Amendment to Reason #25 Why Studying in Lacoste is Wonderful

Field Trips: more accurately, numbers 25 through 10 why studying in Lacoste is wonderful.

This is my Business and Professional Writing class, walking back from our lecture across the Luberon valley at a café in Bonnieux.

photo by Marissa

This is the spring in Vaucluse, which flows out of limestone mountains (it gushes in the springtime, but now that it's autumn, it's slower). We students also got to explore Petrarch's library and the historic Papeterie de Vaucluse.

Just another day at SCAD Lacoste.

Color Schemes of Provence

Part 1

Photos by Marissa, editing and color scheming by me.

Reason #25 Why Studying in Lacoste is Wonderful: Field Trips

This morning, my Writing About Place class tagged along with photography and art history classes to the Foret de Cedres - cedar forest - up beyond Bonnieux. The drive up the mountain, despite the adventure of sitting in the back of a transit van, was beautiful as we wound through trees and looked out over the Luberon valley. Once we explored the forest enough to find a suitable classroom, we talked about the pieces we'd been reading, our ideas for travel articles, and a prompt for a small writing exercise.

 

Yesterday, my Business and Professional Writing class (all four of us) got in on a field trip to Oppède le Vieux, where a hike up the hill brought us to a chapel and the ruins of a thirteenth-century fort. Was it relevant to our course? Nope. Was it a great idea? Yes. And tomorrow we'll discuss writing in the workplace while we hike through the vineyards of the Luberon valley to Bonnieux.

Nîmes and Pont du Gard

The SCAD Lacoste students enjoyed a trip to Nîmes on Friday. After going inside the Arènas de Nîmes, we explored the city. And by "explored the city," I mean we sat down for lunch and coffee at a café in the shadow of the Maison Carrée.

After coffee, we visited the Carré d'Art - Musée d'Art Contemporain (Contemporary Art Museum) across the street, free with our student IDs. Art museums are becoming difficult for me; I don't like leaving all the art behind.
The building centered around green frosted glass and silver metal staircases. The art exhibits (and the small library and gift shop on lower levels) were on the other side of glass walls and doors along the perimeter of each rectangular floor. The man at the ticket desk sat solitary and small among all the glass and metal and open space above. If you went to talk to him, and you looked down next to a telephone on his desk, you would see his notebook, open to a page filled with intricate, precise pen drawings of animals.

 

After the museum, we did some actual exploring. We made our way slowly through the streets and alleys in what we thought was probably the general direction of the Cathédral (we ended up there eventually). Some stopped to shop, or to talk to four friendly French diners at a sidewalk café, one of whom was the proud owner of a small, big-eyed, gray dog sitting on his lap, and another one of whom wore thick-rimmed red glasses, a turquoise sweater, and invited us to meet her there the next night so she could take us to a real, authentic French soirée. We explained that we actually lived an hour away, and with polite well-wishes, continued on our way.

Cathédrale Notre-Dame-et-Saint-Castor de Nîmes

We spent some time in the Cathédrale and took lots of pictures, then left to explore more of the city and take more pictures. I bought a few embroidered rose and leaf patches to make into French brooches.
 

While Marissa and I sat outside a café, four girls our age walked up to us. Three of them were wearing trash bags. We'd seen small groups of these messy-looking kids throughout the day, and now one of the girls (who spoke some English) explained it to us: to raise money for their class and haze the freshmen, students of a literature class would let you smoosh a "pie" (whipped cream on a paper plate) in their face for one euro. We accepted their offer, and Marissa did the honors, though she found it was more difficult than you'd think to look someone in the eye then smoosh a pie in their face.

After all the exploring and pie-smooshing in Nîmes, the group reconvened at the Arènas and began the bus ride to the Pont du Gard.

The path to the Gard river led us past a one-thousand-year-old olive tree, then to the first century aqueduct. We walked over it and from the other side waded into the water. (Prepared students had brought bathing suits to France, but I stuck with a wade.) We swam, we skipped rocks, and of course, we took pictures.

