After yesterday’s packed day in Arles, I took it easy in Aix-en-Provence.
The train took about 45 minutes from Marseille. I’d switched the day of coming here to one of the three main market days.
Very soon after leaving the station, I saw a clothes market. It was huge. It was more like a department store than an outdoor market! Everything was being sold and well curated too. There were some fashionable people.
In the UK, when I was growing up, my mum used to go to markets for fruit and vegetables, and other household items. Markets generally were cheaper than shops. In France, however, that is not necessarily the case. The market prices are similar to shop prices in some cases.
I followed the clothes market then found it morphed into a fruit and veg market. There was lots of delicious fresh produce.
Eventually, the market disappeared and I found myself outside a bookshop cafe. These are becoming a running theme on this trip.
I popped in and initially had a fresh lemon drink. Then I ordered a cafe latte since I was comfortable reviewing yesterday’s photos.
Eventually, I left the cafe. I didn’t have any itinerary. There were a few picturesque squares on my list. Reading on the train, I got the impression Aix-en-Provence is a good place to wander around aimlessly, which is what I did.
At one point, I sat down on some steps in the corner of a square. After eating a snack, I got up to take a photo from about 10m away. I left my rucksack on the floor. When I got back, my rucksack was gone! An elderly couple said something to me. I worked out that they’d handed it in to someone in the building I was sitting outside. As I went to ring the bell, a woman opened the door and smiled. She had my rucksack!
I sat back down and a man sat next to me to have his lunch. He was on a day trip too. I mentioned the incident of my rucksack and added, “Only in France would someone hand in my rucksack for safekeeping”. He replied, “In Aix-en-Provence, yes, Marseille, no!”
Arles is famous for Van Gogh, even though he was there just for a year. Cezanne was born in Aix-en-Provence. At the Tourist Office, I had picked up a walking guide following landmarks linked to Cezanne.
I’d walked about a third of the route when it started raining. I found cover in a cafe/restaurant. As I sat drinking my Perrier water, I saw that diagonally opposite me was a restaurant that made vegan burgers.
A train back to Marseille was due soon. So I had a takeaway and ate my burger and chips on the train.