When my wonderful companion, Remi, first came up with the idea to escape the noise of the Feria or Harvest Bullfights in Arles by going away, I responded with an immediate and emphatic “Yeessss“. It was the best idea I had ever heard! While our friends had been dashing off to the beach or the mountains all summer long, Remi was working and working hard. We were city-bound, without the lazy glamour of being able to dive into air-conditioned multiplexes and echoing museums mid-afternoon. So when it was time to decide on a destination, we approached our search with the tenacity of France’s rugby team preparing to head off against New Zealand.
We knew one thing and one thing only. We were both in serious need of Quiet. Yes, the capital Q kind. And as the beginning of September is still considered high season in many parts of Southern France, we had budget considerations to keep in mind as well. Of course I took my hunt very seriously. Hello? I am a travel writer! It is my job to sniff out the overlooked, the undiscovered but fabulous. So I spent days and I do mean days trawling every website imaginable. Until one evening, without saying anything to me, Remi popped online. Ten minutes later, pas plus, he casually tossed me a line, “Hey, what about this?”
“This” was a cabanon in the Northern Luberon, the anti-bling non-Maylesy kind that ne’er a tour bus does see. The wee abode is on the edge of a lavender field and yes, they accept dogs, yes, there was availability for that week, no there wasn’t plastic garden chairs used as the living room furniture and for…300€ per week (that is $388 USD, 239 British Pounds). Done. So beyond done.
The owners, Eric and Sabine, were away on a little vacation of their own and so we were met and welcomed by Sabine’s parents both of whom are from the area since generations. It says a lot about the people of the region that Sabine and Eric were trusting enough for us to be les maitres du domaine in their absence. But it was still with trepidation that I entered the cabanon–would it be all that I hoped?
I was not disappointed.
The snug living area had all that we needed and then some. A futon sofa that was so comfortable that it soon became the most sought after spot for la sieste (yes, even more so than the deck chairs), not to mention an authentic Provençal dining set as well as a box of movies next to the television that was exactly to Remi’s taste…
Up a short flight of stairs to the cozy bedroom. Sabine’s Mom proudly showed me the magnetic blinds she had made to block out the ever-present sunlight for those that didn’t want to rise with the dawn. Um yes, that would be us, merci.
Back down to le salon and down a bit more to the fully stocked and I do mean fully stocked kitchen. I have to admit, this was one of the key factors that had sold me on the cabanon as how very, very rare that is. There was even un panier of left behind items–a box of spaghetti, coffee filters and the like–for the just in case. A touch which is completely in line with the beautifully thought out details of the renovation of what was once the family farm’s four à pain or bakery. When I later learned that Eric is an interior architect, I was hardly surprised. I loved how he recuperated and integrated materials from the existing structure, such as the beams and shelves just over Ben’s head below, not to mention that the sand-based lime-wash on the walls was one of the best executed I have seen, which for Provence, is saying something. Truly, a really lovely renovation that makes the best of what is and what was.
Beyond the kitchen is a small but entirely serviceable bath (and positively enormous compared to the “pirouette in place” shower that we have at home). Need I mention that everything was spotlessly and I do mean spotlessly clean?
It was no wonder at all that soon we felt right at home.
There are several outdoor spaces to explore. Just behind the kitchen is a walled in garden with a table set towards the sun…
…one which joins a private loggia installed with a banquette, another dining table and the absolutely crucial BBQ (more about that to come). A ps. to my design friends, please take a look at the gorgeously set roof tiles…
It is such a lovely area that it is also a preferred choice of certain other visitors…I warned you that this is the country!
Yes, there are cats and dogs and chickens but that is all part of the experience. Here, you are not isolated on the edge of the world but a part of something authentic even if the design is authentic! When Eric and Sabine returned, along with their toddler twins, they were not only extremely charming hosts but discreet ones as well.
The cabanon is exactly what it claims to be, a wonderfully comfortable stone cabin, at only 30 square meters large. But we honestly felt like we didn’t need anything more.
