The Monthly Village of the Week: Cotignac

So, as it turns out, more research goes into these 'Village of the Week' posts than I initially thought. Just in case anyone is sitting on the edge of their seat, waiting each week for a new village to grace pages of my blog, I've decided to make it a monthly thing; things are a bit hectic at the moment for me, but in the event that I do find the time to actually post one a week, the new title {that really makes no sense at all!} covers me either way.

View of Cotignac from the top of the road; The two Sentinelles at the top of the cliff.

Cotignac is situated within the 'heart of Provence' and is probably one of the most picturesque villages in the Var. The village itself is situated at the base of a small valley and sits nestled amongst trees at the foot of surrounding cliffs. The cliffs stand 80 metres high and at the top, there are two Medievil towers, The Sentinelles, which date back to the 12th and 13th centuries. The short decent into the village is breath taking.

One of the two Sentinelles.

Hidden within the cliff walls are the famous Cotignac Grottes, dating back to before 1000 AD, although the actual date of their origin is unknown. There is a Provencal market on every Tuesday, and a local producers market every Friday - as well as Brocantes {Flea markets} and various other spectacles through out the year, mainly in the summer months.

Getting closer to the Grottes!

Cotignac village is a must to visit if you are coming to the Var. It is only a small village with no more than 2300 inhabitants. It is 10km from Aups and is surrounded by many other charming villages. There is not a lot of recorded history on Cotignac and that which there is, is actually very vague and hard to piece together - especially if you are not a historian or a geologist... and here's why! {It will all come together in the end, trust me}

The Grottes!

The date that Cotignac was originally founded is unknown, however, there was a large Jewish settlement in the 6th century. Up until 1000 AD, the Cassole River flowed over it's famous cliffs; as the main village sat at the base of the cliffs, the waterflow was diverted and now empties into the Argens River {a part of the French Riviera}. Most historical records of Cotignac start from about this time {1000 AD}. 

The cliffs are a truely unique sight and something that you would never expect to see in this part of the world. I was amazed the first time that I saw them and for a long time, nothing compared to them! They are made of Tufa stone, which is a type of Limestone that forms near a water source containing a high content of dissolved minerals. The facade of the cliff face is a mass of stalactites and stalagmites and it was the waterflow from the ancient river that contributed to forming these.

The strange rock formations

The Grottes, also known as Troglodytes are fascinating and not something that you are likely to forget in a hurry! They are small cave dwellings, dug out from the cliff face and are thought to have served as hiding places during times of turmoil and periods of invasion. There were enough caves to hide all of the inhabitants of the village, plus their herds and food for several months.

The Grottes

This is where the historical records become contradictive and honestly, damn confusing, as they are said to date from around 1000 AD {even though the actual cliff is much older}. Provence was at constant threat of raids from a group people known as the Sarrasins, or Muslims. From about 800 to 990 AD, they had camps all over the south and south-west and although there is no evidence or records of Sarrasin invasion at Cotignac, the village inhabitants were said to have huddled at the foot of the Grottes, ready to go into hiding.

In 1032 AD a castle was built and even so, it is unknown the population of Cotignac at this time.  A couple of centuries later, in 1266 AD, the Church Saint Pierre was built and is still standing today, which shows there were a significant amount of inhabitants to justify it's construction. There are no historical recordings of warfare during other religious wars that plagued France, nor the French Revolution, or the World Wars.

Get lost in little streets like this one!

While strolling through Cotignac, you can admire it's narrow streets and cobbled roads; medievil architecture and ever-flowing fountains, most of which are eau potable {drinkable water}. The weekly markets are held in the town square and are sheltered from the hot, summer sun by old plane trees. To be honest, if you have seen one Provencal market, you've seen them all. But dont get me wrong, a visit to Cotignac on a market day is worth it to experience the ambiance alone! If you are not fussed on crowds and would like to see the Grottes, it's best to go on a quieter weekday, or a Sunday.

One of the smaller squares in the village leading up to the Grottes.

In the main street, high on a building, you will find some Cariatides. These are statues of what are meant to be young women. They date back to 1623 and were meant to be a sign of a persons wealth. They are barely mentioned in the tourist books and if you weren't looking for them, you would never know that they are even there. So, whilst on your stroll down the Grand Rue... dont forget to look up!

