It’s a fall afternoon in Aix-en-Provence. Large brown leaves from the huge trees in Place de L’Hotel drop off and fly around when there’s a breeze. It’s a nice place to relax and set the stage for tomorrow, when we’ll visit Avignon and be transported to 14th-century Europe.
The scene here this morning was all about the hustle and bustle of market day. Place de l’Hotel was the center of all the action. But now all of the shoppers have gone. The vendors have brought in their mini-vehicles, packed up, and disappeared. It’s like the circus has just left town. And in a way, it has.
Getting Comfortable in France
We’ve ensconced ourselves at a table at an outdoor café in Place de l’Hotel, (where, you may recall from last time, there is no hotel at all). I guess we’ve been in France long enough now, because we’re quite comfortable sitting on tiny wooden chairs with no padding at a table that’s probably only 18 inches in diameter.
It’s kind of tough for Americans to take at first. We’re used to big stuff. We come here on vacation to see what all the fuss is about. Then when we go out, there’s no room to put anything on the table. Everything’s hanging off on all sides of the teeny little chairs. It takes some getting used to.
Since we’re here and comfortable, I’m going to take another step into Frenchness and order a refreshment that’s a specialty of southern France – pastis. My french has been improving since we’ve been here, so maybe I can order without giving away our touristy roots. Here he comes now…
Waiter — “Monsieur. Madame.” (“Hello.”)
Moi — “Bonjour monsieur.” (“Hi.”)
(So far, so good. Heh heh…)
Waiter — “Vous désirez…?” (“Would you like to order something?”)
Moi — “Oui, s’il vous plait. Pour la mademoiselle, une verre du vin blanc de maison. Et pour moi, un pastis.”
(“Yes, please. A glass of white wine for the lovely lady, and for me, a pastis.”)
Waiter — “Oui, Monsieur. Pernod, Ricard, Henri Bardouin, Cinquant-Et-Un?” (” Pernod, Ricard, Henri Bardouin, Cinquant-Et-Un?)
Moi — “Huh? Uh… c’est comment? (“What the heck did you just say?”)
Waiter — “What kind would you like?”
Moi — “There are different kinds?”
Waiter — “Pffffffft… Je vous porterer un Pernod.” (“Oy vey. I’ll bring you a Pernod”).
OK. That didn’t go as smoothly as I had envisioned. Apparently there’s still room for improvement.
Back to the 14-th Century
Tomorrow we’re making a day-trip to Avignon. Let’s take ourselves back to 14th-century Europe, just to get the lay of the land back then. On the map, you can see the kingdoms of France and Naples. The Holy Roman Empire is where central Europe is today. The land owned by the Catholic church, (i.e., the Pope ), is called the Papal States.
Avignon is on the Rhône river, upstream from Arles. In the 14th century it was located in an extension of the kingdom of Naples, just outside the kingdom of France. Provence was a self-governed county — not part of any kingdom. Counties and “city-states”, e.g., Florence, were scattered around the southern France and northern Italy.
In the politics of the day, ruling families used family ties to manage foreign relations. When the kingdoms of Aragon and Naples were at war, they made a pact to bring it to an end. The King of Aragon’s daughter would marry the King of Naples’ son, and the King of Naples’ daughter marry the king of Aragon’s son.
That ought to patch things up, eh? Just one, big happy family. After years of arranged marriages, ruling families became so intertwined and mixed together, it was hard to keep track of all the players without a scorecard.
If you could pick which century to be born in, the 14th century would be a good one to avoid, at least if you were in Europe. It was a rotten century. The kingdoms of England and France fought the Hundred Years War off and on the whole time.
Life for most people was even worse when the two weren’t actually fighting. Thousands of mercenaries with nothing to do formed bands of outlaws and terrorized everyone. Their idea of a good time was to ride into a village, set it on fire, torture the villagers, steal everything in sight, then move on down the road.
But that wasn’t the worst thing about life in 14th century Europe.
To be continued…
Note: Map of 14th Century Europe Credit: Quizlet
