Tour de Provence

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The south of France is one of my favourite places in the world. I had been before, but I’m a firm believer that the best way to experience anywhere is to cycle it. I would be cycling around the world now, if I could fund it. Maybe you steemians can help me achieve that!

Anyway, Cycling around the South of France is a wonderful experience and I spent two weeks on a not too taxing, steady away ride with my old friend Ron, who I met in Australia many a year before.

I flew into Montpelier and got the train up to Avignon, where I was meeting Ron and we were starting our Tour from there. We spent a couple of days and nights in Avignon, just wondering around on the bikes, exploring the beautiful ancient city, steeped in history.

Between 1309 and 1377, during the Avignon Papacy, seven successive popes resided in Avignon and in 1348 Pope Clement VI bought the town from Joanna I of Naples. Papal control persisted until 1791 when, during the French Revolution, it became part of France. Good ole French. Alez les Francias!

And you can see why the popes chose to live there. We were just cycling around, enjoying the laid back atmosphere and the beautiful little Rues. One evening, we were just cycling here there and nowhere and Ron said that he thought we were getting a little lost.

‘But how can we be getting lost if we don’t have a target in the first place?” I quizzed.
‘Oh, yeah,” he said, and we just kept on cycling down the tight rues and before long we were back down one we recognised. Avignon is beautiful. It’s everything you might expect from a French town, and I could still be there now, but I had more of the area to see, so we left the next morning.

Cycling through Provence is amazing. It s so open and surprisingly flat, or at least it is where we went. Just cycling along and coming across emblazoned red poppy fields and the odd Boulangeries was quintessential Provence. We were a couple of months too early for the lavender fields elegant hue, but I do intend to go back there, and I will choose to go when they are in bloom.

At times it was a bit hilly, but nothing compared to the Yorkshire hills I’m used to. And one village we cycled up to called Rousillon was nothing short of magical. A tiny village tucked away at the top of a hill with only a few residents there, and the worn crimson red and ochre yellow washed town houses are again quintessentially French. I need to stop saying quintesstially.

Rousillon used to be part of Catalonia, until Louis XIV claimed it for France. It was a place the Catalan royalty would reside and you can see why they would want to stay there. After colonising Rousillon, Louis XIV ordered the locals to change their cultural identity and become French as it were. They became French citizens, but their Catalan culture still remains today.

It was a Sunday when we rode into Usez, and Sundays in small French towns are pretty much closed. It’s an Islamic town and it has that North African sandstone look to it, but on a Sunday when nobody is about, it has an actual haunted feel. Again, we were cycling everywhere and nowhere, and I was just enjoying seeing the place when Ron said he felt a bit freaked out. I didn’t want to scare him, as I understood exactly what he meant, so I just said it was because it was so quiet.

I guess, tanning it up on a sunny Sunday summer afternoon isn’t something French muslims engage in. Literally, there was nobody about. It was a charming little ghost town, but we wanted to stay, so we soaked it up for a short while longer before finding a bar – empty of course, but selling Stella Artois – full of course, and so we settled there for the rest of the day and evening.

Arles is another surprising little gem. A blue collar city, that I wasn’t expecting too much from, but were we surprised. It’s an old Roman town and the Roman ruins are still pretty much intact.

They’re very impressive to see and a must for any visitor to Arles. But for me, the best thing about Arles - and all the other French towns – is just cycling in and around the wonderful little rues, stopping at les boulangeries, les epiceries, les marches and all the alfresco bars. It, like Provence in general, is a charming place. It’s so quint-… Oh, there I go again. It’s so representative. No, that doesn’t sound nice. It’s so ideal, so classique, so French.

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!steemitworldmap 43.947597 lat 4.807892 long Cycling in the wonderful Provence d3scr