An extremely fatigued Sara is struggling to start this blog, so has awkwardly shoved in this intro written in the third person. You're welcome.
As you may have read in my previous update, I've been away for a long weekend. And boy has it been long! (but I'll explain that later.)
So on Thursday morning, the six of us bunged all of our bags into the car at an uncomfortably late hour (for me, I'm an early bird when it comes to holidays) and embarked on a four and a half hour drive to Provence. Believe me when I say, one of my absolute least favourite things to do is to sit in the back of a car for a prolonged period of time, squished up against two whining children who are constantly fighting. The only time that they weren't arguing was when they fell asleep (which wasn't nearly long enough for me!) Don't be deceived by this devilishly cute appearance, their blonde hair hides their horns.
When we (finally) got to Saint-Étienne-du-Grès, we had a bit of trouble finding the AirBnB which was tucked away down a side street. But holy mother of god, get a load of this bad boy!
I did some research, it seems to be a €250 per night kind of place. I can't say that I'm at all surprised, but that's CRAZY money for a long weekend!
After a bit of relaxing by the pool, accompanied by a much needed cuppa might I add, we spent the rest of the afternoon and evening mooching around Saint-Rémy-de-Provence. We ate at a semi-expensive restaurant, where the food took so long I thought I was going to have to sacrifice one of the children. Just as I was about to tuck into the youngest, the food started arriving. Well, everyone except mine. Apparently, the chef is incapable of making a pizza without olives because he had a nervous breakdown and broke it. What a numpty. I'd have literally eaten it in pieces, I was that famished.
Imagine this. You're driving on the outskirts of town, which looks like an actual desert because it's so arid, then for about a mile before you get to the centre, there are hundreds of horse riding places. There were so many of them! Then, when you hit the town, you get this weird mix of the Wild West and picturesque English seaside town. It's legitimately crazy. Their obsession with horses, ‘Taurus’ and flamingos is borderline insanity.
Anyway, we pottered around for the day, walking along the beach, exploring the town, casually nearly getting blown off a church roof. Not even an understatement. The views from that roof though were absolutely incredible. No picture will ever do it justice, but here's my attempt...
We managed to catch the sun setting over the beach, which was a stroke of luck because most people in this family aren't really interested in things like beautiful sunsets.
After what seemed like ages wandering around, we finally settled on a place to eat. Just as I was settling into my seat, excited for what new delicacies I could try, Kevin started head butting me. Aggressively. When it started getting ridiculous (notice that the parents never said anything to him) I did what any normal person would do, I held his head to make him stop. But of course, this didn't stop him. He pushed really hard against my hand, until I couldn't hold it anymore. Then, I let go. He went teeth-first into the metal arm of my chair and proceeded to cry about it. Hopefully I, that will be enough of a lesson not to headbutt people, but I highly doubt it. On the other hand, the food was delicious. I was on a mission to try new things, so started off with whelks and garlic butter, followed by ‘Taurus’ steak (and half of the kids paella), finishing off with a chocolate mousse. As you probably know by now, a fed Sara is a happy Sara.
After being mauled for most of the night by a 13-year-old (I had to share a bed, super weird), we headed to Les-Baux-de-Provence.
It's a small village at the very top of a mountain, where there's a ruined castle and lots of little, independent shops. Another thing to note, is how flipping windy it is. By the end of the day, I was basically made of sand and my hair was unbrushable...literally! Obviously, I had to sample the artisan biscuits and chocolates because, well it'd be rude not to.
I thoroughly enjoyed the interactive art exhibition we went to, even though some of the images were SUPER weird. I even managed to escape the children for a short while, cherishing a few silent moments to myself. It was a great end to a blustery day.
For the last day, we didn't get to spend much time doing anything. We just about managed to go back to Saint-Rémy for a spot of walking and shopping. Vincent van Gogh was treated in the psychiatric centre at Monastery Saint-Paul de Mausole in Saint-Rémy, which seems like a really odd thing to celebrate. But the town definitely promotes the fact that he was treated there, copies of his paintings are everywhere.
The five hour drive home was brutal. We didn't stop at all, so I was obviously famished, thirsty and cranky from being crushed into the back. However, I still had to cook when we got back. I can't say anything surprises me anymore, but I thought I'd at least have a bit of a break.
I pretty much made dinner, had a shower then went straight out again. Not before receiving a much needed video call from my favourite boys, Jack and Alfie. They will never know how much I needed that call and I can't ever thank them enough. I spent the walk into town on the phone to Megan, in part to wish her a happy birthday, but also to moan a bit. This helped release some of the pent up tension that I'd built up over the previous week or so. So did word vomiting all over Kee (apologies for making you sit in the cold!)
I foolishly got back pretty late on Sunday and the oldest two had school the next day. A half six start when you've barely slept is not ideal, especially when you're still a little cranky. It is also a massive bummer that the youngest still has a whole week off school and I can't do anything with her because I don't have a car. Roll on next Monday I say, I've never looked forward to French lesson like I am to my next one. Here's to surviving the next few days!
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