Approaching the Luberon Mountains from the north, high above the valley we came upon Oppéde les Vieux, the old town of Oppéde. We climbed up toward the old town, entering into an open plaza with cafés/restaurants and shops—only one café open. We moved in the direction of the old city gate, and from there emerged a few dozen children walking hand in hand by twos and accompanied by a few teachers. The children appeared full of enthusiasm about what they saw. It was a comfort to see such excitement by five-and six-year-old children expressing real excitement about the early years in their magical country.
|Path up in Vieux Oppéde|
|Near the top|
Down we trodded being careful not to slip on the smooth rocks. Back to the car sweaty and tired but not sorry for the walk. Glad we went.
On down toward Oppéde—the not-Vieux town—to find something to eat. Parking was tricky—or I thought it was tricky. Cindy and Phil had a good laugh about which space was larger and whether or not I should have parked face in or face out. Oh well. . .
Again, we were very late for lunch—dejeuner. By the time we entered the one open restaurant in town, it was already past two. Our daily vacation schedule includes lolling about in the morning, which makes finding our midday meal dicey. The waitress invited us to sit inside as the outside patio was totally occupied, so we moved into the bar—empty but for bare wooden tables intended to be used by drinkers enjoying the late afternoon “pression” (beer). We sat for a bit with no menu, no attention. And finally the waitress returned to say that we could be seated outside (as several diners had already left). We moved to two small tables shoved together and too much in the sun. But it was at the edge of the patio and closest to the fork in the road that marked the center of Oppéde so it made for a good view.
We were well past the 2 p.m. closing time and by the time we were able to order, we were told that there was only one “plat du jour.” The waitress left us to consider what other meal we might order. I retired to the "facilities" and overheard the waitress in the kitchen having an animated conversation with, I presume, the chef. She returned to sing another song. There were, she said, in actual fact, three “plat du jour,” and she explained that the chef was a problem, rolling her eyes to emphasize this last point. So we all three ordered the chicken, which was sliced and sautéed and accompanied by a nicely presented ratatouille and “frites.” Delicious, I thought. Phil and Cindy both considered some of it a little too rare, so I ate more than I meant to, but I enjoyed it. And for dessert, we had warm figs and ice cream and a chocolate cake with cream. Both delicious. Plus coffee.
We returned to Lagnes with a stop at the pharmacy about one minute from the house. Lagnes is no booming metropolis, but it’s perfect for us. We pieced together a dinner and enjoyed our evening of BBC’s crime t.v.
We never made it to Roussillon’s ochre-colored buildings. Events have a way of moving at their own pace in Provence.