Provence and Occitanie: Fin
- lendroitheureux
- Jan 18
- 13 min read
La Sainte Trinite
Museums, menus, and monuments. For me, these three constitute the holy trinity of attractions I seek out while traveling. For some, the troika may include beaches, boardwalks, and bungee jumping. Or, scuba, surfing, and sailing. Regardless as to the letter of alliteration one may be drawn to (and there is no need to limit the fun to alliterative words nor three items), we each have our wheelhouse; our jam to which we knowingly nod and declare, “I shall go there, do that, and enjoy!” Montpellier, France offered unto me a perfect and accessible combination of museums, menus, and monuments.
I say “accessible” not because I am disabled (although, for people with mobility issues some of the monuments discussed herein are not readily enjoyed) but rather because I am thinking of crowds at certain museums that create barriers for enjoying some of the most popular and visited “attractions.” I won’t name names, but there is a picture that rhymes with “nona nisa” in a certain museum that rhymes with “oeuvre” in a room that was so crowded and with so much noise that when we visited I felt as if we were at a music festival. In fact, one young gent had hoisted his female companion upon his shoulders and she was sitting, gap-legged with head a-crotch, cheering for the Mona… ahem, unnamed painting. At the Musée Fabre in Montpellier there were no such nuisances.
While we weren’t the only visitors when we stopped by on a Tuesday mid-morning, our compatriots in art appreciation were in small, quiet, tidy groups. The one exception came in the form of a gaggle of children being led around on a tour, whom we tried to ditch and escape from for many gallery rooms and halls, only to stumble back into them a number of times. The child-filled chambers were actually rather humorous and more of a chuckle than an irritation.
Musée Fabre was founded in 1825 by Montpellierain Francois-Xavier Fabre, a painter of some small renown, a number of whose works grace the walls of this eponymous repository. But, if you are paying even a modicum of attention while strolling and pacing the halls and galleries (with hands behind your back, as you should in a fine art museum), you cannot but become soon aware of the omnipresence of one Alfred Bruyas. Bruyas was another budding Montpellierain artist, but unlike master Fabre, young Bruyas quickly realized he, well, kinda sucked. He ditched brush and pallet for wallet and wall space, becoming one of the region’s leading art patrons.
Apparently, Bruyas commissioned many portraits of himself and since he donated his collection to Musée Fabre his face is seemingly everywhere within. There are standard, posed portraits like those painted by Thomas Couture and Gustave Courbet. There is also the quite astounding Le Christ couronné d'épines (Christ Crowned with Thornes) by Marcel Antoine Verdier, which depicts Alfred Bruyas in the guise of Jesus Christ, crowned in thorns and surrounded by a bright, holy aura. According to the label in the museum, this painting had some kind of profound effect on Paul Gauguin and Vincent Van Gogh when they journeyed to Montpellier from Arles to walk the halls of Musée Fabre in 1888. I have read about how Van Gogh had an hours-long freakout when he first laid eyes on Rembrandt’s The Jewish Bride in the brand new Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, so I can only imagine what he said and did with his buddy Gauguin when he gazed upon Verdier’s blasphemous brushing. Regardless, be prepared to become well acquainted with Monsieur Bruyas when you visit Musée Fabre.
One memorable painting in which Bruyas is central is the scenic countryside view of a bourgeois brunch, titled Le Champagne or Souvenir des Pyrenees (Memory of the Pyrenees) by Auguste Bathelemy Glaize. Bruyas gave financial support to Glaize, thus this idyllic image with the white-coated impresario brightly emblazoned in the smack-dab center portrays the patron in a very positive figurative light as well as the the brightest literal light on the canvas. Bruyas is toasting a comely lass (or two?) without any scandalous touching. In fact, none of the men in the picture are behaving improperly, opting instead to stare dreamily at the comely lasses or merely puff on a cigar and gaze toward the heavens. The painter himself looks upon the tame bacchanalia from the shadows at the top left, sketching the scene. The only hint of lusty lasciviousness amongst the surely inebriated youth (there are at least five empty wine bottles on the picnic blanket) is another comely lass staring directly out at the viewer while biting suggestively into a red apple.
