Nimes - The Fact Behind the Fiction

Long ago (ie about 2 weeks ago) we took another day trip to a nearby city called Nimes. In this post I will talk about the cold, hard facts behind Lauren's earlier post, which was inspired very much by how fairytale-like the city seemed. It was a very different day trip than our jaunt to Arles, but equally wonderful. Nimes is a little further West than Arles, and reached by taking a train that ends in Montpellier. It has about 140,000 people, making it about 50% larger than Avignon.

Stepping out of the train station ("Without a map or compass," indeed, because the train station didn't have any - we actually took a photo of a city map on the wall just in case we got horribly lost), we ended up on this "stately boulevard," lined with trees, imperious buildings, and a little waterway flowing over marble running alongside. 

The boulevard ended in a large square, with a coliseum on one side (see below for a picture), a war memorial on the other, and in the middle a statue/fountain. It took us a while to notice that yes, the central figure appears to be wearing a Roman temple on her head, and was according to the inscription emblematic of some goddess (though I don't remember who).

Just behind our fair goddess was a large church with absolutely intricate stonework. Unfortunately we weren't able to go in, since it was, for some inexplicable reason, full of people on a Sunday morning.

Trying to follow a path we'd laid out for ourselves on the map in the train station, we ended up at the base of a big, Venice-esque canal running down a heavily-treed boulevard (picture of that below with the crocodile collection). Of course we needed no further prodding and followed the flow of the water, which lead us to what was almost certainly the find of the day: a large park in the middle of the city that seemed very much to be its own little world, accessed through a golden gate:

The courtyard of the park was full of trees and Roman-looking statues, and the watery canals from the boulevard actually split and surrounded it like a moat. At the beginning of the day it was a bit overcast and the park was sparsely populated, but after lunch it the sun appeared full-force and it really came alive.

The canals met in the middle of the park, underneath a densely-forested hill, in several enclosed pools. Like in a royal garden, the pools were populated with plenty of koi and interesting birds,

Including these colourful duck guys (Mom, can you figure out what they are?)

And also two white swans, and two black, further building on the fairytale feel.

 The park included the ruins of several ancient Roman structures, one of which we climbed to after lunch. The first was just to the left of the courtyard, had what seemed to be graffiti in Latin on the inside, and a multilingual warning posted to the effect that "it is strictly forbidden to escalate this monument." We were careful not to.

There was a restaurant just behind the monument, and after searching for a while and not finding anything that looked remotely comparable, we settled in on the deck in the sun, looking out over the park as it got busier and busier. I think we've got horseshoes for day-trip lunches: like in Arles the food we had was spectacular. We both ordered the same thing: a healthy, falling-apart leg of lamb, delicious chips, and some veggies and baguette to round things out. The table sitting just over Lauren's right shoulder was four parents (2 couples) and their toddler-age kids. In fine parenting style, they ordered two bottles of wine before proceeding to get their kids to pass them their lighters, so that they could light their smokes (at least they weren't getting the kids to light the smokes for them).

After lunch and with much anticipation, we mounted the stone steps leading up into the hilly forested area of the park. It felt mystical; winding paths abounded, such that you could probably wander in there for hours, and around every corner there were surprises like lookout points, ponds, and picturesque stone benches. The smells, too, were spectacular, the scent of diverse trees mingling with those of the flowers planted along the sides of some of the paths.

At the very top of the hill (according to Wikipedia, actually a mountain called Mont Cavalier), the apex of the park, stood the ruin of a Roman tower (Le Tour Magne). It was closed so we weren't able to go inside, but that didn't stop someone (not me...) from climbing up the side for a better view. Heading back down through the park we stopped in a sunny clearing to sit on the bench and read for a while, and watch the seemingly endless stream of cute dogs going by (and the overweight men trying to teach their daughters how to do a cartwheel).

Our timing towards the end of the day was phenomenal. As we left the park it was beginning to cloud over. We got a bit lost on our way back to the central square, aided on our way by a bus headed for the train station going the opposite direction that we were. Arriving back at the square we stopped to ride the ferris wheel, which gave us a panoramic view of the city as well as of the coliseum.

At the top of the ferris wheel Lauren snapped this shot of the Tour Magne sitting atop the hill, where we were just an hour earlier. Note the angry colour of the sky...

We got off the ferris wheel and decided to sit on a patio near the train station and have a coffee while we waited for our train. Luckily we picked a spot under a canopy, because mere moments after we sat down the sky erupted into a brief but incredibly violent & noisy thunderstorm. Just as it began to wane we packed it in and headed for home.

The mystical feeling of the city was added to by some of the symbolism we saw. The goddess with the temple-crown was a motif that we saw repeated a couple of times. But glaringly prominent, so much so that I began to take pictures of every encounter, was the crocodile of Nimes, depicted as chained to a palm tree (of which there were many as well). It's a symbol that's featured on Nimes' coat of arms, and according to one website dates back to a Roman military victory in 31 BC. In commemoration of this victory, a coin was minted in Nimes with this symbol on the reverse, and somehow it came to be the symbol of the city. To us it felt like we'd stepped into the Da Vinci Code.

