エクス＝アン＝プロヴァンス オーディオツアー：優雅さと芸術の響き

Right ahead, you’ll spot the majestic Hôtel de Caumont with its handsome honey-colored stone façade, elegant tall windows framed in blue, and a flourish of wrought iron balconies-just look for the grand entrance with the carved stonework, flanked by sculpted trees in perfect formation. As you stand before this splendid mansion, close your eyes and picture a time when powdered wigs were all the rage and horse-drawn carriages rattled through the cobblestone streets. The Hôtel de Caumont was born between 1715 and 1742, the work of Georges Vallon and Parisian architect Robert de Cotte. It wasn’t just a house-it was a statement, a sparkling jewel for the city's upper crust. Francois de Rolland, President of the Court of Auditors-no ordinary judge-commissioned this palatial residence. Over the decades, you’d have seen three generations of the illustrious Rolland de Réauville family sweeping through its halls, each one leaving a trace of glamour and a whiff of family drama behind. Now, imagine the clatter of hooves at the great portal as a carriage swings into the grand courtyard. The facade in front of you is a masterclass in harmony-tiers of perfectly matched windows, glistening stone from the legendary Bibémus quarries, and a doorway guarded by mythic faces: a faun, carved just above, forever grinning at newcomers. Stand under that balcony and look closely; you’ll see the swirling ironwork with its cast-iron stag, the proud symbol of the Bruny family, who took over in the mid-1700s. As the ages rolled by, the mansion would ring out with music, laughter, and the clink of crystal goblets-especially under Jean-Baptiste Jérôme de Bruny, a man who really knew how to throw a party fit for royalty. Legend has it that when Pauline de Bruny married the Marquis de Caumont, folks said he’d scooped up “the most beautiful girl, the finest mansion, the grandest château, and the fattest fortune in Provence.” Not a bad day’s work for the marquis! Of course, sometimes money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy one truly gorgeous family home. The adventure doesn’t stop at the doors. Step inside-if only with your mind-and you’ll find floors paved with a grand chessboard of black and white marble, sweeping staircases wrapped in wrought iron, secret fountains, and drawing rooms adorned with painted ceilings, golden gypseries, and rococo trimmings. During its most splendid years, this house witnessed moonlit balls, clandestine whispers of love, and perhaps the odd family feud over who got the comfiest sofa. And who could forget the elegant French gardens out back? Straight lines of sculpted boxwood, burbling fountains, and the flutter of songbirds on a summer morning. Fast-forward to the 20th century, and the Hôtel de Caumont took on new roles: conservatory of music, home to generations of students practicing scales and dreaming of applause. It was so posh, rumor had it even the ghosts preferred to hum Mozart. When the city of Aix considered selling it, the townsfolk nearly fainted into their croissants! Fortunately, a loving hand stepped in. In 2013, Culturespaces rescued and restored the building to dazzling perfection. Today, it’s a vibrant center for art and music, hosting blockbuster exhibitions on everything from Marilyn Monroe to Marc Chagall-and maybe, just maybe, a modern ghost who appreciates a good painting and a scone in the tearoom. So, as you gaze up at those regal windows shimmering in Provence sunshine, let your imagination roam. Behind each pane of glass, history twirls-secrets kept, fortunes won and lost, and beauty that simply refuses to fade. That’s the magic of Hôtel de Caumont: where every stone tells a story, and every story invites you inside. Shall we continue? Fascinated by the historical, today or the architecture? Let's chat about it

