The City of a Thousand Fountains

Though not nearly that many are still in existence today, one of my favorite things about Aix-en-Provence is its many fountains. Water has always been a scarce and precious commodity in the area of Provence, and it holds an important place in both the heart and history of Aix.



 




As you wander the windy streets of Aix, it's downright impossible not to make note of them as they dominate most every square, street corner, and intersection. They greatly contribute to the town's vibrance, and its lure. They are all different and each is more enchanting than the last.

 This source of life has flowed throughout the town since ancient times, and before the fountains were put in, the town boasted having it's very own spring- a valuable feature. It wasn't until the 17th century, however, that the fountains began being constructed throughout the city, and water ran freely in their basins. Though they were primarily built for utilitarian purposes, they quickly became elegant, artistic ornaments scattered throughout the urban landscape.

My personal favorites, both because they are the only ones like them I have ever encountered, and because they have beautiful green moss and ferns growing on every inch of them (which, of course, reminds me of a place I love, and already miss dearly) are "les fontaines d'eau chaude", or "the fountains of hot water". There are two of these in Aix, and they are 'neighbors' on the Cours Mirabeau. On a cold winter day, you can see the steam rising off of them as the hot water, which bubbles up from a natural spring underneath, comes in contact with the cool air. They both look as though they've been plucked straight out of a fairytale.

Mt. St. Victoire

A fixture of the landscape around Aix, looming near on the horizon, is the peak of Mt. St. Victoire.  This is the mountain whose craggy, steepled shape was made famous by the painter Paul Cézanne.  Jenna and I decided we could not leave Provence without making the hike up to the "Croix de Provence," a towering cross perched above a 15th-century priory.  The cross stands at the tallest visible point from the town of Aix (it's not technically the tallest point on the mountain, but it's close!).


















All in all, the hike took Jenna and I about 5 hours.  This does not include the near half-hour it took us to decipher the incredibly cryptic signage leading us to the trailhead (there was even a French couple having difficulty understanding the signs, so it wasn't a language gap issue).  But after we set of along the trail and up toward the ridge, the beauty of the countryside and the joy we both felt at being out in nature made for a wonderful and rewarding trek.

The hike itself was fairly arduous--once we approached the ridge that headed towards the cross the incline was steep and unrelenting.  From the trailhead the cross was a barely-visible speck on the peak.  The countryside along the base of the mountain--groves of small, silvery-green trees, picturesque vineyards, and villas covered in autumn-hued vines--made for a captivating and magical scene.  And the reward of reaching the croix certainly made the hike worth the effort.  The peak gave an incredible view of the countryside below, with Aix settled in the distance.

Arles

About an hour bus ride from Aix sits another lovely little French town called Arles. It's history dates back to before Roman times, but the Romans conquered it in 125 BC and grew it into a thriving trading port. The influence of the Romans is still incredibly apparent there in places like the Roman Forum, and the Roman Arena-- an amphitheater inspired by the colosseum in Rome

 It also happens to be host to the largest street market either of us had ever seen. Provence is absolutely loaded with street markets. They are held, in some form or another, practically every day in most towns in the South of France. In Aix, the "big market" is every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, where different vendors sell everything from fresh caught fish, to clothing and antique trinkets. The "off days" are filled in with farmer's markets and/or flower markets, which are held in different squares across the city center. We've been thoroughly impressed by the vast number of things that are available at these markets, and also by the prices, which greatly undercut those of the trendy shops around town. That being said, the Saturday market that was being held when we arrived in Arles put every other market I've ever seen to shame.

They had clothing, footwear, fresh meat, cooked meat, jewelry, giant pans full of simmering hot curries, baskets, purses, hats, toys, spices, incense, cheese, trees, bushels of every kind of produce in season, live chickens and rabbits, and anything else you can imagine. The tents were set up in not one, but two concentric circular isles filling the streets and sidewalks and surrounding an entire city block.







