Give me a heart

Give me a heart so I can love
Give me a heart to make me ache when you leave
Give me a heart to make me sing when you return
.
Give me a heart so I can know joy from sorrow
Give me a heart so I can feel your pain as if it were my own
Give me a heart so I can share with you the goodness of this world.

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Donne-moi un coeur pour que je puisse aimer
Donne-moi un coeur pour souffrir quand tu es loin
Donne moi un coeur pour chanter quand tu reviens.

Donne-moi un coeur pour connaître joie et peine
Donne-moi un coeur pour vivre ta douleur comme si c'était la mienne

Donne-moi un coeur pour vivre le bonheur d'être au monde avec toi

Photo : Rue des marchands, Avignon, Octobre 2007.

1st of December is World Day against Aids.
Le 1er décembre, journée mondiale contre le SIDA.

Sailing with the blues

My blogging friend Imparfait Présent (Imperfect present) noticed traces of nostalgy in my previous posts and prompted me to co-write a text with him. The result can be found below. He wrote the first paragraph, calling me to take him on a journey. Surfing on memories of my sailing days, I took him on a mystical ocean passage with quiet night watches, enchanted island discoveries and magic friendships... The third section is his reaction to the voyage. I'll have to apologise to my English speaking readers for not providing a translation. I.P.'s texts are dotted with subtle wordplays which only work in French. I admire his writing tremendously and a poor translation wouldn't do him justice. For those of you can't read French, please resort to my photo, a tagged wall along the Quai de la Ligne in Avignon, to set off on your own journey. Like the characters on the poster (an advert for a play dating back to last July's Theatre Festival) take your little suitcase, step aboard and let your imagination loose...

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Lever l’encre

Emmène-moi au bord de l’amer. Emmène-moi là où je peux déverser tout ce qui trouble mes nuits comme on trouble des eaux claires. Tout ce qui me rend triste. Tout ce qui me rend amer. Emmène-moi dans ces déserts de souvenirs, ces abîmes de douleur. Emmène-moi. Fais-moi voyager. Sortir de ma réserve naturelle. M’énerver. M’emporter. Dire. Dire tout ce qui me déplaît, me révolte. Emmène-moi. Fais-moi bouger. Réagir. Bondir. Bousculer nos certitudes. Emmène-moi au bord de l’amer. Là-bas, en dessous. En dessous de mes limites. Au-delà des mots. A l’intérieur de mes pensées. Entre toutes ces blessures du passé et ces peurs du futur. Emmène-moi. Fais-moi surfer sur tous ces vagues à l’âme. Et construire tous ces ponts. Tous ces ponts de la vie, non, de l’espoir. Tous ces ponts. Ces mains tendues vers les autres. Vers toi. Vers nous. Emmène-moi. Fais-moi dériver vers tout ça. Emmène-moi. Fais-moi sourire et pleurer en même temps. Fais-moi rêver et me rappeler. Fais-moi vivre. Dire ce qui me ronge. Dire ce qui me fait vibrer. Dire. Crier même. Au bord de l’amer. Sur le chemin de la douce heure. Emmène-moi, je partirai sur ce que tu me donneras.

Oui ami, viens avec moi. Jusqu'à présent j'ai toujours suivi, mais maintenant je sais tracer ma route. Je t'emmènerai. A la douce heure on prendra l'échelle de coupée, on montera sur le pont respirer le sel de la vie. Tu sens comme l'air de la nuit se fait velours ? Ici c'est mon royaume. Celui où les âmes se délient, où les corps s'ouvrent, où les grandes choses s'accomplissent.
Sans bruit nous avons largué les amarres. Pas un éclat de voix : j'aime ces manœuvres bien rodées où chacun s'affaire, solidaire, complémentaire. Notre navire trace un sillage phosphorescent dans l'encre du rêve. Devant nous, luisant sous la lune, l'horizon du possible, fuyant mais toujours là. Je n'ai pas allumé la lampe tempête, il n'y a pas de tempête. Cet océan est pacifique. Nos yeux se sont accoutumés au noir, un noir riche et fondant de chocolat à paillettes. Où sont passées tes peurs ? Tu as vu comme la nuit s'apprivoise ? Le cap est facile à tenir, nous suivons notre bonne étoile. Je connais le nom des constellations, je te les apprendrai : le pont des sourires, la carte du tendre...
La mer berce notre conversation nocturne. C'est l'heure des confidences. Pas de vague à l'âme ni de vague à lame, mais des âmes-sons, des âmes soeurs. As-tu déjà vécu de ces moments de symbiose parfaite avec l'univers ?