The lack of subtlety with the apple imagery and the gaze of the woman contrast with the well-behaved mannerisms of the rest of the picnic partiers and is quite suggestive. She is also painted in a bright glow as she sits next to another woman. As far as I can tell, these two make the only skin-on-skin contact (a hand to a bare back) in the entire picture (save a woman holding a newborn). So amongst all the innocent afternoon acquaintances, these women may just be the only ones harboring deep, naughty, secret desires. Memories of the Pyrenees indeed!
Apart from the steady and constant gaze of Alfred Bruyas (Bro is everywhere! It might be insufferable if it weren’t so humorous.), the main anticipated highlight for me was the collection of paintings by neo-impressionist Fredric Bazille. Bazille, an outsized influence during his short life, was a large presence during our trip through this part of Southern France. We came across him at Aigues-Mortes and in Montpellier where he was painted into an extraordinary, lifelike mural. I had done a bit of reading on Bazille and was excited about seeing the large collection in Fabre. I was not disappointed. We were able to see Bazille’s Les Ramparts des Aigues-Mortes, Jeune femme aux Pivoines, and L’Atelier de la rue de Furstenberg among others. My two favorite paintings, and perhaps Bazille’s most famous, are La vue de Village and La Toilette. In fact, I almost immediately procured a print of La Vue de Village for my own humble apartment wall when I returned home.
Musée Fabre is pleasure. A delight! A treasure house of works spanning a few centuries with a focus on the French neo-classical, classical, and modern (19th and early 20th centuries). There are some fine works by artists from the Low Countries (Berckheyde, Ruckaert, Rubens, and Brueghel) and some earlier works from the 15th and 16th centuries, including a selection of sculptures. One will be able to appreciate Monet, Degas, Manet, Delacroix, Renoir, Matisse, and another of my top-notch faves, Berthe Morisot.
The only issue I have with Fabre, as will all museums of this sort, is that there was no cafe or restaurant on the premises. Three hours of artful wandering is quite a long time for me and can be quite taxing. The intellectual rigor itself requires copious amounts of caffeine to continue. Thus, every museum should have a place to nosh or even get a small espresso (sorry, the French call it expresso). This is a minor quibble though, as we had seen pretty much everything we desired when we dipped out to relax at a cafe, and what we didn't see gives yet another reason to return to Montpellier.
Speaking of cafes and sustenance, let's move on to the “menus” portion of this three-coursed blog post. I discussed the labyrinth area of old central Montpelier known as l’Eccuson in Provence and Occitanie: Day 12. Within its twisty-turny, narrow, tight lanes and rues exists a plethora of dining options ranging from the quick ready-made to the coffee/tea/cake cafes to the more upscale, Michelin-starred restaurants. You could do what we did and sample a bit from all options. We went to not one but two cat cafes (Le Chat Gourmand and La Maison des Chats) where the felines roamed with nary a “mew,” the cafe au lait is served up with perfect froth, and the sweets are abundant. If you're lucky, one of the furry babies will hop into your lap, as we actually got to experience, to grace you with their presence. But mostly the cats will just ignore you or watch with disapproving eyes.
We enjoyed fish and chips at U-Fish on a secluded corner of the labyrinth abutting a hipster/punk bar, Black Out. The fish was perfectly breaded and fried to that deep golden-brown crisp that would be the envy of any English or Dutch. Viva La France! We sat outside and were virtually elbow-to-elbow with the denizens of Black Out, who, as I kept repeating, were my kind of people and with whom I wanted to hang out. Except they were all younger, more heavily tattooed and pierced, cooler, and better looking than I. But still. My kind of people.
We enjoyed coffee at a number of cafes, and beer and wine at a number of others. All a treat, and all tucked into, or against, the comforting and confining walls of l’Eccuson. A joy! Perhaps the highlight, the pinnacle, the piece de resistance of our culinary explorations throughout Southern France was our meal at Reflet d’Obion, a one-star Michelin restaurant on the western edge of l’Eccuson and so close to Jardin des Plantes that you could get to the beautiful botanicals faster than you could say amuse-bouche.
