Fountain 9b
Oops. The minor classification irregularity is due an error in counting, perhaps because I was outside the butchers and despite the happy fat pig placard, the air had that yellowy-pink, lard and offal aroma that doesn't sit well with vegetarians.
Fountain 10
This rather grand lavoir with its classical pediment sits opposite the church of St-Michel-en-Pierre, built in 1309 by Pope Clement V who, like me, enjoyed spending summers in Malaucene. Perhaps he was seeking a diversion from all his problems with the Knights Templar and Philip IV, not to mention his big papal house move from Rome to Avignon.
In a thin strip of shade, four expansive Muslim women sit leaning against the church in that solid, legs apart, two feet squarely on the ground position. Heavy cotton scarves weigh down their heads and they watch my every move. They continue talking, accompanying their words with delicate wrist gestures and readjustments to their scarves. Their eyes follow me as I wait for a gap in the traffic and cross the road. When I am close enough to hear their voices, they go silent. I raise my hand to greet them. "Bonjour" I say with my friendliest smile. They don't know where to look now and like frightened little birds in a nest, their heads bob about searching for anything to fix upon. It feels as if I've done something terribly wrong, made a cross-cultural faux pas that I know nothing about, so I do what I can. I keep on walking.
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