We are tired and sleep in after our long day yesterday. We love it here at le Mas des Capelans in a small hamlet of Oppède.

Françoise and Pierre continue to be superb hosts. I get up before Arnie, and to into the salon to catch up on some computer stuff. E-mails to read, answer, and delete, PR to be done, addresses to add and update, etc. In short, all of the things we do daily, but on a workshop, that get delayed.

Pierre brings me a café au lait and a jus d’orange that I sip as I tap-tap away.

Arnie appears, and we go into the enclosed terrace for breakfast. Fresh croissants, biscuits, pain (bread), confitures (jams), fresh fruit, and yogurt greet us along with more café au lait for Arnie and herbal tea for me.

It is lovely sitting, looking out on the courtyard conversing with Françoise who used to be a guide and is a fountain of knowledge.

Pierre calls Air France for me, as I know he can be firmer and more insistant than I can. They’ll detect the diffence in accents, even though mine is quite good. He gives them his mobile number in case they have more information.

Good news! One duffel bag has been found. We know not which one, of course, since they put both in my name. We desperately hope it is the one with my Michelin atlas of France with all my markings and notes from several years back.

One of Françoise’s orchids beckons. The light on it is subtle. I grab my camera and make several photographs. Arnie does the same.

We sit down with Françoise after breakfast, and she gives us all sorts of ideas. To be sure, many of the places we already know, but she lives here and knows of many more that sound perfect. We will scout them out.

The light in a hallway is lovely. Arnie photographs some hats on a rack. I can’t resist either.

The light bounces in off the walls from outside, casting a gentle glow on the hat I choose. I love its simplicity. It sits there, waiting to be plucked off the wall and put on for a trip to the marché (market).

It has seen some age, but it has been treated with care. The subtle contrast in textures between the hat and the wall on which it hangs pleases me.

There is also an elegance to the hat, I think.

We do some more work, and more good news. Pierre reports that the last phone call reported that our second bag has been found.

Great news, indeed. Now, hopefully, we’ll have the road atlas as well as our two tripods, my camera bag, dirty laundry (always a joy), and other much-needed items, including our jackets. Here, the days are warm, but the mornings and evenings are pleasantly refreshing.

It is now well after 3:00, and my stomach is protesting that I haven’t fed it. It gets rather insistent, and growls with ever-more-frequent announcements.

I ask Françoise if it is possible to get a little light lunch.

I think I have mentioned that Françoise is a fabulous cook. We have been fortunate enough to have eaten at some really amazing restaurants, and formally “untrained” as she is, Françoise could hang in there with the best of the chefs.

She has no desire to do so. She is modest, but the way she puts together meals is spectacular, even for a simple lunch.

We start with Aigo Boulido, a garlic and sage bouillon with herbs. She serves it with pain grillé (toasted bread) topped with grated Gruyère. It is delicious.

Then, we share a salad made with barley, peppers and green olives surrounded by tomato wedges and black olives. She drizzles a delectable local olive oil over it all. The herbs she uses bring out the flavors, and we are in heaven.

You can see by the photo, that I couldn’t wait to eat my soup and take a few bites of the bread!

Françoise delights in expaining how she has made each dish, and shows us a couple of local cookbooks with I-can’t-wait-to-try recipes.

It’s all local fare as is the half bottle of very nice red wine made just down the road. We are content.

Now, it’s time for a walk. We take one of the suggested routes, my camera equipment in my backpack. It is not an ideal way to carry this for me on a warm day. I miss my bag and hope it will arrive by the time we return from our walk.

We pass by one of the wineyards, looking for potential photographs when the clouds come over, and I can get this shot of the rows of vines against the backdrop of the Luberon Mountain.

We return to do a bit more work, and as we prepare to leave, a man enters the salon asking for me. Yippeee! Our bags are here. Arnie and I quickly rummage through the duffels, and it appears everything is there. Phew!

The light is getting better, and it is time to take off for Oppède le Vieux, the old city perched on the top of a rock.

We remember this village from our last visit. At that time, a Mr. Bean film was being made, and all the cobbled streets were covered with dirt. A false wall lined one side of the square. A horse was tethered under a lean-to.

I see a gentleman by a store who says, “Bonjour.” I tell him of the last time we were here and also that it is better now that the trappings of the movie are gone, including the dirt.

He agrees. Arnie and I amble up the steep path to the top, making photographs as we go. The dappled light is lovely.

We find that places that we could explore the last visit are now closed off to public traffic. We understand from Françoise later that there has been a huge preservation effort. We assume that the movie brought in lots of euros that went towards this.

We continue to the top, and I enjoy the view from the ramparts by the church.

It is peaceful up there. Only a German couple and a few birds share the plaza with us.

We continue around the corner into the oldest part of the ancient fortress. Arnie watches my bag while I sling my camera across my back and clamber up a steep, decaying stairway.

There is an arched ceiling above. I marvel how these “dry walls” have lasted all these centuries. It is a strong testament to the ability of these early builders.

After some more photographs, we head back down the long hill first to the town, then to the car park and make sure that Gertrude has current information.

We have told Françoise that we will be back for dinner around 8:15-8:30. It is already 8:30.

I take a wrong turn, and we head down a one-way lane. Arnie and I giggle and hope for the best, because if we meet someone, it will be a long backing up the hill! We reach the end without any encounters.

“Phew!” Arnie exclaims, and we both laugh.

Tonight is supposed to be light fare. After all, we are not trying to gain weight, a nearly-impossible objective in Europe.

Françoise, however, has listened.

We start off with thin little biscuits made of olive oil, butter, and black olives. They melt in our mouths.

She apologizes, since we said no appetizers. These don’t count. They certainly shouldn’t!

Next come two parfait glasses filled with a thick, zucchini soup made with olive oil, onions, garlic, cumin, and the usual herbs and spices and blended all together by hand with a fork. I would probably use a food processor and a light hand, but it would be noisy in an auberge. On top, she layers a thick, tepid cream made from cream and permesan cheese. It is pure heaven.

For our main course, she has prepared cod, zucchini, potatoes, olive oil (always), her delectable seasonings, all wrapped and baked in a special cooking clear paper that withstands high heat. It is tied with a bow, like a petit cadeau (small present). In fact, she refers to it like that.

She shows us how to access the food within. Once again, she has cooked us a superb meal. I am going to be sad to not eat here every night, as during the workshop, we may return too late to take part in her culinary presentations.

But for now, we shall continue to enjoy her ministrations and enthusiastic explanations of the assorted processes that go into the recipes.

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