Reflet d’Obion is on Rue Jean Jacque Rousseau, across the street from Restaurant Petit Jardin, another Michelin-starred eatery. I find it astounding that there are two Michelin star restaurants on the same tiny lane in Montpellier, and there are exactly zero in the entire metro area of three million where I live in the U.S.A. Viva la France!
According to the restaurant website, Chef Laurent Cherchi is dedicated to creating artful dishes while maintaining a “commitment to the environment” and sourcing locally and ethically. Thus, not only does Reflet d’Obion have the coveted standard Michelin star, but it also has a green star designation, representing a commitment to sustainable food and environmentally-friendly practices. This means that they filter their water (sparkling and still) in the restaurant to avoid undue transportation of bottles and thus environmental wear and tear. They also pick their own local plants for tea, and the entire menu is built on a strong “plant-based foundation.” All this greatly appealed to us, so it was an easy choice when we decided to pick a Michelin star dining experience.
And what an experience! From the opening salvo with the amuse-bouche, tiny wafers of vegetable alchemy served with aperitif glasses filled with warm mushroom bullion, which was the best tasting thing I had ever consumed in my life. Until the next course. And the course after that. And the next. Over the ensuing two and a half hours, we were treated to the most deliciously delicate dinner delicacies we have ever laid eyes upon and taste buds around. We chose the four-course La Traverse dinner with seafood protein. We could have gone for the lacto-ovo vegetarian or vegan option, but we went pescatarian, a diet which we maintain in the states (When I travel in Europe, I go all-in with the meats. Back home, I remain with the veggie.).
We did the coursed wine pairing, a dessert, and the cheese course. So after all was said and done, our four-course morphed into seven (amuse-bouche counting as one) with at least six or seven wines as well. I am not an oenophile, but I’ve tasted a wide range of wines in my time, and the selections (the names of which I remember zero) paired with our meal were sublime. They matched, they complimented, and one particular wine was so unlike any other that I had ever had, I can only echo our server who described it as drinking rays of sunshine.
The service was perfect, with Maximillion explaining every detail in English with no complaint and with a clarity that helped define the meal. He suffered through all my annoying questions like a champ. He knows his material and is a master of his craft. The courses came at a perfect pace, the wine and water flowed, and the atmosphere was subdued and comfortable. If you cannot gather, I loved this experience and would recommend Reflet d’Obion to any and all!
Our final day in Montpellier was rainy. We meandered about l’Eccuson again and went to one of the cat cafes I mentioned earlier. We walked, sat, did a little light souvenir shopping, and spent a nice day before the final course: a guided tour of some of Montpellier’s greatest monuments. There were two that I was most excited about and had been anticipating for months: the Arc de Triomphe on the periphery of Promenade de Peyrou and the medieval mikveh. As we never climbed the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, I figured that we should ascend to the top of the even older arc in Montpellier. To climb the arc and see the mikveh, one has to arrange a prebooked guided tour through the tourism office. I also wanted to get an inside look at the Tour de Babote, one of the two remaining towers from the medieval city walls, but it wasn’t offered with the mikveh and the arc. Alas! We got to see Babote up close a few days earlier but only from the outside on Provence and Occitanie: Day 12.
The day before the walking tour, we stopped by the Office de Tourisime, located on the northeastern edge of Place de la Comédie, next to the Esplanade Charles-de-Gaulle, to ask what contingency plan was in place in case of rain. When I inquired about the weather, the stern woman at the counter said that the tour would go on regardless of any rain. She then pointed over shoulder toward a monitor showing a weather forecast and said, “It will not rain.”