Lorsque nos compagnons à leur tour viendront prendre leur quart, nous irons dormir, confiants, joue quadrillée par le hamac. La lune se couchera avec nous, par amitié. Pelotonnés dans la chaleur des voix étouffées sur le pont, on s'endormira d'un sommeil rond. Les amis veillent, le bateau trace sa route vers l'aurore; nos rêves légers, sans conséquence, seront comètes aussi éphémères que notre sillage.
C'est l'aube aux doigts de rose qui nous ramènera sur le pont : une ombre de soie bleue, terre ! Terre de feu, feu follet, lait de vache, cochons, couvées, que nous promet cette île sept îles c'est-il ? Quelles odeurs nous accueilleront, frangipanier, poisson séché, gasoil épices épicéa ? Nous irons à la rencontre de ces drôles d'autres. Terriens merriens, faux découvreurs nous sommes, vrais gens ils sont, mais ils ne font pas tout comme nous, c'est bizarre.. Comment peut-on être persan ? Nous le découvrirons ensemble. On a toute la vie pour apprendre...
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Mais le soleil s'est levé, Schéhérazade doit arrêter son histoire. Elle continuera demain et tous les autres jours jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ait plus de jours, c'est l'histoire des hommes. L'histoire de ceux qui vivent avec le ciel, qui font des ponts en petits bateaux, qui godillent en eaux claires, qui rient avec les baleines et sourient aux enfants, qui se moquent de la consigne et qui te tendent la main - qui attendent ta main.

C'est plus facile pour moi d'avoir un tremplin duquel décoller. Un pont des sourires. Il y a toutes ces mains qui se tendent dans cette boîte à lettres. Tous ces hyper liens qui se créent. Ces toiles qui se tissent. Et ces voiles qui se hissent. Voilà. C’est ça. Les iles se lient les unes aux autres. Des hyper iles. Chacun sur son île mais prêt à nous laisser y jeter l’encre. Les îles se lient et moi je lis tes maux comme on décoderait une carte aux trésors enfouie au fond de toi. Tous ces voyages à cœur gagnant. Rien n’est perdu. Il y a toujours des mains qui se tendent. Des ponts sur lesquels on danse la vie. Des ponts qui se construisent entre nous. Entre vous. Et moi je te dis tu.

Tu sais quoi ? Je sais que nos chemins s’éloignent puis se rapprochent. Se distendent puis se resserrent au fil du temps. Mais qu’importe le temps. Qu’importe les chemins. On n’oublie pas. On ne s’oublie pas. Il y aura toujours une place dans la boîte à l’être. Toujours un moment privilégié pour une réunion de voyage. Un retour d’expérience. Qu’importe le temps. Qu’importe la distance. On pourra toujours hisser la grande toile et cliquer sur nos hyperliens. Toujours.

Oh ! Capitaine, ma capitaine ! Emmène-moi voguer. Emmène-moi danser. Danser sur des mers du sûr. Du sûr de soi. Oh ! Capitaine, ma capitaine ! Donne-moi cette force. Ta force de braver les océans inconnus. Sans peur et sans reproche. Que veux tu que l’on te reproche, magicienne ? Ces jours en pleine nuit. Ces nuits noires transformées en chocolat à paillette ? Ces océans de douce heure ? Tes sept îles ? Mes dix terres ? Année de la planète terre. 2008. Alors voguons. Voguons sur les mers. Marchons sur les terres. Les nuits, les jours. Les mains dans les mains. Que veux tu que l’on nous reproche, oh ! capitaine, ma capitaine ? Il y a des mains qui se tendent. Des mains qui attendent. Et nous les saisissons. Aujourd’hui. Demain. Toutes ces mains. Tout au long du voyage. A chaque coin de la terre. Mais j’ai toujours et encore peur que cela ne tourne pas net. 2008 année internationale de la planète… terre.

Terre ! Terre !

Texte co-écrit avec Imparfait présent.

Photo : quai de la Ligne, Avignon, octobre 2007. Mur taggé et relique d'affichage sauvage pour une pièce jouée durant le festival d'Avignon en juillet dernier.

The weather and me

View from my dining room today at 1 pm. Wanted to share it with you, it's so spectacular. Stormy weather forecast for today with mild afternoon temperatures in the 55°-60°F range (around 15°C). At last the freezing mistral has loosened its grip. It was about time, I could take it no more. I spent the last few days trapped at home, incapable of coping with the intense cold and predatory wind that burns the sinuses and petrifies the body. At last I now breathe again. In the mild air I can feel my knotted body relaxing, all tensions easing up, I could go dancing in the streets! Have you ever felt that way?

