Provence and Occitanie: Day 8

Les Baux-de-Provence and Saint-Remy-de-Provence: Ruins, Ruins, Ruins, Candy Scam, Santons, and Nostradamus

Panorama of Glanum ruins.

Our next day trip out of Avignon into Provence was to a city on a hill, Les Baux-de-Provence. A REAL city on a hill, not the fake one in America (sorry, Boston and John Winthrop). Although I am divorcing my affirmation of this city on a hill from theological considerations (sorry, John Winthrop), one could be forgiven if one gasps at the views from Les Baux-de-Provence and believes one has indeed communed with the almighty. I did not. I simply gasped and believed I had beheld some marvelous views of Provence and the Alpilles.

Stairs leading from small parking lot up to Les Baux-de-Provence.

Located about 24 miles south of Avignon and just northeast of Arles, Les Baux-de-Provence is plopped directly on top of a plateau in the Alpilles (pronounced Al-pee), a small range of rocky hills, crags, and mountains that stretches for a few miles east-to-west in this part of Provence. “Baux” actually refers to a rocky hill or outcrop, thus the literal name. Due to its geographic situation, high upon a rock, the area was easy to defend from foe and became inhabited as early as 6000 BCE. Without going deeply (or at all) into who lived in and controlled Baux throughout the ages, let’s take particular notice that the rulers of the fair ville in medieval times claimed direct descent from the Biblical Magic Magi, Balthazar, he who delivered myrrh to the Baby Jesus after following a star on high. Whether or not one wishes to believe this fantastic claim, these folks did rule here and built a marvelous castle on the cliff side sometime between the 10th and 13th centuries. The remains of the castle still stand and dominate the backdrop of the village to this day.

Les Baux-de-Provence.

About 20 people live in Baux today and yet well over a million visit each year, so prepare in terms of parking if you are driving yourself. We went in early March, so parking was quite easily available, as we also arrived in the mid-morning. Small lots and demarcated street parking dot the narrow, twisting road leading up the hill to Baux. I say narrow, and I mean it. This is a small mountain range, the roads can get tight, and they have very sharp turns. If you are driving, be safe, be calm, watch for the numerous bicyclists who make the climb up to Baux, drive the speed limit (or below), and arrive in one piece. During high-tourist seasons, your best bet would almost assuredly be to take a tour bus from wherever you are staying. I cannot fathom how crowded this area must get June thru August, so be prepared to do battle with traffic and mingle in crowds in the actual village.

Hotel de Manville, City Hall, Les Baux-de-Provence.

Les Baux-de-Provence is rather small. Its old stone buildings rise out of the rock hill as if they were carved directly from the earth. And some were. There is no urban grid that is easy to navigate on ninety degree angles. The narrow stone streets are lined with cafes, restaurants, tourist shops, the Hotel de Manville (city hall and mayor's office), and private residences. Overtourism is definitely a problem in many parts of the world, and Les Baux-de-Provence is certainly not immune during peak months. The “Disneyfication” of residential neighborhoods and the fact that certain parts of cities, where actual people actually live, are turned into virtual theme parks by careless and disrespectful tourists is concerning. Being respectful of the locals (e.g., not taking pictures into windows of residential dwellings) can go a long way. Respecting local customs and mores (not to mention actual laws) is also important. I sound preachy. Just don’t be a jerk. Behave.

The remains of a renaissance-era mansion. The inscription above the window reads "Post Tenebras Lux," a Calvinist saying for "After the Darkness, Light."

While Les Baux-de-Provence may have few residents, it does feature many touristy shops, and restaurants. The prices at these establishments can be high, so be prepared for that if you plan to partake. One of the cool things that turned out to be free is the Musee des Santons. Santons are small human figurines made from an earthen material (terracotta or clay), initially created to represent the Nativity of Christ. Now, santons reflect all aspects of everyday life, mainly pre-industrial scenes. A true folk art, created in Provence. I bought a couple figures at a shop in Baux, and the museum was a nice place to visit. It's very small, just a couple of rooms, but worth a stop.

Santon museum.

My santons, purchased in Baux. The woman is holding a dead chicken covered in blood.

It is nice to stroll around Baux and take in the marvel of what this well-preserved medieval city offers and represents. We were there on a cool, windy, late-winter morning, and the crowds were small (for Baux), and thus our experience was wonderful. We meandered through the stone streets, stopped in a couple shops (where I got my santons and Lani fussed with some nice incense but opted out), and walked to a large open space to the southwest of the village. The rocky, flat plateau offers the perfect panoramic view of the surrounding countryside, all the way to the sea, the Camargue, and with glimpses of the industrial city of Fos-sur-Mer to the southeast.

Windmill ruin, Les Baux-de-Provence.

