Why I Live Here: Aix en Provence

All senses are heightened when living in Provence. Life slows down. You learn to look at things a little more closely; you allow your body to linger and move a bit slower; and most importantly, you learn to adapt to that particular “South of France” way of living. As a student in Aix en Provence for an entire year, I am fortunate enough to have experienced such an existence. Originally a Roman city, once the capital of Provence, as well as an escape from northern Europe, and a mecca for artists, Aix is a quaint but confidant, historic city—pleased with itself and its role in France.

Coming up along one of the shaded side streets of Aix, you’ll unavoidably step onto the grand Cours Mirabeau, Aix’s busiest street. My first viewing of the Cours will stay with me forever. Large plane trees form a cooling umbrella over this magnificent promenade, allowing the perfect amount of warm light to shine through. The Provencal sun is strong and proud, pushing its rays onto the town, through to warm your skin, while illuminating the surrounding historic architecture.



Along one side of the Cours, people stroll along while various local artisans display their work. Paintings propped up on worn easels, scattered antiques, handmade pottery, jewelry and more, decorate the promenade, weaving vibrant colors through a predominantly orchre setting. The sixteenth-, seventeenth-, and eighteenth-century beige stoned mansions and cobbled streets make for a perfect outdoor gallery.

Directly on the other side, the Aixois sit in bars and cafes while openly watching one another. A stare is a positive thing here; you must learn to allow it and to look right back. Well-dressed delicate women and handsome men with striking features entertain one another for hours, allowing time to pass without regard. Tables pour out onto the streets, topped with glasses filled of Pastis or perhaps a juicy Cote du Rhone Rose wine. Comfortably crowded diners indulge in a dish of Bouillabaisse, salad nicoise, or maybe moules des frites. The most famous café, Les Deuxs Garcons, has had notable diners such as Picasso, Sartre, Churchill, and Piaf. A proud statue of King Rene Roi stands near here, holding Muscat grapes, his gift to Provence in the fifteenth century.

Looking to one end of the Cours Mirabeau, you’ll see the most imposing fountain in all of Aix, the grand La Rotunda. Three female statues representing justice, agriculture, and the fine arts, top the fountain welcoming outsiders most appropriately, for the arts, academia, and all creative activities are encouraged and expected here. As a cultural center since the fourteenth century, Aix is known for its attention and respect for the arts and education.

I am one of over 4,000 international exchange students who come to Aix, making it quite the social experience as well as academic. As students, we have all come from different places, sharing opposing or similar views on the ways of the world, but our bond lies in the commonality of leaving the comfort of home to experience life in Provence. We share the struggles of studying French as well as the bliss of living abroad—a type of bliss that anyone who has studied abroad understands. Picking up a local tourist brochure on Aix you’ll read, “But the town also knows how to blend different eras and culture. Open to the world, it is a city of human dimension where the preserved heritage and the city of tomorrow blend perfectly.” A celebration ritual for students, French and foreign, to partake in is an end-of-term swim in the La Rotunda, followed by a splash or two in the other warmer fountains around Aix. This is usually consequence of too much “vin ou biere” after a night dancing at the discotheque but a necessary ritual for a relieved student.



The day-to-day life in Provence unfolds as if someone was arranging every moment. Like in a film, I’ve joked that each day in Aix has been constructed; as if the hand of a director waves about, setting up each moment to be charming and definitively Provencal. Cue street accordion player, cue French boy scuffling along with a baguette. Next, a lively gypsy rumba band begins to play on the sidewalk, while the scent of fresh chocolate croissants from the passing Boulangerie flirts with your nose. A wave of birds above moves to a choreographed dance, sweeping the sky, making the shadows flicker below. Like a great film indeed, you have to keep watching, eager to see what will happen in the next scene.

On to the Place de Hotel de Ville, which bursts with vibrant flower markets and bushels of lavender that naturally perfume the air. With random acquaintances or friends, I stroll through the narrow pathways and lively squares of the town. We talk about planning our next dinner party or the next adventure we’ll take to the near by reputably rough city of Marseille. Happily interrupted, a handsome waiter swings a chair in front of our pathway, inviting us to sit. We always do, and then continue our conversation while rolling cigarettes to have with our café. The squares, or “place,” serves as a social setting for leisure, propelling conversation and expressing what’s on one’s mind.

Born and raised in Aix, childhood friends Paul Cezanne and Emile Zola must have sat in one of these cafes, writing and speaking of the importance of being at one with nature, while planning their next trip to the surrounding countryside. Looking up from my seat at the café, residents of Aix nestle themselves on their windowsills chatting to one another, perfectly framed by their teal colored shutters. I love sketching and photographing the (numerous) scattered fountains of Aix. Since Antiquity, water has been successfully channeled throughout the town. Children splash and run circles around these fountains, while adults rinse their hands and then pat their faces and neck to cool off.

Just about every other day I am off to the open-air markets with my straw basket and coin purse weighed down by Euros in my skirt pocket. Walking up and down the isles of these markets I’ll pick up a fresh batch of Herb de Provence (a staple ingredient), or sample any of the locally grown fruits and vegetables, then on to asking the cheese man for just one more sample, out of hundreds of varieties. Massive buckets of dark purple and shades of green olives glisten in the sun, catching the eye anyone who passes by.



The food here has such a taste, a taste that, well, it’s like you almost eat slower in order to allow the taste to linger in your mouth for just a bit longer. Olive tapenade, lavender-infused honey, lemon Madeline’s, almond flavored Callisons, olive bread—visit Aix just to taste, you’ll understand.

While at the markets, you must converse, laugh, or amuse the vendors. No need to be shy in practicing your French in the South, one of the reasons why I chose to live here. I have always felt appreciated living here as a foreign American girl attempting to speak a language she clearly wants to learn. A difficult language indeed with rules that are at times based on, “Well, that’s the rule because it just sounds better.” The southerners will gladly correct and teach rather than fire back in English. Watch it with those stereotypes—they are just not true.

I live here because I wanted to adapt to that particular “South of France” life style while finishing my studies. A lifestyle that couldn’t last forever, but one that everyone should know does exist. I’m not romanticizing Aix. These moments unveil themselves on a day-to-day basis in picturesque Provence. Every day I am paying more and more attention, forgetting about any troubles I have, and directing my thoughts to my surroundings, the nature, the life of Provence.