After all that lazy meandering around town, I am so ready to get up and do something today. Croissant run, back for breakfast, then out the door to the bicycle shop to check on rentals. I decide against going to the electric bike store and chat with the resident biker in the Aix Velocity Vite location. Get a map with trails and head back to the apartment to get my supplies.
By this time, the troops are waking up, so my plan is shared and everyone is in. By the time they eat, show, cafe and prep their stuff:
it’s noon when we arrive at the bike store. And, true to the schedule of many shops, they close from noon until two (gotta love the french work week). Not put off, I say we find something to do until two, and we set off in search of the Granet museum, which has advertisements for their new Planck exhibit all over town.
We find the museum down a lovely residential street, and it’s built right by a lovely church: to be added later
We head in, check our bags and begin our tour. It seems that Monsieur Planck was a poor artist himself, but seemed to have a very good eye for style and soon became an important curator and friend to artists and collectors from a gallery in Basel, Switzerland. Very friendly with one of my favorites, DuBuffet, he represented many famous artists and amassed quite a collection himself. We saw his collection, some exhibited as he had hung in his home, as well as an interesting slide show showing all of the artists he was friendly with. Interesting for me because some names I am familiar with had no face to go with them.
Oh, it’s a little after two, so we head back to the bike shop. Closed! I am soooo disappointed. We head back into town and plop into chairs at Place Richelme and have lunch and drink wine. I get tipsy before I’ve half finished my glass (my cheap drunk-ness at new lows since having no alcohol for so long) and chat for quite a while. We still marvel at how the townspeople hold the daily market and then hours later, you wouldn’t know it was there at all.
We then go our separate ways. I stroll, buy a consolation dark chocolate bar from a chocolatier, and walk and walk. Made it back to the Teahouse to sniff and select a blend to enjoy at the apartment. While wandering, I head up north to an area I hadn’t check out. One of the universities is up there, a lovely church, the square where there will be live music on Saturday, and, what’s this? A consignment clothing shop. I see a sharp- looking jacket in the window and head in to try it on (ooh, I wonder if they have that in my size? Movie reference, anyone?). Indeed they do, and I am delighted to see that is is a Cotelac jacket from last year (a French label I like that Pam and Fred introduced me to).
Home again, home again, jiggedy jig. The kids are all hanging out
after picking up dinner ingredients at the store. I cook up sea bass and salmon sauteed in olive oil, and – what else? – herbs de Provence. I may not of mentioned picking up a bag the first day at the market, but of course I put it on pretty much everything I’m cooking. A quiet evening of cards, yak, and the occasional squealing from wrestling puppies.
Bonsoir!