And most importantly, we felt entirely bienvenue.
Le cabanon de Bourinet
Simiane la Rotonde
Contact: Sabine Reynard (she speaks as she calls it “schoolgirl English” but it is enough to make a reservation, by email is probably best)
Tel.: +33 (0) 4 92 75 91 39
For more booking information: http://en.luberonweb.com/location-2066/Le_cabanon_de_Bourinet/Le_cabanon_de_Bourinet.php
One final aspect worth noting, the cabanon goes up to 350€ in the peak of high season, which remains an extremely reasonable price and one in accordance with the farm setting. I only ask that you don’t book the cabanon during the week of the lavender harvest because we plan on going back!
Happy trails…
Oh, my parents have left as of a few hours ago.
Amusingly enough, I ran into a neighbor at the grocery store, who pleasantly/concernedly asked me (having learned that our parents were here) "Oh, how wonderful! Now…..are they able to get around, see the historic district?…"
I told her that they were all, for better or worse, in perfect health, none of them over 72, and distressingly MORE than able to "get around"…they were positively running circles around middle-aged, tired-old me.
I'm going out to weed in the back-forty. no one wants to join me in that unromantic, non-mechanized project….which suits me just fine for a few hours.
My in-laws have just driven in from shopping. They've been out to buy stuff at the Home Depot and have just announced that they intend to paint the front porch. What????
I'd ask what color they've chosen (the historical board allows you a choice of only three colors, which I somehow doubt the in-laws know), but I suppose that would be presumptuous of me.
Beleaguredly yours,
—-david
Nathalie, that whole area around Simiane/Banon/Sault/Rustrel is just so very beautiful–very inspiring!!!
My dear David,
It would be outright infantile for me to giggle over your frustration but I can't quite help myself and yes, most certainly as far as the GRANDKIDS PHOTOS (somehow that needs to be capitalized) is concerned. But also with the cacophony of sound. I imagine you as a quiet person or one who chooses a very specific sound (such as when you suggest songs here) and as much as I love them both, I can't imagine a Patsy Cline/Piaf showdown.
Well, I hope that you are at least getting some good home-cooking of both nationalities despite the cost of your sanity. And good luck protecting the trees! Something tells me that now that your folks have left and the two men are no longer plotting together, it will go easier. I also believe that Herve owes you something–what that may be, I'll let you decide…
Sending my Best of my Best from a cantankerously stubbborn hot Arles,
Heather
The best of Provence. What a great find! Thanks for sharing it. I'll certainly keep the address for friends wishing to visit the area.
My happy parents leave for Tennessee today (they're going straight from there to my youngest brother's house, presumably to deliver school pictures of my other brother's children). Then, there'll be only the French in-laws for another two weeks. I'm assuming that Herve's return-flight won't crash, and I'll be able to smilingly inform him that I love his parents, but he's got to take over running their summer projects-camp and keeping them amused & occupied. I can handle their food and laundry, lend them my car….but I'm more than a bit over my current role as concierge/amusement-park manager for seniuor citizwens on their exciting, "SEE AMERICA!" getaway-vacations.
Oh…both sets of parents have brought NEW, 8"x10" school-photographs of various grandchildren, which have been placed in frames (this involved an exciting trip to the local Walmart while I got their lunches ready on Saturday) and set out all over the kitchen/dining-room. If you walked in the door as a stranger, you would think I either was running a kindergarten here or, particularly as a gay man, had a very intense & serious kiddie-fixation. It's quite weird. A nice neighbor (whom I've known only for a week or so) came to the kitchen door yesterday afternoon with a bag of pears; as we stood in the kitchen, I saw her eyes go to the table and its rows of 15 or so (I'm not exaggerating) large photographs of children….and her brows furrowed a bit before I said "The GRANDPARENTS are all here, all four of them…they think we need to have many pictures of ALL the grandchildren…"
Oh, well…..I'll survive this with at least a minimum of good grace. At least there are five full bathrooms (this old house was a B&B for about ten years); things could easily be more complicated.