(You'll recognise the view already shown on October 30th, but the light is totally different)

Vue depuis ma fenêtre aujourd'hui à 13h. Je voulais partager ça avec vous, c'est si spectaculaire. Météo pour aujourd'hui : temps orageux avec des températures douces autour de 15°C l'après-midi. Enfin le terrible mistral nous a lâché. Il était temps, je n'en pouvais plus. J'ai passé ces derniers jours recroquevillée chez moi, incapable d'affronter ce froid violent qui mord les sinus et raidit les corps. Aujourd'hui dans l'air tiède je respire enfin. Je me dénoue, je me décrispe, je sens que toutes les tensions tombent, j'ai envie d'aller danser dans la rue ! Vous avez déja ressenti ça ?

(Vous reconnaîtrez la vue déja montrée le 30 octobre, mais la lumière est complètement différente)

Psychedelic waters

Along the quay...
If I dived here, deep deep, would I emerge on the other side of the Earth, in the Pacific?

Au bord du quai...
Si je plongeais ici, profond profond, est-ce que je ressortirais de l'autre côté de la terre, dans le Pacifique ?

Three shoes and four paws

Read the title and then look at the picture carefully. The photo has not been tampered with.
Avignon, september 2007.

Trois chaussures et quatre pattes. Lisez le titre et regardez bien l'image. Cette photo est naturelle.
Avignon, septembre 2007.

Seagull trilogy, #3

Thanks for the wonderful stories you came up with on my previous post! Digging a photo out of my archives is like opening a can of worms. How not to let the others out too? So here's the third and last instalment of my seagull trilogy. It was taken at The Entrance, north of Sydney, where I used to live. I like it as much for the seagull itself as for the pelicans in the background. The Entrance being the self-proclaimed "pelican capital of Australia" they were a familiar sight. Proximity with the birds is one of the things I enjoyed tremendously in Australia. What birds are common where you live?
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Merci pour les belles histoires que vous a inspirées ma photo précédente ! Tirer une photo des archives, c'est comme ouvrir une boite de Pandore : comment ne pas aussi laisser sortir les autres ? Alors voici la troisième et dernière pièce de ma trilogie mouettesque (ou goëlandaise). Je l'aime autant pour le gros plan que pour les pélicans derrière. Je l'ai prise au nord de Sydney, à The Entrance où j'habitais. The Entrance s'auto-proclame "capitale australienne du pélican" et de fait, ils sont partout, très faciles à approcher. La proximité avec les oiseaux est une des choses que j'ai adorées en Australie. Qu'y a-t-il comme oiseaux par chez vous ?

Jack Mitchell and the ghost

Along Pier 2 in Sydney is a heavy log marked Jack Mitchell 300 x 250 x 6.3 m. At dusk, Jack's soul is sometimes seen fluttering around. Who do you think was Jack Mitchell ? A double ration of rhum for the best story.

Jack Mitchell et le fantôme : Sur le quai numéro 2 de Sydney se trouve un énorme longeron marqué Jack Mitchell 300 x 250 x 6.3 m. Au crépuscule on a parfois la surprise d'apercevoir son âme voleter dans les parages. A votre avis, qui était Jack Mitchell ? Une rasade de rhum pour la plus belle histoire. Hisse et ho !

Three seagulls

Good deal this week: three seagulls for the price of one!
But this one isn't from Avignon. You can occasionally see a few seagulls here (the Med is only a 1.5 hour drive away) but the wet sand in this photo is from my favourite Australian beach.
Oh fond memories of Sydney... I haven't seen the sea for three months now.

Promotion de la semaine : trois mouettes pour le prix d'une !
Mais elle n'est pas d'Avignon. On voit parfois des mouettes ici (après tout la Méditerranée n'est qu'à une heure et demie de voiture), mais ce sable mouillé est celui de "ma" plage australienne.
Souvenirs souvenirs.... Ca fait trois mois que je n'ai pas vu la mer.

View from my window

I moved in almost a month ago and promised some of you to show pictures from my window.
Here you are. I live on a fourth floor with no lift (elevator) in the old part of town. It's a duplex apartment with an inside staircase leading to my bedroom and a terrace on the fifth floor. This is the view you get from there: a scruffy mess of rooftops and chimneys, a hectic mix of old (churches and towers) and new (tv antennas and satellite dishes). Not that pretty, but quite fascinating...

J'ai emménagé il y a presque un mois et j'avais promis à certains d'entre vous de vous montrer la vue depuis mes mes fenêtres. Voilà ! Je vis au 4ème sans ascenseur dans la vieille ville. C'est un petit appartement en duplex avec un escalier intérieur conduisant à ma chambre et à la terrasse. Voilà la vue qu'on en a le matin (lumière d'orage) : un invraisemblable fouillis de toits et de cheminées, mélange cacophonique d'ancien (les multiples tours et clochers) et de récent (les paraboles et antennes télé). Pas vraiment joli, mais assez fascinant...

