With every Luberon village we visit, I find myself thinking, ok now THIS one is the most beautiful. But you simply cannot compare them like that. Each village has its own identity, its own charm, and its own secrets waiting to be discovered. Today we drove to Fontaine-du-Vaucluse, L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, and Goult. If you think of Provence as merely a sea of stone buildings with blue wooden shutters, then I invite you to come along with me as I write Mon Journal Français, where I hope to share the south of France with you in a way that speaks to all the senses.
Today’s journey began in Fontaine-du-Vaucluse. As we approached the village we came to an enormous aqueduct over the Sorgue river. Many people were preparing their kayaks and canoes to traverse its crystal clear emerald waters. I could not believe how clear and clean this river is. You can see all the way to the bottom, where a forest of bright green plants is absolutely flourishing. The river is fed through a spring with a depth that to this day is a mystery. Jacques Cousteau himself attempted to find the bottom but could not. It’s so vividly green, almost as if green dye has been added to it but everything about it is au naturale. On a hot summer day, nothing looks more inviting than the Sorgue river.
We enjoyed two espressos and a crêpe of œufs, jambon, and fromage in the small square. I don’t know why but I think crêpes from a crêpe cart always taste better. A few wooden water wheels gracefully and slowly churn the river water with cafe terraces lining the banks. When we arrived it was quiet but by the time we finished our breakfast the crowds had grown significantly. I recommend going early.
Our next stop was L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, a major destination for antique shoppers with the nickname “The Provencal Venice.” The Sorgue river runs through town giving it a canal feel, with shops and cafes lining the banks. It was very crowded with lots of pedestrians and vehicular traffic, so we opted to see it from the car and continue on towards Goult.
Goult is definitely more our speed. It’s a little sleepy and very picturesque. It’s actually one of the least visited villages. I loved the feel of Goult with its quiet streets and pastel houses. Our goal was to have lunch here, and we tried to eat at the famous Cafe de la Poste. We did not have a reservation but I kindly greeted the hostess (in French, mind you) and asked if she had a table for two. I was very quickly dismissed by a “no.” I then asked if we could have a drink and wait for a table (there were several ‘drinks only’ tables available) to which she replied, “I guess, but I really don’t know when you will ever get a table,” (emphasis on ever). She then swiftly walked away as if we were done. To be honest, I haven’t felt that rudely dismissed in 16 years of traveling to Europe. It was as if she could not wait to be rid of us. Well, it was their loss because we went right next door to the new “Le Goultois” and had a very lovely lunch experience. The service was ever so kind, and they even brought out a bowl of ice water for Lola. I had a great salad with warm goat cheese and Paul had the fish and chips. We sipped cold beer and rosé on the terrace and felt good about our choice in restaurants. (Side note: Afterwards we read the Google reviews for Cafe de la Poste and found out that we are certainly not the only ones who have had such an experience, among other terrible experiences there. I typically keep it very positive here but I feel it is only right to share this, as Cafe de la Poste has enjoyed a long history of monopolizing the restaurant scene in Goult).
After lunch we came back to the cottage for an afternoon of pool time (and more rosé of course).
Bonsoir et à demain!
xo – Erin