Our local friends invited Carolyn and me out for a day trip to a nearby olive farm. It’s a short drive from the city, our friends were going to refill their olive oil bottles and were kind enough to invite us along. We don’t have a car so it was a treat to get to take a trip outside Montpellier without having to pedal a bike the whole way! They also proposed making a stop in the nearby village of Saint Jean-de-Fos to visit a painter they know in his studio.
Saint Jean-de-Fos is about 40 minutes west of Montpellier by car. Our hosts chose a route that got us off the highway and MP was great at pointing out local geographical landmarks like Pic Saint-Loup which at 658m (2,159 feet) is the highest peak (they call it a hill) in the Montpellier area.
The village of Saint Jean-de-Fos was lovely. It looked a lot like Montpellier and is about the same age (about 1,000 years old, we are told), but it is a much smaller city than Montpellier. A side note on building and city ages - Carolyn and I were watching an episode of Franklin (starring Michael Douglas) last night. In one scene, set in France, a date flashes on the screen (sometime in the 18th century) and I looked at Carolyn and said “Our apartment building was already a few hundred years old when this happened!”. Freaky!
Anyhoo - back to Sainit John-de-Fos: we visited the studio of David Rycroft. The recent works on display in his studio were plein air paintings of sites in and around Montpellier and St. John-de-Fos. David showed us other work he had done in earlier periods, and I was especially intrigued by the pieces where he had blindly pulled paper through paint that had been placed on a flat surface.
After visiting with David for a while, we had lunch under the plastic tent of a nearby restaurant and then explored a few artisan shops in the old village. I have always been fascinated by the spaces where creative people make their work and on this trip I had the opportunity to visit a few small ateliers—first David’s painting studio and then the workroom of a potter/cermics artist (this area is historically famous for its pottery because it happens to be situated near a large source of natural clay). We talked at length with our friends about how when you live in a place for a long time you stop noticing what’s special about it. In this case, I wonder if the ceramic artist ever stops and has her breath taken away by the age and beauty of the space in which she works every day.
We left St. John-du-Fos over the old stone bridge Le Pont du Diable. The bridge is medieval, dating to 1028-1031. Our host told us that several people have died trying to jump into the water below, and I assumed that’s why it had the name of Devil’s bridge, but it turns out there’s a legend:
When the monks of Gellone and Aniane began building the bridge, they would arrive at the site each morning to find their previous day’s work had been destroyed. So they called on their saint-in-residence, Saint Guilhem, for help. He went to the construction site and waited until nightfall hoping to catch the saboteurs in their act of vandalism. Instead he saw Satan working in the disguise of a black goat, tearing apart the day’s work with great violence. Saint Guilhem shouted out, “Satan, you look stupid in that goat costume, why do you destroy the work of my brothers?”
“Because I’m Satan and I can’t stand you and your dog brothers or your work here on earth!”
“Let’s make a deal.” said St. Guilhem.
Satan scratched his goat beard thoughtfully and replied “Okay - how about this: I’ll build the strongest bridge I can in three days, and in return you give me a soul to take with me to the lowest pit of Hell. The first of your dog servants to cross the bridge after I build it shall be mine!”
“Sounds good, catch you on the flip-side.” said St. Guilhem.
After three days St. Guilhem returned with his monks and saw Satan standing on the completed bridge.
“As you can see, I did my part. Just look at this magnificent bridge! Now which of these souls shall accompany me to Hell?!”
Saint Guilhem smirked, “Yes, I promised you the soul of one of my ‘dog’ servants, didn’t I. Here, you may have the most faithful servant of all.” He withdrew a chicken bone from his pocket and threw it across the bridge, whereupon a small dog darted out and crossed the bridge to snap up the tasty bone.
“You tricked me!” raged the devil and began trying to tear apart the bridge - but he had built it so well that he could not, so he threw himself over the edge in his fury and created the black abyss at the bottom of the river below.
I disapprove of this story or any story that ends with people treating their dogs as disposable. You don’t want to be standing near me if I have to make the choice between my dog and someone I know going off with the devil. There is a variation of the story that ends with a cat going to hell; I like that version marginally better.
We did finally make it to the l’Oulivie olive farm. Carolyn put together an Instagram reel that beautifully captures the farm and our olive oil tasting.
Jusqu’à la prochaine fois (until next time)
Roberto & Carolyn
For more pictures and videos, visit our Instagram!
always a pleasure to read about your adventures !!