To See le Tour de France

We have both been great fans of le Tour de France for some years now. Truth be told, probably about the time Lance began winning le Tour. Part sport, part travelogue and always a spectacle, we look forward to each year in July when le Tour begins. I recently read that behind the Olympics and the Coupe de Monde, le Tour de France is the third most watched sporting event in the world. Despite all the persistent scandal and Lance’s recent fall from grace, we still love it!


So..... this year with le Tour coming to within 30 minutes of our little village, we both decided way back in April, we just had to do this. Lots and lots of research on the route for stage 5 of le Tour beginning in April failed to turn up the towns that le Tour would be passing through, or for that matter exactly which roads. I mean... you can’t just drive out to the general vicinity and hope to be at the right place at the right time. May... little more in the way of information. I had a tour operator for le Tour explain to me that logistically, le Tour is a planning nightmare. Roads have to be scoped out in advance, possible hazards noted and either routed around or possibly even redesigned. Spectators must be accommodated as well the whole of le Tour’s apparatus. It’s really mind boggling when you think about it. So, it becomes clearer, the mystery about the exact route of Stage 5. By late June, the information is more forthcoming. The official le Tour de France website begins to post more and more accurate information. Armed with this new information and my newly acquired highly detailed maps (I love maps) for the area, I plot our destination for viewing le Tour.

Friday, via the internet, I book us an itsy-bitsy little car with Europecar, for if you can believe it, US$57.32 for three days. I wonder, how is that possible? Tuesday, the day before Stage 5, pick up the little car in Bandol and off and up into the mountains of the Var. I want to scope out the route from the small town of Signe to Roquebourne de Bedoule, about 25 kilometers in all.
I’m interested in access, safety of the viewing site and the probability of a great view with good photo opportunities. We settle on a small carre four (crossroads) of the D2 & the N8 in the little, really little hamlet of le Camp Castellet, near Paul Ricard’s mega racetrack facility.

Wednesday morning, both our tummies are a flutter. We’re not really sure how all this works. When will they close the roads? How soon will people show up? So... down to our bakery, and pick -up a freshly made buttered ham baguette sandwich (they’re unbelievable) pack some chips, cold drinks, fresh fruit, et voila! A picnic in the French tradition for a thoroughly French event.
Oh... and pack the umbrellas. Yes, it’s decided to piddle on us this morning of all mornings. First time in weeks. Merde!

Wind our way up the twisting mountain roads, and in a few minutes, we’re there. Still piddling however. We’re early. Real early by my estimates. It’s about 11:30 but people are definitely showing up, the roads becoming lined with cars. Le Tour probably won’t be coming through until about 4:00 or 4:30 this afternoon.
The rain stops just before lunch and we walk down to the carre four. Along the way ,we get to see tailgaiting, French style. One group had a table with china, a roti chicken, roasted potatoes, a baguette and, of course, a chilled bottle of Rose. I  would later see this table being interviewed by French TV.
A little Auberge/restaurant sits on the corner and it’s obvious that they plan to cash-in on today’s event. OK, grab a little curbside table and, deux pressions sil-vous-plait. Aaah... a cold beer hits the spot. Decide to hang here for a while, break out the sandwich and chips, you can do this in most cafes if you buy something to drink.... so, une carafe du Rose sil-vous-plait.

The longer I sit here, staring back at the carre four, I become convinced, this is a perfect viewing area with potentially a fantastic photo op. Our only concern is that as the afternoon passes, will the crowds by the road grow to the point where , mind you,Sandy who is five foot tall, they might block our views. I decide that a little aggressive staking out of a spot is in order. So as I suspected, the crowd thickens, I resolutely stand my ground at the front of the line with Sandy watching my backside.

2:00 and I’m already tiring of my vigil, but... needs must. You can feel the excitement building around you. The gendarmes (police) have showed up, and the preparations for closing the roads is underway. The crowds continue to swell, well relatively speaking, remember this is a really tiny place. I nervously check, recheck and check again my sight-line to the corner. Focus... pull out... no closer... wow, I think I’m gonna’ get some great shots. Roads are now closed, Gendarmes are zooming to and fro, making sure all the preparations have been made. Crowds are being pushed back along the edges of the roads. Advance vehicles have began to appear, official le Tour vehicles. There is a buzz in the air. About 3:00, the Caravane arrives. Part carnival but mostly advertisement, the sponsors floats, some quite outrageous, zoom around the corner and by the waving, cheering crowds, tossing out little freebies as they pass. I caught an Antartigaz hat for Sandy and a bag of Madelines (yummy little butter cakes). It’s great fun and it just serves to whip up the crowds even more. We know that the Caravane is typically about an hour ahead of le Tour , so.. About an hour to go before the real excitement begins. A long hour. Very little happens. Gendarmes scooting all over, occasionally an official car, or a team support car zooms, and I mean zooms by. Everybody is restless. Nudge nudge, must protect my space at the front. Getting harder and harder... little old ladies are the worst to push in front. I’m not feeling generous at the moment. Sandy continues to watch my back, trying to make sure I don’t get squeezed out. It’s our plan, at the last moment, to install her in front of me and I’ll shoot over her. We’ll see.

