The French, it seems to me, strike a happy balance between intimacy and reserve.
Peter Mayle – Encore Provence
Today’s walk was straightforward, and I reached Manosque by midday. The highlight, if I can call it that, was a brief stop at Gréoux-les-Bains for a croissant and a quick look at the Castle of the Templars that dominates the town. Built in the 12th century the castle is one of the ten most haunted places in France with locals frequently reporting unexplained noises and headless shadows emanating from the castle keep. Somewhat confusingly though, there is no historical evidence that the castle was ever actually owned by the Knights Templar!
I read somewhere that Manosque is a charming town in Provence. It isn’t. Like many towns in France, the historic centre has been hollowed out by vast shopping estates on the periphery of town. Such was sadly the case with Manosque.
The old town and the central plaza was pretty deserted when I esconced myself in a café in the central square and ordered a prawn risotto.
The gite where I was staying turned out to be on the edge of town and was in fact an equestrian centre. The lady who ran the place and showed me to my room had been working there for 50 years! She told me that she’d love to retire but couldn’t find anybody to take over from her! At €21 a night with a room to myself, I couldn’t really complain!
At supper in the Gite des Naïsses I was joined by the daughter of the owner, two Frenchmen who were on a walking holiday in the area and their Ukranian friend, Yuri.
Yuri’s story was a tragic one. He had run a successful jewelry business in Kharkiv with his wife who had run a restaurant next door. Everything had been destroyed by a Russian rocket attack which had destroyed his apartment and his jewelry shop.
After he had fled Ukraine with his wife to France, his wife had subsequently decided to leave him. Yuri didn’t speak any French or English so everything was communicated by Google translate. But I could feel his pain, the human destruction caused by war that you can only really understand when you meet individuals who have suffered the fall out. It was difficult to find words to console him. I just felt his pain and suffering.
A little time later a friend of Sylvester’s appeared with a fresh bottle of wine and some terrine and the debate really kicked off. It started off with the question of whether the chicken preceeded the egg or vice versa. We then got on to the physics of the Big Bang Theory and followed that up with the best James Bond actors and who had killed Little Gregory as well as other damous French murder cases and whether Coluche had been bumped off by the French secret service. As a bottle of white wine was produced together with an entire cooked chicken I glanced at my watch.
It was nearing midnight and I thought it wise to beat a tactical retreat to ensure I could get up in time to catch my train from Manosque back home at 8.46am the next morning. There was just enough time for a slice of Ukranian cake Yuri had baked and another bottle of white which had materialised from somewhere. The Big Bang Theory could wait for another day!
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