  

Then we boarded the bus and returned to Lacoste, tired and happy.

Dainty Chin International

The Art of the Provençal Carte Postale

Provence is beautiful, and it is no stranger to tourists. Entrepreneurial designers take advantage of the opportunity to provide their guests with the most common of souvenirs — one that is relatively inexpensive, fits easily into a purse or fanny pack, can let loved ones know you're thinking of them (and prove that you actually did visit this dreamy place), and most of all: it captures the spirit of Provence in thirteen by eighteen centimeters.

Below is a sample featuring my friend, Marissa.

Provençal postcard designers can't be limited to one picture; their work often features a collage of images that best represent the quaint lifestyle and historical beauty of the area: colorful fields of lavender and sunflowers; arrangements of wine bottles and grapes; aged stone steeples and terracotta villages nestled into green hills; shade-dappled hammocks (which I have yet to actually see here, though they must be popular among the locals since they are represented on such authentic documents as postcards); wrinkled men carrying baguettes under their arms; and groups of graying women in shawls, chatting on the corners of cobblestone streets.

Kittens and puppies abound in the south of France, as evidenced by a heavy-handed use of their likenesses in the forefront of collages, occasionally accompanied by a tasteful kiss-mark clip art and an even more tasteful caption: "bisous... bisous... gros bisous de Provence" ("kisses... kisses... big kisses from Provence").

Of course, buying cartes postales in Provence and mailing cartes postales in Provence are two entirely different endeavors. One can expect a Provençal post office to be open whenever the workers feel like it, and never ever during lunch.

So while you may decide to hand-deliver your cartes postales when you return home, you know that your loved ones will soon hold proof of your experience in the authentic beauty of Provence, even if they have to wait for your bisous.

Reading at the Dora Maar House

A small group of SCAD students were guests at the Dora Maar house yesterday evening for a reading by one of the artist fellows, American playwright Mona Washington. Another writing student, Eric, read the male part and did a great job. We also got to talk to and see a presentation by sculptor Mamiko Otsubo.


For further explanation: read up.

Being an artist can be fun :]

Excursion á Bonnieux

From any terrace or balcony in Lacoste, we can see the countryside spread out in shades of green, bordered by hills like the one we live on, fading from blue-green to misty blue as they rise further and further away. On a hill about four kilometers in the distance is a cluster of buildings, in tones of terracotta: Bonnieux.

On Sunday, a group of new friends set out in the general direction of the village with words of encouragement from our student coordinator: "You'll probably get lost." We took her advice to heart.

Coffee helps prepare for the trip.

Wandering around an empty stone farmhouse, back up a trail beside trees and vineyards, next to a river and to a spring, we came upon fellow adventurers. This vacationing couple from Belgium, with their freshly graying hair, was also trying to find their way to Bonnieux. They spoke some English, and we chatted with the wife while her husband and a couple of our most expert navigators ventured in front. A path through some vineyards led to the main road which, though it wound around the edge of the valley in the least efficient route possible, was sure to lead to the town.

Because we are considerate young art students, we decided to let the Belgian couple resume their romantic adventure. So we found a large, fuzzy caterpillar and a cracked tree stump to inspect and photograph, giving the graying couple plenty of time to lose us.

After an hour and a half of hiking, we arrived safely in Bonnieux and realized we were hungry, thirsty, and wanted to sit down and have some coffee. Eventually we found a cafe that looked welcoming. Then we wandered around a little more and found that we were again in front of the welcoming cafe.

The woman who ran the cafe and small shop put together a few tables out front for the nine Americans, and once we figured out the menu, we wrote down our order: 6 cappuccinos, 1 La Rosalie, 1 Plat du jour (melon et jambon), 2 desserts au chocolat.

The group, with a Frenchman substituting for Marissa.

