Memories of July

A quite day amidst chaos

How strange to simply lie abed. Still, quiet, surrounded by the sounds of my island. The birds singing as the sun rose gave way to the screeching cicadas. The distant train to the west competed with the road across the Rhône to the east. My little camper van was at first a touch chilly, and then gradually warmer and warmer. The mosquito net over my head (a recent purchase) kept the pesky bugs at bay.

I slept in.

Ahhhhh.

A slow emersion from my cocoon. A book came to hand. And why not? What a luxury to read in bed in the morning before my tea and breakfast. No immediate agenda before me. Just a couple of possibilities. Thus, slowly, leisurely, I awoke, became vertical, straightened out my little space, did a bit of sweeping, enjoyed the gentle breezes in my green world, read more, sipped my tea, and eventually dressed and headed into town to lunch with a dear friend: she of the Thai massage skills. As we sat and nibbled a simple vegetarian menu many an actor, dancer, singer came by to give us their pamphlets (tractes), with some looking really quite good. I'll be able to plan my last week in Avignon before heading to Michigan with pleasure.

Yesterday I finished my Five day bike tour of the Provence villages in the Alpilles to acclaim from my very lovely guests. Ahhhh. 120 kilometers or so we accomplished this week. Much of it late morning. Between and betwixt I nestled in visits to my artisans, some nice lunches and even a nap upon the rushes of the fresh clipped olive branches in the shade of the olive trees. And truly, at least three of us could be heard to snore!

It was an energetic week to put it lightly.

To cap it off, I enjoyed an evening out with my new Franco-American friends aswirl in the crowds of the Theatre festival. Till, that long in coming "coup de pompe" fell upon me and home and bed were all I truly wanted.

And thus, a day between days, a day between outings, a day of my own making. Hmmmm Maybe next time I get one of these I'll find time for yoga?

Theater in Avignon

Just before departing for the States to be with my family amidst the woods and lakes of Northern Michigan, I revisited my city on the opening day of the celebrated Festival d'Avignon. I, unfortunately, had neglected to put the chip back into my camera, so the following images are all cell phone quality. Sorry! however, the vibrancy, joy, excitement and hoopla were fully present. We wondered down the main drag to the tourist office to grab the large book of "festival-off" offerings -- always interesting, rarely expensive, and happening at all hours of the day.

A short time settled in a cafe, the book at hand to flip through, artists and hired hands putting flyers in our hands, we contemplated the evening's offerings. It was uncontested that we view the performance of my renters -- five enthusiastic parisians of all sizes and shapes commentating the festival, but what would come next? Chinese dance? comédiens déjonctés? Penis monologues? Jean Cocteau? Shakespeare in French put to music? The options were infinite.

In many ways though, going to a small theater and viewing actors on stage is great, but, watching the live theater as it unfolded in the streets and on the squares... now that was truly worth the trip.