It was hard to leave Arles, and the little hotel with the big view of the river. We lingered over breakfast, chatting with a group of kindred (translation "our age") Germans who had stopped in Arles on their bike trip from Switzerland to Marseilles. It was market day in Arles, and we spent the morning exploring the local wares, amazed at the diversity and uniqueness of yet another market, this one hugging the towering old city wall.
Here in Provence, the stalls are teeming with fruits, vegetables, flowers, cheeses, wines, and olives. Olives were everywhere, in the breads and cakes, on the pizzas, filling jars and baskets and barrels. And yes, there was clothing and shoes and scarves. I think this was the first French market that I didn't leave with a scarf!
We headed north out of Arles. The train followed the Rhône river for a bit, then turned west. I love train travel and the view of the country-side it provides. On this sunny, cold morning in April, rolling hills of farmland gave way to more rolling hills of farmland, early crops peeping up through the earth, the landscape dotted with farm houses, an occasional village surrounding an old church, and where nature provided cliffs or high hills, there were the remnants of long ago castles.
In less than an hour we were in Nîmes (pronounced "neem"). Before we arrived, the only thing we new about Nîmes is that this little town in southern France first began exporting that wonder fabric "denim" in the Middle Ages. The name denim originated here "de Nîmes" literally means "from Nîmes". What we found was a town dripping in ancient history and roman wealth, but decidedly modern and sophisticated.
The cafés were filled with Italian, Spanish and German tourists, and the pedestrian-only boulevards were lined with high-end boutique shops. Of particular interest to me was that the shops catered to men more than women. By the end of our stay here, I could not help but admire the "peacocks" as Ron affectionately referred to the Mediterranean men prancing about with their stunning, long-haired and long-legged ladies.
Around every corner was another ruin. It was helpful that we were staying at the Hotel de l'Amphithéâtre, in the shadow of the almost perfectly preserved Roman Amphitheater. There is no river through Nîmes, so the huge stone structure was a helpful navigational marker. Back in the day, Rome rewarded Nîmes with a 30 mile aqueduct which emptied into a well on the edge of and above the old city.
The engineering was impressive. Shallow holes near the bottom of the well fed the lines that sent water to the general pubic, higher holes to the rich homes, and when water was abundant, upper holes fed the public fountains and baths.
In the 1700's, long after the aqueduct ran dray, Nîmes decided to harness a spring to serve its thriving textile industry (lots of water is needed for all that indigo dye) and they discovered pre-roman ruins. Pre-Roman. Yes, that is really old, even here! So the city unearthed the magnificent Magne Tower (BC 450) and Temple of Diane (100 AD) , and in addition to the canals that cascade throughout the city, they created a park that could be mistaken for Versailles. It was constructed about the same time as Versailles but had a major distinction - this park was created for the public, not for a king.
With so much Roman history, German and Italian spoken all around us, and endless blue sky, we had to keep reminding ourselves that we were in France.
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