In our wandering, we had noticed a man who sat on ledges or walked slowly a little ways before sitting on another ledge - and he was always followed by German Shepherd with a little bit of its left ear missing. The man had a thick black beard covering his neck and wrapped himself a large black coat down to his knees. He relaxed on a ledge across the narrow street from us now that we sat outside the cafe, and we admired his loyal dog.

The food, needless to say, was wonderful. This, my friends, was the best cappuccino I've ever had.

Someone in the group looked up "You're the best" in French: "Vous êtes le meilleur."
After we each paid for our order at the counter, we tried our best to tell her, "Vous êtes le meilleur!" Our pronunciation left a confused look on her face, so we pointed to the text. Reading glasses on, she smiled, "Ah!" She said in a mix of English and French that maybe we will come back another day, which we answered with a resounding "oui" and several more "Merci"s as we left.

The man in the black coat and beard sat on top of a short wall, leaning to the side, resting on one arm. At the top of some steps a ten meters over, the dog lay with its paws in front and over to one side.

Up the street, two of our classmates were doing some wandering of their own. We waved them down, sensing another tag-along opportunity because they had left Lacoste a while after we did.
They told us that they had in fact found a shorter route through the middle of the shallow valley. With guides, we began the journey back.

The church in Bonnieux, as seen from a few streets up.

The walk was forty-five minutes on a single-lane road, off to a dirt path passing solitary stone homes with colored shutters and vineyards for backyards, then through a thicket and back up the hill to Lacoste. The day was still damp and overcast, but the diffused light only made the colors richer.

My first Sunday in France has come and gone, leaving me ready to chase more adventures.


Pictures (except the cappuccino) taken by my good pal, Marissa.

First Weekend

 

This morning, fog covered the view from my dorm's balcony.

After the kind of breakfast I could get used to — mostly croissants with honey, coffee, and yogurt — we took a short bus ride to Apt, where we explored the open-air market. I didn't want to spend much money (plus not being able to speak French is intimidating), but the lavender and sweaters were tempting.

I took a quick look into La Cathédrale d'Apt. The cathedrals in Provence are high on my list of things to explore.

 

After leaving Apt, we ate a picnic at Le Pont Julien, which is a bridge built in the first century B.C.

Official SCAD Lacoste orientation is tomorrow. I've heard something vague about being able to take French lessons here, an offer I will accept. On Monday, classes begin.

 

Bonjour from Lacoste, France

I have finally arrived and am settled in Lacoste (minus one suitcase, but I've been promised its safe delivery in a matter of days). Tonight is devoted to sleep and a bit of exploring, then tomorrow we're going to a market and picnic in Apt.

This village is magnificent. The views, the balconies, the gardens, the secret gardens, the nooks and caves, the library - oh, the library - are a dream come true. I'm having a hard time believing this is real life.

There are about thirty of us American students total, and we are all jet-lagged. I left home before 9:00 a.m. yesterday, spent a six-hour layover in Atlanta stressed about luggage but determined to soak up as much information about Lacoste from Old Provence as possible. (If you, reader, want to know more about the area I'm in, I recommend A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle.)

The flight overseas was was long and uneventful. Traveling became easier once I met up with a small group of other students.
I will need to learn more French.

Trying to sync up with French time, I stopped for a quick shot of espresso. Having sufficiently burned my tongue, I am ready for my first flavors of France.

Bonjour, mon liseur chéri.

Hello, my dear reader.
On September 15, I'll fly away to France for ten weeks with fellow Savannah College of Art and Design students. I'll study Documentary Photography, Business and Professional Writing, and Writing About Place. In the few days left, I'm getting ready and trying to read as much of my course books and learn as much French as I can.

This is the notebook I'll use for Documentary Photography class. I collaged it :}


I'm also trying to do some research on the area I'll be staying. If you have recommendations for things to do and see in the south of France — particularly, in Lacoste and in Provence — please share. Paris too, but mostly Provence.
Merci!