Out and about in the ‘hood: Part 1

Saturday brought heavy cloud and the threat of rain, at least in the valley I was in, so we decided to head out and discover some of the smaller villages close to home. Once out of the valley, the clouds disappeared, and looking back, you could see a horseshoe of anger hanging over the Dieulefit part of the world.

For some reason, the name Suze-la-Rousse had caught my eye during a previous outing, and I decided I wanted to see it. S hadn’t been either, so she decided to come with me. The problem with driving a Twingo is that every gust of wind has the potential to blow you a foot or so in the direction it is blowing, so as the mistral had come up overnight, it felt like I was doing whitewater rafting more than driving a car as we made our way through the valleys. However, the sun had come out, so at least I was getting a health-boosting dose of vitamins as the Twingo was blown into the paths of oncoming trucks.

Suze-la-Rousse was, in the French manner, stunning. To get to the castle, you had to walk through the old town, which was built into the side of the cliff, with tall houses and narrow alleys. It was very quiet for a Saturday afternoon, which suited me, and we made our way up to the castle without seeing anyone. The castle itself was the fiefdom of the seigneurs des Baux d’Orange, who expanded their sphere of influence to take the poor peasants under their wing in the military fortress dominating the castle borough. Then, sometime in the 17th or 18th century, it became a “château de plaisance”, the peasants had to look after themselves, and the seigneurs decided to focus on jeux de paume rather than military endeavours. The bastards. Still, at least they renovated the place so I could have a look around.

The grounds of the castle are very nice, with a dovecoterie or whatever it is called through a long grove of oak trees. But it was the exhibitions on that caught my eye. I like to think I am a fan of museums and the like – but the truth is that my concentration wanders after five minutes and I can’t remember half of what I have seen fifteen minutes after leaving the building. This, though, was just the right size. A series of contiguous rooms, with items of glassware and oenology artifacts displayed tastefully. This, being France, and being the Rhône valley, the glassware went back to something like 100 BC, with incredible pieces of blown crystal from the 15th century, including a wine glass that was so beautiful it made my knees weak. There were amphorae from the first century AD, still intact, and it gave a wonderful overview of what the times were like. Go to Suze-la-Rousse, it is well worth the trip. After that, my appetite had been somewhat whetted and after a quick stop at La-Baume-de-Transit, which was also pretty if somewhat smaller, we moved onto Valréas in search of a late lunch.

While being significantly more beautiful than most towns I have been to, Valréas seemed to have the distinct disadvantage of having recently been attacked by extraterrestrials, who had whisked everyone away to perform invasive biological procedures on them, probably to find out the mysteries of why everything is closed on a Saturday afternoon. It was shocking: the cafés were all set out, still with ashtrays on the tables outside, and menus laid out ready for use. But there was nobody there, either outside or inside. Boulangeries were closed, as was the helpful 24h grocery store and, astoundingly, the Maison de la presse. Maisons de la presse don’t close in the event of nuclear attack, so it was incredible that the extraterrestrials had managed to force its doors shut. We walked and walked, admiring the squares and ubiquitous plane tree-lined avenues. Eventually, a dog crossed our path, but it ignored us. So, we got back into the main square, located our car, and then drove back in the direction of the horseshoe of anger over Dieulefit.