8th June

Took a train to Marseille and connection on to Arles, more Roman ruins Eric is interested in.  But when we arrive there is a bus just about to depart for the Canargue, a wetland in the Rhone delta of recognised importance and so we jump on.  South of Arles you enter an area that seems heavily influenced by Spain; white stucco and clay tile buildings, black bulls grazing in the fields and white horses, tended by cowboys in big hats, saddled-up awaiting the next busload of riders to arrive.  They have bull fighting and the running of the bulls in this region.  The land is very flat with an abundance of wetlands interspersed with rice paddies and grain fields, sunflowers, orchards and even a few vineyards.  We were delighted to see our first sighting of flamingos in the wild.  The bus terminated at Les Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer on the coast and we got off trying to establish when the next bus returned to Arles.  No comprende!  I told you there was a Spanish influence.  To our dismay there is not a return bus for 4 hrs and that gets us back too late for connections home.  Eric seethes with frustration and I look for a place to have lunch and contemplate the next move.  We end up in a cafe that specializes, not surprisingly, in Paella and Sangria and decide there is nothing for it but to take a taxi back to Arles.  My God, what will that cost?  And is there one?  Fortunately yes, there is a taxi service and it turns out not to be as expensive as one might think.  Well anyway, that’s the way you’ve got to look at it from our current position.  Back in Arles we have time to scoot around the Roman ruins so at last Eric is a little more cheerful. Caesar gave this colony to the veterans of his legions so it had a real Golden Age.  They created amphitheatres, forums and theatres – such high culture so far from home.  We contemplated what Australians would construct if they conquered a foreign land. AFL grounds?  We finish the walk with a stretch of the Rhone River just short of the station, remarkable to think this waterway begins at the base of a glacier in Switzerland.  The day is not a complete loss.  We make out connections back to Marseille and home to Aix without further drama.  Even found a rosemary plant I could take a few slips from for tonight’s dinner (all be it very slyly outside a florist shop).