About 4:15, after a disappointing lull that seemed to last for ever, the police and support staff seem more nervous, cellphones at the ear, looking down the D2 , adjusting the barricades.

Word is they’re on the way, helicopters have began to circle and pass by... just minutes now.

Check the sight-line... focus long.... focus short....breath out, right.. I’m ready.

It’s just before 4:30, helicopters are hovering just up the D2 now, I think I can hear crowds cheering.... and.... two Gendarmes on motorcycles, side by side, they lean hard to the right as they round the curve. And.... as if almost on top of the Gendarmes, bicycles... the breakaway no doubt.

Stand my ground, sight-line... focus click, click pan pan, click click, they whiz past in a blur, followed closely by the team support cars. Wow! Couldn’t have been more than 15 seconds. Wow!! My hearts actually racing.

How long? How long now before the peloton arrives? The crowd’s really whipped up by now. The excitement is definitely here. Waiting.... 1 minute.... 2 minutes...5 minutes.... and.......here they are!!! Gendarmes again at the front, first riders appear. Crowd’s roaring and yelling at the riders Quick... focus.. Click, click, click... I just stay focused and shoot nonstop. There’s a buzzing in my head. I can feel the wind as the pelaton passes.... wooosh, wooosh, man that was close. I hope I’m not too far out. Click, click, click wooosh......and.... they’re gone. All that remains are the team support cars chasing after the pelaton.

Breathe, just breathe..... I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. My fingers are still clenching the camera. Relax Kevin... just relax. Big grins and smiles all around.

All of the research and planning. 4 maybe 5 hours of waiting.... and in about 60 seconds it’s all over. But wow! What a high.

And.... just as it began... but in reverse...the crowds mill away from the carre four, the police and the support begin clearing the barricades, directing what I’m willing to bet was a massive traffic jam, for this little spot at least.

It’s all over.

By the time we, in our itsy-bitsy little Toyota, make it through the carre four and on our way back down the D26 on our way to Bandol, you’d hardly know that anything had happened.



Later that evening, we pulled the video up onto the PC for Stage 5 and began to relive the moments. There they pass through Signe, where we’d began two days ago.... hey... I think I recognize that stretch of road. I think they’re getting’ close now.. Hey.... yeah... I think that’s the carre four up ahead. Yes... it is. Motorcycle cameraman’s following the 4 man breakaway.... into the curve and.... wait... I think.... yeah I think I see me . Yellow shirt, cargo shorts... camera in hand. Shootin’ for all I’m worth. Yes... I think so... back up, slow motion. Yep pretty sure.

About 5 minutes later, motorcycle cameraman imbedded in the peloton... sweeping into the curve... better picture this time.... and yes, yes I see me. It is me and I’m shootin’ my ass off.



Wow!! I would so do this all again!

The Caravane begins!

Peleton rounding the corner.

Swoosh! Wow that was close!

Todays Winner!

Swallowed up in a sea of bicycles!

It's all over except for the team cars

Les Joutes Provencales

I am always a sucker for anything that might fall under the heading of “local color”.

Here on the Southern Coast of France, there exist a rather unusual sport known as les Joutes Provencale. Now, I have known of this activity for some years now, but have never witnessed an actual competition, just the practice “laps” here in the harbor.

The competition dating back to Greco-Roman times, takes place on colorfully painted wooden boats of Phoenician origins, a common fishing vessel in these parts. The Joutes boats, however, are somewhat distinctive and immediately recognizable by the odd-looking extension at the rear.

The English translation for joutes would be joust, and yes, these joust take place on the water.

The two teams boats face off against one another, each jouster stands atop a plateau located at the end of that odd looking extension on the rear of the joutes boats, known as the teinteine. Each holds a long wooden lance in their right hand, the goal being to knock their opponent off the teinteine and into the water by striking them with this lance. Each is protected by a padded wooden breastplate and holds a little wooden box on their left hand to prevent them from grabbing the lance of their opponent.

I am positively not making this up!

