Momma Mia!

It was wonderful to spend time with my mom here the last few days.  I’ve never had the chance to share some Provence favorites with her before and it was great to be able to do so.

Of course, that meant a lot of nice meals – on our terrace, in local towns, along the banks of the Rhone river, looking across at the papal city of Avignon.  It also meant lots of talking about food and going shopping at a Provencal market.  

We got to see local sights like the sound and light show at Les Baux, some Roman ruins, and definitely a visit to a favorite winery.  No bulls, though.

We did, however, have lots of animal visitors.   Our proprietor lives in an apartment attached to our house and has a cat we never see.  But the cat decided to make a visit while mom was here.    

Then some people visited the proprietor and brought their gigantic Newfoundland dog.  Then the next day our neighbor came by and brought her donkey (doesn’t everyone?)  With each progressively bigger animal, we thought maybe we’d have an elephant by the end of the week.

None of this happened before Mom got here.  Maybe she’s related to Dr. Doolittle?

KVS

Mom and Val after shopping

Mom messing with my food again

A friendly visit from our neighbor

A Load of Bull

We went to the course camarguaise today with our friend Sara. It was the annual championship and we were pretty excited. 

Sara had never been to a course so we met for coffee first to explain the rules. This is the French form of bullfighting where strings are wrapped around a bull’s horns and the rasateurs have to try to get them off.  It is all very exciting, though Val seems uncommonly interested in the rasateurs, whom she calls the young men in their tight white pants.

As we explained all this, Sara perked up at the description of the tight white pants and admitted that she liked to watch American football for much the same reason.  This led to a discussion between Sara and Val of French men’s butts versus American, with me of course rooting for the home team.

But really, people, it’s all about the bulls!  

The last time we had gone to the championship was a few years ago with my sister and we had rooted for the bull Sandy (my brother’s name).  Sandy had gone on to win the gold medal so we must have had good karma. This time I decided I needed more than karma and should do some pregame research.

When we bought our tickets a few days ago, I asked the ticket lady which bull would win. Who would know better than someone wearing a shirt, pants and hat, all with paintings of bulls all over them?  She lowered her voice, looked around conspiratorially and said it would be Gabriel, "who has already injured two rasateurs this year". Whoa!  Injuries are rare so I figured this must be one tough bull.  Gabriel, he’s my guy!

As the match started, with the first of the eight bulls entering the arena, Sara noticed that the old guy in front of us was one of the judges scoring the match. The first bull got three stars, the next two zero ("these bulls are only good for sausage") and then the higher scores stated coming. Gabriel was last and would need at least a seven to win.

Finally, Gabriel. He charged into the arena and started pawing the ground, showering the spectators with sand. He was definitely bigger and meaner looking than the other bulls. The rasateurs looked pretty nervous and seemed to suddenly get very polite ("Please, you go first",  “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly.  Please, after you”.)  In fact, they spent much of their time running quickly away from the scary Monsieur Gabriel.  

Our judge gave Gabriel a full ten stars and he was named top bull by a unanimous vote of the jury, a rare honor. 

My advice?  Always listen to the lady in the bull outfit.

KVS

Explaining the rules

Pre-game show

Go Gabriel!

Enjoying the tight white pants 

Delightful

We were fortunate to be able to host our god-daughter Catherine over the last few days. We may be just a little bit biased, but she is definitely the most delightful young lady on the planet.  She had just finished a 3-week archeological dig in Spain and it was fascinating to learn how it is done.

We got to show Catherine some of our favorite places.  We started with the Roman ruins at Glanum – what better place to share with a budding archeologist?  Then a visit to the sound and light show at the quarry of Les Baux, highlighting French painters who have spent time in the area.  

There was also a showing of The Testament of Orpheus, the last film of poet, artist and film maker Jean Cocteau.  The film was so remarkably dumb (on par with Santa Claus Conquers the Martians) that it was obvious why Cocteau didn’t do any more films – he couldn’t get funding!

Of course we had to do some bull stuff (see the post called Animal Planet), visit a local winery and have a long lunch with French friends.  In fact, we spent a lot of time eating!

 

All too soon Catherine had to head off to Paris.  But she is always welcome back!

KVS

Roman victory monument

Glanum

In the vineyards

Jean Cocteau should have stuck with poetry

Our Digs

For those of you who have been asking, here are a few photos of the house we are renting.  It's a short drive or bike ride to St.-Remy-de-Provence, but the house is at the end of a dirt road, and seems quite rural.

VVS

View of Alpilles from backyard

The pool

Terrace off our bedroom

Back of house

Kitchen

Animal Planet

"The bulls have escaped!”

The last time we heard these words we looked up to see a bull charging at us from 50 feet away.  It was one of those terrifying moments you remember all your life, kind of like fraternity initiation but without the branding iron and the funny hats.  But today it was just a case of bulls swimming out to open water. 

Yes, it’s bull season in Provence, with lots of events like the Course Camarguaise (the non-lethal French bull fighting that features Val’s beloved young men in their tight white pants.)  Bulls run around in arenas, along country roads, through downtown, and usually go where they are supposed to.  But not always.

This year we were excited to go to our first Gaso de Taureaux, where the bulls are driven through a lake.  Why?  Who knows?  Maybe they want to freshen up before the bullfight.

Many of the bull events are displays of horsemanship – can the French cowboys get the bulls to go where they want them to?  For the Gaso, several bulls at a time are let out of a truck while a dozen cowboys on horseback drive them toward a lake, stopping just at the edge while the bulls plunge into the water.  Two ropes mark the path that the bulls follow before leaving the lake on the other side and being corralled.

There were probably a thousand people at the Gaso, many of them in boats along the guide ropes.  There were sausages being grilled, lots of wine being drunk, bands playing – the crowd even did the wave.  It was kind of like tailgating before a Stanford football game, except the bulls aren’t quite as big as some of our offensive linemen.

Finally the first group arrived!  Several tons of bull, horse and cowboy came charging towards the lake.  As the horses screeched to a halt the bulls plunged ahead and swam to the other side.  Success!  Except when the cowboys all took off at high speed to capture a bull that had somehow escaped.

The crowd continued drinking while we waited for the next batch.

Soon the next group of bulls and cowboys raced towards the lake.  All those hooves pounding were loud!  This time one of the horses forgot to stop and plunged into the lake along with the bulls.  His poor cowboy desperately hung on to the saddle, looking very nervous at being surrounded by four seriously pissed-off bulls. Somehow he got back aboard as his horse left the lake.

Now the third and final group arrived!  The horses stopped, the bulls kept going into the lake, and everything was ok.  Until the bulls decided to make a break for it and made a sharp right turn, breaking through the line of boats and scattering the spectators.  They swam toward open water while several boats full of drunken fools gave chase.  One guy even jumped on a bull and rode bareback for a while.

Luckily, the fire department was prepared for this, with a speedboat at the ready and several steely-eyed pompiers geared up for action.  Unfortunately, they had forgotten to prime the engine and spent precious minutes swearing and trying to get it started while the bulls receded further and further into the distance.

Eventually, the boat got going and the pompiers roared off to coordinate the capture of the bulls with the cowboys.  

We expect the bulls will be clean and fresh, if a bit waterlogged, for the Course Camarguaise.

KVS


The crowd eagerly awaiting the bulls

The cowboys discuss strategy

The bulls swim away!

Which way did they go?