I’m on my 10th day in Provence. It’s raining, cold, and I’ve got a set of some seriously painful blisters I earned from a day of walking around in a new pair of weather sturdy yet fashionable and not-so-comfortable boots I brought (tennis shoes are not acceptable in France!).
I have been enjoying myself, even in the rain, because for me this trip is more than a sight seeing mission. It’s an opportunity to spend time with a friend, to disconnect from my daily life, to live like the European that I feel I am (and am by virtue of dual passports), and to inspire my creative juices to start flowing. Provence is the perfect place for this.
I’ve been writing a few pages each day, which is the first real writing I’ve done in years. Funny how high pressured sales management jobs can suck all the deep thinking right out of you. For years I’ve been unable to muster the clarity of thought necessary to put any words to paper.
Now from the window of my Avignon apartment, overlooking the slick wet burnt orange rooftops, just in view of the golden statue atop the Palais du Papes, after 10 days of exploring Provence and adjusting to my Frenchman’s ways again (he’s got his oddities as I’ve got mine and it’s been almost 4 months since I have spent this much time with him) I feel at home. I don’t feel like a temporary visitor anymore, nor do I feel the pressure to accomplish a dozen things today, because I’m leaving in two days time.
I had a temporary surge of panic yesterday afternoon while strolling through one of the small villages in the Luberon arm in arm with Sebastian, commenting on the way the evening light softened everything and made it even more beautiful. I realized that days like this were almost over. He had to go back to work Monday morning (today) and I would be using my last few days to explore on my own. While I love exploring on my own, the realization that my time being personally chauffered and translated for and walking hand in hand with someone through picturesque little towns was over made my heart sink a little.
I had planned to travel by train to Marseille today, to explore the great city, walk the harbor, climb the hill to the Notre Dame de la Garde and take a long lunch somewhere in a bustling neighborhood. The weather had predicted a clear day for today and I was more than ready to be dry and warm for a change. This morning, however, looking out the window at the rain and cold, I am once again reminded about how absolutely quickly the weather can change in Provence.
C’est la vie! I can’t let a little rain stop me from seeing something new today. It’s a good thing I packed my wooly sweaters, warm socks and water proof shell :). Even in the rain, Provence is beautiful.