes open, I tried to appreciate the beautiful landscape outside the windows. The countryside was hilly and the further away from Paris we went, the more I could see features of my hometown in the little villages we swept past. The towns were much older and had a lot more character than my own, but before I could wonder who would ever want to live in such a desolate area, I remembered all of my own great memories in my small town and sat back with a smile.

When we got off at the Avignon station, we boarded the bus and the guide from our school, Jean-Pierre, gave us a quick overview of our schedule. I quickly realized that we would not be checking into the hotel for a couple more hours and immediately regretted my decision to dress comfortably that morning. Wearing a DePaul tee shirt and leggings, I was horribly underdressed compared to my peers, which I usually don’t mind, but being underdressed compared to the locals was an embarrassing giveaway to the fact that I was a tourist. Oh well, I would never see these people again anyway.

On the way to Avignon, Jean-Pierre told us more about its history. I was pleased to find out that I knew a little of what he was saying. This made me happy because I am usually clueless when it comes to history. Basically, the papacy, or the popes, relocated to Avignon for about 70 years in the 14th century because Rome was becoming increasingly dangerous for them. When they went back to Rome, the castle in Avignon was left empty and was eventually turned into a museum that we were signed up to tour that afternoon. Until then, we were free to roam and find lunch.

We were dropped off outside of the city because the buses are not allowed inside the ancient walls: I’m sure for a good reason. We walked into the city and were immediately greeted with a stand that sold lavender. Jean-Pierre informed us that Provence was well known for growing lavender and that this would not be the first time that we would see such a stand.

We rounded a couple narrow corners and found the castle at the center of the village. It was absolutely giant and exactly what you would expect from a royal castle built in the middle ages. After a few photos, the group walked over to the row of outdoor restaurants and we were assaulted with eager restaurant owners trying to lure us in to spend too much money on pizza. After a few overwhelming minutes of the large group not being able to make a decision, I broke off with my friend Chanel and we snagged cheap sandwiches at a hole in the wall establishment. After we ate, we stopped into a couple shops and were soon ready to join the group at our predetermined meeting place.

The school schedule us to have a guided audio tour that included iPads. While the iPads were pretty sophisticated in the way that they followed you through the castle and showed you images of what the rooms looked like back in the 1300s, they were a bit of a pain to carry around and distracted from what was actually in front of you. That being said, I appreciated the audio because I would not have known what I was looking at without it.

I spent much more time in the castle than I thought I would. I found it funny that I was standing in what was at one point one of the most holy places on earth. I couldn’t help but wonder how mad the popes of the past would be if they knew I was walking through their castle wearing my leggings and Doc Martins, carrying my iPhone, and taking photos of where they used to keep the money locked up. My favorite part was the view from the top of the spire. You could see the rest of the castle, a couple taking their wedding photos, a lot of the bustling town, and in the distance, a couple mountains. Even in the rain, it was beautiful.

I walked out just in time to meet the rest of the group and walk back to the bus. We had about 45 minutes before our next stop and I listened to music and dozed off before we found ourselves in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. Luckily we weren’t lost, we were only at the entrance of the vineyard where we would have our wine tasting.

We walked into a fairly small room with a counter and a shelf filled with bottles of wine for sale. The French couple explained that we would be tasting six different wines and gave brief instructions on how to correctly sample the wine. The woman held her glass up to the light, swirled it around, smelled it, and when she finally sipped it, she did so as a toddler would by letting air in her mouth to make a slurping sound. After a few short seconds, she spit the wine into the sink. She went on to explain that doing this ensured the best analysis of the flavors, but spitting out perfectly good wine did not register in our young American minds.

We sampled one white, two rose, and three red wines while taking breaks to snack on the delicious hors d'oeurves they provided to ensure we didn’t leave a little too happy. At the end of the tasting, they offered the bottles of the wine that we sampled for a very reasonable price and I left with my favorite rose.

