Arles

I felt unfortunate when I booked my hotel reservations in Arles, France, a little spot in Provence. I was hoping for Avignon, but Arles turned out to be the perfect place for us. We arrived late at night and found our charming hotel, as French as could be, waiting for us.

In the center of the town was a Roman amphitheater, which is used for French bull fighting, the kind that spares the bull and draws no blood.

Around the corner was a crepery where we ate breakfast each morning. We discovered crepes with nutella and caramel ice cream, and felt no compelling reason to go anywhere else during our stay.

Lavender shops lined the streets and in the main town square, French men spent their afternoons.

Van Gogh was from Arles, and so we spent one morning searching for the spots in the area where he painted.

I am sure that someday we will return for another stay in Arles.