From May-September, all along this coast, the villages sponsor joutes teams who meet for competitions. This morning, while heading out for our morning walk, Sandy and I happened across just such a competition down in the harbor. Big crowd yelling and cheering on their respective teams, judges in a tent, the joutes boats approaching with jousters at the ready. And... splash!  Damn!  Don’t have my camera. Sandy volunteers to run back to the apartment for the camera.

Now, you might expect that this would be a man’s sport, but... young men/ boys, even young women/girls are here to compete. By the time Sandy returns with the camera, the adult men’s competition has concluded. My photos capture the younger male and female competitors. Perhaps, not quite as sure of themselves, but it is exciting to watch young jousters face-off. Les joutes Provencales will , as it has for centuries, live on for yet another generation.

The video is courtesy of Sandy:

The teams salute at the beginning of competition

The engagement

Knocked-off

Les Canadairs

If you spend anytime at all along the Cote d’Azur of Southern France you are bound to see the famous yellow fire-fighting aircraft, swooping down into the azur blue water and lifting-off with their full belly-load,  then, banking sharply, off into the distance toward the blazing fire.


These are known in these parts as the “les Canadairs”, a Canadian built aircraft especially designed for the purpose of fighting forest-fires.

In this part of France , well known for it’s 200+ sunny days a year, the hot Provencal sun... much like Southern California, makes it very prone to dry, scrub covered hillsides, here known as the garrigue. The herbs and shrubs that comprise the garrigue, may be quite aromatic under the Provencal sun, but... they are a tinderbox, a fire waiting to happen.

Being an ardent walker, and... being quite fond of walking among the callanques of Cassis, or the hills of Provence, I am aware that during certain periods of dryness, particularly in July and August, you are often  prohibited from walking in these areas for fear that the walkers may start forest-fires.

And yet, the fires do happen, fueled by the dry garrigue and the ubiquitous winds, often spreading across hundreds, sometimes, thousands of acres. It is a big problem, one often complicated by the rough terrain of the coast.

Et voila! Enter the les Canadairs, the local heroes. These planes will be quickly dispatched to a raging fire. They will circle one of the closest bays, swoop down and “swallow a bellyful” of water, then fly off to the fire to drop their precious load of water strategically onto the burning hill-sides. They have a most distinctive drone, perceptible from far off. When you hear it, you just know... les Canadairs! You can’t help it, whatever you are doing, you just stop, and... look for les Canadairs. You, and everybody else. It’s a bit of a local obsession. Everybody stops to watch the glorious performance of les Canadairs.

Just after lunch on our terrace today. We heard them first... then, there they were, five of them heading from the sea directly toward the village. It was really exciting, the approaching roar, the big yellow planes banking sharply over the village, and one after another, swooping down into our bay. As they lifted off the surface one by one, they released their loads in great showers.  Aaah... just a practice run... that’s good.

It was just spectacular!!!

Vivre les Canadairs!!! The local heroes.





A’ bientot
Cousin

The First Couple Days....

Several of you have repeatedly asked me... “how can you stay just there that long” or “what do you do there every day” ?
I guess I’ve never really thought about it much, you know, I just do it.
But, OK, let’s give it a go. I’ll try and describe for you a bit of what it’s like for us here.
No...no, I’m not going to do a day by day diary sort of thing, don’t think I’m up to that, and anyway... you’d be bored to tears. No, I’d be. Maybe just some of the more interesting bits.

Let’s see... arrived a couple of days ago, Friday, 7AM Charles de Gaulle Airport... “yawn”, immediately hopped on the 8:30AM TGV, the high speed train, bound to Marseille. Bombing along at about 200mph, Marseille was only about 3.5 hours to the south. What a great and, effortless way to travel. Even managed to catch a nap along the way. Yawn.... Arrive Marseille station about lunchtime, change trains to the slower “milk-run” between Marseille and Toulon. It’s just so easy... really! About 30 minutes, and viola! We’re there. Our tres-sympa (charming) landlord comes to the station to meet and collect us. How nice is that?

Arrive at the apartment, and..... bonjour, bonjour. Kiss-kisses (bisous) on both cheeks. Everybody is excited to see everybody. Monsieur and Madam Landlord, Sandy and myself. Almost like family.. A bit of catching up, settling in, and.... god, I’ve gotta crash. I’m pretty wiped out.
My prescription for jet-lag... a couple of hours nap and a warm shower afterwards. Yeah... much better. At least I feel alive again.

