From a hill village to a glowing mountain

DATELINE: Vaison-la-Romaine. Events of Saturday, Oct. 7

Friday's wind was almost gone by the time we got up on Saturday. Sunny skies remained.

Tour groups were already roamin' the Roman ruins across the street. Yesterday only junior high students ran around braving the breezes, but today most visitors were sedate adults. The voices of their guides drifted to us in a variety of languages.

Our destination this day was Puymeras, a small village just 8 kilometers away. At its center is Girocedre, a restaurant whose distinguishing feature is a lovely garden/arbor area where they serve meals on nice days. Since today was gorgeous, that seemed a great idea.

Entering Puymeras

Puymeras is small, heaped on and around its little hill; it makes a major change from bustling (and much larger) Vaison. The restaurant's entrance is near the bottom of the hill on a street that continues upward to the Mairie and post office. The church sits high atop the whole pile of rustic stonework.

Entering the restaurant's peaceful garden, we found a few tables already occupied. We chose to sit in partial shade and were comfortable through the meal. I still haven't got used to the rhythm of French restaurant service, and am seldom ready with my decision when the waiter suddenly appears, notebook open to take our order. But if I ask for "un moment" more, I don't see him again for ten minutes.

Our garden table

Eventually we placed our orders and sat back with aperitifs, awaiting the first course. At the nearest table was a family treating grand-mere to a nice lunch. Beyond them, another table had perhaps six young women chatting and laughing pleasantly. The tables were well separated and no-one's behavior intruded on others. A welcome change from the clamor of American eateries.

The meal was excellent  and the garden setting pleasant. Click the link to Roz's pictures in the column to the left to see the food (in Day 4). Our two servers were Giselle and Cedric (respectively Gi and Cedre of the restaurant's name, Girocedre). Ro for Roger was apparently chef-ing away in the kitchen.

Near the end of our meal, the table hosting grand-mere was getting ready to leave. A wine bottle they had been pouring from was still half full. One of the younger women, after checking that none of the staff was watching, picked it up, jammed a cork into it, and slipped it into a tall carry-all bag she had brought. When she saw me watching and grinning we both laughed. Apparently not all (maybe not any) French restaurants will re-seal partially full bottles, that customers have already paid for, so they can be taken home.

After lunch, we strolled up and down through the narrow streets of Puymeras.
Eventually we found the tiny village square (la place) with the customary monument to local men fallen in World War I. As usual, I found this moving.

The drive home was uneventful. Naps seemed necessary to aid digestion. Later, the two of us strolled out for a long walk around Vaison. The setting sun was painting the stone buildings and casting a red glow on looming Mt. Ventoux. We finished with aperitifs at our usual brasserie as we watched local fathers and their sons play together on the paved place. A pleasant (and very French) way to end an evening.

Mont Ventoux looms over Vaison at sunset