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《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
Table of Contents 目录
January 一月
February 二月
March 三月
April 四月
May 五月
June 六月
July 七月
August 八月
September 九月
October 十月
November 十一月
December 十二月 (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
JANUARY 一月
THE YEAR BEGAN with lunch.
We have always found that New Year’s Eve, with its eleventh-hour excesses and doomed resolutions, is a dismal occasion for all the forced jollity and midnight toasts and kisses. And so, when we heard that over in the village of Lacoste, a few miles away, the proprietor of Le Simiane was offering a six-course lunch with pink champagne to his amiable clientele, it seemed like a much more cheerful way to start the next twelve months. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
FEBRUARY 二月
THE FRONT PAGE of our newspaper, Le Proven?al, is usually devoted to the fortunes of local football teams, the windy pronouncements of minor politicians, breathless reports of supermarket holdups in Cavaillon—”le Chicago de Provence”—and the occasional ghoulish account of sudden death on the roads caused by drivers of small Renaults trying to emulate Alain Prost. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
MARCH 三月
THE ALMOND TREE was in tentative blossom. The days were longer, often ending with magnificent evenings of corrugated pink skies. The hunting season was over, with hounds and guns put away for six months. The vineyards were busy again as the well-organized farmers treated their vines and their more lackadaisical neighbors hurried to do the pruning they should have done in November. The people of Provence greeted spring with uncharacteristic briskness, as if nature had given everyone an injection of sap. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
APRIL 四月
IT WAS ONE of those mornings when the early mist hung in wet sheets along the valley under a band of bright blue sky and, by the time we came home from walking, the dogs were sleek with damp, whiskers glittering in the sun. They saw the stranger first, and pranced around him pretending to be fierce. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
MAY 五月
LE PREMIER MAI started well, with a fine sunrise, and as it was a national holiday we thought we should celebrate in correct French fashion by paying homage to the summer sport and taking to our bicycles. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
JUNE 六月
THE LOCAL advertising industry was in bloom. Any car parked near a market for longer than five minutes became a target for roving Proven?al media executives, who swooped from windscreen to windscreen stuffing small, excitable posters under the wipers. We were constantly returning to our car to find it flapping with messages—breathless news of forthcoming attractions, unmissable opportunities, edible bargains, and exotic services. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
JULY 七月
MY FRIEND had rented a house in Ramatuelle, a few kilometers from Saint-Tropez. We wanted to see each other, despite a mutual reluctance to brave the bad-tempered congestion of high summer traffic. I lost the toss, and said I’d be there by lunchtime. After driving for half an hour I found myself in a different country, inhabited mostly by trailers. They were wallowing toward the sea in monstrous shoals, decked out with curtains of orange and brown and window stickers commemorating past migrations. Groups of them rested in the parking areas by the side of the autoroute, shimmering with heat. Their owners, ignoring the open countryside behind them, set up picnic tables and chairs with a close and uninterrupted view of the passing trucks, and within easy breathing distance of the diesel fumes. As I turned off the autoroute to go down to Sainte-Maxime, I could see more trailers stretching ahead in a bulbous, swaying convoy, and I gave up any thoughts of an early lunch. The final five kilometers of the journey took an hour and a half. Welcome to the C?te d’Azur. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
AUGUST 八月
“THERE IS a strong rumor,” said Menicucci, “that Brigitte Bardot has bought a house in Roussillon.” He put his spanner down on the wall and moved closer so that there was no chance of jeune overhearing any more of Miss Bardot’s personal plans. (more…)
《A Year In Provence 普罗旺斯的一年》
by Peter Mayle 彼得·梅尔
SEPTEMBER 九月
OVERNIGHT, the population of the Lubéron dwindled. The résidences secondaries—some fine old houses among them—were locked and shuttered, their gateposts manacled with rusting lengths of chain. The houses would stay empty now until Christmas, so obviously, visibly empty that it was easy to understand why housebreaking in the Vaucluse had achieved the importance of a minor industry. Even the most poorly equipped and slow-moving of burglars could count on several undisturbed months in which to do his work, and in past years there had been some highly original thefts. Entire kitchens had been dismantled and taken away, old Roman roof tiles, an antique front door, a mature olive tree—it was as if a discerning burglar was setting up house with the choicest items he could find, selected with a connoisseur’s eye from a variety of properties. Maybe he was the villain who had taken our mailbox. (more…)