Now... I don’t try to set the world on fire just after my arrival. You know... unpack and settle the contents into there now familiar places. Bring some of our personal possessions out of Winter storage and put them too into their now familiar places. In other words... we settle in.
Once again, with ease, I begin to feel that I am a part of this place and it me. Aaaaaah. C’est bonne!
I don’t try and stock the kitchen today. Momentarily revived, I realize that this feeling won’t last. No, a nice simple meal out this evening. Comfort food. So... about 7:30, my default here, “La Provencal” a small family run affair with simple, well prepared food of the area. And.... tonight... special of the day (le plat de jour) is a grilled dorade, a local fish grilled with olive oil and local herbs. Accompanied by a lovely bit of rice, oven roasted fresh carrots and a petite green salad. Add a ½ litre carafe of local rose wine... just about perfect.
Totter-off back home, and... around 9:30PM, drift off into about the sweetest, deepest sleep you can imagine. Wake up around 9AM the following morning, yeah... you heard that right, and... I’m as good as new.
Well now. That was all very exciting wasn’t it?

Saturday
Today... feeling fresh... and here.... and at the “crack o’ nine”, time to get about the business.
So... nothing much in the old kitchen this morning... not a problem.! A quick stop by Suirrery’s bakery and, “deux croissant sil-vous-plait”. Couple of doors down the street to La Bar Marine, and... bonjour, bonjour... ca va?... ca va! Once again, everybody’s glad to see everybody.
I have to say, the familiarity of it all here... it’s just, you know.... so nice!
“Deux café-au-laits, sil-vous-plait”. Out come two awesome cups of warm milk with a pinch of espresso... devine! And.. Suirrery’s croissants.... oh my! And, no.... the bar doesn’t care if you bring your own, even though they do sell them. How cool is that?

So...first, a market visit, of course! Now I won’t re-hash the first market visit story, see my earlier post if you wish, but suffice to say, it is a time of great excitement for me. I’m “really here” now. First day or so, I load us up with lotsa fresh green salads. Easy to do when the lettuce comes from less than 5 miles away, and the carrots and the radishes. Add some wonderful Provencal tomatoes and cucumbers. And... how about some French Gruyere-style cheese from Savoie, and some thinly sliced smoked French ham. Meanwhile, Sandy pick’s up some flowers to plant, red and  purple verbena, some orange and fuschia rose-moss, and... a gorgeous hot pink new guinea Impatiens. We both love flowers and the color they bring to life. I think These allow her to express herself, perhaps they help build a sense of place..
Oh yeah... that’ll do. Now, pick up a fresh, still warm baguette from Suirrery’s bakery...
Better stop by my butchers for some meat, he’s closed on Mondays and I would like to grill dinner Monday night. Sandy waits outside. Bonjour, bonjour monsieur. Really, it’s just so great to be recognized. A bit of a wait, maybe 3, 4 people in front of me . Oui monseiur, deux cote-du-porc (pork chops) sil-vous-plait. Chop-chop, wrap-wrap, c’est-tu? No monsieur, deaux saussicon (pork sausages) sil-vous-plait. C’est-tu? Oui monsieur. All neatly wrapped and presented to his lovely wife who carries the package over to the cash register. She recognizes me too. Oui, ce-va, ce-va? 8 euro 50 in just 20 minutes.
Oh... and.... almost forgot.  A stop by the Agricultural Co-operative. I want a bottle of local olive oil. A young man here, who, speaks wonderful English, suggest an organic unfiltered oil. It is cloudy with a bright green color. Excellant!!
Whoa, almost too much stuff.... back to the house. Stash the perishables in the fridge... whew!

A few years back I hit upon the idea of an “Initial Shopping List” to stock my pantry. Without this, I found that I just “twirled around”, often forgetting many essential items. So now, with my list, and with my rolling Victorinox travel suitcase to act as a shopping cart, looking perhaps a bit odd, off and down the hill to the nearby (really nearby), Casino Grocery. All the essentials.... milk, butter, eggs, Pastis, beer, coke.....etc. About an hour later, and about 85 euros later... all packed into my rolling bag and, one Harris-Teeter cloth grocery bag... off and... up the hill we go. Top of the hill and... huff-puff, back down the “plongee” the plunge of our little street. I’m still not sure why I have to go up to go down... but hey... the price for the view. Whew... that’s about enough of that. Again, everything gets put away and ... time for lunch... well perhaps a cold Stella first
Oh... and some of those fennel or nicoise olives and the yummy black olive tapanede we got at the market this morning and... don’t forget the still warm baguette from Suirrery’s.. And well... Stella’s all gone... maybe the first Pastis of the season. Oh yeah....
After a while.... to the cuisine., I mean kitchen! Chop-chop-chop. Build the salads.
Encore... another Stella, more Suirrery’s baguette and my masterpiece of a salad. Out on the patio... with the view! The village and the bay spreading out before me. Munch, munch.... oh yeah!
Perfect!!
Some fresh local sweet cherries for dessert. C’est bonne!
Nap time. Yep! The concept of the siesta is well known in these parts. Good idea that! One which we quickly adopt.

