the square. The croissants were good, the palmier a dream of delicious buttery crumbliness, but...the so called grand crème coffees, well. Grand semi skimmed lait more like it! Honestly we could detect no coffee, so we melted the
complimentary choc squares into them in a desperate attempt to get flavour.
Thus fortified we embarked on our city walk, starting with the river wall. Down the lane out of the Place du Forum and away from any potential grockles we wended our way past the wonderful Actes Sud bookshop/publisher, a gallery in the former Docks d'Amersterdam warehouse, the Van Gogh foundation.
It was pretty blowy up on the embankment so we dropped down again into the streets. The area known as La Roquette is quite smart and not heaving with sightseeers. The houses are pretty and it pays to raise your eyes from the pavement because they have interesting details, roof terraces, mediaeval corbels (?) shutters etc. Amazing that anything is left standing on some of those rooftop terraces knowing how windy it gets here!
Mind you, it also pays to look where you are going because here and there are these strange alien bollards with eyes, ready to trip you up!
Old Arles isn't that big despite the fact that the Commune of Arles is the biggest in France in area. We were soon back on the boulevard with its bustling brasseries and a mere hop and a skip from the Roman Remains. The Viking Cruisers were already filing back to base and only a manageable number of half termers still pottering round the Arènes. Our final stop was outside the city gates at the place where Van G's Yellow House once stood. Nothing left now but it would have been on that grassy patch.
Quite an eventful patch too. It was here that the most ferocious fight took place between the Résistants and the German forces that led to the liberation of the city.
Now what? Well it was warm, we were here on the edge of the Camargue, the sea beckoned. Les Saintes Maries de la Mer seemed a good idea... like I said, It Is Half Term! As we approached, Adrian groaned at the sight of the world's supply of Camper Vans. We had another indifferent lunch at a restaurant that had previously served the best moules frites Evah. But at least it was hot and bright and good to be there.
In view of the volume of folk, some of them in the sea, but most just walking, we gave up the idea of a long trek into the wetlands and instead strolled along the prom enjoying the bright warmth. And trying to identify the odd woopee cushion noise that we eventually tracked down to wind (ha ha) in the street lamps.