Out on this rocky outcropping, besides the view, one will also see the remains of a windmill (that may or may not date to the 1600s) and a carved stone monument for Charloun Rieu, a farmer in the 1800s who was also a poet in the Provencal language and is held in high regard for his efforts to celebrate and preserve Provencal. This particular monument was created by Louis Botinelly, of whom I mentioned while discussing our strolls through Marseille in Provence and Occitanie: Day 1. A wonderful and unexpected treat, to see another Botinelly out on a wind-swept plateau.

Monument to Charloun Rieu.

With any location containing a large, concentrated tourist population comes scams. I fell victim to one, and would like to share the dastardly story with you. As you walk around Baux, you may come across a certain candy shop selling nougat. The nougat comes in what looks like large wheels of cheese, while in fact it is delicious candy, spiced, seasoned, and flavored in a wide assortment of yummy manners. An outgoing woman had her display set up outside her shop and offered samples to passersby. I was a passerby. I like candy. I enjoy nougat. I wanted candy. Eating sweets is fun. I procured a wee piece or two and gobbled them. They were quite good. I assured the woman that we would return after our walk to purchase some nougat. I am no liar, dear reader (at least when it comes to French nougat commercial transactions), and we did indeed stop back at the nougat merchant for some goods. I chose a nut-filled gem of a slice, and the woman began to cut with a large knife. Now, be aware, gullible traveler, that when she points to the wheel wedge of wonderful treat that she does so at the center of the circle. She will ask “here” or “more” or “how much” and move the knife ever so little. The outer part of the wheel was not considered by my sugar-thirsty eye and so the “slice” that she chopped was large. Huge. Magnificently magnum. The millimeter of movement in the middle turned to centimeters of costly candy at the margins. She cut, wrapped, weighed, handed me the huge wedge heft, and announced the price before I could say, “Une moment, Madame.” I paid nearly 40 euros for this chunk-o-hunk-o-yummy yum. It was quite humorous, and when I told Lani that I was pretty sure I was just taken advantage of, she nodded and said, “Sounds about right.” We lugged this lunch of sugar and nut with us for the remainder of our trip, and it satiated me throughout. It was delicious, but I would prefer to not spend 40 euros on sweets.

View of the valley below Les Baux-de-Provence with vineyards, olive groves, and mountains beyond.

Despite the end-of-the-visit candy debacle, we nevertheless really enjoyed Baux. As I've said repeatedly, and will surely state again, we take our time in certain spots. We stroll slow, take in scenic views for more than a moment, explore areas others may pass over (like the half hour we spent in the village graveyard), and we mine for minutiae at every opportunity.

Cemetery, Les Baux-de-Provence.

A full three hours was spent climbing around the castle that looms over the city from the east. The castle, or “Chateau des Baux,” dates to the 900s. It costs 10 euros to enter and is well worth the fee. The ruined castle is quite large, covering more than 12 acres, and it has multiple levels, both up up up and subterranean.

Super safe stone staircase with slack rope railing. Chateau des Baux.

We felt like cats on a large, indoor climbing tree, the way we were scampering up and down various staircases. As for these stairs: accessibility is not really a thing at this castle. If you have any issues with mobility or balance, or a fear of heights, you may want to eschew the entrance fee and gaze at the old structure from afar. There are plenty of surface-level spots to explore within the castle and many recreations of siege equipment (a catapult and trebuchet are always appreciated), but even on the surface, it can be quite uneven and perilous. Watch your step, be cautious, and if you are hesitant about climbing, just don’t.

Chateau des Baux with tower.

The views from the high points of the castle are sheer bliss. There are so many stairs and so many different levels to the castle that just when I thought we were done seeing it all, we noticed another flight of narrow, stone stairs (some without railings, EEK!) going even further to the heavens. All of southern Provence, Camargue, and Alpilles stretched forth their arms unto us, as if to say, “Welcome! Gaze upon our lush vineyards and olive groves. Behold our rocky hills and salty marshes.” But as you do this (and yes, olive groves and vineyards stretch all over on the plane below the city and castle), keep an eye on your step.

Plateau de Baux with windmill ruin to the right, Charloun Rieu monument to the left, and the vast Provence countryside stretching to the horizon. Mediterranean Sea on the far horizon.

Chateau des Baux is marvelous, and we enjoyed the many hours we spent climbing up and down and getting the full grasp of the glory of the ground upon which we gazed. There are plenty of explanatory markers (multilingual) throughout to help you understand what you are looking at in the ruins of the stone complex. If you are physically able, you should definitely pay the 10 euros and visit the castle.

Chateau des Baux. Note replica siege weapons on the plain below the castle.