Later..... pull the rest of the stuff from storage (a note here, our landlord’s have been great about letting us keep some stuff here from year to year), and put it away.
Pull out the velos, bicycles, clean and oil them up, oh...and... pump up the tires. Lotta fun with one of those little clip-on bicycle pumps. Whew!!
While I play at bicycle mechanic, Sandy busies herself potting her new charges. They look just lovely.
And....
3PM... Victorinox trailing behind, two empty 3 litre “barrels” inside... off, and down the hill (of course) to the Cave, the local Wine Coooperative (closed from 1-3 daily) where the local farmers bring their grapes to be turned into wine. “Gas pump“ wine, about 1.90 euros per litre (cheaper than gasoline) and really not that bad a rose wine, is pumped into my “barrels”. This will be our “house wine” . A few extra bottles of “the good stuff” and Kevin’s little wine cellar is nearly stocked for the season. Well.. for a little while at least.
Back home...now... about that wine..... pour-off about a litre and... well.... have a sip, or two....
Awakening from yet another nap.... wow, didn’t realize how tired I really was... or perhaps it was the rose....
8PM... I’m hungry again. Another favorite... Chez Mico, been here for decades but still referred to as Sicilian (the grandparents who started it were Sicilian). Well known as a one of the best pizzarias in town, they also have an extensive menu, sorry that’s la carte here. Not really in a pizza mood, thought I’d try something off the menu, sorry,   la carte, this evening. I love kabobs, so... brochettes Mico sounded just about right. Thin strips of pork loin wrapped around a piece of Gruyere cheese and flame grilled. Served with Lebanese rice, a wonderfully seasoned pilaf with toasted pine nuts, roasted red peppers and what I believe were prunes. Washed down with a demi-bottle of rose from less than 10 miles away. Oh yeah... Kevin’s happy!  But.... Sicilian, Provencal... no, I would expect these kabobs in, maybe, Alsace or Switzerland. And the Lebanese rice? And we (I) thought this odd sort of thing only went on in the States.
Totter-off on back home, and.... by now not so wacked... how about a movie? When I’m home in Carolina and the Winter’s crap... I record movies onto a little hard-drive which I take with us and we can then watch on the computer whenever we want. It’s nice because it’s in English and , well, again, we watch what we want when we want. Perhaps I should add here... that there’s an awesome little Art-Deco movie theater here in town, but guess what, the movies are usually in French and no they don’t have English subtitles. Can you imagine that?
I’m gettin’ on local time now... movies ended, check e-mail, Facebook and...off to bed about 11:30 .
Cool evenings, about 55-60, we sleep like babies.

Sunday
Ah... Sunday morning. Market visit... market’s a bit weak on Mondays, so I'll go today,  and... well, as you may have heard, yes we do go to the market every day or two here.. Need some fresh veg to go with the lovely cote-du-porc (pork chops), I picked up yesterday at my butchers. Maybe some squash, onions and fennel to go with that sausage. Some more local strawberries and cherries. Et voila!!
Today, one... no two of the vendors at the market recognize me. It was very busy yesterday, too many tourist!  But...bonjour “caroline du nord”, my blonde market-seller calls out. She always seems to be happy to greet me at the beginning of the season.
Bonjour madam, ca-va? Ca-va. I love it!!
Sundays here are special. They almost always seem to be beautiful, sunny days.... really!
Like many around here, Kevin gives himself a day-off from the kitchen on Sundays. Sunday for us can only mean one thing... Quai 16, a lovely little outdoor café restaurant right on the harbor, ancient fishing boats bobbing out front and quite possibly the best Sunday lunch going anywhere. Again, bonjour-bonjour, ca-va, ca-va.
Aaah. Fresh loup, (whole sea bass), grilled simply and served with a pesto sauce, some petite fresh potatoes dressed with olive oil , a halved and stuffed-grilled tomato, and... of course, a bit of fresh salad. Accompany that with a carafe of local rose and it’s just this side of paradise! Great food, well prepared, awesome views and the nicest people you could meet. There’s just no way to improve upon this experience. C’est Bonne monseiur?.... Oui...c’est tres bonne!
Totter off up the hill again and...........

A’bientot

"Fill-er Up" Gas pump Wine at the Cave

"Alooo caroline du nord"

Sunday Dinner at Quai 16

The Beautiful View from Quai 16

Our "Dining Room" With a View

Our Velos