To the north, we look onto the plane trees of Pignotte square. The trees are huge and so close that when the cold mistral wind blows hard (like it does tonight) the branches clang and bang against the roof and gutter.

Côté nord, on a vue sur les platanes de la place Pignotte. Ils sont immenses et viennent si près que quand le mistral souffle fort (comme ce soir) les branches viennent cogner contre le toit et la gouttière.

Looking to the north-west, you get fantastic views over the Popes' Palace, here today late afternoon, when the setting sun hits the palace sideways. I would love to do a series of images taken at different times of day, just like Monet did with the façade of the cathedral of Chartres...

En regardant vers le nord-ouest on a une vue magnifique sur le Palais des Papes, ici photographié ce soir en fin de journée, les rayons du soleil éclairant la façade par le côté. La lumière change tout le temps. J'adorerais faire une série d'images à différentes heures de la journée, comme Monet avec ses cathédrales de Chartres.

Et quand vient le soir, les nuages roses éclairent la mer de toits.

And when the night sets in, pink clouds hang above the sea of roofs....

And because this post will be all about me (because I'm worth it????), I shall also respond to Sally of Sydney Daily Photo who tagged me (well, who was first to tag me, because others did it too afterwards). I'm supposed to tell eight random facts about myself, so here goes:
1. I once flew over Paris in an Army helicopter with the then French Defence Minister

2. I tend to do the fun and easy things first and keep the boring ones for last
3. I have twins (boy and girl)
4. I had my first white hair at the age of 23

5. I have never been drunk
6. I love the French goûter (afternoon snack) of chocolate and fresh baguette
7. I am very good at reading maps - I can even fold them back
8. I can assemble an Ikea piece of furniture on my own and am very good with a jig saw

And now I'm supposed to tag another eight fellow bloggers to tell us eight random facts about themselves. While I appreciate the fun aspect of the game I have already said before (in Sydney Daily Snap) how I loathe chain messages. Besides, because the tagging has already been quite extensive in our blogging community, I am afraid I'll never find eight fresh names. Therefore I shall not nominate anyone in particular but if you would like to take up the challengle of telling us eight random facts about yourself, by all means please mention it in the comments below and we'll be delighted to come and read you. Have a good week!

Et puisque ce post ne parle que de moi (parce que je le vaux bien ????), je continuerai en répondant à Sally de Sydney Daily Photo qui m'a taguée (la première, car d'autres l'ont fait depuis). Je dois citer huit faits me concernant, alors voilà :
1. Un jour j'ai survolé Paris et fait 250 kms dans un hélicoptère de l'Armée en compagnie du Ministre de la Défense de l'époque
2. J'ai tendance à faire les trucs faciles et amusants en premier et à garder le travail ennuyeux pour après

3. J'ai des jumeaux, garçon et fille
4. J'ai eu mon premier cheveux blanc à l'âge de 23 ans
5. Je n'ai jamais été saoûle
6. J'adore prendre du pain et du chocolat pour le goûter
7. Je sais lire les cartes routières - et je sais même les replier
8. Je sais monter toute seule un meuble Ikea et manie très bien la scie sauteuse

Et maintenant, je dois passer le flambeau à huit autres bloggeurs qui à leur tour doivent se raconter au public. J'ai déjà dit ici (non, dans Sydney Daily Snap) tout le mal que je pensais des chaînes quelles qu'elles soient, par principe. De plus, le concept ayant déja pas mal circulé dans notre communauté de bloggeurs j'ai peur de ne pasréussir à trouver huit noms. Je ne solliciterai donc personne en particulier mais j'encourage vivement les amateurs de strip-tease sage à reprendre le flambeau pour nous conter huit faits les concernant. Qu'ils se manifestent dans les commentaires ici, nous serons ravis d'aller les lire. Bonne semaine à tous.

Crime scene

It's amazing the scenes you witness when you roam the streets of Avignon at sunset. Do you think I should have called the police? I merely took a photo - perhaps to be used as evidence? I read the local paper 'la Provence' the next morning but there was no news of a murder by hammer in front of the Popes' Palace.
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C'est étonnant les scènes dont on est le témoin quand on arpente les rues d'Avignon au coucher du soleil. Aurais-je dû appeler la police ? Je me suis contentée de prendre une photo. Peut-être une pièce à conviction ? J'ai regardé le journal La Provence le lendemain, aucune nouvelle d'un meurtre à coups de marteau sur la place du Palais des Papes.

