"Dale, where's my backpack?" ... That sinking feeling as you are standing on a train platform and realise you have done something stupid. Fortunately for us the train to Avignon was running 40 minutes late, so we had time to retrieve the forgotten backpack from where I had left it at the hotel. But not a great start to the day...My bad!

In Avignon we picked up our rental car - not the super chic European car I was hoping for but a Ford Fiesta - and Dale had to quickly adjust to not only driving a manual on the wrong side of the car, but also the wrong side of the road. It was a baptism of fire as we exited the TGV train station and were confronted with interlinking roundabouts, motorway on ramps, and contradictory signage. GPS chose that moment to stop working. We had a hair raising, heart thumping, few minutes as we looped and u-turned our way toward Avignon city centre. Foolishly we had relied on technology, so did not even have a paper map to help us negotiate our way to our accommodation 10km away. We managed to find a carpark to pull into which had a map with a "you are here" dot on it to help us orientate ourselves. A trip which should have taken us 15 or 20 minutes took an hour.

It was with huge sighs of relief that we turned into the yard of our French Farmhouse which is to be home for our 4 nights in Provence. When planning the trip we decided that given the beauty and romance of this part of the world, we would spoil ourselves with a few nights somewhere special. Domain de Rhodes is certainly special. The front part of the building is 15th century and it has an 18th century addition. The owners are charming and hospitable - giving us the grand tour on arrival and helping us with our bags. They have extensively renovated the main house and also converted some of the out buildings into more accommodation. There is a wide lawn leading down to the swimming pool which is screened from view by a fence and hedge. There are mature trees close to the house, and chairs and tables are set up in the shade. In summer guests can use the outdoor kitchen to prepare meals and this is also where breakfast is served (the homemade muesli and stewed fruit are amazing!)

Inside the front door is a large dining room on the right and a sitting room on the left. The sitting room has comfy leather chairs positioned around a coffee table bearing a chessboard and interesting looking books, there is a piano in the corner (which one of the current guests plays excellently), and a two metre wide stone fireplace. We were shown to our upstairs room. Feeling like a princess climbing her castle turret, I ascended the private spiral staircase to our suite. Large bed with blue bedspread and white pillows, sitting area with comfortable cream his and hers arm chairs, large black and white photos on the wall, separate toilet and ensuite bathroom with a cavernous tiled shower that I could spend hours in if there wasn't so much to see!

On the advice of our hosts we drove into Avignon and parked outside the city walls and then used the free bus service to get from the carpark to the historic city centre. We spent the next four hours walking through the museum-like town centre - almost every building is older than New Zealand. We visited the Palais des Papes - the imposing Papal Palace - and were amazed at the size of the rooms inside. The dining room with its enormous arced ceiling was particularly impressive. We also saw the Saint Benezet bridge built during the 12th century and abandoned in the 17th century so that it now stretches only partway across the river. We found provisions at a nearby supermarket and returned to our peaceful country setting with our precious French cargo - wine, cheese, and baguette! It was a balmy summer evening, so we sat outside until 9pm before retiring to the leather chairs of the sitting room so Dale could watch another Eurocup match (Spain v Croatia).

We had breakfast outdoors. Our hosts Francoise and Paco made the introductions. There are couples staying here from Quebec, the US, the UK, and Wellington! The Wellington couple are devoting their entire 3 month holiday to eating and drinking their way around France. I envy them!

Having bought ourselves a good road map, day 2 was spent village hopping. After tootling along the back roads (staying well clear of the motorways) we arrived at Vaison-La-Romaine in time to catch the tail end of their weekly market, the largest in Provence. Virtually the entire town had been closed to traffic and stalls were set up in the streets. Not only an inviting array of foodstuffs were available, but also other products produced here. Large handcut slabs of soap, French linen, children's clothing, organic face creams and lotions, garden ornaments, purple bulbs of garlic tied in bunches, outdoor furniture and more.

We crossed the Roman bridge and hiked up the steep winding streets towards the centre of the old village centre on the hilltop above the river. We had a lunch stop half way - the Chef's salad and a mozzarella stuffed piece of veal wrapped in prosciutto and served with pasta in a mushroom sauce. I have decided that the major difference between French cuisine and anybody else's, is the effort they put into their sauces and dressings. The salad dressing was the hero of my meal - not just the usual glug of olive oil and balsamic which I would add to a salad at home, but a delicate coverage of oil, lemon, fennel seeds and I think there were some chilli flakes in there too. I'm not sure what else went into it, but it stood out despite the noteworthy salad ingredients (fresh and sundried tomatoes, finely sliced ham, Parmesan, and mozzarella). Dale's flavoursome mushroom sauce was likewise the standout component of his meal. We tried some local wine - a glass of Chardonnay for me which tasted noticeably different from a Kiwi Chardonnay, and Dale tried a very pink rose which he let me finish as he needed to keep his wits about him for the return journey!

Further up the hillside we paused to take in the view of the town below and the green countryside beyond. Summer is in full swing over here and the plants are bursting with colour and fragrance. Lavender bushes, jasmine, wisteria and roses all grow well. The pretty stone houses are decorated with hanging baskets of bright pink, red, and yellow flowers. Further up the hillside I saw red poppies poking out of tall grasses. At the very top of the town are the ruins of an old fortress - adding to the romance of this place. I was gushing with enthusiasm. Dale was taciturn, commenting that flowers weren't his thing, and probably wishing he was sitting on a beach somewhere. Determined to open his eyes to the astonishing beauty of Provence I navigated us to our second village stop - Crestet.

