After disembarking from the Enchante, Sylvain dropped us off at the station in Nimes and we caught a train to Arles, a UNESCO World Heritage site for its roman and romanesque monuments. Of course, the most famous resident is Vincent Van Gogh. He spent over a year painting in and around Arles and many months in a psychiatric hospital. We arrived in Arles to grey skies and a steady rain, water sloshing down the streets and people crowding in doorways waiting for it to break. Maybe the history, maybe the weather but while enjoying ourselves immensely, the touch of melancholy was in the air. We were told Arles was a bit down on it’s luck but we found the lack of gentrification refreshing and the town an honest presentation of itself.

We try to walk from the train stations to exercise our bodies and minds and Arles was no exception. As we were well in advance of check in time at the hotel, Wayne decided a glass of wine was in order so we stopped at a sidewalk cafe. Soon after we sat people started running in and out with a frantic look on their faces. We were perplexed. Soon, paramedics arrived all flashing lights and sirens. Apparently, a severely injured person was laid out just inside the door. No one asked us to move, so the whole scene played out in front of us. The French emergency response was spot on and they quickly immobilized the victim with an inflatable stretcher and whisked him off to treatment. I have to admit, I peeked in several times. Of course, the lovely French couple took all in stride and sipped their afternoon wine.

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The streets of Arles wind, curve, uphill, downhill, open onto squares and end in alleys. There is a new view almost every step. The naughty French kitty jumped into the open window when we approached. We turned the corner and out he came on the other side.

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The roman and romanesque monuments are impressive. We walked round the amphitheater and the antique theater.

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Wayne decided this house would suit just fine should we entertain residing in Arles. The roof line of the front is actually the balustrade of a third floor terrace.

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A Saturday evening wedding at the Hotel de Ville.

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And the bells rang Sunday morning.

An abundance of stunning entryways and shops.

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While searching for Van Gogh’s home (which was destroyed) we happened upon the very spot were he painted Nuit étoilée sur le Rhône. You can see the shore and bridge below and in the painting.

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Arles even had their own “yellow vest” protest parade on Sunday. While a little wet from rain, very neighborly with smiles all around.

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We were very lucky campers. When we checked into the hotel they told us we had been selected as the “guest of the day” and thus were upgraded to a large room with two french windows and a bathroom that was a religious experience with the tile, in Van Gogh’s palette, and a chair depicted in studio paintings.

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