Too much Lovecraft, too much King

Un conte de Nimes

Once there was a boy and a girl who found themselves in the city of Nimes.

Without a map or a compass, the sun shrouded in cloud, they step into the city. The guardian trees of Provence line a stately boulevard, reaching towards the sky like so many crippled hands petrified by the brilliant winter sun. Leafless and white, colder than any northern tree from the boreal forests of home, they tower over the two children. But the air is warm and soft, and a marble banked river leads to a fountain in the town square. Poised atop the fountain is a blank eyed goddess. A coliseum for a crown, she stares blindly over the rooftops, eternal apathy carved into her upturned face.

The square is quiet. Any word passed between the two seems defamatory. She is loath for anyone to hear them speaking and know the truth: my country is not your country. But the lines on her face and the narrowing of her eyes are enough; no sound need pass her lips.

Embossed into the paving stones is the collared alligator of Nimes. It appears again. And again. Alligator to alligator the children go, following the trail like so many reptilian breadcrumbs. Back and forth and through the town until they reach a set of golden gates, slightly open like a secret someone let slip.

The gravel beneath their feet is unbearably loud in the stillness of the park. The marble eyes of the statues lining the path seem to follow them as they dreamily walk past the shallow pools bejeweled with silently gliding swans, and towards a set of stone steps.

A forest looms ahead. Dark and wild, it renders the stone walkways insignificant, petty. Drawn forward, the children climb the stairs into the shadows of the trees. The grass is lushly green; despite the winter that flirts with the rest of the city, the flowers are blooming here. The paths slope drunkenly to and fro; strange birds call out. Streams feed into ponds glittering with fish that flash by so quickly, she can’t be sure she saw them at all. The air is heavy; the sun shines through strong and hot.

Breathless with wonder, they dance through the park.  Onward past stone benches and waterfalls, onward past branches hanging low with impossibly green leaves, onward past springs rushing down the hill and out of the forest. Onward and ever upward.

At last they crest the hill. Jutting up into the sky is a tower, its ruined top high above the canopy of the trees. Blocks of stone litter the ground around it, each one large enough to crush a man completely if ever it were to fall on top of him.  She stands a few paces away from the base of the tower, staring into the gaping hole in the wall that serves as a door. The intoxicating light of the forest cannot pass the threshold. The darkness is complete, emitting only a whispering sound like scales clicking over scales, so soft it might only be her imagination. As she moves towards the infinite blackness beyond the outer wall it seems to her that there might be something there. A shadow upon a shadow; the silhouette of something almost human, yet unspeakably inhuman.

 A shout from behind breaks the spell. She turns to see the boy, one hand stretched towards her, the other pointing up at the sky. The sun is burning low on the horizon; night is falling on the park.

And they are running, running. Down the hill and through the forest, half wild with panic, trying hard not to think of the shadow in the doorway, and what might happen when the sun slips out of sight, and all of the shadows join as one.  

Out of the forest and into the park, past the stone statues whose faces, once jovial and foolish, are twisted with fury. Sprinting towards the golden gates she wills herself to believe that she does not hear the soft scrape of stone on stone behind her, but runs faster all the same.

They burst through the gates, slamming them so hard that the golden alligator on top threatens to come crashing down on both of them, before it sways itself still. The urge to look back is unbearable. Terrified she casts a fleeting glance through the gates, but all is still. She looks up to the top of the hill where the ruined tower rises slanted out of the forest like a headstone on a restless tomb. Behind the tower, blue-black clouds are building.

The storm relentlessly marches across the sky while the children desperately try to find the way back to the train station. They search the skyline for a bell tower or a spire to guide them, but all of the buildings look the same. Convinced that they are going in circles, becoming more and more frantic they finally stumble upon the fountain and its stoic guardian, her impassive face pointed down a long stone walkway ending in the station.

With a flash of lightning the rain begins to drive down in sheets, soaking the children to the bone as they run towards the train station, their hysterical laughter drowned out by the roaring of the storm.  

Cooking with Brock and Lauren! (pt. 1)

 Holy hallway kitchen Batman!
Time for some updates on our favourite restaurant, Chez Brock&Lauren.

please enjoy these over-posed, over-exposed, over-contrasted, over-saturated pictures as a prelude to the hipster fun that's about to come your way. Really, it's a shame neither of us have instagram or twitter.  

Here's Brock showing us a package of quail eggs

Look ma, no eyes!

Bourson-pesto farfalle with a side of quail egg and cherry tomato salad

Marinated pork stir-fry with beans and peppers

Brock's awesome sarni that he had for lunch one day.

