After four days in Roussillon, it was time to move. We found an Airbnb in the smaller town of Lauris. There’s really nothing of note in Lauris which made it sound attractive.
Lauris was only eleven miles south of Roussillon, but with a little zig-zagging we could see some sights. We stopped in Ménerbes and walked up to the castle. Like so many of the towns in Provence, Ménerbes was built on the top of a hill.
Ménerbes was was the site of an amazing siege during the religious wars of the sixteenth century. This was papal territory and the Protestants decided to tweak the pope’s nose by holing up in Ménerbes. The pope eventually sent 15,000 soldiers to roust out the Protestants. It took five years to do it.
We had time to kill before checking in to our Airbnb and a sidewalk café is the perfect place to kill time productively sipping a cup of coffee and watching the life of the village go by.
We stopped next in the town of Bonnieux which is built on an even higher hill than Ménerbes. The guide book said the town is “disappointing” but we found a good cliffside spot to eat our lunch.
Our descent down to Lauris was on an endless series of quick switchbacks. I wanted to take them slowly but the locals wanted to joyride, so whenever I had the chance I pulled over and let them pass.
Before driving to Lauris, we stopped in the nearby town of Lourmarin. Lourmarin has a Château in good condition which always turns a town into a tourist hotspot. I was interested in the cemetery where Albert Camus is buried.
I used to like Camus before I knew what existentialism was about. Most tombs in French cemeteries are large and ornate. The whole family goes into one sarcophagus like a big bed. On top of the waist level lid there often numerous small marble memorials with regrets from living family members and hunting buddies. Apparently there is no fear vandals will walk of with these memorials.
Camus’s grave just had a simple stone with his name and the dates 1913-1960. Camus grew up in the French colony of Algeria. He was forced to leave during the war for Algerian independence and settled in Lourmarin because the area reminded him of his childhood home. This surprised me, but I realized coastal Algeria would be as fertile as anywhere else along the Mediterranean. That’s why France wanted it.
Ennaways, we had turned an eleven mile journey into a long day jaunt. We stopped at a Super U supermarket near our future home and stocked up on supplies. The supermarkets sell baguettes but they are inferior to those of the neighborhood boulangeries.
Our hostess had texted us the code to the electric gate in front of the house. It was rare to see a house without an electric gate. The French value their privacy. Perhaps they just like to run around naked even in town.
Céline, like our other hosts, was extremely pleasant and accommodating. Our little apartment was next to her family home. Our place was one large room ending in a terrace overlooking the Durance river and the distant mountains. The one downside was the sleeping quarters up a narrow flight of open stairs. Headroom was limited and there was a low beam which I was not to learn to duck under during our four day stay.
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