After spending an hour or two wandering the market (and still not managing to see it all) we ventured further into the city. The well known artist Vincent Van Gogh took up residence in Arles in 1888 and stayed for about a year, during which time he created over 300 paintings. The city is filled with scenes that he painted, and the tourist office offers a brochure for a self guided walking tour that leads you to a series of easels that have been positioned in the same locations as Van Gogh's. So we picked that up, and used it as a rough guide for our day. We wandered the streets, stopping now and then to look at an easel, and breaking here and there at a monument, art exhibition, or cafe. It was a wonderful day, and when the time came to catch our bus back to Aix, we were wishing we could stay a bit longer in the picturesque little town.

~Jenna

Es En Ciel Montessori

Many of you know that one of my main goals during our trip has been to visit and observe at different Montessori schools while we travel. Montessori schools exist throughout the world, and I'm interested in seeing what they look like in other places- the buildings, the materials, the similarities, the differences. I'm even more interested in observing children, who have the same needs and the same human tendencies no matter their location on the globe. I think getting to spend time in Montessori schools in other countries will help shape my understanding of children and of the Montessori pedagogy, will help me to develop connections with my fellow teachers, and will ultimately make me a better guide when I return.

Up until recently, I haven't had any luck in this arena due to 3 main issues: 1) I've been told by schools it's too early in the year and they're not ready for observers yet, 2) I don't speak the language and no one at the school speaks enough English for me to coordinate with them, or 3) I have been unable to reach them via public transportation.

But this past Tuesday, I finally had the pleasure of observing at a Montessori school. The school I visited is called Es En Ciel and can be found online at http://www.ecole-es-en-ciel.fr/. It is about a 15 minute drive outside of Aix-en-Provence, and is run by a lovely woman named Patricia, who is originally from Bolivia, but has lived in France for over 20 years. After finding the school on the internet and contacting her, I asked (in very broken French) if it would possible for me to come and observe for a while. She not only agreed, but she offered to give me a ride! The school, she explained to me in very fast French, is in a somewhat rural area outside of Aix city center, and no buses go there. She then asked where I was staying, and when I told her, said that she lived very nearby and would be happy to take me with her in the morning, have me spend the day there, and then bring me back in the evening. Parfait! 

So on Tueday, I awoke in time to walk the entire block and half to Patricia's house (it really couldn't have been closer!) and catch a ride with her (plus her husband, her son Paolo, and one of her other students, Max) to the school. When we arrived, her and both of the boys began opening up the school and preparing things for the day. She gave me a tour and showed me where I could put my things, and I immediately found a corner to sit in where I started eagerly making notes about what I saw. The school was fairly small, with 2 levels, lots of windows, and a big backyard/play area (complete with live bunnies and 4 child-sized houses). It contained 3 classrooms: 1 toddler, 1 primary ("maternelle" en Français) and 1 lower elementary ("Les Grands").

As the children and their parents began to enter, it became apparent to me that everyone felt at home here. The belongings were put in their places, the shoes came off, and the kids settled right in. Patricia is the lead guide in the elementary classroom, and suggested I spend the morning with her, and then observe the primary in the "après-midi".

I recognized a surprising number of materials in the elementary, and was able to observe kids doing all different kinds of work- many of which I was familiar with. The kids in this classroom were characteristically social and did many works collaboratively. I also observed many individual lessons, and many children working quietly on something of their own choosing. At lunch, all of the children ate together (divided only based on their class, which corresponded to the height of the tables and chairs). The tables were set with real porcelain dishes, the food was served from communal dishes which were provided by the school, and at the end, everyone pitched in to clean up (with the elementary children taking on the larger tasks). In the afternoon, half of the primary class enjoyed a weekly music session while the other half stayed in the classroom and worked, then they switched. When they all gathered back together, they celebrated one child's "anniversaire" (birthday) by telling stories from his life and making laps around the 'sun' (represented by a yellow lightbulb on a floor lamp just tall enough for the lightbulb to be out of reach), then singing "Joyeux Anniversaire" followed closely by it's English counterpart, which the children knew well.

