Aix-En-Provence

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Trees and fountains are the heart of Aix-en-Provence.

Aix looks like an Impressionist painting. There are moss covered fountains everywhere, ancient statuary decorating the ancient buildings, and tall trees lining the main street. The plane trees, a cousin to our sycamores, have leafy green branches which form an umbrella against the late afternoon sun. Everywhere the sound of young laughter floats in the air.

2-1A.jpg (18982 bytes) A native of Aix took us under her wing and explained. "There are around 150,000 living in Aix, which is the capital of Provence, and 70,000 are college students. The huge fountain, with its ancient carved stone, introduces the main street. If anyone says, "Meet me at the fountain," be sure and determine which one.

The entry to our hotel, Le Pigonet.

 

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The ancient cloisters.

There are 101 fountains in the heart of the city. A sage once wrote if a blind man entered Aix, he’d think it was raining.

Our driver, Francis reminded that Aix is pronounced "X" and that all the shops were on the left side of the street, while the public buildings and companies lined the right side. Two important things to know, I agreed!

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The ancient carving on the cathedral door.

We were driving to our hotel, Le Pigonet, (****) but en route Francis was showing us the layout of this ancient city. Of course, all I heard was shopping, so as soon as we got to our hotel, I got instructions where the best shops were.

The lovely lady general manager/owner, and her son, told me to walk down the tree-lined entry to the hotel, come to the huge fountain, the trademark of the city, and turn right.

 

Following her directions faithfully, we were soon walking past sidewalk cafes, filled with college students and tourists. A few more steps and voila Rodeo Drive!

Just because "Aix" is centuries old, don’t think they haven’t got the most modern designers showcasing their latest in the shops. I couldn’t resist a scarf, then there was that great blouse, with all the bright blue and yellow colors of Province, well you get the idea. My friend was soon loaded down helping carry packages.

Next morning, up bright and early, we were off on a walking tour. Aix is truly a "living museum." There are seven around the heart of the city. I was with two art connoisseurs, so naturally there was great interest in famed artist, Paul Cezanne, who was born in Aix in 1839.

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The color of Provence.

 

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We used the carefully marked studs on the payment as our guide in following the footsteps of Cezanne. We came to the college where he attended and formed a close relationship with Emile Zola. It was an easy walk, but each step revealed more of the artist’s life. Opposite the courtyard of the Saint Sauveur Cathedral, is the former Faculty of Law. It was here Cezanne studied law for one year to please his father.

The charming, narrow streets of the old town continue to remind us of the imprint history had made on these cobblestones. The Cathedral, where Cezanne was a frequent visitor towards the end of his life, was founded in the 4th century, the 12th century the cloisters, and the 16th century the belfry.

Beauty even in a door knocker.

 

 

As we were walking and talking, we stopped to gaze at the landscape. Looking toward the horizon we saw the magnificent Mountain Sainte Victorie, which Cezanne had glorified in about 50 different paintings. The sun was backlighting it and the mountain took on a lilac aura.

Then, at last we came to Cezanne’s studio, his atelier, which has been carefully preserved.. A simple two-story house alive with flowers, trees, and seats for resting in the afternoon sun.

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Many buildings have old facades, and modern interiors.

 

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We had to wait, for a tour bus filled with art loving Japanese visitors were in the small house. This gave us a chance to enjoy the garden, sit under a fig tree, and cool our feet.

When the house was cleared, we walked up the stairway into his studio. It was as if time stood still. There was the easel, a few brushes on a table, and many of the vases, books, canisters and candleholders his hands had placed on nearby tables or window sills for a still life.

Interestingly, the museums in his hometown have very few Cezanne originals, you have to go to the Louvre in Paris, the National Gallery in London, or the Metropolitan Museum in New York.

At the doorway of Cezanne’s studio.

By now, we were getting hungry. Our friend recommended Restaurant La Cour de Rohan. What a wise choice! It was in a 17th century building, with high ceiling, stone walls, plus a flower drenched patio. It was Provence cooking, fresh vegetables, fresh fish, everything flavored with herbs grown in the nearby gardens.

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Cezanne’s studio, just as if he left it.

It was here I had the best dessert. It was a chocolate crusted pie, filled with large slices of fresh pears that had been poached. On top of the luscious temptation was thick, and I mean thick, rich and deliciously decadent heavy chocolate sauce. When you cut through it, it fairly oozed from the shell.

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Restaurant La Cour de Rohan–the best desserts!

 


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