Lose yourself in Cézanne ’s home town.

Known for its many fountains, famous artists and impressive architecture, next stop on my tour of Provence and the Dordogne was the charming town of Aix en Provence.

It was raining heavily as I stepped onto the streets of Aix en Provence, a town no stranger to water being known as the ‘City of a Thousand Fountains’, the water coming from the city’s underground springs. One of the first things I saw was… a fountain: the fountain of La Rotonde to be exact, built in 1860, and a sight I spotted on many postcards throughout my visit. As I walked along the street, following my map in the direction of a street named ‘Cours Mirabeau’, people dashed around shielding from the weather under brightly-coloured umbrellas or were sheltering in doorways or in the haven of one of the cosy cafés. I passed one old lady wearing a carrier bag on her head – stylishly, of course, it was the south of France afterall. She’d obviously not anticipated such a heavy downpour today.

The wide avenue of Cours Mirabeau
The wide avenue of Cours Mirabeau

After a couple of minutes I reached the wide avenue of Cours Mirabeau. One the right-hand side, banks and other businesses filled the old buildings, while to my left, inviting cafés, book stores and gift shops lined the street. Continuing along, I came across one of Aix’s thousand fountains: a moss-covered font known as the Fontaine des Neuf Canons (the Fountain of the Nine Cannons), apparently located on the site of a spring where sheep were once brought to drink while migrating. Further along, I spotted another mass of thick, green moss hiding another fountain known as the ‘mossy fountain’ – the Fontaine Moussue, a thermal fountain whose water comes from a hot natural spring.

The Fountain of the Nine Cannons
The Fountain of the Nine Cannons

The reflection of car headlights danced across the wet, glossy pavement as I carried on along the avenue, framed by huge sycamore trees (or plane trees as they’re sometimes referred to), and there on the left was a café called Les Deux Garçons. I’d read about this place before my trip, and knew it as the legendary brasserie frequented by the likes of Edith Piaf, Ernest Hemmingway, Winston Churchill, Paul Cézanne and his friend, novelist Émile Zola. It was in fact here in Aix en Provence that the great painter Paul Cézanne was born in 1839. It was a name I remembered from my Art History studies, many years ago, and as I walked along, on the pavements I noticed small brass medallions underfoot which displayed his name and a large letter ‘C’. These plaques mark around 30 significant places associated with the painter’s life, making up the ‘Cézanne Trail’ which starts at the bronze statue of Cézanne standing just outside the Tourist Office and opposite the Fontaine de la Rotonde. The statue was put there in 2006 marking the centenary of the artist’s death. The trail features sites such as the College Mignet (then known as Bourbon College) which is where Cézanne met Zola; the building where Cézanne was born and, of course, the Café des Deux Garçons at No. 53 Cours Mirabeau.

The bronze statue of Cézanne stands just outside the Tourist Office
The bronze statue of Cézanne stands just outside the Tourist Office
Brass studs on the pavement mark the Cézanne Trail
Brass studs on the pavement mark the Cézanne Trail

Splashing through puddles my feet became more and more soggy as I became more and more engrossed in what I was seeing than where my feet were stepping. By now the rain was dripping off my hood and past my eyes, so I sheltered under a tree for a couple of minutes. The vivid colours of a nearby fruit stall caught my eye, standing out against its grey surroundings as brightly as the fruit in one of Cézanne’s still life paintings. To my left, the warm light of the boulangerie looked extremely inviting – the seductive smells coming from the place and the food I could see through the window reminded me it was almost lunch time.

Adding a splash of colour to the day: a nearby fruit stall
Adding a splash of colour to the day: a nearby fruit stall

By the time I’d refuelled it had stopped raining – just in time for our departure from the city. The huge curtain of grey sky was drawing back, making way for a canvas of bright blue dotted with fluffy white clouds. I headed back along Cours Mirabeau, once again past its splashing fountains and towering sycamore trees, and the bar that no doubt held so many interesting stories from its past visitors. It was time to say ‘au revoir’ to Cézanne’s hometown.
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If at first you don’t succeed…: a dance cut short ' sur le Pont d’ Avignon ’.

