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Secret French Treasure
Ok – Maybe “secret”is stretching it a bit. But it’s waaay off the usual “must see-don’t miss” tourist circuit.
And for reasons that will become clear as you read on, it’s likely to stay that way. That, among other qualities is what makes “Oppede le Vieux'” one of my personal Treasures of France.
For me,this is the classic hilltop village. Clinging to a side of the Luberon mountain range, in Provence’s Luberon National Park. Not as celebrated as it’s hilltop neighbours, Gordes, LaCoste and to a lesser extent ,Bonnieux, Oppede le Vieux is the “real deal.” Simultaneously in ruins, and in re-construction. Mostly by rich Parisians. Other European “deep pockets” are also represented.
As you might imagine,life in Oppede Le Vieux(before mod cons) was niether a bowl of cherries, a bed of roses, or a walk in the park.It was a llllong walk down, and an even LLLLonger walk back.(No midnight pizza!) By the turn of the century (before the “war to end all wars” that did’nt) there were less than a thousand(we hope) happy campers in O.L.V.
Today Oppede le Vieux is home to the usual small group of artisans who inhabit such locales the world over. Such as the fair Celine.Owner of the local boutique.
It was she who hipped me to the incredible frescos in the villages tiny(even further up the hill) church.Well worth the walk!
There is no restaurant in Oppede le Vieux. Only “Le Petite Cafe.” Which seems to have new owners every time I pass. Never ate there. So – “Bonne Chance!
Happily,access to the centre of Oppede le Vieux is limited to foot traffic. There’s a parking lot a few hundred metres below.
Getting There:
The turn-off for Oppede Le Vieux,is a roundabout, three minutes or so by car after the village of MAUBEC, headed toward the village of MENERBES.
It’s a right turn. If you turn left ,you’ll quickly find yourself in “Oppede” – the village – one short street of not very much. And not where you want to be!
Who else shares their personal Treasures like DA BG?
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French Treasure
The greatest “Treasure of France” for me, are the French people.(and isn’t that true wherever you go?) It’s the people that make the place. And the French people have made France a place of genuine hospitality.
And, no, contrary to popular folklore, they’re not arrogant.The word is – Proud. And with good reason. Neither are they bland. They love ya – or they hate ya. No “gee – I guess they’re ok.” Which is what I especially love. I hate mediocre! “Maybes” just waste your time. “Yes” or “No” – equally desirable. For the same reason.”Yes” means “Come on in.” “No” means “Knock on another door.”
As you might expect there is a (sometimes)unspoken rivalry between city and country French.(Happily not as extreme as the Montagues and the Capulets) The mantra of the country froggies is that city folk are cold, distant, speedy,money grubbers,disconnected from reality and “the right values.”(ie -theirs)The city dwellers response, while overtly complimentary, is delivered in the same tone you might adopt explaining Television to a cave man.
Once, discussing Photography with country froggies, I described Eugene Atget’s Classic book – “A Vision of Paris.” Which is composed completely of night scenes of deserted streets.Their comment : ” Paris, sans Parisiens…quelle reve! (Paris without Parisiens…What a dream!)
That said, my welcome in Paris has been equal in warmth and friendliness to my country encounters. And although I am travelling by bike on the home turf of the World’s most celebrated bike race, I’m willing to bet(at least one glass of wine)your experience will be the same.
UNLESS…You are in a store “just looking.”(ie – wallet closed) Then, you will be zapped with a zillion watts of pouty distain. And should you be foolish enough to attempt a question, their(much superior to you)reply will be something on the order of : “Excuse-a-moi, mais votre accent c’est tres tres bizzzzzzzzaire.” As they turn and offer you a V.I.P. view of their backside.
Ready to experience Paris Now?
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French Flying Gourmet
I’ve always wanted to fly. And, my wild guess is that I’m probably not alone with this fantasy. Normally these “wisps ‘o wonder fade as you enter your teens. Then disappear completely into that dream-shattering state known as “adulthood.”
But not mine.(Yes, dear reader, I am the Peter Pan of flying dreams!) I’m still gliding gently over bucolic countrysides, deftly adjusting my greatcoat to maneouver effortlessly. Confidently dipping and weaving. Blissfuly surfing the thermals. But, alas, the ugly reality(and isn’t that the worst kind?) is that I’m afraid of heights! Just looking down(not even leaning over) a one story balcony turns my knees to jelly.
And while I become a quivering mass of anxious protoplasm on a ski lift, flying – (the inside of a big airplane kind) is no problem. To me that’s the airborne equivalent of “discovering” France by car. Both are second hand experiences. Both insulate you from primary reality. Ok – a good thing when you’re doing 800 mph at 30,000 ft. – but a million light years away from a solo glider flight at 3000 ft! Bottom Line : For me, both the car and “da plane!, da plane!” have more in common with a travel video watched from a cozy chair(with a verre there, bien sur) than real feel it-smell it – taste it – be -part- of -it -Travel. (With a capital “T”)
All this to explain : That’s why I’m the Bicycle Gourmet. Blissfully gliding through incredible countrysides. The next best thing to gliding above them. N’est ce pas? PLUS…if you have’nt yet connected the dots from my previous posts – It’s the last great affordable personal adventure. No age limit. No driving test. No car insurance. You stop and go when and where you want.(Especially places cars can’t go!) No rush hour worries. Low maintenance and depreciation. And you can get started for around $100.
Ergo – for the moment – I continue the extreme sport that is Bicycle Gourmet. Down those French Country backroads. Gliding to my “Bonheur.” But if, at some future date, having done every thing else on the “to do before I die” list, I should confront and(miracle of miracles) conquer my fear of heights; and if I should do that in a glider and suffer the same fate as “The Little Prince” – you’ll know that I realized my earliest, and last dream. With no regrets.
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