The road (that should) not (have been) taken

I arrived in Marseille late Friday afternoon (after an unplanned 4 hour stopover in Munich in which I dared not go the fabulous duty-free shops), picked up the Picasso and drove without incident (well, a stall or two) to Mazan, where I arrived about 7. Thankfully it was still light as the hotel I had booked (Hotel Le Siecle) was up a narrow street in a medieval courtyard. It was very clean and comfortable and the breakfast was top notch but the plumbing sounded like Niagara Falls. Right around the corner (on the road to Pernes les Fontaines) was a fantastic pizzeria (La Pizzeria) to which I am sure a larger group of us will return -- the crust was amazing and the place was packed.

After visiting Mazan optique on Satruday morning and purchasing new sunglasses and reading glasses, I made my way directly to the Caveau du Beaumont du Ventoux and bought a box of rose, then went to the Super U in Malaucene to stock up on some basic provisions (olives, petits ecoliers, lardons etc.) and drove to les valettes and met our landlord Isabelle by the fountain at 1 pm. Our little house is very lovely with an upper (dining) and lower (bike staging) terrace. There are two proper bedrooms and lovely built-in cupboards throughout, although not really comfy places in which to read indoors. Given that the temperature plunged precipitously on Saturday that is what I was inclined to do. Instead I made a roast chicken with green beans and salad for dinner after reassembling my bike and then watched two episodes of Medium back to back in French. I think it must also be

inexplicable in English.

On Sunday I picked Glenn and Peter up at the Avignon train station and we went to Vaison in case the huge supermarket was still open as Peter had neglected to bring a towel. No luck. But there was a bakery open where Glenn bought us all slices of pizza and orangina. Then we came back to Malaucene and descended upon the bike store where Peter rented a Ridley carbon Stratos with a triple chainring. Glenn rode it home, and then cleaned it up and put on an extra saddle he had brought (!!). I made quiche and salad for dinner. Glenn crashed, and Peter and I played half a game of cribbage, until he crashed too.

Monday morning we went to the Bedoin Market, arriving around 8:30, and bought a lot of stuff including 4 cheeses (L'Abondance, Tomme de Brebis Artisanale, le Petit Valreas, and St. Felicien) and a tablecloth. From there we went directly to Vaison la Romaine to the dollar store Glenn has apparently been wanting to go to since last year. We bought cushions for our outdoor chairs, Peter's towel, glasses for campari and soda and possibly some other things I cannot now recall. Then we went to the big supermarket, which we will never do again on a Monday morning, and Peter went nuts in the yoghurt aisle. He calls what he selected "yoghurt" but the varieties that actually tell you the ingredients all feature creme fraiche among them. After all that consumerism (which required 2 topping ups of the kitty) we went home and had a lovely salad of green beens, beets and fresh goat cheese, bread, the cheese platter with olive jam, two varieties of olives, and some delicious carpentras melons. Then we went for a bike ride.

We went without a map. The first three quarters went smoothly according to memory, and we rode to Entrechaux (over the fields, where Peter had a flat tire) to Mollans sur Ouveze to Faucon to Puymeras, and then, instead of heading towards Mirabel aux Baronnies at the next traffic circle we took a small road, which I quickly realized was completely unfamiliar. Glenn, however, said it was signed to "Villedieu" so we carried on and on and on up hill until we arrived at a gravel road (but rideable) which a local farmer said lasted only 650 metres. That was followed by some fresh blacktop (very hot in the sun) that went almost straight up. After this half hour of hell (measured from the start of the gravel) we finally arrived in Villedieu. Smiles all around. From there downhill to Vaison (or it seemed all downhill) and then home. Glenn made pasta for dinner (with olives, sun-dried tomatoes, sauteed spring onions, and a bit of lemon zest) and we enjoyed it with a lot of rose. So much that we drained the box!

This is our welcoming committee in Villedieu -- we are not sure if he was admiring Peter's new cycling shoes, or was after my Larabar!