Scented memories 1- Lavender in Provence, France

I once traveled to a fairy tale land which smelled of lavender, fresh and alive. It made me believe that I am in a classic Disney movie. I know it sounds cheesy, but the feeling is real and as long as I was there that's exactly how I felt. Nowhere in this world did I feel so much peace and relaxation. To me, places have a certain smell or feeling. Each part of the world which I remember somehow smells in a certain way or gives me a certain feeling. Provence smells like lavender. As I arrived there, the lavender had already been picked. We chose the picturesque way and drove among hills with narrow roads and turning points. After a turning point, as the road began to descend, I  saw a lavender field for the first time in my life. I lowered the car window . The sweet smell invaded my nostrils and my very soul, bringing a deep peaceful feeling.

That moment I understood why everybody chose to move so slowly in Provence. They had no reason to hurry. I let lavender teach me how to appreciate what was around me. The more we entered the area, the stronger was the smell. It came with you everywhere as a reminder that you have no reason to hurry or to run. In the small villages, the houses looked all the same. With their shutters painted in strong colors, with long curtains, with scorched patches of paint and with their climbing plants, full of aromas and invading the windows and the doors, they made you never want to leave this place. Among  the villages, there were lavender fields or sunflower, yellow and alive. K had found the house on the Internet while I was asleep in the same day I had climbed at 3800 m height and got sunburned. We rented a room in a farm in a village we had never heard of. It was called Moustieres Sainte Marie. It had 800 inhabitants. When I saw the image of the village from afar I told myself there was no way we could have been so lucky. It was the only village which look differently and I give you my word I had no idea how we had managed to find it. It lays at the foot of two rocks, very close to Gorges du Verdon, a spectacular canyon. From afar you can't even tell that there's a village. Although it's so small, the village simply blows your mind. All narrow and winding streets climb and descend all the way and every now and then  houses or an incredibly picturesque landscape show up. The village is split by a mountain river which flows from between the two rocks. It's always full of tourists and it always smells like lavender.

 Do you remember the restaurant Remy opens up in Ratatouille? If you are foodies and love France, you are going to love Ratatouille even if you haven't seen it yet. I ate in a similar place in Moustieres. I'm no culinary critic and I don't know the criteria to appreciate a restaurant. To me it was perfect. From the relaxed atmosphere, to the menu which was completely in French (which I don't speak) and was explained with genuine attention, to the rose wine which was extremely full of flavors, to the ceramic cup in which they served water and to the four ( yes, just for main courses) in the menu and the red flowers and the oleanders which decorated the terrace all around, I found nothing not to my liking. The irony? I can't remember the name of the restaurant, but if I ever got back to Moustieres, I would find it. So that you don't say that I favor French cuisine, the next evening we ate somewhere else, but I didn't like the place at all. 

When we decided to go to Provence we knew we wanted to walk around and maybe hike, but we had no idea where. The truth is that after we got to know the village where we were staying we didn't want to go anywhere else. All the farms where you can stay for a few days in the villages in Provence are so idilic, that they defy reason. I would have wanted to sit on the terrace in front of my room and sunbathe all day. It would have been a big mistake. In  French combined with English, our hostess told us to visit Gorges du Verdon. (She had a huge black dog which ate yogurt leftovers straight from the jar and whose name was Foufou). Verdon was the first canyon I ever saw. I was so afraid of the height that I couldn't breathe but the startling blue water lake hypnotized me and I forgot the fright. I still remember a distinct image besides the olive trees and the contorted fir trees and the rocks which seemed to fall straight onto your head. The canyon is crossed by a couple of bridges which have a huge fall beneath them. Obviously, there are bungee jumpers. From the speed of the car while we are approaching the bridge I saw the face of a jumper. He was more than terrified. After a few seconds I heard his cry of joy, wild and unhinged. I regretfully thought that it's a sensation I will never know, because I'm too afraid.

I didn't stay in Provence as long as I would have wanted, I didn't get to do everything I would have wanted. If you look at the map, you can't understand how big the territory is and how many things you can do. I would have liked to visit a few cities, but there was no time and the distances were bigger than we estimated. I would go back anytime. I would want to smell that sweet lavender again, to abandon myself to the quiet in those cool blue shaded houses and to drink a perfect glass of rose wine. This is a place I have fallen in love with at a lavender scented first date.