Aix and Beyond: A Sunny Day in Arles

The provencal spring is starting to hit, and it's wonderful. On Saturday, February 12 a group of exchange students managed to wake up and make our way down to the Gare Routiere to catch a 1 euro bus to Arles - about an hour and change ride. We braved thick fog on the way to the bus station, but once we sat down inside the warm coach the sleepiness came rushing back. I fought off the heavy eyelids and stayed awake during the winding busride between Aix and Arles which was beautiful. The back-country road snaked its way through gorgeous provencal farmland, dotted here and there with picturesque (if a bit dilapidated) red-roofed villas.

When the bus finally arrived in Arles it was still early and the air crisp. My sleepy friends wobbled down the stairs to the street and we all made our way to the fantastic Saturday market. The city's main street was closed off to traffic and the whole place was bustling with people wandering from stalls peddling brightly colored umbrellas and wicker baskets to fresh sea urchins and cakes. Everywhere you looked there was something else to see, smell and taste.

I have to admit I'm a sucker for markets - to some degree once you've seen one, you've seen them all, but I get excited every time I make my way through aisles of stalls and mounds of fruit and spices. Something about large open air markets like the one in Arles - or the Aix markets - evokes my romantic ideas of Europe. Little old ladies haggling over the price of fennel or inspecting a whole rabbit to make sure it's going to make the grade for the night's dinner - something about the hand-written signs and the freshness of everything (especially in Provence with the ocean 30 minutes away in one direction, and orange orchards and avocado trees 30 minutes in the other direction) is exhilarating.

The group split up a bit and another American named Margo and I found ourselves meandering from one hocker to the next, snapping pictures all the time. At almost every stall we managed to strike up a conversation with the proprietor and get some insight into what they were selling, where it came from and why we should buy it. Everyone was super friendly and seemed genuinely happy to talk to us, especially when they found out we were American - I think the French have such low expectations for tourists from the US that they're excited when we're interested in their fresh sardines instead of a Big Mac.

As we wandered through the market it was impossible not to get hungry. Everything from whole-roasted suckling pig, to seafood paella were on display - each adding their own tantalizing scent to the air. At one point we stumbled upon a butcher cart proudly displaying "Cheval" or horse meat. I couldn't help but ask the Monsieur behind the counter about his products - one of which was the watermelon sized heart of what must have been a massive Shire horse. The jovial guy launched into a sales pitch saying "La viande de cheval ne contient aucune de cholesterol - c'est bien pour les maladies, le coeur, le corps" or "horse meat contains no cholesterol making it ideal for the heart and body, and it's good for illness." I told him that in the States eating a horse was almost sacrilegious and that people would balk at the idea. He said in France the horses they eat aren't those we connect with romantic images of Black Beauty and the Ol' West. Instead, horses are raised for slaughter the same way cows are in the States, but - he assured me - they live much better lives than beef in the US. I have to admit I was curious. Eating a horse does seem a bit off-putting, but if I'd had a way to refrigerate anything all day I would have gotten a steak and given it a try. Hopefully before the semester is up I can snag a filet de cheval and decide if it should replace beef as the red-meat of choice.

From the horse stall Margo and I continued through the market, sampling here and there. At one cart purveying pastries from the Maghreb (North Africa) world I bought a florescent orange beignet (french for donut - but in this case, it was more of a funnel cake) that had been soaked in honey. It reminded me a lot of the honey-comb you can buy at Pike Place Market in Seattle, minus the wax. The outside was crispy and the inside was basically all honey. The diabetes inducing treat was tasty for a few bites, but got a bit overwhelming before I could finish it. Margo bought some regular donuts for everyone - each filled with a different flavor including chocolate-hazelnut cream, banana and vanilla. I also snagged what looked like a large whoopie pie - a plane cake cut in half and filled with a delicious, light pastry cream.

We finally found the rest of our group and made our way out of the market. Arles was an ancient Roman city and the influence can be seen everywhere. From the market it's only a short walk to the city's necropolis where wealthy Romans paid to be buried in order to more easily ascend to heaven. We wandered through the burial ground filled with massive stone sarcophagi. The coffins lay on either side of a wide shale walkway, lined by trees - a sort of Champs Elysee for the dead - that lead to a large tomb filled with the holiest (or richest) of the holy which was a pretty impressive building. The spook-factor was increased because of the lack of light inside the stone structure, and the presence of 30 cooing pigeons.

The Roman influence can be seen elsewhere in the city as well - most notably in the form of a massive coliseum that was at one time an arena for gladiator fights, before being turned into a stadium to watch bullfights in. The coliseum was gorgeous and in perfect condition. We entered the ancient walls and wound our way through the aisles under the granite grandstands. The group of us climbed out into the sun and made the ascent up stone stairs that must have been thousands of years old until we emerged on top of a ring of stone that flanks the coliseum. From our vantage point we could look down onto the magnificent bullfighting arena, or turn and gaze out over the Rhone river and the beautiful city of Arles.

By this time stomachs were gurgling and lunch seemed like a good idea. We made our way to the Place D'Hotel de Ville - a grand square market by a giant obelisk and an entrance into the city's catacombs (which were not nearly as cool as I'd hoped they would be). The group split up for lunch and Jerrica and I found a cafe filled with what looked like locals and ordered the day's special which was excellent tagine with chicken and merguez sausage. I ordered a 1/4 carafe of wine and we sat in the warm afternoon sunshine and did some people watching.

After lunch the group reunited and we made our way through the city - exploring the winding streets and snapping pictures of the "n'importe quoi" (whatever). Vincent Van Gogh used to live in Arles (as well as the Gypsy Kings) and painted some of his most appreciated works in the small city - including Cafe Terrace at Night, the iconic scene of a yellow cafe with tables bulging onto a small square. Our little crew made a point of finding the cafe in the painting and got a few pictures of us in front of the facade.

After our photoshoot we strolled down to the banks of the Rhone, which is a gorgeous river. There is a great path that follows the course of the river that led us past tethered boats and fisherman enjoying a nice day on the river. At one end of the city near the river we found a monument celebrating the place where Van Gogh's house used to stand, before it was blown to smithereens during WWII.

By this time the afternoon sunlight was getting long, and we made our way back to the "centre-ville" and found a pleasant cafe with tables in the sun where we enjoyed a coffee and chatted for a bit before heading back to the main drag where we caught our bus back to Aix.

Arles was a spectacular little city and I'm looking forward to gong back in the spring when the trees are green and shorts and a t-shirt are appropriate streetware.

The beginning of the Arles Saturday Market - the food was organized into one section, with other parts of the market dedicated to crafts, clothes, CDs and just about everything else you can imagine.