Have I found my Provençal place?

This year, I’ve admittedly been on the look-out for a Provençal city that would tick my mid-sized town boxes while still oozing that southeastern French charm that seems to seduce everybody but me.

And to be perfectly selfish about it, becoming passionate about Provence would have a lot of personal advantages:

• It’s not that far away from my home base, Aveyron

• It has a longer rosé-drinking season

• Some readers are more interested in “[insert town name], Provence” than Tulle, Corrèze. Who would have thunk it?

In February, I did escape Aveyronnais gray and gloom to head down to La Ciotat, Bouches-du-Rhône. La Ciotat is indisputedly in Provence – heck, it’s the birthplace of pétanque – but it has that skewed seaside advantage.

Obviously I loved it to death – who wouldn’t? But it felt like no more than a wonderful watery place that could just as well have been anywhere.

And Orange, Vaucluse? Attentive readers will know that that place sure didn’t get my juices flowing.

From Orange, I headed off to a town of which I knew only the name, the population, and the presence of a château: Salon-de-Provence, home to 44,553 Salonnais and Salonnaises.

And I think I’ve found my Provence.

Here’s why:

Salon1 is stunning

The first building of note that I ran into, not counting an oddly huge parking garage, was the city hall. Wowza! I’ve certainly never seen a small-town hôtel de ville looking so cheery:

One can enter and exit the town through a comely 17th-century clock tower, or simply admire it from one of the many shady café terraces right across the boulevard.

And of course, Salon boasts plenty of pretty pastel façades and cool shutters, especially along its classy, tree-lined outer boulevards.

It is also home to one of Provence’s largest castles, Le Château de l’Empéri; this beauty is smack dab in the town center.

Although a bit of a climb, it’s one worth taking, albeit perhaps not during our current heat wave. There’s no fee to stroll around both the medieval and Renaissance courtyards……

…nor to climb up to this oh-so-south-of-France viewpoint.

The château also houses two museums2 but they were closed to prepare for La Nuit Européenne des Musées.

This turned out to be fine by me because I suddenly wasn’t in the mood for staring at displays about military history or sheep-herding.

In fact, all I was in the mood for was endlessly strolling around this golden town, punctuating my promenades with stops at some of the city’s over 100 terraces.

Which I proceeded to do.

Salon was home to Nostradamus

It’s time to display my ignorance again: I didn’t really know who Nostradamus was.

I knew he had existed somewhere beyond the Americas, had pronounced eerie prophecies, and featured in an Al Stewart song that I used to dissect with my junior high school friends, incense burning in the background, perhaps before moving on to a Ouija board session.

I carried the impression he was some mystical medieval weirdo of vague origins. (In my defense, so did my husband.)

So wrong.

Michel de Nostre-Dame3 was a true Provençal Renaissance man, born in Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, who made Salon his home from 1547 to 1566.

Besides writing his famed Prophecies, he was an astronomist, an astrologist, a philosopher, a poet, an apothecary, and a medical doctor who fought against the plague. Oh, and he also wrote recipes for jam.

The city honors him with several statues, as well as a small museum in his former home.4

I’m still embarrassed to have not even known that Nostradamus was French, so I’m curious about your knowledge of him.

Salon is full of nice touches

I’m always intrigued by the smaller urban details that so many French towns come up with to brighten up the center.

Salon was a high achiever in this department, with benches all over, cooling fountains hither and thither, and a free, air-conditioned shuttle bus to main downtown sites.

I found all the Provençal flags especially festive, and so much more authentic than fake flowers.

And why not plop a potted olive tree along a sidewalk?

Salon also had truly attractive signage for visitors. This may seem like a detail, but I find decrepit and neglected informational signs depressing.

Salon felt unbelievably untouristy, yet pleasantly lively

I visited the city in late May, and although the omnipresent flags kept reminding me I was in Provence, I had to wonder where the tourists were. The place was certainly lively enough, but I detected little foreign presence — certainly no more than less splendid towns I’ve visited.

I queried the hotel manager about their clientele; he explained that they get a good foreign influx in the summer, but are mainly frequented by business people and French visitors the rest of the year. He also mentioned the many special events that draw in local and regional crowds.5

This was definitely my type of town: one that welcomes visitors with open arms, but also appears to take care of itself and its own.

As always when a town casts a serious spell on me, I started to visualize what life might have been like there.

Too hot, certainly.

But the springtime Festival des Fraises, the château courtyard that transforms itself into a summer cultural hub, and the little shuttle bus taking my fellow Salonnais and Salonnaises to the market would have become part of my routine.

Salon-de-Provence had passed my ultimate test.

You can support my independent work and receive every article, including special features6, by becoming a paid subscriber for the lowest yearly price Substack allows.

Your comments and likes are also greatly appreciated! Merci d’avance!

Betty Carlson

SOURCES

Destination Salon de Provence, Magazine Touristique, 2025 — an unusually detailed and attractive 67-page glossy magazine available at the Office de Tourisme

Michel de Nostre-Dame, dit Nostradamus, FranceArchives