Luberon Valley: Ménerbes, Lacoste, Bonnieux; Provence, France

August 2014

The summer season began to close and our summers hadn't been quiet in years. Typically peppered with Big Life Changes like graduations or moves or new jobs, this one was no different, but we would at least be rewarded for those stresses with a long and winding trip into the heart of the (western part of the) Old Continent. We were going for a wedding and it would be our first return to Europe since leaving Rome in 2010, so we extended it as long as our vacation-day quotas allowed. A single weekend was stretched to ten days to include some time in Paris, the Riviera, and Venice, but Provence would remain the highlight of the whole trip.

Zach's cousin Sebastien married his long-time girlfriend Allegra months earlier in a civil ceremony, which they held in their home city of Brussels. Their religious ceremony was to be farther away, quieter, intimate, and altogether more special. Though they have a home closer to Nice, the celebrations took place in the Luberon Valley, north and west of the Riviera, characterized by the medieval hill towns and perched villages of Menerbes, Lacoste, and Bonnieux. It was the Provence that Peter Mayle brought to the attention of the English-speaking world—rightly so Zach and I spent part of our springtime reading A Year in Provence and fantasizing about the trip and when we arrived made a game of pointing out which of the houses we drove by may have been (may still be?) Mayle’s.

The region was beautiful, and glimpses of Northern California’s wine country flashed in our immediate and subliminal memories. A lot of things sang the same tune: rows of grapevines, Mediterranean sun and breeze, olive trees—except Provence in her old world glory was awash with remarkable, dignified stone houses that dated back to the middle of the last century. Grateful we made the decision to rent a car, we drove along the small roads that separated the villages believing that paradise is a place like this: a quietness, orange sun filtering through tall trees, air thick with the possibilities of what came before and who loved this land too.

The majority of festivities took place in a hotel the couple chose for the occasion. La Bastide de Marie, located just outside Menerbes, is a fifteenth-century stone house situated on a sprawling farm growing lavender and grapes, and epitomized (and surpassed!) our preconceived ideas of what Provence was supposed to be. Old wooden shutters, the perpetual wafting scent of lavender and wildflowers, the ripest peaches, afternoon snacks of tomatoes and cheese, and a cool, unheated pool for swims and foot-dangling.  Seb and Allegra graciously had a room waiting for us on the premises, and as such we spent three days in Provencal heaven. We felt incredibly spoiled. If I’d stayed in a hotel fancier than that in my life I certainly never experienced one so tranquil and pleasant.

Whenever we weren’t involved in wedding celebrations or wandering around the hotel we’d taken to pretending was actually our home, we’d stalk off to explore neighboring towns. This brought us to a lunch at Lacoste (where SCAD actually has a study-abroad center, those lucky artists); a sunset walk through Menerbes (which was perhaps even more magical than Lacoste); and croissants and a flea market hunt at L’Isle sur la Sorgue (I smuggled home soaps and lavender satchels buried between my clothes, and everything smelled delicious for days).

The wedding ceremony itself was held in a church at the top of a hill in Bonnieux, and between the views, the singing, the bells, the guests dressed to the nines, and the beautiful couple, it was a dear and special moment whose memory continues to wake me up to the contentment this world can bring.

A word on logistics. We took a budget train for €10 from Paris to Avignon, and then rented a car from the train station. The drive to La Bastide de Marie lasted twice as long as it should have because I wasn't born with the innate ability to decipher a roadmap, but we passed through the loveliest little towns so I had no complaints (I also wasn't driving, so I had the happy privilege of watching the window scenes while Zach battled roundabouts and French street signage). We had one meal in Lacoste, otherwise all the rest were through the hotel, which included my first encounter with foie gras (wow), olive oil cookies, and the most amazing brunch. The morning after the wedding we took off toward the Riviera, sorry to go, and spent the drive in a happy haze.