Blog action day for the environment

On this day dedicated to the environment my theme will naturally be Avignon's trees. Beautiful vegetation above on the island of la Barthelasse as seen from Avignon's highest spot, the top of the Popes' garden, the Rocher des Doms, a beautiful vantage point overlooking the Rhone plains. The silhouetted mountain in the background is Mount Ventoux, where we were last week.

En ce jour consacré à l'environnement, quoi de plus naturel que de vous présenter Avignon en vert, Avignon et ses arbres. Ceux de l'ile de la Barthelasse d'abord, tels qu'on les découvre depuis le sommet du rocher des Doms, le point culminant de la ville qui domine la plaine du Rhône. En silhouette dans le fond, le Mont Ventoux où nous étions la semaine dernière...

Then getting into detail, the plane tree, king tree of the city, a large and majestic tree whose foliage brings shade and and cool to many of Avignon's squares and courtyards. Here on place Pignotte, just round the corner from where I live, framing the façade of a beautiful church.

Puis le platane, arbre roi de la ville, qui prête son port majestueux à de nombreuses places et cours. Ici sur la place Pignotte, juste au coin de chez moi, encadrant la façade somptueuse d'une ancienne église...

Then the olive tree, here photographed in the Jardin des Doms : this tree that won't stand a deep frost epitomises the mild winters of southern France. It also tells of olive oil, indispensable ingredient of our mediterranean cuisine... flavoursome, fruity and healthy !

Puis l'olivier, ici au jardin des Doms : cet arbre qui ne supporte pas le gel profond est le symbole des hivers doux du sud de la France et de l'huile d'olive, savoureuse, fruitée, saine, indispensable ingrédient de la cuisine méditeranéenne !

And last but not least, the fig tree. Nothing to do with what Australians call fig tree, a member of the ficus family, but the real one which actually produces figs. When I arrived here in August, the season was in full swing and I had a dream : to eat a juicy fig picked straight from the tree and warmed by the sun, an absolute treat ! I was telling my sisters about this fantasy as we were walking to market in l'Isle-sur-Sorgue, just 25 kms from Avignon, when we came across a large fig tree whose branches hung over a wall onto the street. I couldn't believe my luck as I picked my first fig in years. Its taste matched my expectations, I was elated. Helped by my sister who lifted me up, I reached to another and then a couple more on higher branches when we heard a voice coming from the garden over the wall :we'd been caught steeling fruit! We started walking away looking as detached and innocent as possible when I realised the voice was actually a friendly one. An old woman appeared at the gate, saying "go ahead, pick some more, it's OK : when we planted this tree ages ago my husband bent it towards the street so it would lean over the wall and offer fruit to passers by. By all means, help yourselves!" Thank you madam for this wonderful gesture, I'd like to think that I'll never forget it.

Et pour finir en beauté, le figuier, encore un arbre qui symbolise le sud ! Les australiens ont un arbre qu'ils appellent "fig tree" mais c'est en fait un membre de la famille des ficus - rien à voir ! Quand je suis revenue ici en Provence en août, j'avais un rêve : cueillir sur l'arbre une figue bien mûre toute chaude de soleil - mmmm, quel régal ! Alors que j'en parlais à mes soeurs en allant au marché de l'Isle-sur-Sorgue, à 25km d'Avignon, on tombe sur un figuier dont les branches débordaient d'un haut mur. Quelle chance ! Je cueille une figue, je me délecte en remerciant le ciel, c'était une merveille. Aidée par ma soeur qui me fait la courte échelle, j'en cueille une autre, puis une troisième, quand tout à coup une voix se fait entendre de l'autre côté du mur ! Ciel, nous sommes découvertes ! Alors que nous fuyons comme des gamines (mais posément, l'air détaché), je réalise que la voix est en fait amicale. Une femme agée sort sur le seuil du jardin en disant : "Servez-vous, y'a pas de mal, c'est fait pour ça. Voyez, quand mon mari a planté cet arbre il y a des années, il l'a penché exprès vers la rue pour que les branches dépassent du mur et que les passants puissent se servir !" Ah madame, merci ! J'aimerais penser que je n'oublierai jamais votre geste.

Learn more about Blog Action Day here.

In heaven

Moved in yesterday and got my internet connection this morning. Am posting from home for the first time in three months - feels like Heaven!

Talking about heaven, can you guess where this photo was taken and whether it was edited?

Answer in a few days. Love to all, have a great week!
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J'ai emménagé hier, j'ai la connection internet depuis ce matin. Je poste depuis "chez moi" pour la première fois depuis trois mois, je suis au septième ciel... A propos de ciel, saurez-vous deviner où cette photo a été prise et si elle est naturelle ou pas ? La réponse dans quelques jours. A bientot et bonne semaine à tous !

