A village in the Luberon

The village of Goult, according to this source, is 'one of the least known and visited' in the Luberon ...

... which is why, perhaps, it's not shown on this tourist-friendly map of the Vaucluse area of Provence - where my X marks the spot, roughly ...

It's perched on a hilltop in the middle of the Luberon valley, which is itself in the middle of Provence, around a 12th century church with clocktower and campanile ...  

One of my favourite things about being here is having the hour of the day chimed out by the church bells (twice, helpfully, on the hour).

Goult is an ancient fortified village, some of the streets carved out of the rock on which it was built, and the houses made of the same stone.

It has two boucheries, two boulangeries, an épicerie, a handful of tiny and excellent restaurants, and a busy café on the village square that's always humming ...

'Our' house is a maison de village in a narrow street, flanked by a tower and the remains of an old castle ...

It's tall and narrow, but as soon as you step inside from the street, you discover its hidden secret - it's centred around a secluded, sunny courtyard with a small pool ...

Small seating areas in different parts of the garden courtyard give shade at different times of the day, lanterns and hanging candle holders give light for late-night eating, and a back gate behind a huge ancient tree leads to another alley-way of the village ...

Inside is cool stone and winding worn stairs leading up and up ...

... to these views of the village rooftops and surrounding valley

... and a neighbour's washing hanging to dry alongside a rooster weathervane!

It's perfection, isn't it? How could we ever leave?

Bonjour Marseille

Flying into Marseille from Lisbon to meet my family for a week in the south of France ... tired out from a schedule of work and a conference combined with the more serious business of re-connecting with a favourite city ... this view from my window seat of the white limestone calanques of the Marseille coastline and that impossibly blue sea had me wide awake and excited ...

There was barely an hour to unwind and trade stories in this little haven of a hotel just outside the city centre ...

NewHotel Bompard, 2 Rue des Flots Bleus, Marseille

... before an exciting rendezvous - meeting up with a virtual friend, blogger Corey Amaro, from Tongue in Cheek, and her husband (below). I've followed Corey's blog, chronicling her life in a Provençal village and her travels, for about two years now and it's one of the wonders of blogging that it was possible to meet for the first time and feel like an old friend! I think you can see from the pic what lovely people they both turned out to be ...

This restaurant - Chez Aldo - was their recommendation, like all the other bits of advice about where to go/eat/stay in Provence they generously offered. We had these spectacular views of the sun setting over the bay of Marseille from our table - though between talking non-stop and this totally memorable soupe de poissons de roche, eaten with fresh cut cloves of garlic to rub on toasted baguette, topped with aioli, there wasn't much time spent gazing at it ... 

Chez Aldo, 28 Rue Audemar Tibido, Marseilles

With only a morning to explore Marseille the next day, before driving inland, it seemed we could see only a little - but that was not counting on some super friendly taxi drivers who were eager to show us their city and fill us in very knowledgeably on all the history - they turned out to be the best tour guides! 

And so we drove, rather than climbed like penitent pilgrims, up the steep hill to Notre Dame de la Garde which dominates the skyline of Marseille ... 

Seemingly growing out of the limestone rock, this Neo-Byzantine church is topped by a giant golden (copper covered with gold-leaf) statue of the Madonna. Standing 11 metres tall and lit up at night like a beacon, she's la bonne mére, guardian and protectress of the city ... 

... which from this dizzy height spreads out panoramically below and all around ...

Nothing quite prepares you for the interior of the church - I literally gasped when I climbed up from the sparse basilica below into this place, unlike any other cathedral I've seen ...

This is a seafarer's church, clearly. Ever since 1214, when the original basilica was built on this site, sailors have climbed this steep hill to pray for a safe voyage or give thanks on returning. The maritime connections are everywhere, from the model boats hanging from the ceiling, to the anchor and ship motifs, to the ex-votos from people saved from shipwrecks ... 

From all this wonderful candystriped colour, we whizzed back down the hill to the simple, austere Abbaye St Victor whose history goes back to the martyrdom of St Vic in 302 AD ...

... and then over to Marseille's official cathedral, La Major - a relative latecomer, clocking in at 1852 ...

In between we managed to spend an hour wandering on foot through the oldest quarter of Le Panier (below), having absorbed by now from our taxi back-seat history lessons a dizzying array of facts about Marseille's history, from its founding in 600 BC (this making it the oldest city in France) by the Greeks who gave it its original name of Massalia, through Roman wars, Christian popes and martyrs, its leading role in the French Revolution, to occupation by Germany in world war II.

Le Panier, once partly responsible for Marseille's reputation as a seedy, dangerous place, was amongst other things a refuge before the war for resistance fighters, communists and jews until 1943 when the Nazis evacuated 30 000 people from here in one day, before dynamiting and destroying almost the entire quarter. Hard to imagine all of this from the peaceful scenes we encountered walking through here ...

I think we saw quite a lot for a visit of less than 24 hours! Enough to know that this city is definitely worthy of a longer stop-over and to fuel my desire to return one day ...

Lisbon Style: Café life and literary types

A vida é o café ... Lisbon has a coffee culture that (thankfully) seems entirely unaffected by Starbucks' imperialism. When ordering you can forget about the soya or half-fat milk or the shots of vanilla or toffee - in a country this serious about coffee, it's all about the flavour and quality of coffee, not any distracting additions.

But it helps to learn the basics of a complicated lexicon: will your choice be a bica (rich, dark espresso in tiny cup) (or even a dupla-bica for those not faint of heart), carioca (weaker version) pingado (espresso with a few drops of milk), café cheio (espresso with a little extra hot water), garoto (half espresso grounds, half hot milk), galão (equal portions of coffee to milk, served in a glass), and would you prefer escuro or claro?

It's all in the hands: Lisboetas doing life in cafés

Ever since Portugal's colonies turned out to be some of the finest coffee-producing regions of the world, café (coffee) and café life have been ingrained in Portuguese culture. From the 18th century when downtown Lisbon was rebuilt after a devastating earthquake, cafés became meeting places for artists, intellectuals, politicians. It's impossible today to walk down a street without coming across a handful at least.

One of Lisbon's best known cafés is A Brasileira (above) in downtown Chiado, right here in the Largo do Chiado ...

The interior of A Brasileira is all old-style grandeur - oak-panelling, mirrored walls and chandeliers ...

... and out on the sidewalk poet Fernando Pessoa who used to hang out here with other literary types, now sits here for eternity, immortalized in this bronze statue, an empty chair thoughtfully next to him, so that anyone can join him for a chat ...

No surprise then to find that bookshops are also seemingly on every corner in this part of town ...

Livraria Bertrand, Rua Garrett, outdoor stalls

Livraria Camões, Rua da Misericórdia.


... while at one of my favourite shops around here, A Vida Portuguesa, it's all about retro chic - iconic Portuguese products to evoke nostalgia in a gorgeous converted stone warehouse ...

Rua Anchieta, Chiado

On summers' nights the area hums with life ...

I watched one night as people start dancing spontaneously in the street, unable to keep still  to the sounds of these musicians (from Angola, Cape Verde, São Tomé?) ...

Even Fernando P. seemed to be getting into the spirit of things ...

... and on another, I followed the sounds of a piano to this square where an open-air stage had been set up for a performance of dance and music ...

You've got to love a city where poetry speaks around unexpected corners ...

A wall in Alfama (above) with verse from Pablo Neruda (La Cancion Desesperada): 'Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the grapes burn, pecked at by birds.' Below, a bench in Calçada de São Francisco with inscription 'We are the place that we need'.

I have withdrawal pains as my time here draws to an end ... I'm leaving with too many