Ahead of you stretches a wide, tree-lined avenue bordered by elegant old honey-colored buildings, lively cafés with parasols, and rows of leafy plane trees; just glance down the long, sun-dappled promenade to spot the famous Mirabeau course. Welcome to the beating heart of Aix-en-Provence, the cours Mirabeau! Picture yourself back in the mid-1600s, when this lively boulevard was nothing more than the city’s southern wall, and a bunch of ambitious townsfolk schemed to turn it into the grandest parade route anyone had seen. They wanted somewhere wide enough to strut their stuff in carriages-and honestly, who doesn’t want a personal catwalk? So, at the parliament’s command, centuries-old fortifications were knocked down, and this avenue was born, its stones humming with the promise of future gossip and grandeur. Imagine the scene: horses trotting, wheels rattling on new paving stones, and townspeople-nobles on the sunny side, the less posh crowd guessing who belonged where. The locals were always keen on proper etiquette. Fancy a bit of drama? For years, you could only walk on the correct side of the street for your social class, and craftsmen opening shops here scandalized the city council. Instead, cafés flourished-inviting chatter, laughter, and a pot or two of local wine under leafy branches. The cours became the stage for all of Aix’s drama, pageantry, and, yes, even its plumbing mishaps. Sparks flew at grand celebrations, masked balls, and parades, with gold-laced coats, big powdered wigs, and glamorous carriages rolling past, while the city’s less fortunate sneaked along after dark. Here, news was invented as much as shared, fashion statements fizzed louder than champagne, and nobody wanted to be caught with mud-splashed shoes. That’s why they laid stone walkways for people to hop from carriage to pavement without taking a dip in the mud after a rainstorm. Speaking of rain-legend has it that in Aix, during a storm, you’d best use an umbrella for more than just the water, thanks to some ancient plumbing quirks! Over the centuries, everything from bustling markets to elegant cafes has lined this street. Four magnificent fountains still bubble along its length, including the famous “mossy” hot spring that steams mysteriously on chilly days. Want to spot something legendary? Take a walk to the end and check out the statue of King René, who stands holding a scepter in one hand, a bunch of grapes in the other, and maybe pondering why his monument took a month to travel from Paris. At the opposite entrance, stone statues by Truphème guard the cours, welcoming arts and science-and anyone ready for a good conversation. But life here was never just carriages and nobles. In the 19th and 20th centuries, shops and cinemas popped up. There was even a tramway-imagine, back in 1903, the excitement as the first tram rattled down the cours at the breakneck speed of 16 kilometers an hour! The tram didn’t last forever, replaced by buses after World War II, but you might spot rails peeking from under the road if you look closely enough. Through wars and peaceful days, demolition and rebuilding, the cours Mirabeau never really slowed down. Today, those café terraces invite you for an espresso where nobles once whispered secrets, beneath plane trees that replaced the ancient elms, and on smooth granite where nobles and everyday folks now walk side by side. Relax and soak up the living, breathing story of Aix’s biggest boulevard-a place where ceremony and snack breaks work perfectly together. Oh, and if it starts raining, just remember the old saying: in Aix, “when it rains, it pours… everything!” Seeking more information about the location and access, historical or the monuments of the cours mirabeau? Ask away in the chat section and I'll fill you in.

