On an average day, about 2 people or so pass by in our street in Mirabel-aux-Baronnies. On 15 August this number grew tremendously: at least 75 people, some with dogs (I know, because the visiting dogs caught the attention of the neighbouring resident dogs), strolled up or down the 50 metres of narrow path. Now why?? The yearly Village Fête, of course: day-long festivities with flea market stands all over the village, wine tasting, band music, food stalls and more wine tasting.
Our neighbour tried to sell her very nice santons (traditional Provençal figures for Christmas cribs, see photo above), but there was no interest at all in those. Old, possibly scratched, LP albums fared better, and I saw a lady happily trying on one of those hippie sheepskin vests that were popular in the 60s, in spite of the doubtful state of cleanliness of said vest.
Guitar player: Are there any foreigners here?
Voice 1: Yes! I’m from the UK!
Me: I’m from Sweden!
Voice 2: And we’re from Piégon!
Piégon? That’s the village just next door, a mere kilometer from Mirabel-aux-Baronnies. The exchange above took place at an aperitif concert (very nice!) with the semi-local band Bluesville (from San Francisco and Belgium, but reportedly with connections to Mirabel) in the new local art centre, X Inspirations. I’m very proud that there is an art centre in our tiny village.
Most exciting animal spotted on the way to Rosans, about an hour to the east of Mirabel: vulture. Yes, it is true. Vultures were reintroduced in this mountainous area, where the Alps make a timid start.
Number of inhabitants spotted in the medieval village centre (where the houses were clearly inhabited): zero.
Number of abandoned red fluorescent chairs seen: one.
There were interesting stairways, leading to heaven and to locked doors. There was an eerie metallic sound that could be heard all over the village. What it was I don’t know.
Number of tourists encountered: four. They were Spanish.
Number of abandoned cafés: one. Number of lively cafés: one.
Best artist in the village: Marion Richaume, ceramist, inspired by the tree of life. Her atelier is named after the moon.
A couple of days ago, someone in a village nearby got a little surprised as he stepped into his garden in the morning: there was a red car in his swimming-pool. It appeared that his neighbour’s son had decided to go for a little ride in the late evening, but somehow he had ended up not on the road but in the swimming-pool. He had managed to get out of the car and he wasn’t injured, but I suppose there was some repair work to be done on car and pool.
On the topic of items in places they normally don’t belong: This morning, as I was going to buy some apricots, I spotted a book on a roof just around the corner.