20 years ago today – Day 65

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May 7 – escape to Cotignac

Mike goes to the station first thing in the morning just in case the bikes had arrived. They haven’t. Time for Plan B. After a confirmation call to Cotignac, Philippe and Michel arrange to meet us at the bus station in Brignoles, an hour and a half east of Aix-en-Provence. He picks up our bus tickets to Aix, 77F for each of us. We pack our bags and check out. He leaves first to check the station one more time. I go to the bus station and wait for him there, but he is waiting for me next door at the train station for some reason – a slight misunderstanding. I have no idea where he has gone. Five minutes before the bus left he comes running over to the depot.

The bus to Aix is almost empty and the ride is pleasant. We wait there 40 minutes
for our bus to Brignoles, which costs us another 45F each. Aix-en-Provence is one of the loveliest cities in region, full of fountains, public markets and foreign students studying French. They charmingly dub it “Sex-en-Vacances”.

The bus to Brignoles is crowded and behind us is a group of rowdy high school students with little consideration for anyone else. Two boys are tussling so hard on the seat immediately behind ours that I expect the driver to stop the bus at any moment. He doesn’t, and fortunately the group of students get off before Brignoles.

Marcel and Philippe find us at the depot in Brignoles as we are collecting our bags. They are a cheery, outgoing couple in their 40s. Philippe is a director, high up in a federal department. Marcel is a chef. They used to have a bed and breakfast in Normandy and were party central for their friends in Paris. They moved to Provence to enjoy the better weather and more privacy. They own a country inn and restaurant, referred to in this region as a ‘mas’. It is a losing proposition but they bought it so Marcel could practice his art of cooking.

Philippe drives us in his land cruiser back the Mas de Cotignac, a short distance outside the town itself. The road twists between vineyards, forest and rocky outcroppings on the way there. It is narrow but I can’t help thinking about how fun it would have been to cycle it. The mas itself is a lovely house with both flower and vegetable gardens, a rear terrace and a large swimming pool.

After a short tour, they pour us drinks in the living room. We place our bags into one of the two guest rooms. The other is occupied by young gay American named Benedict who does dishes and yard work to earn his keep, but he isn’t here right now. He left on a four hour trip to visit friends in Aix on Sunday, two days ago, and he hasn’t returned yet. Mike says Benedict is the type of name a rich New York sophisticate would name her spoiled child. Michel and Philippe are not stressed about his unreliability. They only hired him as a favour to a friend, and to help him practice his French, which they say makes my French sound good.

It seems that Michel and Philippe intend to treat us like kings while we are here. Dinner consists of an omelet with French truffles, beef in a fig sauce and peach melba, amongst other things, served with the finest of local wines. The restaurant is closed on Mondays and Tuesdays so we are undisturbed. I am blown away by the trouble and expenses they have gone to on our behalf. We spend the first part of the evening after dinner on the terrace, until it becomes too cool, and then talk in the living room until it’s time to sleep.


PHOTO 1: Roman fountain in Aix en Provence
PHOTO 2: market in Aix en Provence
PHOTO 3: Marcel and Philippe
PHOTO 4: Le Mas de Cotignac
PHOTO 5: Le Mas to Cotignac back side