The sound of music

The city of Aix is alive with the sound of music. Yesterday was apparently a special day in the festival calendar and in every square, street corner, fountain and alleyway was a band or musical group. I wandered the town listening to heavy rock (not really my scene), reggae (nah), hip hop (nope), a drumming group (excellent), a melodic sort of folky group (awesome), soft rock (much better), a 100 piece (give or take) marching band (by the time I  caught up with them many of the members might have had a couple too many vinos), a couple of saxaphone players (definitely my thing – my favourite instrument), a group singing haunting ballads (loved them) – I  think that’s all. No piano players (I guess it wouldn’t really have been easy to get a piano through the cobbled streets and keep it in tune) and no classical music. There may well have been some, but I ran out of steam, so didn’t go looking.  The best part is that it was all free. The worst part of it was that I think the entire population of France,  as well as significant numbers of other European and American tourists, have descended on Aix.

The last few days have been spent in museums (classics and old masters) and art galleries (contemporary art), meeting and chatting with artists, and seeing the world through different perspectives. Picasso currently features strongly in Aix, with two exhibitions centred around his work, and another collection with a couple of dozen Picassos in it. And Cezanne, of course (this was his home). I’m foot-sore and bone-weary – but at least all this activity will help counteract the croissant and baguette consumption. Two freshly baked croissants for breakfast each morning, and either lunch or dinner of half a baguette with cheese and/or pate and the most delicious rhubarb paste you could ever want for – so I’m only eating in a restaurant or cafe once a day. I thought Australia was expensive…. at first glance prices don’t seem so bad €16 or €17 for a meal – until you remember to double it to translate it to dollars. That’s a lot for lunch. Add another €4 (so $8) for a cup of tea and you realise how prohibitive eating out can become.  I look longingly at the ice creams, but cannot bring mysekf to spend $10 or $12 on a couple of scoops in a cone. Oh well, I’m inhaling more than enough calories anyway.

And talking of the cost of living,  I’m saddened to see so many homeless people. There are significant numbers of Syrian (I presume) refugees begging on the streets, both men and women. But there are also quite a lot of youngish to middle aged French men (and a couple of older gentlemen) who are sleeping rough, with a cardboard sign asking for money / food for them or their dog (quite a few have a canine companion). I haven’t noticed any obviously homeless women, although I don’t doubt there are some.

 

A new adventure – for Georgie

East West – but is home best?

I’m on a solo adventure this time, heading to Kenya for a wedding, but travelling a somewhat indirect path to get there. After all, the journey is as much a part of the adventure as the destination.

I spent an exhausting 24 hours in Singapore, which involved lots of airport time, and many hours exploring the Flower Dome and Cloud Forest at the Gardens by the Bay – what a truly incredible place. Unfortunately I had to share it with 17 gazillion other tourists – which would have driven Rod crazy had he been with me. I still managed to take hundreds of photos of flowers, shrubs and trees – channelling Rod! I stayed for the light show and then hopped on the train and headed back to the airport. Everything works so effeciently in Singapore – everything and everywhere is clean and tidy and everything runs exactly to schedule. People are friendly and helpful, food is cheap and delicious. I wish I had allowed an extra day or two to enjoy it.

A long flight to Paris followed. Thankfully there was an empty seat between me and my travelling companion allowing us a modicum of comfort. We arrived in Paris on time- of course, because we we were on Singapore Airlines. And there the efficiency stopped. What a chaotic airport Charles De Gaulle is. Poor signage; contradictory information; unfriendly, unhelpful and somewhat surly airport staff (but fairly typical for Immigration police worldwide). A train strike which derailed my travel plans. Thank goodness for the nice young man at the railway office who bent over backwards to find me an alternative travel plan, and provided very detailed instructions on how to get to the station to catch the right train (which involved catching 4 other trains first because of the disruptions caused by the strike!)

I shared my train space with a lovely young French lady and her travelling companion who was a large black cat called Hermès. (“Like the handbag?”, I asked. “NON! Like the GOD!” she replied).

After catching a shuttle bus from the train station to town, I dragged my hideously heavy luggage through the narrow streets of Aix-en-Provence to the address of my Airbnb apartment – where I waited and waited and waited for someone to let me in. Why oh why did I bring so much luggage??? – I must remember next time that just because you can doesn’t mean you should. It is, of course, highly unlikely that I will use even half of what I brought with me. And now of course I have the very difficult task of avoiding purchasing anything at all, despite the profusion of markets, artisans, boutiques, etc. I can barely move my case as it is – and it seems that those fancy doodah castors on the bottom of the case are entirely useless for upright four wheel driving. So drag it I must.

So as I settle into my little (‘little’ being the operative word) apartment, which was clearly not designed for a one as generously proportioned as me, I’m dusting off the schoolgirl French and relishing the chance to spend six glorious summer days in this delightful city.

Photos to follow (I’m having difficulty getting enough Wi-Fi to get photos from phone to tablet at the moment).