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Continued on Monday:
Richard was right: this spectacular picnic spot is located at the top of Mount Ventoux, an isolated peak towering 1909 metres above the plains of Provence. Often called the Giant of Provence, Mont Ventoux means Mount Windy. Less than fifty kms north of Avignon, it's a great day trip from where I live. I took my Australian friends Sue and Phil there a couple of sundays ago. The challenging road to the top is a favourite with the Tour de France and many amateur cyclists try their legs at the 26 kms of laces from the bottom. These two girls weren't even out of breath when they told us in perfect English that it had been a steady two hour climb to the top.




Suite lundi :
Eh oui, Richard avait raison, ce site de pique-nique est situé au sommet du Mont Ventoux. A 50 km au nord d'Avignon, ce pic isolé surnommé "le Géant de Provence" domine toute la plaine du Rhône. L'autre dimanche, j'y ai emmené mes amis australiens Sue et Phil, en visite dans la région. Avec ses 26 km de montée en lacets, le Ventoux est souvent choisi comme étape du Tour de France et de nombreux cyclistes amateurs s'y font les jambes avec un courage que je trouve admirable. Ces deux filles n'étaient même pas essoufflées quand elles nous ont dit dans un anglais parfait qu'elles avaient mis deux heures à monter.

If you're not so brave you can just cycle around Avignon. The old city being almost flat, it's an easy run around town. I plan to buy a bike. FYI, unlike in Australia helmets are not compulsory in France.

Quand on a moins de courage, on peut se contenter de circuler à vélo dans Avignon. La ville étant située en plaine, c'est un bonheur facile de sillonner les petites rues à bicyclette. J'ai l'intention d'en acheter une. En Australie, le casque cycliste est obligatoire, mais pas en France.

In the sky

Still posting from an internet café. I have some nice photos to show but having difficulty uploading them and don't have much time to devote to commentary either. I'm moving on Friday and have started painting my new apartment. Only a few days to go and I'll have internet at home! In the mean time here's a photo I took in Australia last July, just a week before leaving the country. What do you think?

Je poste encore depuis un cybercafé. J'ai quelques photos que j'aimerais montrer mais je n'arrive pas à les poster et je n'ai guère de temps à consacrer au texte non plus. J'emménage ce vendredi et je repeins mon futur appartement. En attendant je vous propose cette photo que j'ai prise en juillet à Sydney, juste une semaine avant mon départ. Qu'en pensez-vous ?

Of light and shadows and people

All my photos this week were taken in the tiny perimeter around the Popes' Palace, Avignon main tourist attraction, but with a few surprises along the way.

An early morning walk took me first to the Place de l'Horloge (Town Hall square) where the red and white banner hanging on the first floor balcony of this restaurant caught my eye: “Ouvert aux assoiffés de rugby”, Open to the rugby thirsty. That keeps me on the beer track I started last week! I’ve seen this banner outside a number of cafes and bars around town: could this be the official slogan for the places where you can watch the Rugby World Cup matches live on a wide screen? Is this an international slogan? Have you seen a similar one where you live? Is the World Cup followed much in your country? Here you can't see an ad on TV that isn't somehow related to it. The oval ball is everywhere!

From the Place de l'Horloge it's only a short stroll through a narrow pedestrian street to arrive to the spectacular Popes' Palace, whose façade you can see here. These impressive walls belong to one of the largest medieval Gothic buildings in Europe. Read more about the Popes' Palace here. I had planned to visit it on Sunday afternoon during Heritage weekend, but the large crowds queuing outside prompted me to change my plans. An outside shot will do for today. In the afternoon, the falling sun starts casting the shadow of the Conservatory of Music (located across the square) onto the golden wall - if you looked closely you'd see the details of its rooftop balustrade drawing a dark pattern on the Palace's facade.
My steps took me to the large marble courtyard outside the castle. Its smooth surface makes it a favourite spot for young skateboarders. I spent a short while there trying to catch an interesting shadow. Not bad, this one!

I then headed for the Jardin des Doms, the public gardens next to the Palace, where I saw a re-enactment of Spartacus, the movie. This was one of the numerous free shows offered in Avignon during Heritage weekend. Using the French-dubbed soundtrack of the movie, local actors mimed excerpts of Spartacus’ life as a slave and then as a gladiator, with a focus on spectacular gladiator fights. This actor was Julius Cesar watching the games. As an city photo blogger, I have more experience in photographing buildings than people so I enjoyed taking him as a model and practising my portraituring skills. I like his pose here.

