It’s Thursday and after a breakfast of scrambled eggs or omelet, toast, and coffee, we set out for Chateauneuf-du-Papes, one of the best known of the Cotes-du-Rhone wines. Along the way we passed down several roads lined on both sides by France’s well-known plane trees.  After parking in the middle of town, we scrambled through town up the hill to the ruins of the Chateau des Papes, built by John XXII in 1317, an Avignon pope who planted the first vineyards. The chateau was left in ruins by fire during the 16th century Religious Wars. The vineyards clay soil is lined with stones deposited by the Rhone which reflect the warmth of the sun onto the 13 different varieties of grapes grown locally. Off in te hdistance, to the east, we could see Mount Ventoux, the dominant geographic feature, often seen during the Tour de France. Just before lunch, the degustation and and wine cellars had opened up and we stopped in for a taste: Petit Boutin (Red Chateauneuf-du-Papes) and Domaine de la Ronciere (box of rose). We checked out an exposition of Jean-Eric Turquin’s work. He has an interesting use of purple in each of his works. I liked a rooster but at 2500 euros, it was a little trop cher for me!
We headed on to Orange, parked in the town’s center and visited the Theatre Antique d’Orange, one of the best preserved Roman theaters in Europe, where concerts are held today. Orange has shady squares and sidewalk cafes. We picked one and found free w-fi, so we could upload our previous blog posts. Lunch was moules and frites. We left Orange late afternoon passing Arc de Triomphe (built to celebrate Julius Caesar’s conquest of Gaul), in the middle of rush-hour traffic, and took a side trip to Bollene. Bollene is a a quaint town, where Louis Pasteur in 1882 developed an inoculation against swine fever. From up on the hillsides, we could see the Rhone valley and a nuclear power plant. We drove through Caderousse, where Hannibal suposedly crossed over the Rhone on his way to Rome in 218 BC. The plaques on the village town hall mark the level of the Rhone’s floodwaters. By 1856, the village inhabitants had built a dyke to hold back the floodwaters should they threaten again.
We sat on the rooftop and enjoyed the view over the town. Dinner was foie gras, a huge dinner salad, bread from a bakery we had passed during the late afternoon, and crepes with nutella for dessert.
