Jenelle very much wanted to visit Arles. At one time this was the home of Vincent van Gogh she wanted to try and see or capture what he may have seen. He really only lived here for just over a year but it is where it is said that "his hand adapted to a beauty and power more brutal and sumptuous".
Van Gogh said " Nature is extraordinarily beautiful here. Everything is perfect, the dome of the sky is an admirable blue, and the sun shines like pale sulphur"
The main Square in Arles Central Place de la Republique
The doorway to the Cathedral St Trophime
In Forum Square which still exists he painted "The Night Cafe"
After the war the Espace Van Gogh was restored to how it was when Van Gogh went to hospital after the crisis on December 24th 1889. The former hospital and garden were restored following the painting left by the artist.
Arles was a powerful colony and then an imperial residence and so it has many Roman features. Amphitheater , Arena and this Theater built under the reign of Augustus at the end of the 1st Century B.C. Unfortunately it was not really looked after and some of the stone has been used in other buildings throughout the city.
Art is every where and Arles deserves days here not the short visit we had.
Just one sculpture in one garden.
After lunch we headed to the Camargue; the home of the flamingos, white horses, black bullfighting bulls, and pink salt. The Camargue is a huge delta at the mouth of the Rhone River. Originally low lying marsh land, over the centuries large sections, on the eastern and western edges have been drained for rice farming and agriculture. Also large areas have been taken up by salt farming. Despite this human interference there is a large central section around huge lakes that is still natural and preserved as national park.
Again there is virtually no tourist information regarding the best place to visit to see the illusive flamingoes and the salt. The guide books are very pessimistic about the possibility of seeing flamingoes in the wild, suggesting instead that the most reliable place to see them is the Bird Park. With scant information to guide us we drive along the Rhone River on the eastern edge of the Delta towards the mouth of the river with little hope in our heart.
There are the rice fields; Tick. There are the famous White Horses; Tick. According to the GPS we are getting close to the end of the road. Suddenly we round a bend in the road and there is a flash of pink. “What's that?” No signs, just about a dozen cars parked in a dry dusty unformed car park slightly of fthe road next to a ramshackle, oversized hut. “Can we park here? “ we ask ourselves. Beyond the hut is a mound of soil about 6m high and that is where “tourists” are coming and going from. As we walk passed the hut looking for an admission charge we still don't know what is beyond the mound.
At the top of the mound we see it; Pink Salt. Thousands of acres of salt fields all shades of pink glistening in the hot afternoon sun.
Not far away a small mountain of salt ready for the kitchen.
That made the drive worthwhile. With the end of the road and the Mediterranean Sea not far away we decided to go and dip our toe.
Hurtling along the narrow raised roadway through the salt fields and marshes we catch a glimpse of something else pink in the distance. Its a bird, its Flamingoes. Our eyes begin to adjust; there are dozens, no there are hundreds. We can't believe our luck. We spend half an hour taking hundreds of photos of Flamingoes; they spend most of the time with their heads stuck in the mud feeding. But with perseverance Jenelle gets the money shots.
With the camera threatening to melt down from overuse we drive on the the end of the road where it disappears into the Mediterranean Sea. The narrow strip of sandy beach stretches away to the horizon east and west. The Mediterranean rolls lazily away over the horizon to the African coast. Behind the beach is miles of salt pan. On the salt pan are parked countless motor homes of all shapes and size, populated by charred brown Europeans sun worshipers.
A fire station / lifesavers building on the very end of the road and a third world ramshackle cafe/bar/shop are the only structures. There are no other facilities here. No toilets, no showers, no water supply, no rubbish bins, no signs, no designated parking areas,. This must be as close as Europeans can get to camping in the wilderness in paradise. All these motor homes must be fully self sufficient. We have been amazed throughout France how unregulated camping is.