After another thirty minutes on the bus, we finally arrived at our hotel which was conveniently isolated from the small town just enough to ensure that no one would be leaving for the night. While I know why the school would do this on purpose, I was still just a little bit disappointed. Nevertheless, my roommate and I unpacked our things, I finally changed into an outfit I deemed presentable, and we explored the gardens that surrounded the small hotel.

Coming across a pool, I stripped off my socks and stepped in onto the first step. The water was absolutely freezing, but I announced that I would be jumping in later that night. Only one of my friends supported me enough to offer to go with me, and the agreement was made.

We joined the rest of the group for dinner in the small dining room off of the lobby and were quickly welcomed with baskets of bread. Salad, lasagna with salmon, and a delicious dessert that consisted of lemon tarte and honey more than satisfied my need for a meal.

I joined a group in the lobby and was reintroduced to a game called Mafia. We passed a couple of hours blaming each other and lying until we decided to gather the troops for a swim. The word had spread that a few of us were going to jump in a before we knew it, there were about ten people waiting by the pool in tee shirts, boxers, dresses, anything extra that we could get our hands on without ruining the clothes that we needed for the next day. I was the only one with a swim suit because my heart knew that I would pull a stunt like this while I was packing.

After a few confused minutes filled with anxiety, my friend Emily was pushed into the water by our new friend Serge. As soon as I saw it happen, I knew that I had to go in with her. We all jumped in and felt the coldest rush since we had landed in Paris. After just a few moments of screaming and laughing, we ran out and grabbed whatever we brought to dry off. While it had definitely been a while since I had subjected myself to such cold conditions, it was definitely worth it as both groups finally seemed to fuse.

Sunday

Sunday morning, I woke up and got myself ready for a French breakfast. I ate loads of chocolate croissants and some sort of cake that I doused in raspberry jam. Needless to say, French breakfasts mostly consist of bread in all shapes and sizes.

After packing up, we checked out of the hotel and boarded the bus. On the way, our trusty guide asked us to tell him what we had done the night before. Nervously laughing, we admitted that we had taken a quick dip in the pool. Expecting to be lectured, we were all pleasantly surprised when he smiled and asked if we were wearing any clothes during our adventure. Obviously amused by us, Jean-Pierre laughed with us at his own joke and went on with his narration of the countryside.

The bus took us to a small town with a huge market. We had a couple hours to wander and find food. After a while of shopping the stands and having to talk myself out of several purchases, my little group and I decided on some spring rolls and gelato for lunch.

When the whole group met again, we boarded to bus and arrived in yet another scenic small town about 30 minutes later. This one was quite literally on the side of a mountain. We hiked a nearby trail and got some great views of the mountain, which had a unique red color, and the valley below. After our hike, we may or may not have bought more gelato and walked up to the top of the village which gave us the best view yet.

Up there, where you could see for miles, I felt incredibly content. I must say that my vanilla and lavender cone of ice cream most likely helped, but it seemed as though the day, and the whole weekend, went perfectly. We knew that the next stop for us was the train station so we took the time to enjoy the last few relaxing minutes and the beautiful view before we had to leave.

Once at the station, we had some time to kill which most of us spent listening to music, reading, writing, sketching, or napping. After about an hour, Jean-Pierre reported that our train was scheduled to arrive two hours late and that we needed to rush to the platform so that we could take an earlier train that was on its way. We hurried to the waiting area and made it just a couple minutes before its arrival. We found our seats and I was lucky enough to sit by a fellow student who knew Beyonce was performing at Coachella. He was also willing to live steam the concert on his phone. I spent the majority of the three hour train ride watching Beyonce perform as the first black female headliner at Coachella. If that isn’t a great way to end a great weekend, I don’t know what is.

As great as this weekend was, I really didn’t think much about it before it started. The excursions are pretty much mandatory for us and all I knew was that I was supposed to be at the train station on Saturday morning with a bag packed for the weekend. While I still have a lot of time left in Paris and plan to take more weekend trips, I’m sure that this will stand out as a great memory for me.