Why Do We Travel?

Good day all, Winslow again following up with the last of our travels! We met a girl last week who asked us, “why do we travel?” For me, to spend quality time with the young one of course. But for her, it is experiences like the one we had in Arles that legitimize the twists and turns in the world of a traveler. The young one chose Arles because it is where Vincent Van Gogh (pronounced “Van Gog” in French) spent a year of his life and created many of his paintings. It is also where he had his mental breakdown and cut off his ear. After our visit to the Amsterdam museum clearly the young one hadn’t had enough of the guy, so decided to follow in his footsteps.

I spotted this painting discarded on the sidewalk and thought we should honor its existence

We arrived in the small city without much of a plan, and the camping hammock just in case. As it turned out, the hostels were booked up, so the young one sent out emergency requests on her little application that she uses all the time while mentally preparing to hang from the trees that night. Meanwhile, stuffed inside of her hiking bag, I dutifully accompanied the young one on the Van Gogh trail. We didn’t follow the actual path as much as we just wandered around in search of the telltale placards displaying the scenes that he painted. Here are a few that we found:

Unfortunately, the “yellow house” that he rented as his home and studio in Arles is no longer there but is replaced by a larger building, including a café at ground level. I could tell it was a struggle for the young one to carry her backpack for so long; she was moving slow and I half expected her to burst into tears at any moment. But she kept her cool and eventually began scouting spots for the hammock. Arles is a lovely city, we both agreed. Peaceful, charming, green. It has a lot of history as well as an important Roman city. The ruins there aren’t even that ruined! Take a look at the coliseum for example.

The young one had no idea where to hang the hammock, and I was no help. And what would there be to do all night long lugging around that big bag? She sighs, takes a breath. Something about the air there let her stay calm. Then receives a message from the father of a family willing to let her stay the night. It’s in a village about 15 minutes by car, but that’s alright because he can give her a ride. We enjoyed ourselves much more in their warm and generous care than we would have wandering around the city all evening, that’s for sure! The young one says that at this point in her travelling, it’s more about the people you meet than the places you go. The father was German, the mother French, both full of smiles and love. Their daughter, who we only met briefly before spending the night at grandma’s, is the same age as some of the kids the young one taught in Bourges. She speaks French and German but wasn’t sure how to react to her English! Then there was the baby who kept giving the young one sideways glances but who grinned at me. I sat and listened to the exchange of French conversation, cries and giggles of the baby, watched them share a nice dinner, followed by a little card game. The young one told me she would have loved to have them as a host family during her immersion program the week before! The gratitude for people like them is a reason why we travel.

I wish we could stay with them longer, that way we could join in on their year-long camping car trip through Europe! The young one wants to do something like that with her kids someday.

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The young one was set on getting to this village called Les-Baux-de-Provence, not too far north of Arles, after seeing it on Facebook. There was no bus and I was a bit nervous myself to try to hitchhike. Luckily, the next day, ça tombait bien, things fell together even neater. First we were invited to lunch at the lovely home of another person from that application. Then, get this, that person’s father was going to work in Les-Baux-de-Provence that afternoon. Off we went! This village is home to Les Carrières Lumières. It used to be a mine for a certain type of limestone, which then closed because of decline in demand. In the mid 1900’s some guy filmed a movie there, and that opened the eyes of some other guy who thought the huge stone walls would be a perfect backdrop for a light and sound show - voilà. This year, the show was Van Gogh, and as we drifted from one side of the cave to the other, his works trickled on and off the chalky stone. We were immersed in light, and music presumably catered to a representation of the life of Van Gogh.

The village of Les-Baux is rather touristy, and we didn’t learn much about it, just enjoyed our surroundings! There are wonderful views from the rocky outcrop where the village is set up, of vineyards, olive groves, mountains, and the shimmer of the sea if you squint hard enough.

A medieval castle spreads along the length of the village which we didn’t have the time or money to visit.

In sum, I believe the young one may have fallen in love with this little part of France. I would be happy here too. The cities aren’t so big, there is plenty of nature, cypress and plane trees throw shade into the roads, and the beach (home of pink flamingoes and white horses) isn’t far. Another reason why we travel: to leave a little bit of yourself, your heart, everywhere you go.

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Everyone told us to go to Avignon. “Oh the palace of the popes!” they would cry, “le pont d’Avignon!” they would sing. Well it is actually a song. Still haven’t listened to it. Avignon is maybe a little bigger than Bourges, but it gives the impression of being a lot bigger. It must be the big embellished buildings, like the one we stayed in. Notice all the bizarre faces everywhere!

And the bustle of the main street. Let’s also not forget the innumerable tourist groups that were there! We have never seen so many; school groups and elderly group tours alike. What makes the city especially appealing is the annual July arts festival. Of course every place is better in the summer. Avignon has a rich history, but neither of us felt a particular connection to it. Ok, the Popes built a palace here. Popes called the city home. Popes are buried under the town squares. Popes are cool for some people I suppose.

Palais des Papes

This city is one of the few to have intact ramparts though, so that part is cool. The goal here was nothing more than to suck up the atmosphere. These are the main points of interest for us in Avignon: The daily market Les Halles, front stage on the lively square called Place Pie. Sure it isn’t something unique in France, and additionally there aren’t really any regional food specialties, but for the young one a market is a good start to a good picnic.

Rocher des Doms jardin, the optimal picnic spot. Even though I can’t enjoy the food I always enjoy the atmosphere of a picnic. A picnic is always an excellent idea. I don’t think we’ve ever had to climb so many stairs to get to a jardin, but there certainly was a great view, the city on one side and the Rhône on the other.

The bridge used to have 22 arches but after it continually fell apart, reconstruction was eventually abandoned, so now only 4 arches remain.

The Pont d'Avignon is made famous by an old song, and you’re supposed to dance on the bridge. You also have to pay to get onto the bridge. I have never once paid to go on a bridge. Maybe the young one would have if we’d never been on a bridge before. Or if the bridge actually brought you somewhere. Taking the free shuttle ferry to the inter-river island of Barthelasse. We had a nice walk and a nice relax over here. Couldn’t have asked for nicer weather either at the time.

The island is mostly farmland. The last photo is of a farmhouse there.

Museum hopping. It rained on our last day so this was a good, free option. The young one’s favorite thing to see was paintings of Avignon. Me, I’m always a fan of admiring the museum building itself, most of which are old mansions.

This street (Rue de Teinturiers).

We did not end up feeling exceptionally close to this city, but of course not every place you visit is going to be magical. Another reason why we travel: to learn about what we like and don't like.

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The young one and I are back in Bourges until our flight into Boston on Wednesday. She is closing up shop, spending some last bits of time with friends. I am just relaxing watching the show that her French friend always has on (who has been so nice to have us). It has been gloomy weather here, but we have noticed a lot more tourists than before, all taking photos of the Bourges cathedral and putzing around in the tourist train.

I will write again to let everyone know that we have arrived safely to the United States of America.

Our last reason for travelling: well to write this blog of course! To share with all of you lovely people. It has been a pleasure, thank you for reading.

All the love and bear hugs,

Winslow