In any case, your cabanon looks wonderfully peaceful/restful. We don't have any chickens here right now (Herve's planning to get some), but we do have a very nice, new-ish chicken-house, built by the previous owners. I'm thinking of going out there for my afternoon nap today.
Wish me luck,
David Terry
P.S (and I hope you'll find this amusing, lengthy as it is while I'm hiding out in my studio…). I can't sufficiently describe for you the intense weirdness of walking through this house with folded laundry and realizing that four old & somewhat deaf people all have the habit of turning on a CD player or radio everywhere they go, and then leaving it on when they go somewhere else, where they turn on some other sound-making machine. This is usually a very quiet house (I work at home, alone, while Herve goes out to work each day)….now?, there are shrill Palestrina arias playing in the kitchen while NPR blares bad-news in the library, Patsy Cline is playing in the piano room, and Edith Piaf (strangely enough, my quite-American father's current fixation, or maybe he's simply making a fond gesture towards the french inmates) is caterwauling down the stairway from a guest bedroom. I've started wearing shooting-earplugs at night and/or when I need a nap. I'm not kidding.
I should add that the terriers are all delerious with delight over all these new&fun people, who love them right back and can't be convinced to stop throwing balls for them in the house, or to never feed them from the table while people are eating.
Oh, Heather……this does look particularly wonderful….simple clean, quiet, etcetera.
It seems particularly enviable to me just now—–the French in-laws are here for 3 weeks (not that I don't know them well and gnerally enjoy them, but most folks don't call a few days before their arrival to giddily announce that they've been able to change their plans and can stay for an extra week!!!!…..to "help"!!!!), and my own parents (whom, rather obviously, I know well and whom I also generally enjoy) just came for three days to "Help you and Herve settle in!". No one seems to recall that we've actually been in this house for 3 months as of yesterday and am fairly adept at reading the labels on moving boxes and putting things where they generally belong.
At the same time, Herve's gone off on a three-day, unavoidable conference trip…….so, I'm stuck here with four hyperactive septuagenarians, all of whom want three set meals per day. The mothers, predictably enough, say that they'll do the cooking…but they don't know where anything is (not that I'm entirely sure, myself), so I'm interrupted every ten minutes with a request for a lemon zester or a colander or a "cheese knife" or a cuisinart attachment that I actually neither own nor want…. while I've reteated to my studio and am trying to respond to interview questions and client inquiries….just to hear all about why I really SHOULD get the pastry-maker attachment, it'll CHANGE MY LIFE (!) etcetera, ad infinitum.
Predictably enough (and I should emphasize that our parents know each other quite well and like each otherloads), both of the fathers want to get their hands on power tools and go chopping or hacking down stuff on the property (where the flower beds have been utterly neglected for the last seven years….so you don't know what's actually IN that pile of grass and weeds). When their wives aren't interrupting me to ask for something, they come running to warn me that one or both of their husbands is trying to do something with the electric clippers, the weedeater, or the chainsaw.
You know what I did? I hid all the adaptors and am claiming that silly little me can't find them now. As you might guess, neither of these old men takes up my suggestion "Well, you could just use the HAND clippers!" They hate not being able to whack away at my property (even I don't yet know 1/2 of what's here; it's a BIG place)with power tools.
(rant to be continued)….
I know–so close but yet so far!! Not to mention that the echine de porc was crazy good!! But we really hope to go back so yes, next time!
Good question, Francine! Ben has always ignored cats (since he had a blow on the nose when he was a pup) but was intimidated by their dog, who, while sweet, liked to play a little too rough for his taste! As for the chickens, he didn't know what to think and looked to us for guidance! 🙂
What a gorgeous song from such another period in time when everything must have seemed so possible…But perhaps you felt the same while listening to the Beatles and Elvis too! We had lunch with friends this weekend and the talk turned to the challenges that the youth of today have in front of them. So very different than a little Blue Heaven…
You're welcome Carolyn. I think that you might have mentioned the Bastide another time–more info please!