Directly south of Arles is an area of Provence known as the Camargue. I'd stumbled on some information about its history and was intrigued to know more. Most of it is a Parc Naturel (Nature Park) - protected and inaccessible - with a very popular seaside resort at its eastternmost tip, Saintes Maries de la Mer.
Three Marys (including the Magdalene and two close relatives of Jesus and his mother) fled Judea in the early part of the first century because of persecution and landed here at the mouth of the Rhone. Disciples followed shortly thereafter, made their way up the Rhone Valley, and this part of France was the first to convert to Christianity. The Marys remained here and converted the local folk including members of a tribe of dark-skinned people, now believed to be Roma. Their chief was a woman named Sara, and she led the move to Christianize her tribe.
Current day gypsies revere Saint Sara and each year, in May and October, gypsies from all over the region gather here to pay homage to her. The ceremonies include a reenactment of their arrival and an elaborate procession of the reliquaries from the local church. We're disappointed the church is closed, and we missed the October festivities by a week!
The beach at Sts Maries . . .
The Parc is a birdwatchers paradise; the flamingoes are totally impervious to our presence and we're surprised at their quasi-whiteness . . .
One of the reasons I was intrigued by the Camargue were the bands of wild horses, most of them this pure white. They are protected - much like the ponies of Chincoteague on Maryland's eastern shore - although many of them have been domesticated and form the core of Camargue tourism: horseback rides through the parc.
We were stunned by their beauty!
A little dapple grey mixed in there . . .
A quick stop at one of the riding establishments and an attempt to photograph the local tack. (A two-hour walk at 40 euros each doesn't grab either of us.) Most of it appears to be some sort of local hybrid design with a heavy English/Australian influence. Note the American western saddle on the right (John Wayne lives in the south of France)!
Before heading home, we decide to visit the other (westernmost) tip of the Camargue and surprise, surprise, we need to take a ferry across the Rhone to get there! We could drive all the way around but what the heck, this is our first car ferry ride this trip . . .
The ferry holds all of about 10 vehicles and takes about 5 minutes to make the crossing . . . now this is a river!!
Not much to see at this other point: a big deep water port which we later learn is the new Marseilles. Seems the dockworkers in Marseilles, just a few km distant, got exceptionally greedy (everybody's unionized in France), and the shippers put up with it for just so long and then said 'Enough!' (in French, of course). The French government built a new port facility, and all the shippers moved their operations here.
Lovely, lovely day touring the Camargue . . .
Three Marys (including the Magdalene and two close relatives of Jesus and his mother) fled Judea in the early part of the first century because of persecution and landed here at the mouth of the Rhone. Disciples followed shortly thereafter, made their way up the Rhone Valley, and this part of France was the first to convert to Christianity. The Marys remained here and converted the local folk including members of a tribe of dark-skinned people, now believed to be Roma. Their chief was a woman named Sara, and she led the move to Christianize her tribe.
Current day gypsies revere Saint Sara and each year, in May and October, gypsies from all over the region gather here to pay homage to her. The ceremonies include a reenactment of their arrival and an elaborate procession of the reliquaries from the local church. We're disappointed the church is closed, and we missed the October festivities by a week!
The beach at Sts Maries . . .
The Parc is a birdwatchers paradise; the flamingoes are totally impervious to our presence and we're surprised at their quasi-whiteness . . .
One of the reasons I was intrigued by the Camargue were the bands of wild horses, most of them this pure white. They are protected - much like the ponies of Chincoteague on Maryland's eastern shore - although many of them have been domesticated and form the core of Camargue tourism: horseback rides through the parc.
We were stunned by their beauty!
A little dapple grey mixed in there . . .
A quick stop at one of the riding establishments and an attempt to photograph the local tack. (A two-hour walk at 40 euros each doesn't grab either of us.) Most of it appears to be some sort of local hybrid design with a heavy English/Australian influence. Note the American western saddle on the right (John Wayne lives in the south of France)!
The ferry holds all of about 10 vehicles and takes about 5 minutes to make the crossing . . . now this is a river!!
Not much to see at this other point: a big deep water port which we later learn is the new Marseilles. Seems the dockworkers in Marseilles, just a few km distant, got exceptionally greedy (everybody's unionized in France), and the shippers put up with it for just so long and then said 'Enough!' (in French, of course). The French government built a new port facility, and all the shippers moved their operations here.
Lovely, lovely day touring the Camargue . . .
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