The town square is framed by an abundance of restaurants, cafes and boutique shops. A popular dish to eat in the summer is Aioli which consists of salted cod, a boiled carrot, a boiled potato, a boiled beetroot, a hard boiled egg and of course, garlic mayonaise. Mmmm! It's worth trying at least once, just so that you can say that you have!

I actually wrote this post a month ago, but because my photos of Cotignac were over five years old, I took a trip to the village to take some new pics. Gabe was at creche, so I was able to wander the small, winding streets at ease and undisturbed with my own thoughts to keep me company. I spent about three hours there and commenced my walk from the Sentinelles, slowly decending down to the town square where I had a coffee and then walked on to the Grottes. There is a 'Route Touristique' that leads you past the old oil mill and up to the base of the Grottes. You can litterally stand at the foot of them, even touch them. Looking directly up at the rock formations gives you a completey different perception and is definitely worth the walk. This time though, it was even better because I knew the history of them, it made the experience even more enjoyable for me and I felt like I had taken a visit to the day spa when I got back in my car. I hope you get to see them one day.

Lay It Out In Lavender

As Rosemary is to the Spirit,

So Lavender is to the Soul

-William Shakespeare, Winter's Tale

And truer words were never spoken! Since moving to France, July quickly became my favourite month of the year! Apart from the toasty, 38 degree days; afternoon storms; shallow, light evening skies covered in a blanket of stars and the endless throng of daily fairs, festivals and feasts to partake in... July, is lavender time.

And, do. I. love. lavender time! Lavender is a truely amazing herb; it has so many health benefits - both physical and emotional, and it's uses are endless! Lavender essential oil can be used in the treatment of acne, burns, aching muscles, cuts, earaches, headache, insomnia, depression, anxiety and menstrual cramps. It truely is a wonder-herb! For more information, check out this website - it's my 'go-to' website when I have an queries about essential oils.

Now, it's one thing to own a bottle of lavender essential oil, it is something else to see where it actually comes from, and there is nothing like driving along an endless, gray road and suddenly coming up and over a hill,  to be engulfed by a field of deep, rich, vibrant colour! 

Depending on what time of the year though, will determine which colour will carry you away because there are several stages of colour, before we get to the purple!

March through to July you can see wheat fields in every stage of growth from fresh, flowing green, to dry, mellow yellow, or beige - ready to be cut.  By this time, sunflowers have also made an appearance.

April, May and June is poppy time. I adore poppies and always pick a few to press between the pages of an old book. They are extremely fragile and pretty much wilt and die within a few mintues of picking them, as they are wild - not like the sturdy ones that you can buy in florists. Because of their silk-like petals, they dont really withstand the heat, so, by late June, they have mostly all but died off.

Come July, the lavender is in full bloom and a lavender field is something that you will definitely want to see at least once in your life time - if not for the endless ocean of purple alone, but for the devine scent, wafting through the air!

As I make quite a few things which contain lavender, my landlords were kind enough to let me have the lavender that they grow, as it lines the driveway - so today, I started picking it. I picked one bush and that gave me 5 {medium sized} bunches of lavender which I am going to dry and use in my heat-bags, soaps and body scrubs/salts. 

{Note to Self: Pick lavender later in the evening, as to not be surrounded by bees, wasps and other flying bugs. All seem to be of the unified opinion that I taste good!}

As for the medicinal uses of lavender, I have to say that I am defintely a believer! For the last two days, I had been suffering from a terrible migraine. Last night after dinner, Gabe and I took an evening stroll and we picked a few stems of lavender. We sat by the pool for about half an hour soaking our feet and making shapes out of the clouds. Every now and then, I'd smell a sprig of lavender. I rolled the flowers between my fingers, releasing a burst of strong, lavender scent. I rubbed it on my temples and my chest. By the time we went back inside for some ice-cream, my migraine had disappeared. Was it the fresh air or the lavender, or a combination of them both? Two hours earlier I was in the foetal position on the couch waiting for an excessive dosage of neurofen to kick in but half an hour outside with some lavender and I was walking on air. If you're not a believer in natural remedies, lavender alone is defintely worth looking into.

I'm going to leave you with one of my favourite quotes, from one of my favourite movies, and they are words that we should all live by...

 "There's a few things that I've learned in life;

always throw salt over your left shoulder;

 keep rosemary by your garden gate;

plant lavender for luck...

 and fall in love whenever you can" 

- Sally Owens, Practical Magic
{written by Alice Hoffman}

A Different Kind of Journal

A few years ago, a friend suggested to me {via email} that I should start a blog and share with the world my quirky stories about my new french life in the south of France. At the time I laughed it off, but the idea stayed tucked away in the corners of my mind. 