The next day at the time of our tour, it was pouring. The weather had been threatening rain all day, and there were a few light sprinkles as we strolled about l’Eccuson, but when it came time to group up and follow the leader, it was a deluge. We certainly needed our umbrella and raincoats, and we soldiered on. We also soldiered through a tour spoken only in French. We were the only two non-fluent French speakers and two of three non-native speakers (one older American gent was fluent as he lived in Paris for years). The tour guide asked everyone to say where they were from and I heard “Nimes,” “Perpignon,” and “Toulouse.” Everyone was French. The guide seemed concerned that we, two dorks from the states with nary a grasp of the language, wanted to tag along. I explained, in my serviceable but extremely broken French that it did not matter to us and that we just wanted to see the arc and mikveh. That seemed to placate the guide, and I even noticed a couple “Hmmm, ok” nods from fellow tour-takers. We were also among the four youngest in a group of 20. Viva la France!
We made a few stops on the way to the two main prizes. The Place de la Comédie was described in detail (an oval shape on the cobbles was pointed out that I hadn’t noticed previously), and the architecture on surrounding buildings was discussed. We visited a courtyard of an old mansion and the Chambre de Commerce et Industrie building and admired the facades and architecture within. We then went to Eglise Saint-Roch, a church that we walked by a few days earlier but had not entered. Saint-Roch was born in Montpellier and is the patron saint of dogs, bachelors, invalids, and the falsely accused. He is venerated from Scotland to South America to Italy and, of course, Montpellier. In statuary and paintings, he is often depicted standing up with a large walking stick and a dog at his side. He holds up the leg of his trousers to show his bleeding wounds and pustules from the plague which he contracted and subsequently recovered.
Apres l’eglise Saint-Roch, we rain-walked to L’Arc de Triomphe. Older than the mimic in Paris (yet much smaller) and serving as an ode to King Louis XIV, the Sun King, this arc bookends the eastern side of Promenade du Peyrou and the edge of l’Eccuson. It features many stone medallions paying homage to the Sun King, depicting him in literal Herculean relief.
We were able to enter the Renaissance-era arc and hoof our way up the narrow stone staircase (always with the narrow, stone staircases, these French), and emerge atop. The arc (and the mikveh) are not accessible spaces. The stairs are old, narrow, and winding. The ceilings are very low. Thus, a disabled person or someone with mobility issues will have a very difficult time navigating the monuments, if at all.
When we finally emerged from our stone stair stomp skyward, we were greeted with wind, rain spray, and a view. What a glorious feeling, and what a view! Even though the skies were leaden and the rain continued, we still had quite the panorama of the city, surrounding countryside, and mountains. I'm pretty certain the tour guide explained issues of deep, historical resonance (and I believe he pointed out places where Hollywood movies were filmed) but it was meaningless to me (also, it was in rapid-fire Provencal French, furthering the meaninglessness). I was just basking in the view. Standing on top of one of the more monumental arched monuments in France was magnifique and a perfect way to end an epic, two-week tour of Southern France!
But that, dear reader, was not the end, for there was one more location I had placed at the top of the list of must, MUST see sites of the whole trip: the Medieval Mikveh! A traditional Jewish ceremonial bath, a mikveh is reserved for women to bathe during menstruation and around childbirth. This one dates to the 1200s and was completely forgotten until it was rediscovered inside a home in the 1980s. The natural, underground spring feeding its waters still flows, and thus this mikvah has perfectly clear limestone-green waters.
It's quite a treat to be inside an ancient ceremonial bath, with waters still, walls quiet, and the changing room still overlooking the basin. I don't know if I can give this experience proper credit and due with my limited vocabulary. The sense of history and the awe I felt by being inside a centuries-old chamber that contained such spiritual meaning to a group of people who lived on the margins and yet in plain sight was truly profound. And yet, I'll stop using words. Pictures. I shall use pictures. Here, look at pictures.
Our final full day in Montpellier was indeed ended on a banger. The arc and the mikveh filled our hearts with joys and our minds with wonder. The fact that we were able to stand atop the arc and view the fabulous Occitanie surroundings and then descend below the earth into a truly ancient, spiritual, and sacred medieval chamber was truly deep and moving. The rain nary dampened our spirits. I have always enjoyed a rainy French day, and the memories of this jour avec de la pluie was the perfect way to end a perfect trip. Montpellier! Je t'aime!
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