the 3rd-century BC Pont Julien

Painting lessons were over for the Provence trip. “Let’s go sightseeing!” said Maurice. We had noted a few tantalizing places nearby and set off.  Today I put on the other pair of hiking shoes I had brought, a new pair of Merrells in men’s size 9W. My right foot is happy but my left foot wonders who else is coming to the party. The shoes look like clodhoppers. But my shoulder is so much better that I can get dressed by myself.

A tiny church on a tiny hill on a tiny plot in a tiny town, St. Pantaleon beckoned us to see the nécropole rupestre, tiny tombs cut into the rocky hill. Keep reading