After Avignon and Arles (posts to come there), I decided I needed a vacation from my vacation so last night I looked for a place I could stay for a few nights and do nothing but study, do yoga, and catch up on my writing. I couldn’t find anyplace with availability when I remembered an article I’d seen in _Departures_ , American Express’s magazine. It detailed a hotel in Provence
that was the antithesis of the country cottage or Belle Époque architecture and design one finds in the south of France
. Instead, it is a temple to modern design and each of the suites contain original works from the owners’ collection. It was in the Luberon, the area of Provence
I wanted to see next and while it was a little more expensive than I was looking for, it was ideal. It was my idea of heaven. I booked online and arrived here today. Unfortunately, they hadn’t received my reservation and the room I had reserved was not available. They were incredibly gracious as they tried to accommodate me and ended up giving me a suite for the same price. It is huge, fabulous, and a living modern art museum. I’ve photographed everything and have details of each designer and artist in the description. All the pieces are original. The mirror in my room is Phillippe Starck, the dining room table is Norman Foster, the couch is Ron Arad. The dining room chairs and the sideboard are Pucci de Rossi. The ceilings are fifteen feet high; there are two bedrooms, each with a large soaking tub in the room. The toiletries are Kiehl’s. The terrace overlooks the Luberon valley and is almost completely private. There is a masseuse and the very nice Monsieur is going to enquire if the English teacher in the village would be willing to tutor me in French. I’m hoping that we can sit at my (Norman Foster!) dining room table, sip tea, and accelerate my French yet another couple of kilometers per hour. I’m hoping that I can spend an hour or two in the morning doing yoga on the terrace overlooking the vineyards and Rousoullin. I’m hoping that I can get caught up on all my writing. There is so much to commit to these pages. Hearing Faure’s Requiem in the Notre Dame chapel adjacent to the Palais de Popes in Avignon; wandering from vineyard to vineyard sampling the Cotes de Rhones, seeing the Pont du Gard; seeing Norman Foster’s new bridge over the Millau Gorge. How people don’t answer me in English any longer when I ask them a question; the utter and pure beauty of this part of the world. It’s also the back side of my time here and I’m painfully aware of it. Of course, I have over three weeks left, which can be a lifetime and the last week is in Paris
where I will abandon my slow pace and see and do everything I possibly can in the time I’m there. As for right now, I’m going to open a lovely bottle of Chardonnay I picked up for almost exactly no money in Teval, pour my self a glass, run myself a bath and remove the days travel from my body and dress for dinner. I guess the dining room is something, I’m sure it will be. And one more thing, there are herbs on my terrace that smell so wonderful, so much like warmth and contentment that they alone would make this place heaven.
fois gras maki? Sounds like you are having a good adventure. I'm enjoying living vicariously through you! All the best, Jean
Posted by: Jean | May 12, 2005 at 05:32 PM