Destination Memories: Uzès, France

Members and travel writers share the places they’re travelling to, albeit in their minds

A market in a village square.

Despite being nestled on the edge of Provence, the medieval market town of Uzès remains a secret to many. Vivid memories of the hidden medieval town in southern France still transport writer and member, Jessica Salter, back to a carefree summer

By Jessica Salter   Above image courtesy of Destination Pays d'Uzès Pont   Saturday 23 May, 2020   Short read

A woman walking down a narrow village street.

Images courtesy of Destination Pays d'Uzès Pont

A french village with a historic tall tower.
I’ve never eaten so many tomatoes, or so greedily, as I did in an old farmhouse on the edge of a sleepy town in the south of France. Every day for a week, we bought fresh, crusty, white bread from the boulangerie to go with cheese and ripe tomatoes from the local farmers’ market. We sliced them up, lavished them with olive oil and simply devoured them, the juices dripping down our chins. 

It was a blissful week spent with friends – seven years ago, long before babies appeared. And, despite residing in the popular, lavender-strewn La Gard, on the crossroads of Provence, the Languedoc, the Cévennes and the Camargue, the hidden town of Uzès is largely off the tourist trail, such is its charm.

Our honey-coloured farmhouse, set in acres of fields, was simple inside, but had a dipping pool in the garden and an outdoor dining table underneath our honeysuckle-covered pergola. It’s here where we ate like kings, stocked up from the aforementioned market in the Place aux Herbes. Located in the heart of the town, twice a week it transformed into a cluster of stalls selling what came to be our daily menu: cheese, bread, meats, honey and olive oils, as well as delicious street food. Everything you could ever want.

The days passed in a heavenly haze, lying in the sun. We drank Aperol Spritzes and local wine. When we needed more supplies, we would wander into town by foot, the streets largely car-free (despite being only 40 minutes from Nîmes or Avignon). Here, we would drink in a plaza, where in a pre-lockdown world, cafe tables spilled out onto the streets, alive with chatter – anecdotes and laughter in the musical French tongue. It was the sort of conviviality that we took for granted not so long ago.
A square in a country village.