Crestet was a much smaller hilltop village which we reached up a road one Ford-fiesta wide. We parked the car on the edge of the village and prepared to climb the stone steps towards the church steeple poking out of the surrounding rooftops in the middle of the village. Again, the views of the countryside were lovely. There are lush green grape vines growing on every usable piece of land, and small brightly shuttered farmhouses dot the landscape. Just then, spatters of rain began to fall - our first in over a month - and we hesitated at the car wondering whether to press on, or whether to wait and see if the rain was worsening. We pressed on. Walking about this picturesque and seemingly deserted village - no other tourists in sight! We got as far as the water fountain next to the small church when the spatters of rain increased in volume and we retreated to the car.

Two or three more villages later, we had had our fill of crumbling stone buildings, castle ruins, vineyards, and narrow roadways. GPS had worked sporadically, generally abandoning us whenever we reached somewhere built up and needed her most! Stoic Dale had kept his cool, but I was feeling frazzled - a feeling not helped by the French tendency to drive taking up as much of the road as possible without actually colliding with oncoming traffic. It is like a neverending game of chicken.

We returned to our home-base with fresh provisions, including fresh goats cheese and caramelised almonds from the morning's markets. The weather had improved enough for us to spend another evening in the garden, chatting with our fellow kiwis as they waited for a taxi to take them into Avignon for dinner.

Day 3 we again headed northwards, this time to the town of Orange. There we visited the ancient triumphal arch commemorating Julius Caesar's victory over Gaul in 49BC, as well as the ruins of the Roman theatre. The theatre is remarkably well-preserved for a building that has stood for around 2000 years. Semi-circular in shape, with rows of terraced seating looking down at the stage, each audience member would have had a good view of the actors on stage. High above the stage is a statue of the Emperor (just to remind everyone who was in charge) and apparently the head was detachable so that as each new emperor came to power, the statue's head could be readily replaced!

Our daily lunch stop was in the village of Chateauneuf-du-Papes. The area is well known for its wine production and in this village are plenty of cellars where wine can be tasted and bought. We walked up one of the cobbled streets and found a restaurant called Le Pistou which offered a 13 euro three course lunch. Each of us began with a salad entree (mine with tomato and mozzarella, Dale's with honey-glazed goats cheese), I had the duck confit and Dale the pesto and mozzarella stuffed chicken as a main course, then to finish we had panna cotta with berry coulis and saffron creme brûlée. As with everywhere we have eaten so far in France, the food was delicious. It was also great value and served by a grey haired woman with a motherly smile.

For our last day in Provence we had saved the prettiest of villages. This time we headed south to Le Baux, a village high up in a mountainous area with views of amazing rock formations and a beautiful valley below. Unfortunately every other tourist in Provence had heard of the place and the whole village was swarming with foreigners buying souvenirs and looking for a good lunch spot. As a result, everything was more expensive - an hour carpark cost us 5 euro! - so we stayed long enough for an overpriced coffee and some photos and then set off via St Remy to our next destination - Gordes.

As we drove through beautiful St Remy I was tempted to look no further - the chocolate box town centre looked so inviting - however, we continued out the other side and down a long straight road with trees either side, their canopies linked above us, forming a tunnel that ran for kilometres. We were no longer in wine country, instead we passed by fields of wheat, olive groves, orchards, vegetable patches and sunflowers. As we neared our destination (no thanks to our faulty GPS!) we decided to take a detour to Abbey Notre Dame de Senanque, a grey-stone abbey founded in 1148 and surrounded by fields of lavender. We followed a single lane road which zig zagged down a mountainside (although Dale didn't complain, I watched as his driving took on a desperate urgency - to get to the bottom before we met another vehicle coming towards us!!) When we reached the valley floor we were faced with the abbey carpark bursting with hire cars and camper vans, so we decided to give the abbey a miss and carry on our way to Gordes.

Gordes lived up to its reputation as one of the most beautiful villages in France.
Ancient stone towers stood at the hub of the village with shops, restaurants and cafes radiating haphazardly outwards, built wherever space could be found on the steep hillside slopes. In the central square, water trickled from the village fountain and large trees offered shade for the grumpy old French men sitting beneath, scowling at the tourists walking by. Brightly coloured geraniums grew in terracotta pots attached to building walls, and shop window displays were artistically arranged, presenting French furnishings, flowers, breads, soaps, and salamis to potential customers.

Dale and I walked along the inside of a city wall until we found a restaurant with tables set up on a narrow verandah with glimpses of the countryside beyond the wall. We ate yet another delicious French meal (there must be a law here against serving poor quality food), and sat enjoying the breeze and trying to guess the nationalities of tourists wandering by.

Back at home-base, Dale and I enjoyed a couple of hours pool-side, followed by our final supper in the garden (Dale is somewhat appalled by the amount of cheese I have eaten over the past 4 days!). We were joined by a young American couple who are visiting from Korea where they teach math and literature in an international school. Apart from the fact they don't drink wine or coffee and are vegetarians, they were good company.