I left my caaaah keys in my khaaaakis

I spent a good part of this week being distracted/cranky/distracted and cranky, so when 5am Friday morning rolled around, I was very pleased. This is actually a half-truth. I was none too pleased at having to get up at 5am, but I was very pleased to be heading south to PROVENCE.

We took the TGV down to Avignon and then bussed out to Arles where we saw remnants of the Roman theatre and coliseum (stadium? amphitheatre? Are these all synonyms?), which were all quite lovely, especially in the sunshine like that. Though perhaps rendered somewhat less enjoyable by the mysterious Gilles- a man "hired" by Sweet Briar to "accompany" us around Provence. Gilles loves to talk, which is to his detriment because the man is about as interesting as 19th century Guatemalan cabbage farming practices.

After lunch and some aimless wandering around the city we drove out to the Pont du Gard, which is near Nimes, I'm told. Gilles talked. I wandered. And then we rolled up our jeans and settled into the banks of the Gard where we passed the time skipping rocks (or hurling rocks, in some cases).

We spent the night in a hotel on the grounds of a monastery where there were trees to climb and open spaces to explore. And it turns out that in addition to history professor, translator, and art historian, Gilles fancies himself somewhat of a rec. director, too. Is there anything he can't do?

Gilles woke us bright and early the next morning. We ate breakfast, bid farewell to the monastery, and took off for Baux en Provece, which offered no shortage of midieval ruins, quaint houses, cricket motion sensors, lavender sachets, and postcards with kittens in hammocks. Oh and wind. There was a lot of wind.

Our final destination was Avignon, where we visited le Palais des Papes, Gilles talked, and I ate ice cream. I would like to commend France for its embrace of tiramisu ice cream. Well done France. I would also like to commend certain males living in Avignon for acknowledging the fact that I do indeed have une poitrine magnifique.

The train ride home included special guest appearances by Katharine Hepburn and Coco Chanel. Upon our arrival back in Paris we grabbed some gyros at St. Michel and loitered outside the Cluny gardens before disappearing to our respective corners of the city.

Oh Provence, I miss you already. Fortunately for me I'll be living there one day in the not-too-distant future. I picked up this bit of information from the awesome fortune teller known only as M.A.S.H.