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.