Unspoiled Provence

My guide, Beatrice, collects me at the Marseilles airport and we head an hour north to the village of Gordes, which is said to be between “the sky and the stones.” Technically, the village is in Provence, but Beatrice sees it differently. “I compare Gordes to New York. New York is not the U.S. and the U.S. is not New York. Gordes is not Provence and Provence is not Gordes.”

Gordes sits high on a rocky hill, towering over the valley below, just as it towered over aspiring conquerors long ago. Its castle dates to 1031, and like many fortified towns, Gordes grew in concentric circles around it becoming home to countless craftsmen such as tanners, shoemakers and olive oil makers. However, in the first half of the 20^th century Gordes suffered a debilitating loss of population as residents migrated to big cities for work and the town became a shell, falling into ruin.

Enter astute Parisians.  They saw in Gordes a haven. It was in sunny Provence, a place they loved, with 300 days of sunshine per year and the real estate was being offered at rock-bottom prices. Smart opportunistic Parisians gobbled up the old properties in the town and began building houses in a Provence style but updated to fashionable Parisian tastes.

The “other side” of Provence

 Now, decades later, Gordes is a thriving village offering a charming respite from the touristy and over-trafficked areas of Provence. Call it the best of “un-Provence.” And there’s no better place to rest one’s head here in Gordes than La Bastide de Gordes & Spa.

La Bastide de Gordes stands high upon the fortified hill with stunning views overlooking the valleys and vineyards. It’s the dream of proprietor Jacques Mozet, a coffee trader turned Parisian restaurateur, who began buying up vacant properties along the old ramparts after vacationing in the village.

Monsieur Mozet likes “to create things,” and in La Bastides de Gordes, he has created an elegant and very special enclave, among the first hotels in France to be awarded a superior five-star rating. Many of the 38 rooms and suites are charmingly decorated in traditional Provencal style with French country upholstery, painted headboards and terracotta floors, while for guests with a more contemporary bent, there are rooms in tones of silver, beige and pearl. Each blends in harmoniously with the surroundings, keeping things simple. Unlike some five-star resorts, there are no dizzying gizmos and gadgets to figure out, no buttons for sliding doors, no automatic shades or draperies. Instead, here at Bastides de Gordes, I fling open the shutters, throw wide the windows and become one with the scenery — something a button could never replicate in feeling.

Stepping out to a terrace, I soak in the sounds and smells of my surroundings, hearing the hum of cicadas, breathing in the smell of lavender and watching wisps of mist curl above the wooded hills. A church bell brings me back to reality, and I remember that a moment ago I had exploring in mind.

I duck out of the hotel to roam the cobblestone streets of the quaint town, weaving in and out of alleyways. I discover small gardens at every turn and rampart views worthy of masterpieces. Locals are hiking with their dogs; children scamper about the cobblestones. Small artisan shops entice; intriguing cellar ruins whet my imagination.

Fields of Fancy — Lavender, truffles and more

My guide reappears to escort me further beyond the confines of Gordes. The village is a central launching spot for interesting excursions into the Vaucluse region of western Provence. Some liken this region to the foothills of the Alps, and in fact, the ups, downs and hairpin turns can be dizzying — but in a good way. The ups bring me to the fascinating ruins of a village of Gallic stone huts, the downs to a serene monastery nestled among fields of lavender.

A few hairpin turns bring me to Roussillon, the “red village” with cliffs that seem sliced from the red earth. So vivid is the bright clay, it reminds me of national parks in America’s southwest. I stroll the town’s beautiful park trails and its “ochre footpath.” Roussillon, it turns out, is yet another band among the rainbow of surprises in Vaucluse.

Continuing on to a lavender museum and factory, I learn how the flowers are distilled much like whiskey (who knew?), though the steamed end-product here is essence rather than alcohol. Then it’s on to a truffle museum (80 percent of France’s truffle production comes from this region), accompanied by wine tasting in a 17^th century mansion in the town of Menerbes.

Back at Bastides de Gordes, I revel in a Sisley spa treatment, which helps turn my weary feet into rubber. A glass of local vintage in hand, I am soon relaxing in a lounge chair along a grassy knoll on the hotel grounds. Grape vines dangle from an arbor overhead and the sun readies to drop, bringing down the curtain of dusk.

I head to the resort’s fine restaurant, imagining it impossible that the chef can match the sumptuous meal I enjoyed the evening prior. The resort’s emphasis on superior ingredients is not to be underestimated, and I am convinced that the stewed, Provencal-style vegetables must have been picked just hours earlier. “The price doesn’t matter,” Mozet insists regarding fresh ingredients. He also insists on staying true to nature’s intent with no dishes over-concocted. “You know what you eat,” he adds. I debate between pan-fried turbot filled with sweet garlic, young roasted pigeon with chicory, or traditional roasted rack of lamb with thyme. Complementing my meal are more than 800 wines from which to choose, but I trust the sommelier’s favorites, which are from regional vineyards.

After reveling in the sights, sounds and serenity of “un-Provence,” I return to my private abode at Bastides de Gordes. I draw in the windows and close the shutters as the last of the twinkling lights fades into the darkening valley. I then rest my head on the plush pillow, lost in thought with the many unexpected pleasures I’ve uncovered in this tiny corner of un-Provence.