Lemon-ginger chicken with a side of salad

Brock's birthday lunch! A loaf of market bread (made with nuts, raisins, and wine), cranberry goat cheese, and forest honey. 

Brock's birthday dinner- the best mac and cheese you can make without an oven.

And for a late night snack, there's always a sweet potato to fry up. 

So that's basically been what we've been eating lately. As you can see, we've come quite a ways from covering all of our meat in apricot jam (which is actually really good). I'd like to thank our pot, our pan, and our diva microwave. We literally couldn't have done it without you.

Hope everyone has an awesome week, and we will post again soon!

Lauren

 P.S. This happened again yesterday. We might as well haul the broken dryer up the stairs and park it in the middle of the floor, it would really set off the soaked clothing hanging on dental floss, don't you think? Give it that nice, trailer park feel that you see in the magazines. 

Arles (or, the loveliest Saturday ever)

Hello all!

For a while now, we've been contemplating taking a day trip (or two, or even more!) Today at last we took the plunge, getting up fairly early and heading to the train station where we bought tickets for a train leaving immediately for Nîmes, a city of about 150,000 about 30 minutes away by regional train. A (suspected) early departure of the train in question coupled with some confusion about which platform it was leaving from, and where, exactly, said platform was, resulted in our missing the train. Next train to Nîmes: 2 1/2 hours later.

Not to be deterred, we promptly got tickets for a train to Arles, a city just over half of Avignon's size, and about 20 minutes away by regional train, the same train that we took to get from Marseille to Avignon, just going the other way. Our earlier mistake turned into a boon, and we ended up having a fantastic day in Arles. 

Arles is an extremely old city. According to everyone's dear friend Wikipedia, the area was first settled in 800 BC by an ancient group called the Ligures, before being taken by the Romans in 123 BC and turned into a prosperous Roman city. There's a ton of history behind the city, and it showed. We spent the day mostly wandering and looking at the remnants of the city's Roman era, as well as a number of other intriguing sites, as I'll detail with pictures below.

The first place we stumbled upon was by all appearances a bomb-scarred old church. We saw some other tourists stepping inside and followed them, and uncovered a cavernous sanctuary filled with gorgeous artworks and altarpieces. It's called the Eglise Notre-Dame de la Major, and was originally built in 1152 on the site of an ancient Roman temple, having been through numerous alterations and revisions throughout the centuries.

We saw a lot of small, cobblestone streets in Arles, most of them pedestrian-only, winding up picturesque, flower-covered paths, surrounded by houses. Needless to say, we followed more than a few. The weather was on our side, as it was a gorgeous sunny day.

Entirely by accident we left the old city of Arles and emerged onto Blvd des Lices. It was covered - absolutely covered - with a large, obviously itinerant market. The picture doesn't do it justice; the market stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions, and occupied both sides of the street, leaving a narrow path for residential cars to struggle through. There was an eclectic mix of stalls; we definitely saw some artisans, painters, potters, woodworkers, etc, including one lady who seemed to work exclusively in sparkling paint on black velvet. On the other hand, the majority of the stalls dealt in everyday items like clothes, shoes, cookware, watches (including some "rolexes"), and other things that  seemed potentially dubious in terms of their procurement. There was also fresh food and animals, living and not. At the far end of the market it suddenly took on a distinctively Middle-Eastern feel, with incense vendors and men peddling CDs and books in Arabic. Apparently the market is weekly, and is the largest one in Arles. At one point we came across a woman toting a large pot-bellied pig that had been covered in green sparkles. I wasn't quick enough to snap a picture.

After spending some time at the market we stopped in at a restaurant called La Charcuterie, more or less at random, and ended up having the most lovely meal of our trip so far. We both ordered the "plat du jour," generally a mixed plate that's quite a bit cheaper than the normal dishes. After a bowl of olives and bread to appetize, the main dish consisted of a simple salad, delicious seasoned broccoli, pommes dauphine (deep-fried round potato puffs), and two cuts of fantastic lamb. I meant to take a picture of the place when we left, but I forgot!

Then we headed down to the river Rhone, the same river that runs through Avignon, and wandered along the riverbank for a while.

We also checked out the "summer gardens," complete with flowers in full bloom, trees, and even bamboo...

There were also several impressive Roman ruins throughout the old portion of the city. This is the amphitheater:

After our wandering we settled in at a cafe situated at the base of the massive coliseum, which is still used for bullfights (of the fatal and non-fatal kind both, unfortunately). Of course I meant to take pictures of both and managed to forget. So instead, enjoy this picture of the Van Gogh cafe, where we did not have coffee. Incidentally, it was in Arles that Van Gogh painted something in the neighbourhood of 300 paintings, and went nuts and sliced part of his ear off.

Finally, instead of an impressive photograph of the coliseum, here is an artist's rendition, executed using only the finest digital imaging software.

See y'all!

-Brock