Watching the show I met Daniel, a retired photo reporter from the local newpaper La Provence. We talked about photography of course. There are two things he told me:
1. The best thing you can teach your kids is curiosity - I couldn't agree more.
2. One of the key elements to a good photo is light. Many people forget about it, concentrating exclusively on the framing. I hope this week's photographic essay of mine does justice to his teachings...

Later on in the afternoon when I walked back the light was turning to golden red. In front of Notre-Dame des Doms cathedral a praying angel was already greying at dusk while the large dungeon at the back was catching the last pink rays of the sun.

And the end of the day treated me to the icing on the cake, a real fun shot. When he saw me in ambush at the bottom of the stairs waiting for passer-bys to cast interesting shadows on the wall, this young guy volunteered a great move. I only took one photo, and it turned out great. Thanks mate, you made my day!
Have a good week everyone.

Of love, beer and other things

Throughout the European Union today and tomorrow is Heritage Weekend, an exciting event where all national and local museums, castles and other heritage-listed buildings are open to all, free of charge. The brochure listing the monuments you can visit in Avignon alone is so extensive it is dizzying. I'm sure I'll have some photos of that to show next week.

But this week I was strolling through the streets of Arles, another beautiful city 30kms south of Avignon, passing a shop specialising in fine olive oils (can you see the "Huiles d'olive" sign?) when this really classy couple that caught my eye. I thought they fitted in the street perfectly!

And here's another young couple I caught yesterday evening in Avignon: these two were sitting on an old stone wall in the Jardin des Doms, the public garden overlooking the Popes' Palace. Drinking a beer and chatting, they were watching the sun set over the old town, a sea of pink roofs spreading below them. She was smoking hand-rolled cigarettes (see the very thin roll between her fingers?). I don't think these two are lovers, they are seated too far apart. Students just getting to know each other at the beginning of the year?

Drinking beer at sunset... suddenly this reminded me of this photo I took in Sydney a couple of months ago and never had a chance to post. I thought this boat at sunset would look nice but just as I pressed the shutter I noticed the people on board started moving - I first thought it would ruin the shot - quite the contrary! When I opened the photo on my computer I realised I had caught a crew member passing on a beer to the captain, which added a wonderful zilch to the shot!

I'll add a flock of birds taken on the same day over lake Tuggerah, north of Sydney. I quite enjoy the idea of occasionally crossing over from France to Australia, bridging the gap from here to there. I have a few left-over shots that I think are worth showing. But for bird and wildlife shots of Provence, you'll have to wait. I don't have a car yet so haven't had a chance to go in the country much.

So back to love and the city (not Sex and the city) I'll leave you with this wonderful letter box I found in one of Avignon's back streets. Under the engraved words 'boîte aux lettres' (box for letters, in litteral translation) someone wrote "d'amour" (of love) in red chalk. A letterbox only dedicated to love letters, isn't that delightfully French? That reconciles me with graffiti, which are a real pest in Avignon!
(This last photo is posted as an addendum, I had trouble uploading it yesterday).
Have a good week everyone and may love be all around you.

Settling in

No obvious link between my four photos today, just the result of my errands throughout town this week. I went back along the Rhone, approaching the Pont d'Avignon from the bank opposite the city so you could see the Palais des Papes (the Popes' Palace) and the old city ramparts behind it. The bridge's four arches clearly visible and you can see tourists standing on it.

I took this photo a few days ago on a calm afternoon - couldn't have been today: for the past three days a strong northerly wind, the dreaded mistral, has been blowing our heads off and swirling madly around the streets. The water would have have been very choppy had I taken my photo today!

But our reward is this deep blue sky! Quite often when the northern part of France mourns under heavy grey clouds, the mistral clears our southern skies and treats us to a brilliant sunshine. This is rue St Agricol, another upmarket shopping street which feeds into the rue Joseph Vernet I showed you last week. Can you picture yourself living here, blue shutters opening to a skyline of old roman tile roofs and wrought-iron balconies, and waking up to the sound of the bells from the nearby church?

Standing exactly in the same spot as before, I turned around and found myself in front of this very trendy Objects Designer shop where a very traditional (and typically French) design of garden furniture has been revamped in bright colours. What do you think of it? Would have this in your home ?

And last but not least, going up the grand staircase of an 18th century mansion where a photographic exhibition was taking place, I used a reflection on the red and black marble wall to catch two majestic windows and their lace balconies on the first floor above me. I'll place this one as my best shot of the week, not so much technically but for its creativity.

And thanks to all of you who sent their best wishes for my daugter's first day at school. She did very well indeed. Best of love to all.

Rue Joseph Vernet

My current fascination for reflections quickly shows itself in the photos I'm taking around town. Strolling along rue Joseph Vernet I found many interesting shop windows. This old street is locally renown for its upmarket shopping. Look carefully at the photos, there's a lot to see.