Passing through neat rows of grapevines and rolling green fields stretching as far as the eye could see, we continued with our tour of Provence and the Dordogne on our way to the charming walled city of Avignon.

It was a beautiful April morning and the sun was shining as we continued along twisting roads and past the terracotta rooftops of delightful little villages along the way.
Arriving in Avignon we soon had excellent views of the mighty Palais des Papes – the Popes’ Palace – the largest Gothic palace in Europe, and the famous bridge: Pont d’Avignon, Saint Bénezet or ‘the broken bridge’ as it’s also known. Built in the 12th century, this bridge is the subject of a children’s song Sur le Pont d’Avignon, about handsome gentlemen, pretty dames, gardeners, dressmakers, grape growers and various other people all dancing on the bridge of Avignon. In reality, the bridge is only about 4 metres wide, so not a great deal of space for dancing!

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Strolling through the streets of Avignon

We made our way through the charming streets to the Place du Palais – the second of two main squares in Avignon, dominated by the huge palace which was home to Roman Catholic popes for almost 70 years during the 14th century. Climbing the stone steps we entered the palace for an audio tour around the enormous building with its grand halls, manicured lawn and spacious courtyards. The climb up to the roof terrace was well worth the effort – the reward was an excellent view over the city, the river and the famous broken bridge.

The streets led us to the Place du Palais
The streets led us to the busy Place du Palais
Great vews over Avignon
Great views over Avignon

For many years the Pont d’Avignon was the only stone bridge along the 186 mile stretch of the river Rhône between Lyon and the Mediterranean sea. Over the years the structure was damaged and many of its original 22 arches were swept away by the choppy flood waters of the Rhône. The crumbling bridge had to be constantly repaired until the 17th century when the cost of rebuilding and continual maintenance became too much for the city of Avignon to bear and the bridge gradually weakened. In time, the surviving arches collapsed leaving the four that remain today.

Bags of Lavender are everywhere!
Bags of Lavender are everywhere!

After our palace tour we walked through the city’s tangle of narrow cobbled backstreets, past souvenir shops emitting the sweet smell of lavender from the pretty little bags swinging from displays and out onto the road which runs alongside the Rive Rhône. The oatmeal-coloured stone stood out brightly against the brilliant blue sky as we crossed over the road to get to the medieval bridge. Climbing the steps I could see that the bridge was quite busy with visitors, maybe some of them dressmakers and grape growers wanting to dance ‘sur le Pont d’Avignon’?

Heading across the bridge
Heading across the bridge leaving behind the Palais des Papes

I quickstepped my way through the crowd, desperate to get all the way over to the other side, since it was the view from the banking on the other side of the river that I’d seen all the postcards and in brochures and wanted to capture for myself. Faster and faster I tried to weave through the crowd, camera at the ready. After a few ‘excusez-moi’s, I emerged from the throng of people… and realised… I was trying to cross ‘the broken bridge’.
It was just half an hour until our coach would be departing, but not one to be defeated I did a quick about-turn back through the crowds and with a few more ‘excusez moi’s, rushed back down the steps, along the river bank to the next bridge, over the bridge and down the other side of the Rhône. Walking as fast as my legs would carry me, I jumped over the extended rods of fishermen sitting on the river bank, breaking into a run through a large group of pigeons being fed by families – causing the birds to scatter in all directions – and locals taking their dogs for a leisurely walk.
Back over the bridge at an even quicker pace, I made it back to the coach with time to spare and collapsed into my seat, out of breath, but happy that I’d got the shot I wanted.

The broken bridge, in all its splendour
THE shot: the broken bridge, in all its splendour

Have you been to Avignon? Share your stories and comments with us! We’d love to hear from you!