This morning we started at the same markets we were at last Wednesday, only this time they were much bigger. At a cafe/deli alongside the markets we had breakfast where Stuart and Alison come each Sunday. I was then driven to where I left off yesterday. We said our goodbyes, then the walking commenced.

The first four hours or so of walking were very uninteresting. I skirted Cavaillon to its south and west passing through semi-industrial areas, crossed a motorway and then got onto the road to St. Remy. I was back in full kit with a 25kg backpack. Ah, it’s good to be back I harness. I got two beep/wave of the hand combos today. I feel good when that happens. It puts a smile on my face. The St. Remy road was full of
long, straight stretches.

Along the way I met a man with a backpack and walking cane, whistling his way towards me. We shook hands and spoke. It’s surprising how much you can communicate even when you don’t speak the same language. He was wandering the local district. He understood when I told him where I was headed and where I had come from. He gave me a single cherry he had in his hand. He said he got it from a local tree in his travels. I took it but didn’t eat it.

On the outskirts of St. Remy there is a cascading water channel that passed under the road. The force of the water rushing downwards was giving off a gentle, cool breeze. I stood in front of it for a couple of minutes. One of walkings little mercies.

If Napoleon was responsible for the planting of the Plane trees I saw today, then he did well. They were on both sides of the road for the last 6km into St. Remy except where they’d been taken out for road widening or a roundabout. The French are crazy about roundabouts. If there is enough land to accommodate one, it’ll be there.

I’m in a camping ground tonight. It’s the best I’ve been in so far with its really clean, functioning showers with unlimited hot water. The grounds are well thought out. There is a 25 metre pool. I went for my first swim of the season. It’s only about 400 metres into town and that’s really close for a camping ground. And the price, just a��12.50. To top things off they take bread and croissant orders for tomorrow. I’ve got my order in.

It’s a very mild night tonight. I managed dinner tonight at an outside table in a T-shirt. St. Remy is a town worth exploring. I could spend a few days here, but that
will have to be another time. Vincent van Gogh spent a year here (1889/1890) in an asylum during which time he produced over 150 paintings. Nostradamus was born here. I went and visited 6 Rue Hoche, his place of birth, or what is left of it. Only the facade remains. Imagine saying, “Yeah, I live at 8 Rue Hoche. That bloke Nostradamus was born next door.” St. Remy is on one of the pilgrims routes that leads to Rome, and for about 2,500 years it has been a town through which travelers from the north to the Mediterranean and vice versa have passed. It has a reputation as an historical, artistic and cultural centre. I’m not surprised it’s a tourist magnet, but this tourist moves on tomorrow for Arles, the real cross-road for pilgrims.

This was the release that made him essay mama writer id 124460 an elder statesman, a reassuring presence under the shadow of national tragedy