We left Les Baux de Provence to drive about ten miles north on the pleasantly curved and hair-pinned roadways through the Alpilles. Just outside the mountain range, on the northern foothills, one will come to the village of Saint-Remy-de-Provence, a burgh of about ten thousand people. Saint-Remy is a well-to-do hamlet with a cute city center lined with, wait for it… shops, cafes, and boutiques catering to the tourist euro. Its little, oval-shaped town center is perfect for a slow saunter through the narrow French village rues and passages that I have come to simply adore.

Saint-Remy village proper held one special point of interest for me (of which we shall return), but it’s really to the outskirts of town that one will want to turn one's ever-roving tourist eye, for just south of Saint-Remy-de-Provence lie not one but two destinations that will leave both lasting impressions and have you saying “Well that’s pretty darned cool!.”

The ruins at Glanum, outside Saint-Remy-de-Provence.

The Glanum Ruins are a well-preserved city of stone that has been the site of archeological exploration for well over a century. I was under the impression that Glanum was purely a Roman creation until I read that the Salyans (whom we encountered in the Musee Granet in Aix in Provence and Occitanie: Day 4), Celtic folk from this area, had a settlement here as early as 4 BCE. The city then came to be dominated by the Greeks from Massilia, then those pesky Romans. Regardless as to just who, or what, culture had the most influence on the layout of the city, the Glanum ruins are a destination in-and-of-itself.

Remains of The Forum at Glanum Ruins.

A house at Glanum.

As I said, it’s a whole-ass town, complete with private residences, shops, a forum, baths, government buildings, temples, and fresh water sources. It’s a 9-euro entry fee, with an audio guide option (we did not do the audio tour). For the price of a really bad fast food meal, you can wander the streets and poke into the homes of long-ago Rome and Gaul and get a sense as to how small people were back then. I am not joking. They were short. While the acreage of Glanum is vast and quite impressive, what really gives a sense of scale in terms of the size, or lack of size, of the population are the petite structures. The lanes are narrow, the homes small, and the forum compact. It was supposedly a wealthy settlement, so the fact that these structures are visibly smaller than what we know today is testament to the wee-little-guy nature of the ancients.

A house at Glanum.

Despite my averring that all the previously mentioned Glanum buildings are in existence, remember that they are ruins. There be no roofs down yonder Glanum way. The fact that I even know what some of the structures are/were is due to the painstaking work of a century’s worth of archaeological excavation and historical know-how. That, and the pleasant staff at the site who not only gave a paper brochure guide in multiple languages but also offer the audio tour and have placed rather useful placards and kiosks throughout the ruins to explain just what you are looking at. I know my way around a modern city and can discern the difference between a temple, a grocery store, and a private home, but in Glanum, I needed all the help I could get. If you can tell the difference between the stone formations at Glanum without the guidebook, placards, or audio tour then you, gentle reader, are a PhD in Ancient History or a liar wearing a pair of those Google glasses thingies and cheating your way through life. Don’t cheat at Glanum, just love it and soak it in. The only structure I could maybe make out on my own was the spring water source, I think. There was a stone building with fresh water still inside. And fish. There were fish in there. Koi or goldfish, I believe. Ancient, Roman goldfish, assuredly.

Ancient Roman fish in the spring well at Glanum.

There is one aspect of Glanum that really sticks in my head that has nothing really to do with the ruins. Off to the side, up a rather steep stone climbing path and stairs, there’s an overlook that gives a good view of the valley, or ravine, in which Glanum sits. But, more than that is the view of far off lands. Glanum still sits right on the edge of the Alpilles, so it’s quite elevated, and the eye can see afar. The signage at the lookout pointing out different landmarks states that the Alps can be seen from Glanum, which is pretty cool, if you ask me, which you didn’t, but you are reading this and that is tacit consent.

View of the Alps from Glanum.

Reconstruction of the Temple of the Imperial Cult at Glanum.

Once again, we wandered this quiet, empty, ancient city, tucked in a vale by trees and mountains for much longer than I thought we would. And once again, since it was off-season for tourism, we shared this large space with very few other people. Super convenient parking is right outside the site, across the rather busy highway D5, so be careful on your trek across the road. You cannot miss the parking lot as it’s right next to two ruins, conveniently moved out of the main ruins to a field abutting the highway. You can see the Arch of Glanum and the Mausoleum of Glanum from the comfort of your car if you don’t wish to venture forth in the ruins proper, which you should. Glanum is really neat.

Roman mausoleum outside Glanum near the parking lot.

Besides, unless you park your car in the lot, how else would you be able to walk north along D5 to the next fabulous site, right next door to the Roman ruins. Saint-Paul de Mausole is a former Benedictine Monastery turned psychiatric hospital. Its most famous patient was Vincent Van Gogh.