At the top of a bell tower, looking over a village.

At that time, I had been living in France {permanently} for almost a year and was still trying to get my leg over that bi-lingual wall! The two years before that, I had been going back and forth between France and Australia chasing the summers and hiding from the cold. I had noticed a lot of cultural differences between the french and english-speakers, that I had not read about in any book. I grew to feel very frustrated with life in France, the french population {in general} and the fact that I could never escape the label of being a foreigner. I needed a place to vent my frustrations and write about the very unbelievable observations that still to this day, leave me at a loss for words. 

Picking melons after a run.

Back then, if I wasn’t planting seeds, picking melons, or working on a market, I would pass my time day-dreaming; writing in journals, and taking pictures of butterflies and wheat fields.

I love reading back through my journals and I still remember those quiet moments of solitude, when the world had stopped turning, so that I could be alone, in the moment with my thoughts. 

These butterflies are everywhere in summer!

A lot of the entries were about things that had happened at markets or on the farm, with Mathieu’s family. A lot were funny, jaw-dropping-OMG-did-that-really-happen moments; but a lot were also sad. I was extremely homesick and missing my beautiful family and friends, my beloved Sydney and wondering why the hell I came here in the first place… oh yeah, love.

My favourite city in the world!

It’s a really hard thing, moving to a foreign country; espescially when you have gone from a glistening, vibrant city - out to the sticks and where you don’t speak the language or understand the culture. It’s nearly impossible to be yourself when you cant make yourself understood. As time passes, you struggle to remember what you used be like – didn’t I used to be funny? 

Lavender field towards the lake at Esparron.

 I hated working on the markets. I felt constant angst because I couldn't understand a damn word that was being said to me! You would think that the process of buying a melon would be a simple one and trust me; only the French could complicate this situation. They would want to know the variety, the quality, the weight, is it good, is it sweet, how long it will last, do they keep it in the fridge, is it male, is it female, was it picked today, where is it grown, am I the producer, is it certified organic, is it grown in a tunnel or in a field??? The questions were endless and so was the humiliation of not being able to answer a single one!

A lot of the time, I would meet lovely people and once they understood that my French was not good, even non-existent, they would pull a little trick out of their hat and speak in English. I have discovered along my travels that most French people keep this one hidden up their sleeve. They would ask me how I wound up in France. They would listen contently to my reply, with warm smiles on their faces... 'I came here for love', I would say in my sweet, little, Aussie voice and they would buy some melons and be on their way. I loved meeting people like that, because the rest of the time, I met some not so lovely people, who fit every horrible stereo-type ever written about the French.

I would get home from the markets exhausted from listening to people and trying to decipher words and their meanings.

One grey day at Cotignac market, a woman in her mid 50's came to buy a melon. At first, she asked how much it was for one. I replied {in French}, 'It's 2€ for one, or 5€ for 3'... the smile on her face dropped to the ground when she heard my accent and she went on to ask me several questions, to which I did not understand and could not answer. She searched through her purse for a single 2€ coin, and before placing it in my hand, she said {in English}, 'It disgusts me that there are foreigners working in my country who can not even speak the language'! And with that, she pushed the coin into the palm of my hand, trying to avoid any actual contact with my skin and went on her way. 

The old caves at Cotignac.

I stood there in shock until she eventually disappeared into the crowd. As mean and as hurtful as she was, she actually did me a favour as she gave me the nudge that I needed to focus on learning the French language, all by myself. I went home that day, exhilerated and full of energy. I put labels all around the house with both the french and english word, if it was masculine or feminie and it's plural form. I was on fire and seeing them everyday, I started remembering.

Today, I speak quite well and have really progressed in the last three years or since my son, Gabe, was born. I am thankful that I met that woman, and when I think about her, I think about how far I have come since then.

Learning to speak another langauge has been my greatest challenge and my greatest achievement, however, it is no longer my greatest obstacle... being a Mother is. But, that is something that I cherish more than anything else. And you can see why!

The Boy!

Reading back over those journals from years ago, I have changed a lot. My feelings, my way of thinking; I feel all grown up. These days, I am one of the locals and a Mama. I don’t write in journals anymore {well, I guess this blog is kind of a journal} – but I still day-dream and take pictures of butterflies & wheat fields.