Fontaine de Vaucluse
Today Stephen took me to one of the prettiest villages in the south of France. Fontaine de Vaucluse is an ancient village where deep springs feed the Sorgue River. As the water moves down stream it flows swiftly and creates many pools and cascades of crystal, clear water. At the edge of the river there are a number of water wheels. One wheel in the centre of the village still operates a paper mill. Each spoke of the wheel is covered in deep, green, moss that swishes and flows with the water as the wheel turns. Paper 
is being mulched by the stampers attached to the wheel. Inside the building visitors can still see the paper making process that appears to be as old as the building in which it is housed. Many restaurants dot the village and the only problem is which to choose for lunch. Above the town, steep, pock marked white, cliffs, with cave-like holes rise above you. It is almost as if some ancient person had carved themself dwelling into the very edge of the stone. After walking the track, of the whitest shale to the foot of the cliffs, we couldn't help but stare u
pwards while trying to understand the history of those caves. Then, we slowly made our way back into town. The roundabout at centre of the village boasted enormous, green, leafy, trees that more than adequately shaded the plethora of tourists. At the same roundabout we entered a chic restaurant where we were seated u
pstairs and hence, had views of the village centre. Once more I sought the cunard salade and citron tart for dessert.
Today Stephen took me to one of the prettiest villages in the south of France. Fontaine de Vaucluse is an ancient village where deep springs feed the Sorgue River. As the water moves down stream it flows swiftly and creates many pools and cascades of crystal, clear water. At the edge of the river there are a number of water wheels. One wheel in the centre of the village still operates a paper mill. Each spoke of the wheel is covered in deep, green, moss that swishes and flows with the water as the wheel turns. Paper 
is being mulched by the stampers attached to the wheel. Inside the building visitors can still see the paper making process that appears to be as old as the building in which it is housed. Many restaurants dot the village and the only problem is which to choose for lunch. Above the town, steep, pock marked white, cliffs, with cave-like holes rise above you. It is almost as if some ancient person had carved themself dwelling into the very edge of the stone. After walking the track, of the whitest shale to the foot of the cliffs, we couldn't help but stare u
pwards while trying to understand the history of those caves. Then, we slowly made our way back into town. The roundabout at centre of the village boasted enormous, green, leafy, trees that more than adequately shaded the plethora of tourists. At the same roundabout we entered a chic restaurant where we were seated u
pstairs and hence, had views of the village centre. Once more I sought the cunard salade and citron tart for dessert.
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