In 1889, a few months after cutting his ear and giving part of it to an employee at a brothel, Van Gogh, with the assistance of his brother Theo, was able to secure two rooms at Saint-Paul de Mausole, one as his personal quarters and one as a studio. It was here that Van Gogh painted some of his most cherished and well-known masterpieces, including The Starry Night. Amazingly, Saint-Paul de Mausole is still a functioning clinic (with an art therapy program), with a portion of the grounds and building open to the public as a museum and monument to Van Gogh.

Interior of Saint-Paul du Mausole Hospital grounds.

We had not planned to go inside the building but rather decided to simply stroll the ground and have a look around. One of my favorite travel blogs, Teaspoon of Adventure, explored the grounds and inside and came to a reasonable conclusion about it. We took the advice of “Teaspoon” and planned a nice, quick walk complete with a few pictures and good memories. The point quickly became moot when we arrived just as the entrance gate to the monastery building and inner grounds was being closed for the day. We were not heartbroken, as there were still a few Van Gogh placards (like those dotting Arles in Provence and Occitanie: Day 7) lining the route to the hospital grounds. The olive trees, even when not in bloom, help one imagine what Van Gogh saw when he was there, and create some pretty pictures.

An old cabestan.

There is also a really neat pre-industrial cabestan off to the side. A cabestan is an old pulley system used to lift extremely heavy objects, in this case (I believe) it was used for stone mining. I could be wrong about that, but I do know that day became the first time I visited the mental hospital where Vincent Van Gogh stayed, a large ruined remains of a Roman city, and Nostradamus’ birth home!

The house where Nostradamus grew up.

What was that last item? Something about Nostradamus? The medieval alchemist who many believe predicted future events? Harken back to when I said Saint-Remy-de-Provence held one interesting location that I really wanted to see, and you will be able to divine that I was referring to the home in which Michel de Nostredam was raised. Truth be told, I have no great interest in Nostradamus. I have never read his prophesies nor had I done any research into his life prior to planning this trip. I also do not believe he predicted the rise of Hitler or the fall of the Twin Towers. I simply think seeing places less spectacular that still have historical resonance and significance is fun. And, the fact that Nostradamus came up a few times on this trip’s itinerary (he was kicked out of medical school in Montpellier, but that is a story for another blog entry), I figured we had to see the Nostradamus house.

Fontaine with Four Dolphins, Place Jules Pellissier, Saint-Remy-de-Provence.

After driving into Saint-Remy and parking at the Office of Tourism (super simple to find, directly north of Glanum on the same street), Nostradamus’ digs were easy to find, at 6 Rue Hoche, to the southwest side of the grand oval that is Saint-Remy town center. We walked around a bit and discovered quite a few really nice fountains, including a “Quatre Dauphins” fountain, similar to the famous one in Aix-en-Provence and the “Fontaine Nostradamus” which you can find on Rue Nostradamus.

Fontaine Nostradamus.

It was all quite fun. It was the off-season, and we had the streets almost to ourselves, as it was the hour of the day when people had already headed home from work or school, and the cafes and restaurants had yet to open for dinner. It was quiet. It was nice. Except for that one older woman who scowled at me as I was exclaiming joy over the Fontaine Nostradamus, Saint-Remy is pleasant and offers some of the more interesting building facades and small details that we simply love to discover when slow walking about in these areas with old buildings. I wouldn’t want to be there during peak months, as I am certain it gets quite congested and prices quite high, but for our purposes that day it really hit the spot.

Les toilettes aux Saint-Remy.

Not only did we get to see the birth home of a real person whose reputation has now grown to that of mythic proportions and whose name has become something of an eponym, but I also got to go into, and utilize, one of the oddest public bathrooms I have ever seen. It’s on the rear of city hall and just sits, door ajar to the narrow street, inviting any and all to use its useful utilities. I did. Lani could see me from outside. How quaint.

We drove back to Avignon, calm and satisfied with a day of exploring Provence in a way that we really could not have imagined before diving into planning this trip. It all worked out marvelously and the only thing left to do was procure an evening meal. We opted not for a restaurant, but rather went to the grocery store a few minute’s walk from our hotel in Avignon and bought up a fine assortment of goods that turned into a true French repast. We got bread, olives, three cheeses, a cheese dip, some chips and crackers, an apple, tomato, wine, sardines, mackerel, and an orange. We were all set! We even had a huge wedge of nougat! We dined and drank, enjoying our two-balcony room, reminisced, looked at our day’s photos and videos, and basked in the glory of all things Glanum, Baux, and Saint-Remy. It was good that we weren’t going out that night, for we had another driving day ahead of us. Nimes and Pont du Gard were on the agenda for the morrow, two spectacular places. Stay tuned for the next entry to get the goods on all things Nimes.

Hotel dinner. Note nougat in the paper at the top.