Thursday, August 13, 2015
With the hopes of seeing fields of purple now dashed and having followed in Van Gogh's footsteps as far as I could, day three brought new challenges. What to do? I had heard of Aix-en-Provence. I knew Cezanne was from there. I was now privy to the zone tickets allowing you to traverse southern France for next to nothing. I could almost pronounce Aix. The decision was made.
Had I done a bit more research and found out just how proud they were of their fountains, I might have rethought this. I would have known that the principal thoroughfare is a shopping street with ornamental spouts gurgling every couple of blocks. Not in a Bellagio, choreographed along with lights, pretty manner...no, just regular fountains. Some were made of stone, others were mossy blobs kind of dribbling away...none of them particularly remarkable but there they were, the pride of the town.