Aix-en-Provence, some 30kms north of Marseille, has an extensive pedestrian zone in its centre giving it a warm, intimate heart. I came to Aix often as my host Anne Florence works there and so I took to accompany her from time to time, exploring the city. The streets, lanes teem with people, the plazas fill with markets β food, crafts, textiles, brocante [bric a brac ] or cafe crowds. I usually try and walk all the streets first at random but in such a manner that I end up exploring them all.
Quiet and peaceful, like a French zen garden but yet had movement, people strolling through, even bustling groups of toddlers to some venue behind one of the walls of the park.
It was my go-to park. And while I really enjoy random wending through cities, spying out hidden alleys, gardens, views, I also enjoyed walking around with a task or two to give direction β e. An opportunity for social interaction, conversation in French. A few buskers invariably add to the bustling atmosphere β a trio of young musicians with soft Brazilian tunes, a lone accordionist with traditional French songs.
The city was unusually quiet, few people, no markets, outdoor cafes empty. But she wanted to swim. We walked up the long entrance driveway, swung right avoiding the hotel reception, passed through the hotel to the gardens behind. The garden was well-tended with flowering plants, rose gardens, attractive fruit trees, quiet niches with meditative benches.
Pascale had it. I lay back, closed my eyes secretly squinting at the hotel staff and they busiest themselves around us delivering cocktails, food to the other pool patrons. I found it hard to relax at first but Pascale dived in, beckoned me to join and we spent a long lazy summer afternoon around a 5-star pool. It was that sort of place. A perfect end to the hot summer day. One evening, we dressed all in white, packed a wicker picnic hamper with white wine, crackers and cheese, pasta Alfredo, some white rum and met friends at an intersection in the middle of the city.
