Author: Heather Robinson

It’s a miracle! There is finally a sushi restaurant in Arles! Oh, I have been waiting a mighty long time for this. As an ex-New Yorker, one used to the ease of indulging in Japanese food at a dial’s reach, it has been a definite sacrifice not to be able to get my fix save during trips to Paris (the fact that I purposefully stay in the 2nd arrondissement, the neighbourhood with the most sushi, should say something about how much this means to me). But no longer! And, even better, the restaurant that opened, Sakura, has a few tables out front that look directly on to the Arena. What a view! And one that has previously been reserved to tourist traps serving what looks like frozen dinners. My friend Claire’s starter, a futomaki, even had a fushiony twist to it, combining foie gras, shrimp and mango. A plate of salmon carpaccio, followed by the above platter, then a molten chocolate cake and served with a glass of wine (albeit a crappy Côte du Rhône but nonetheless) all for 19€? Vendu! Sold! The fish was fresh (as it better be this close to the ports of the Mediterranean) and well cut, the service friendly. After two hours of sitting in the sun, gossiping with a wonderful friend and delighting in a new restaurant discovery, I am one happy camper.

It is rare to see a home that has guarded such continuity in its renovation, down to small touches such as leather covered light switches. The main floor consists of an open plan piece de vie with sitting, dining and kitchen areas all flowing smoothly into one another. There is also a master bedroom and bath as well as an office. Up the stairs is a sleeping loft with bath perfect for a moody teen.

There are also two independent apartments in the home, one of which has a private entrance. Both have private outdoor areas as well as full kitchens and baths. The current owners have used them as vacation rentals, something that it is quite lucrative in Provence, as you can imagine. 

The charming Eric Didner of the Agence des Alpilles showed us this property. He can be reached at the agency on: (33) 04 90 54 54 55 or feel free to contact me if you have any questions. Here is a link with (better) photos and more info:

I had mentioned in the post about St. Saturnin that we had seen several wonderful things that day. At the far end of the Vaucluse, with the beginning of the Alps shining white in the distance, we came across the Prieuré de Carluc, tucked into a verdant valley cut in two by a rushing brook. One thousand years ago it was under the control of the Abbaye de Mountmajour here in Arles, this despite its being a nearly two hour drive away in the Vaucluse. The Prieuré is also yet another site that was founded around a sacred spring! There is something so mystical about water bubbling up from the center of the earth in an unending stream. Enough to make a believer out of anyone. I have done a bit of digging and it seems that there is not much more that is known about the Prieuré, save that it was a vital stopping point on the road to Rome many moons ago. I am always so amazed at how much history gets lost.

A funeral gallery extends off the side of the chapel with tombs carved in the cliff. And yet there isn’t a sense of gloom here, quite the opposite. A symphony of birdsong and fluttering wings filled the air until it was overtaken by the gentle clanging of bells. Soon, a shepherdess and two very astute border collies drove a flock of sheep over the stream and into the surrounding forest. Ben, driven gaga by their scent, rolled in the grass. Of course he had a bath the day before.

Emerald moss is slowly swallowing up the stones. The Prieuré is a forgotten one, not on the touristic circuit and too isolated for wanderers to stumble upon. That somehow only adds to its beauty, as if it has already had its time in the sun and is now content to sleep.

I had the good fortune of taking friends to visit this absolutely beautiful hôtel particulier, or mansion, that is currently for sale in Arles. Built in the 17th century upon the remains of a medieval cellar (one of only six here), it is honestly one of the more striking opportunities that I have seen on the market in quite some time. All of the time periods decorative characteristics are present–the hand-painted wooden beams topping simple high-ceiling stone rooms, winding staircases that have been worn down with the steps of centuries. The building has been impeccably restored by an antiques dealer who has brought out the finest aspects of each of its eleven rooms. As with much of the architecture here, this hôtel particulier was built vertically rather than horizontally and dominates the hill that is considered to be the most elegant area in central Arles. The quality of light shifts drastically throughout this very private home, from the deep shade of its patio opening up gradually to an explosion of sun shining over the town’s most central monuments, most notably with a front row view over the Amphitheatre. For more information (in French) and photos not taken by yours truly, I have provided the following link: 

I was especially impressed by the professionalism of Emilie and Michel, the team from Bertaud Immobilier that showed the home. If you are interested, Emilie can be reached directly on (33) 6 08 28 81 57 or don’t hesitate to contact me for further info.

There are moments of discovery while travelling that morph into a slightly out of body experience. Time becomes slippery and the rest of the world beyond what is smack in front of your eyes blurs like the borders of a first kiss. I was so very lucky to have had such an experience while chasing the sun as it set over St. Saturnin Les Apt. I remember long ago reading that the town was a hidden bijou, or treasure, but couldn’t for the life of me remember why. I simply was along for the ride as Remi hurtled through the countryside. We had already driven to the farthest points of the Luberon and seen wonderful things, but more of that another day. He was determined to also make it to St. Saturnin, despite the rapidly waning light. It was far from the first time that we have been in such a situation and I can tell you that it is thrilling. Remi hunts light with the avidity of Hemingway on a safari. We saw the chapel, reigning atop the remains of a fortress, from afar. But how to approach and at the right angle? Instinct took him around the side of the village to rise up a cliff on the opposite side. Just when I thought that he had made a drastic mistake while every minute counted, he pulled the Range Rover off road and on to a rocky unmarked piste or path. Down, around, Ben bumping in the back, we came to a halt directly across from our goal just as the light exploded into gold. Amazingly, a small bridge led from our perch across a lake to the long winding road up to the chapel. Here is where time started to let loose as I became lost in beauty. The stone’s glow, the gift of black eyed Susan’s and walnut tree blooms, the utter quiet as we climbed, alone, to find a chapel of unutterable grace. 

Grace. To be touched by something greater than ourselves. Missing for so many of us, myself included, in this world of noise. How lovely to want to believe, to believe in general, to believe in everything. I could feel my heart. 

Remi and I lingered until the night came on, until we were forced to leave for fear of not being able to find our way in the dark. 

Afterwards I read about the “Rosette Tamier Scandal” in 1852, so named after a young woman who swore that she had beheld tears of blood falling from a painting of Christ in the chapel that we had visited. It was a story that gripped national headlines and yet was never explained, nor disproved.