For an strange reason totally away of my understanding by suggestion of my beau pere we drove almost two hours direction Beaucaire to lunch over couscous marrocain. More strangely, after eating that hot, mild spicy dish that has made its way to the french tables, I had to agree that although a long ride, it was worth every single mile ( the greenery, the wheat fields and those gorgeous oleanes make it even nicer).
Le cabanon is a little weekend maison in the South of France. Rustique and with the barely neccesary things to spend les jours de conges (days off) enjoying le soleil (sun), le potager (allotment) and le jardin (garden) while playing petanque and drinking Pastis.
At the beginning it was a humble shack for the working class but nowadays altought it keeps its rustique, bucolic and Pagnolesque spirit it has become the dream of any french. In some extent it has also become an almost impossible one to achieve since there aren´t many cabanons available nowadays, the buying price has rocketed to the skies and most of them are inherited and keept within families from generation to generation.
[Régis and I are enjoying our holidays in french soil. I will be sharing some of our everyday vida loca adventures in Southern France. If you have a special question about this region, do not hesitate and leave it as a comment. I´ll do my best to answer it in no time.]
I´m writing these lines from my in laws maison. A lovely provençal home in the heart of yes, La Provence; a small village of no more than 7,000 habitants where if rain would allow it, and the Spring behaved as it should during this season, well, we should be hear les cigales crying.