I have passed Cavaillon several times when on the way to somewhere else but had never bothered to have a look at the city. The melon festival, held this year on July 8th and 9th, gave me the opportunity to have a look at Cavaillon which turned out to be a lively and prosperous little city. Many festivals like this can be a very local turnout and mostly for those living in the area but I found this one to be interesting and fun.
There was, of course, a giant sculpture of a melon and many melons, grown locally, were for sale. What I enjoyed was the people in costumes giving exhibitions of long ago ways of doing things, from spinning wool, to making bells for sheep, to showing how laundry was once done, it was fun and informative to look at and added to just tasting melons. The melons, by the way, are what we would call canteloupe in the States and it is very tasty. Cavaillon is known for its melons and deservedly so. There were many booths offering tastes of melon and it was all great. There was also music, choral and bands, and pony rides for the children.

Cooking over a fire as we used to do before electricity.

These were some canteloupes with a lady selling flowers. I loved the container they were in and how perfect all of the melons were. I bought two at another stand for one euro each.

A lady spinning wool. I’m so glad I can buy clothes made by someone else.

This lady is using a devise to comb the wool. I’ve seen this done in the States with two metal brushes.

Aren’t you glad that you don’t have to do the wash like this anymore? The metal tub is for heating the water with a fire underneath and the wash inside. I remember an old electic washer that my grandmother had and after everything was washed, it had to go through a wringer to squeeze out the water. My cousin stuck his arm in the wringer and ended up with a broken arm.

The class I was in was a beginner class and most of it was not new to me and I thought I would carry on with it as repetition usually doesn’t hurt but there are some college students in the class who, while very nice and fun outside the class, really slow the whole class down. They are seldom on time, never prepared and never have a clue what the teacher is talking about. It was starting to get irritating so I asked if I could be moved up to the class at the next level. For some reason, they moved me up two levels. Well, what a difference. To say I feel over-whelmed is an understatement. I was told I could return to the beginning class if I felt it was too difficult and, believe me, I thought about it, but I think it is what I need. I need to be pushed if I am going to get beyond my elementary level of French. I understand most of what the teacher is saying so I am going to hang in there and see what happens. I’m hoping the teacher isn’t going to tell me to leave. I just have three more weeks. Surely I can last that long.

Right across from the building where I have my French class is the church, St Saveur. It has really ancient sections inside. This is a view of a section which was built on top of an old Roman ruin.

You see many sculptures inside churches but this has to be one of the most unusual. Note the strange little creature on the right. It is supposed to be a dragon. According to legend, St Martha tamed it-see my posting on Tarascon-as it was eating and terrifying villagers. So this is St Martha with the Tarasque on a leash. In the story, the villagers kill it afterwards.

This is St Dennis, a bishop who was beheaded by the Romans. He then carried his head down from Montmartre in Paris to where the St Dennis Basilique is now located. It was a miracle!

This is the door to the building where my French class is, just a little something from the 1700’s. I also like the sign next to it advertising Provence. Notice the mistral blowing the lady’s hair-true to life here in Provence.

Class continues on. Summer has arrived full steam ahead and it is very hot. None of the rooms where the classes are held are air conditioned and there is not even a measly little fan. It’s not too bad in the mornings but today we had an afternoon class and we were all so miserable, including the teacher. We spent a lot of time trying to learn how to say their “u” and mostly failed. Our lips aren’t French enough. Two guys from Russia joined our class today. It is interesting to hear their accents coming through in their French. I’m sure we Americans stand out as well. One girl is from Ukraine and she boldly points out that this is no longer Russia. She has a French boyfriend, thus the French lessons.

I am always photographing this fountain in front of this rustic old building. One of these days I will get what I’m aiming for.

Not your usual door decoration.

A more upscale shop selling linen and dishes along with some modern santons. Notice that this one is wearing her miracle push-up bra. You don’t usually see that in most santons.

A statue of Mary up on the corner of a building. I’m sure she doesn’t wear, nor does she approve of, push-up bras.

I am taking a French class all of July in Aix. I’m trying to overcome my “frenchlessness”. Today was the first day. I had a different feeling as I walked around the city in the early morning coolness, different than just being a tourist and I felt like it was more “my” city. I especially love Aix. It is full of beautiful buildings and sculptures and most of the walls are done in muted golden colors.

There are many statues, all religious, up above our heads on the corners of buildings. This is St Roch. You know it is him because he almost always has a dog with him.

I love all of the shades of brown in the early morning light.

I’m not sure what this little figure is-maybe a mermaid with two tails?

Look at these vegetables glowing like jewels.

My class is full of Americans. Six of them are university students from Kentucky. One girl is an American but also Ukranian so I guess she is married to an American. She lives in Los Angeles. One lady is from Canada. The one I find most interesting is an American from Dallas who lives in Africa in the country of Chad where her husband is a doctor. They speak French there, along with Arabic, so she and her husband want to improve their French. He is in a more advanced class. We are all doing what I know we shouldn’t-which is speaking English when we aren’t in class, but it is so interesting to find out about everyone and why they are there. I just hope no one asks how long I’ve lived in France. That is embarrassing.

I have not had a very exciting week unless you count back breaking, sweaty drudgery in a yard exciting. I am sick of looking at an area of our yard that is supposed to be growing grass. I refuse to water it because water is so expensive here and there is a draught so there are just ugly brown clumps here and there with green weeds. The soil is awful and is the texture of cement. I didn’t want any grass to begin with. Anyway, I decided to make it all brick and gravel with no plants except some pots of roses and lavendar at the edges. I’ve been in the process of digging up the grass and I have to use the broad end of a pick ax to do it because the soil is so hard and the grass, even though it looks dead, has incredible roots. Every morning before it gets too hot I am out there chiseling away. I think Maurice would just let it stay the way it is but it is so awful I am embarrassed when we have people over. I’ve probably got about a week’s worth of work left-just getting the grass out-that doesn’t count doing the brick and gravel. I can only work a few hours a day and then it gets too hot. I am starting a month of French classes in Aix so I guess I will only be working on it on week-ends and maybe occasionally when the sun starts going behind a nearby mountain and our yard becomes blissfully shady.

A few photos taken in a building in Aix that I just happened to wander into. Aix is full of great old mansions as it was once full of properous lawyers.

A face on a fountain that I like. It looks so modern to me. I don’t know the age of the fountain.