This Provincial Life

You're probably wondering what's going on here. 

The answer is that whenever there is a festival anywhere in southern France, people dress up in traditional provincial clothing.  Today we happened upon three separate festivals, and each town was abuzz with citizens going to and fro in their aprons and bonnets.  

After church, we all got flowers and carried them to the cemetery to lay them on the grave of a famous French author.  I can't remember his name, but it's his deathday.  People seriously went all out with the clothes; no one had an apron string out of place.  Every detail, right down to the socks, looked authentic.  

After the cemetery, we took a jaunt to the mayor's house and watched some dancing.  In this dance, the men drew their swords and offered oranges to the ladies.  The ladies had to carry the oranges around for the entire song.  I don't understand, and no one could give me an explanation that makes sense.

The second festival had a bit more going on.  There were people selling freshly shorn sheep's wool, scarves knit on a wooden loom, and chunks of meat in the streets.  After we'd been there for five minutes, a parade ensued.  Many different styles of dress from multiple centuries past were represented in the parade.  

My favorite part was the early 1900's bicycle gang.  I love the baskets on the handlebars!

Of course there was a horse and buggy section in the parade as well.  All during the parade, there was a man playing that style of accordion music that makes its way into every American movie set in France since the beginning of movies.  It was all ridiculously charming.

Once we tired of the festival, we drove for about an hour through the mountainous countryside to St. Marie de la Mer, an adorable seaside town with dozens and dozens of seafood restaurants.  This particular region is famous for three things:  Its seafood, its rice, and its bulls.  I had the second and third things for dinner.  

After our long and wonderful meal, we strolled through the town and peered into the closed shops.  We found this:

I immediately thought of Night at the Museum and all the crazy that would go down with all these tiny, traditionally dressed Camargue residents. 

Also, wild flamingos hang out in St. Marie de la Mer.  Hundreds of them!