After a cyclone of cataclysmic events in Barcelona, a week passed by and we found ourselves piecing together new plans to create our next memory. The agenda for that Friday: Moustiers St. Marie, which is a quaint town located on the side of a mountain, with breathtaking scenery and enough hills to give anyone the calves of a sprinter. The entire walk to the town center was uphill and I questioned the extent of my dedication to fitness at that point. After making it up the hill the town that greeted me was friendly and open, with plenty of markets and people not accustomed to seeing tourists, because the town we went to was not necessarily a popular tourist destination due to its difficult location. The humble stone bridges soared above magnificent and profound drops accented by stunning waterfalls, filled with undisturbed forestry and nature, and the bends of the roads were complimented by playful plant-life dwindling from walls and window frames. Rarely have I seen a town better compliment the nature from which it was built upon. Modest houses bordered the paths and interrupted the neutral colors of the stone and plants with occasional splashes of color in the form of shutters and decorative doors.
En plein air, the markets were exploding with life, in both the curious customers and the enthusiastic vendors, selling their families’ specialties in food or handcrafted goods. Everything was authentic and it was some of the most unique and beautiful tools I have ever seen. The artisans gave the town a completely different personality, in the form of the nougat, the tasteful and casual clothing, the handcrafted knives, the leather goods, and lavender scented soaps and souvenirs. Originality was fostered and poured out onto the streets during these market days, and it brought a community-oriented feel to the quiet town, illustrating a close-knit community in the form of people laughing, joking, learning, and proudly explaining their trades to those interested in their craft.
Walking around this unique and splendid scene, I rarely felt like an outsider, only in the form of the occasional person staring a bit too long at the one speaking a language other than French to their friends, or perhaps it was because I was wearing a shirt with a giant Penn State logo that day. I did not have enough time to eat breakfast that morning, so after the 2 hour-long bus ride I could not wait to eat upon my arrival. However; I did forget that in France, there are culturally designated times for meals and the restaurants accommodate to these times, especially in the countryside, since it is a less popular tourist location. So me being hungry at 11 AM ne marchait pas. En general, Ça ne se fait pas. So all of the kitchens of the restaurants were closed until noon. Eh c’est pas grave I thought as my stomach continued to object to these absurd “sorry you can’t buy any food between these hours” that would be absolutely unheard of in the United States. Following this I simply bought a 0,80-euro croissant that would fill the void for the time being until noon came around.
In the meantime my friends and I, Sammie, Brett, Danielle, and Nickolas, decided to climb the steep steps to the town’s renowned cathedral. It was far from grueling, but after a 15-minute climb I found myself drenched in sweat just because of the strong sun shining down on us. At this point it had not rained for four weeks, so we were quite accustomed to the abrasive sun and it rarely bothered us. Getting to the cathedral walking on the other side of the stone walls into shelter from the sun and cold stone provided us with temporary shelter in the form of this mysterious monastery. The dense silence that hung in the air of the church gave me the feeling that I needed to whisper, although I was one of the only people in the building. I quietly asked Danielle to take a picture of the scene for me since I still had a lack of phone (again, a pretty big drawback to not having a portable device), and listened to Nickolas tell me about the role Catholicism plays in his life, and the importance of going to these holy sites for him. I am also Catholic, but found myself admiring more the beauty in the sheer age and peculiarity of these structures rather than reverence for their purpose. It made me think of how different motivations can bring people to the same place, to do the same thing, and end up sharing the same moment.
From the top of the hill at the Cathedral!
Inside of the Cathedral *photocred Danielle Esplin
After this bouleversé of sentiment, history, and homage, our group made their way back to the bus to go to the part of the trip that many were looking forward to- swimming in the local lake. Every single body of water I have been to has been absolutely magnificent, and nothing in New Jersey will ever compare after this experience. But the most interesting part is that after going to all of these beaches I can pick distinctive qualities that separate them from one another. This was the first lake I visited and eagerly trying to catch the first glimpse of the lake I looked past where it seemed that the mountain ended and gazed off over the edge of the road. Aqua blue water pleasantly greeted my eyes with waterfalls breaching the calm waters. I had never truly had a breathtaking moment until then but I felt myself experience the irresistible urge to inhale as soon as my eyes met this scene. Minutes later we ran off the bus, each trying to take full advantage of the 2.5 hours we had before the bus was supposed to leave. After eating a morsel of food I ran into the water, almost unaware of the pain the small stones were causing on the soles of my feet. Danielle, Sammie, Brett and I tossed a football around until we decided to investigate the paddleboats available. Each boat was 15 euros and it was an opportunity not worth missing, being that you could go beyond what you could see from the shore. We took a paddle boat over through a gorge where a bridge ran overtop of, and after heeding the warning sign that explained that there have been two deaths this year from people who have jumped off the bridge, we went to one of the ledges of the gorge to choose a more friendly cliff-jumping option. I had never gone cliff jumping before and after much anticipation and a few less than acceptable words on my part, I leapt off into the water from a height probably the equivalent of the high dive. I could not have prepared myself for the feeling of free falling, although it was for such a short period of time. It was something that I had an incredible time doing, but for the day, that was all I had in me. As each of us jumped off the other paddleboats cheered us on in French and made us feel like heroes (although we clearly did not deserve the title). We turned down the extreme sports dial a bit on that part of the experience and continued to explore the gorge.
A little further down we encountered the waterfalls we had seen from the bridge. We swam over to the waterfalls, and I was shocked to feel the frigid water pouring on my head after I emerged from the lukewarm water of the lake. It was so cold that it was almost past the point of being refreshing. After this we casually paddled back, talking, laughing, joking and enjoying the free Redbull that was given to us during our journey. We arrived back onto shore just in time to catch the bus on its way back to Aix.
A quaint and fresh waterfall
Chilling
On the way home, we made a quick pit stop to visit the famous lavender fields of Provence. Walking out of the bus all one saw was fields and perfect rows of purple, stretching off into a great distance. We were told to watch for bees when wandering about the lavender fields, which scared some students, but bees don’t usually bother me- if you go to someone else’s territory you just need to be respectful and they will respect you. In the field across the street there was a weathered and partially broken vestige of a stone building, and I was left wondering when it was built and what purpose it served. Its eroded remains were left undisturbed and it seemed to make a statement that it was to be left undisturbed. It truly captured my attention and made an impression on me for reasons I cannot adequately define.
The most purple fields I have ever seen
The day began with a frantic exclamation that we had overslept because the alarm did not go off, and ended with the satisfied kind of tired you feel after a good workout. The “we may not catch the bus” start that was had turned into one of the most magical experiences I will ever have. It was filled with appreciation. Appreciation for life, nature, its bounty, its nuances, its workability, it’s coexistence with man-made structures, and of the people that coexisted with it. The development of this appreciation was not tout en coup, but it developed- throughout the day and throughout this journey. One can appreciate anything really anywhere, as vague as that statement sounds. Look out the window of the bus or a train or a car or stop and look for flowers or look at the graffiti on a wall or maybe even the carvings on a tree. Nature is everywhere and people are everywhere and there are so many opportunities to cherish them that often this appreciation is wasted. You can have someone tell you “appreciate this!” with little affect, but the most beautiful part about life seems to be that people have to experience things themselves to truly understand what they value. So instead of trying telling you what to look for and see and do, as if I was an authority in the matter at all, I will simply express to you my own personal excitement in what has impacted and impressed on me, and hope very much that everyone has the opportunity to experience one’s own form of awe and wonder, in whatever it may be.