The market at L’Isle-sur-le-Sorgue is known for its antiquities. This lovely town attracts antique hunters from far and wide, and on Sundays, along with the antiques are sold all manner of other items—fabrics, food, spices, toys, bag—all amid the waterwheels and contained mostly on the island in the center of the town. The crowds were thick but civilized. And we covered a lot of territory, picking up “des nappes” (tablecloths) and a purse. I have a thing for woven bags and have, so far, resisted the urge as there are many of these in our spare bedroom at home that I use now and again. Oh, but it’s so tempting. I see a few that are just different enough from the ones I already have. I am committed to being strong.
We enjoyed a coffee where we sat inside at the window in
order to accommodate the three of us without the discomfort of wending our way
with backpack and packages through other tightly-packed tables on the
plaza. We wanted to visit the church,
which we attempted to visit a few days ago; but, it being Sunday, there was a
mass going on—as there was the last time.
L’Isle-sur-le-Sorgue is either very Catholic or our timing is really
bad.
We waited around to be seated at a table on the river at a
restaurant called Bellevue, sure as time passed that others were being seated
though they had arrived after us. Though
the maitre d’ was cordial, the waiter wasn’t so much. After we were finally seated and observed the
couple next to us—seated at the same time despite their later arrival—served,
we finally gave up and left, telling the waiter and maitre d’ that we had
waited too long for any service. It was
not a stellar moment, though such things happen everywhere.
Instead, we drove to Cavaillon to, if you don’t mind,
Flunch. For those of you who consider
such a choice just too bourgeois—or perhaps plebian, oh well. But we were able to eat quickly and easily
and enjoyed WiFi besides. With the help
of one of the staff who was most generous with her time, I gained full access to my e-mail and the
internet in order to check communication with family and friends and to
download the Nikon d80 manual as things are not working as swimmingly as I’d
like in the digital arena.
We drove back toward Lagnes through Fontaine-de-Vaucluse and
found it too crowded to stop. But it’s
so close to Lagnes, we can return at a more convenient and less crowded time to
hike to the source of Le Sorgue and wander through the town.
Back to the house for a bit before Phil and I drove to a nearby golf course in
the direction of Fontaine-de-Vaucluse while Cindy took a walk along the canal
beside the house. We agreed to meet for
coffee in Lagnes’ center.
Cindy arrived before we did and took a walk around the old
chateau at the top of the hill upon recommendation of an elderly gentleman who
spoke no English. He knew his hand
signals, however, and Cindy understood the meaning and enjoyed the walk,
meeting us at the café. After a
libation, we joined her on a stroll back up to the ruin and met up with the
same gentlemen with sun-browned skin and an enormous smile. He invited us to see the bories near his
house, which Cindy had already photographed.
Little stone hives lining the outside of his house and across the path
at the base of the chateau—all doubtless fashioned by him. The view from the path was wonderful—across
the valley through the clear autumn air.
Lagnes is not in the guidebooks, so I don’t have much to say
about it. But it’s quaint and compact
with few amenities, but just enough for comfort. And it is close to other towns that have more
plentiful services. So to any readers
interested in the area who arrive by car, I highly recommend it.
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