Here's an antiques shop, interesting mix of ancient objects inside the shop and reflections in the window of the old building across the street.

Further along, an upholsterer ('tapissier' in French) advertises with his tools of trade, cisors and hammer, engraved in his shop window reflecting the façade nd arcades across.

Still closed at this early hour, a shop selling upmarket bathroom accessories, large mirror reflecting the street and the building across. Here in Avignon and throughout most of France, shops open at 9:00 am, close at midday and reopen between 2 and 7 pm.
The sun hasn't hit the street yet, hence the grey facades you see. Later in the day, the tones turn to blinding white at midday and golden hot in the afternoon - but that you will see another day.
Last but not least, this bookshop specialising in old and rare editions.
Look at the dog in the shop window, next to a book whose title is "Congress of the Learned Societies of Provence" (not sure which year?) - is this a learned dog too, has he read all the books?
On a personal note: this weekend marks the end of the summer holidays in France. Tomorrow Monday 3rd September, my daughter goes back to school, her first day back in the French system after six and a half years of english-speaking schooling in Australia. I hope she adjusts well to the big change. This will be this year's challenge.
Also please be kind if I don't visit your blogs as often as I would like to. I don't have an internet connection in my little studio apartment and I depend on friends or cyber cafes for web access. A very frustrating state of affairs for someone who is used to web-based work and having all-day connection. Please bear with me during this uncomfortable month of September...

First impressions

Arriving in Avignon from Villeneuve on the right bank, I cross the river Rhone on the Pont du Royaume (the Realm bridge) and from there grasp my first view of the famous Pont d'Avignon (pont St Benezet) slightly upstream.

Did you ever learn the song "Sur le Pont d'Avignon" in French class at school? Well this is it. First built in the 12th century, it was partially destroyed by floods several times over the centuries and rebuilt every time, once more in 1628. But when the river washed away several arches again just five years later in 1633, the site was abandoned and a new location sought further downstream. In 1669 a new flood further destroyed the bridge and left it pretty much in the condition we know it today: out of the original 22 arches, only 4 remain.

The river as you see it in summer may seem quite tame but think of the engineering challenge that men have faced over the centuries to build a bridge that would withstand the winter fury of this wild and large river and keep communication lines open!

I can't help but get up early the next morning and visit the bridge at 8am, when the breeze hasn't picked up yet and the reflection is perfect. This bridge is such a tourist trap and a photographer's dream!

Perfect reflection... until a small flock of ducks turns up under the bridge that is, and creates the first wavelets of the day.

But soon enough I tire of the tourist stuff. Let me take you "intra muros" - "within the walls", inside the old fortified city, a fascinating maze of tiny streets. This is Rue Philonarde, the street where I will be renting a studio apartment for a month until l I settle permanently. Out of the many pictures I took today, I find this one quite significant: old walls and shutters, messy power lines and a bar with its typical tobacco sign watched over by a small corner statue of Virgin Mary. Religion and tobacco, mmmmh... neither is my cup of tea.

Coming from Sydney, I am shocked to see the number of people who smoke here in France. Many of my old friends do. I had forgotten. Packs of cigarettes bear large 'smoking kills' labels yet parents appear unconcerned to see their teenagers become as addicted as themselves. I am grateful for the formative years my children spent in Australia. Neither of my 20 year old twins smoke. Will my 14 year old daughter get caught in this madness? Awareness of health issues and resisting peer pressure were two items often discussed at her school. I hope she makes good use of those skills here.

Approach

After more than six years of living in Sydney Australia, here I am back in Avignon where I lived for ten years. The old fortified city is familiar, I know my way through every back alley and narrow one-way street. How steeped in history this place is! Not a few steps without an old church in sight, an 18th century or medieval façade, a cobblestone courtyard or a roman tile roof.

But we'll approach the city slowly, like pilgrims travelling on foot. This isn't Avignon yet but Villeneuve-lez-Avignon, the long-time rival city accross the river Rhône. Smaller, quieter, more of a village really.

August is a wonderful time to rediscover the region. Warm summer days, balmy nights, flowers everywhere, grapes hanging from the vines shading the façades and blue shutters closed to keep the afternoon heat out: this is Provence, France's south, at nap time. The streets are empty, all shops closed, only a tourist like me would be out in the sun at that time of day!

This first post will set the pace. This is no Avignon Daily Photo, the rhythm will be slower.
This is le Midi, the South, where doing anything with haste is considered bad taste. Here we will stroll rather than run. Take your time to look at my photos, and when you come back in a few days we'll cross the bridge to Avignon. I hope that those of you who enjoyed seeing Sydney through my eyes enjoy this new blog just as much. Welcome!