We came in like a wrecking ball

You know what the French say about Americans? Well, on this particular occasion, we happen to agree that we were a bit on the obnoxious side. So we had such a nice evening in Canet-en-Roussillon, and lunch the next early afternoon (see previous post) and then set our navigation to Les Baux de Provence. The village itself is tiny and perched on a hill with stunning rock formations all around. There is a ruined castle on top, and its lined with cobblestones streets and charming shops selling the same soaps and cheeses and nougats as were sold on this day 10 years ago, 20 and probably 30+ before that.

So in our defense, the directions were curious to say the least. We were told to follow the Google map until the road became "the wrong way" and then ignore it and keep going, for then we would find the place to park. We've been on these quests before... where the road becomes so narrow that we couldn't believe it was legally anything but a footpath. So when we got to a similar looking road, at the base of this ancient town, we decided we should give it a shot and see if this road would take us there. (Spoiler alert - it didn't).

The road which was empty when we started with nobody near to tell us otherwise, eventually BECAME STAIRS, crowded with walkers/hikers giving us the strangest (and meanest looks).

Tyler did his absolute best to reverse up this hill while the clutch (and the family) held on for dear life. While Tyler practiced all of his favorite curse words and the engine smoked, I told Presley lighthearted stories about how this would all be funny someday. Halfway up the hill the clutch became "smushy" so we stopped and called the rental car company. After 30 or so minutes transferred between agents and countries, we realized we weren't getting saved tonight. But the angels were with us, and gave Tyler (and the clutch) the strength to get us up the hill to the parking lot, which after a short look around, was exactly where we were supposed to be.

The embarrassing story should end there. But it doesn't. So we have 4 bags (the 5th thankfully returned with me last week to San Diego), and a half dozen other carryons (coolers, groceries, toys, dogs) . And the hike up this hill to our apartment was intense. We were sweaty and stressed looking for our turn when Bodhi became so agitated in his doggie backpack that I let him go. He proceeds to stop in front of an adorable little soap shop and starts circling, spewing diarrhea. I can't find the poop bags, and I'm carrying a ton of crap...tourists and shop owners are gawking, and all of a sudden I hear Presley screaming, "MOM NOW HES THROWING UP!!!". Tyler deals with the puke...I keep trying (and failing) to pick up runny poop with a grocery bag. When we give up and get our bearings, we realize we are right were we need to turn to get to our place. Other than the shit stains on that one turn, it was the most amazing place. So many pictures for this magical place, but chose just a few to scroll...

The next day, Presley and I explored the village while Tyler dealt with getting us a new rental car. We missed a day of wine tasting, but C'est la vie.