There were 2 things I especially enjoyed: watching them work with the math materials (because they're the same in every language) and watching them work with language materials (because they're not). I saw work with bead frames, addition and subtraction strip boards, stamp games, golden beads, and a solid yellow bead frame that looked to me like it was for the multiplication of large numbers. All of these things were familiar and logical and looked exactly as they do in every other Montessori classroom I've been in. I also got to see work with moveable alphabets ("les alphabets mobiles"), phonograms, grammar symbols, and sentence analysis. These things I enjoyed because they were familiar, yet different in all the ways one would expect being in a foreign country. In French, adjectives generally come after their nouns, rather than before, the phonograms are completely different, well because let's face it, the language is completely different! and the moveable alphabets include accents, which the children understandably struggle a bit to remember.

Another difference that I noticed, and enjoyed observing, were the works that had been created to help children to remember and master the differences between masculine and feminine. In French, every word has a gender, (a window, for instance, is feminine: une fenêtre, while a knife is masculine: un couteau). As a French learner myself, this is an aspect of the language which I have struggled with time and again. It seems the children here struggle with it too, because there's not much rhyme or reason to it, you simply have to memorized the 'gender' of each word. There were a good number of children, particularly in the elementary classroom who were working with materials which had obviously been designed to help them with this, and which simply don't exist in a Montessori classroom in the States.

It was at one point during the morning, as I was sitting on the floor near a child who was completely immersed in concentration, that I realized just how much I miss being in the classroom- around those fantastic materials, around peaceful children who are deeply engaged in tasks they have chosen. I feel ever so thankful to Patricia, and to the children and staff at Es En Ciel, for my day there, and for allowing me the chance to observe at their beautiful school- and to "get my fix". 

~Jenna

P.S. Sorry about the lack of photos! I didn't take any as I felt it would be a distraction, although I wish I could have!

Shades of Blue

Provence, France: the southeastern corner of the country, famous for it's coastline, artists (Van Gogh and Cézanne, for example), colorful markets and beautiful weather.  Jenna and I have been here for about a week and a half now, and I'm finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that we must leave this beautiful place soon.

The ubiquitous pastel-colored shutters, doors and trim, combined with the chalky white-and-grey bark and turning leaves of the trees (which I was later to learn are called "plane trees") produce an incredibly beautiful, almost dream-like aesthetic.  Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm walking inside a massive painting..






Our couchsurfing host in Marseille, Emmanuel, took us out to the little seaside town of Cassis.  The color of the sea there was the most vibrant blue I had ever seen.  Jenna and I spent a while just watching the waves beat the rocks.

We decided to take a bus from Aix to visit Cassis a second time.  Our plan was to pay for a boat ride through the so-called calanques (large, canyon-inlets carved into the rocks along the coast.  When we got there however, we were disappointed to learn that, due to rough seas, the boats were not running.  That little hitch didn't get us down, though.  We spent the day exploring the beautiful town, and seeing what the street market and coastline had to offer.

The cliffs above Cassis are the highest point along the entire Mediterranean.  They offer absolutely breathtaking (and vertigo-inducing) views of the town and coastline below..

A Shared Experience

There's nothing quite like traveling. The new places, the unfamiliar cultures and languages, the struggles with navigation, communication, and basic comfort that you encounter every day. And then there's the growth! The reality that each and every day you're doing something you've never quite done before, in a place you've (probably) never been, with people you've just met.







The information and ideas that you come into contact with are sometimes brand new to you, and more often than not, change your way of looking at something, or inform your perspective. Simple things become difficult, and you are constantly questioning things you thought you knew. Boundaries are pushed (in every way imaginable) and your comfort zone expands drastically- mostly because it has to.

Having traveled in the past, both alone, and with my family, these are all things I was expecting to find when we started out this time, and (for the most part) things I was looking forward to. But I never anticipated the extent to which I would enjoy them differently this time around, simply for doing it with my partner. 

It's one thing to explore a beautiful new place and learn about it all on your own. It's entirely different, and in many ways, more spectacular, to do it with the person you love. To miss a train, get lost, or feel frustrated is somehow easier with someone to lean on. 

To meet an interesting person in a foreign place and become fast-friends is an amazing thing to get to experience- and to be traveling with someone with whom I get to share those experiences, those struggles, those memories, is more terrific than I could have ever anticipated. 

Wandering, getting lost, and laughing our way through new places is far more amusing and enjoyable with Sean, than I think it would be by myself, and I'm so very happy that we're sharing this adventure.