Hot Days, Hard Falls, and Unexpected Clarity - Aix en Provence

Daily Market in Aix en Provence

This is my fourth attempt to write this blog entry about Aix-en-Provence. I’m not sure if it’s writer’s block, a reluctance to share what’s been going on, or my brain short-circuiting from the heat—but probably a combination of all three. So, as they say, “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.”

Aix-en-Provence. It has mini-Paris vibes—I think it’s the tree-lined streets. They’re lined with Plane Trees, and when you walk beneath them, you just know you’re in France. You couldn’t be anywhere else. And the markets...there is a market, EVERY DAY!

Market Glory

I arrived in Aix around 11 a.m. on a Saturday, and within 30 minutes I already felt calmer than I’d been during my last two weeks in Antibes. Little did I know that feeling of euphoria would be short-lived (more on that later). My apartment is right in the heart of old town. Check-in was a bit bumpy—I’m on the second floor (third, in American terms), and the owner, an older gentleman, insisted on carrying my very large suitcase up a steep, not-so-safe staircase (also—more on that later). I genuinely thought he might have a heart attack. Thankfully, he did not.

The apartment was HOT. In 90+ degree heat, he had all the windows open and no fans on—wanting it to show well. As he talked, I shut the windows, pulled the blackout curtains, and asked for a fan. I found out later that Aix was under an orange alert—meaning dangerously hot conditions for people over 60… or spoiled women from Los Angeles. :)

Random gorgeous street for no reason

Located on one of the main streets of old town, the apartment is convenient, for sure. As soon as I could, I got the owner out and grabbed Copper to explore. I had a relaxed lunch at a café just a few hundred yards from the door—duck was the special, and it was delicious. Right across the alley was an artist market with about ten local artists. Every piece was beautiful, and a couple somehow ended up in my bag.

I knew this was going to be a problem. I’d committed to collecting one piece of art from each location I visit, but Aix is full of artists. Trouble.

Here, Paul Cézanne is a major influence—born and raised in Aix, his presence is still everywhere. “Artists come here to follow in his footsteps, drawn by the same natural beauty and creative energy that shaped his work.” Many still mimic his style—I hadn’t realized that until I looked it up.

This being my fourth city since May, I’ve realized I’m in a bit of a unique situation. I’m technically a tourist, but not really. I stay a couple weeks in each place. I have a dog. I work. I live here, at least for now. I’m not a “let’s do all the touristy things” kind of person. Once I arrive, I settle in. I wander. But after a few days, I’m kind of done wandering.

Plane Trees/Random Wandering

I keep telling myself I’ll find a rhythm in each city, but it hasn’t quite happened yet., Copper is the one thing that grounds me. Each morning, I get her out for a long walk and try to get back by 9 or 9:30 a.m, when it usually already 90 degrees. Unfortunately, there are no parks open that early, and by the time they do open, it’s too hot. So, she’s become a city dog—and she’s not loving it. Especially after being off-leash for two weeks in a giant park in Antibes. But such is life, and these are the adventures we’re on.

After the walk, I have breakfast and head out to the market for fresh veggies, then to the boulangerie for bread—they slice it fresh for me every day. They also have a pastry called bloomer chocolat, which is like a chocolatey, bready cloud. It’s heaven. I grab a juice at the fresh juice bar, and occasionally some empanadas. There are at least fifteen food places within a couple hundred feet from my apartment. So mid-day is all about food supplies: lunch, fruit, veggies, and that heavenly bread.

Heavenly Chocoately Goodness

Each town I’ve visited has offered something special. Here in Aix, a couple doors down is a small artist studio run by a woman who moved from Canada years ago. She’s hosting a 4th of July get-together and invited me. That’s not something I’d do at home where I don’t know people—but here, 100% yes.

Of course, each place has had its challenges. In Lyon, a puppy with a mile-long leash wrapped around my legs, and I tumbled down a hill (I was fine). In Antibes, I struggled with anxiety and headaches. In Aix, I fell on those previously mentioned stairs—hard—landing on my left butt cheek. With my history of a bulging discs, I was worried. But after visiting an osteopath, it seems to be bone bruising and soft tissue injury. Painful, but no major damage. I’ve had to delay a planned hike, but I should be good to go next week when the temps drop.

It’s been just over two months in France now. I’ve collected some beautiful memories. But I made a decision back in Lyon I’ve been sitting with: I love France—I always will—but it’s not my home.

My home is Santa Barbara, or at least I have always wanted it to be. Ninety minutes from where I lived before. I guess I just had to travel across the world to figure that out.

I still have five weeks left in France, and I’m excited for what’s ahead. But I’m also excited to return and put down roots in the place I’ve want to live for over 20 years.

Random SB pic of the Douglas Family Reserve. One of Kuma and Wrigley's favorite spots.

To those who’ve followed along—thank you. This journey isn’t over, not even close. There are more adventures to come. But your presence here, reading my little blog, looking at my photos, sharing in this experience—it means a lot. It helps me feel a little less alone.