To spot the Natural History Museum, look for a stately ochre building with grand windows framed by ornate stonework and a flight of stone steps leading to double doors. Right now, you’re standing in front of a place bursting with stories almost as wild as some of its creatures. Imagine it’s 1838: the world is on the edge of scientific adventure, and a geologist named Henri Coquand is teaming up with an extraordinary group of Aix locals-including a very determined widow, Madeleine Carle. After her pharmacist husband passed away, Madeleine convinced the city to buy his bizarre collection of exotic birds and curiosities. Suddenly, what had been a trove of oddities in her living room was about to become the very heart of the first cabinet of natural history here in Aix-en-Provence. It all started in two rooms at the city hall, filled with bones, feathers, minerals, and the bubbling excitement of discovery. Picture the scientific hustle and bustle-early curators like Coquand and his successor Léon Martin passing through the musty halls with arms full of fossils, new donations arriving from local dignitaries, and, of course, the first visitors pressing in to see wonders from near and far. The opening was even announced by the local newspaper-fitting for a museum that would soon become the pride of the town. But the glory days didn’t last forever. As the years rolled on, the treasures lost their shine, dust gathered, and visitors trickled away. It looked like the museum might become just another curiosity. That is, until 1892, when Louise Rostan d’Abancourt-whose energy could have powered half of Provence-offered the city a colossal collection of minerals, shells, fossils, and prehistoric objects. Her donation, and another from her friend Dr. Philippe Aude, revived the museum. Suddenly, the little collection had outgrown its home, moving to a bigger room called the “Louise Rostan d’Abancourt Hall,” but even that soon filled to the rafters. Louise was relentless, fighting for a real building until her last breath-only it wasn’t finished before she died in 1903. Imagine the excitement in 1905 when at last the new museum on boulevard du Roi-René opened its doors. Five thousand people poured in that very day alone! The halls rang with children’s laughter, excited footsteps, and the wide-eyed awe of seeing dinosaur eggs for the first time. Through the decades, the museum survived wars, fires, army occupations, and collections being hidden away for safety. Once, in 1944, flames threatened its very existence-some collections were lost forever, but enough remained to let the story continue. In the wild 1950s, the discovery of actual dinosaur eggs near Sainte-Victoire mountain made the museum famous across France. The riches inside would leave any explorer green with envy: over 70,000 fossils-including dinosaurs like titanosaurs and rhabdodons, ancient crocodiles, and tortoises; a paléobotany collection to make any botanist swoon; and a treasure trove of North African archaeological relics. Some of these items are so rare they’d make Indiana Jones raise an eyebrow! There’s a dizzying number of zoological specimens as well-over 500 mammals, almost 2,000 birds, and nearly 90,000 mollusks. The museum even boasts an herbarium with 300,000 plants and some very curious items from the world of ethnology, from Pacific island dioramas to West African masks that somehow escaped decades of turmoil and disappearance. Today, though the museum itself is closed to the public and the collections are scattered in various spots, its spirit endures-quiet but alive, just waiting for the next visitor to marvel at its wonders after so many years. Let’s hope the future brings a new home, and maybe, just maybe, a few fewer dinosaur eggs to trip over.

To spot the Court of Appeal of Aix-en-Provence, look for a grand, modern facade marked by bold metal bars and large letters spelling out "COUR D’APPEL" above a stone entrance-almost like the building itself is whispering its importance through those massive gates. Now, let’s dive into a story swirling with drama and justice, right where you’re standing! Imagine a building where the air has felt thick with anticipation for centuries, judges in black robes briskly walking the marble halls, and the fate of thousands being decided within these very walls. The Court of Appeal of Aix-en-Provence has held a mighty role, second only to Paris for the sheer number of cases it handles-talk about a busy schedule! Stretching its authority over four departments-Alpes-de-Haute-Provence, Alpes-Maritimes, Bouches-du-Rhône, and Var-it’s basically the champion referee for the south of France. Over the years, celebrated figures have ruled from these benches: Henri Boulard took charge in the 90s, and, more recently, Renaud Le Breton de Vannoise stepped in as the wise head of the court. The corridors have echoed with whispered secrets between legal giants like Marie-Suzanne Le Queau, who left only recently for another high-stakes post in Paris. Every step in front of this court is steeped in stories of passion, clever arguments, and age-old rivalries. So, as you stand here, breathe in a bit of that legal legacy-who knows, maybe you’ll feel the tingling suspense of a verdict waiting to drop!

Take a look ahead! You can spot the Church of the Madeleine by its tall, imposing classical façade, colored in pale stone, standing proudly at the edge of Place des Prêcheurs. With its broad steps and sculpted figures, it stretches up towards the sky, like it’s about to break into a song-or maybe tell you a few secrets from eight centuries of history. Now that you’re standing before the Church of the Madeleine, take in that sense of centuries layering atop each other. Imagine the year is 1272: horses' hooves clatter over the cobblestones, monks in flowing black robes pass by in silence, their sandals slapping the ground. This very spot was chosen by Dominican friars, who had just arrived in Aix-en-Provence thanks to a generous count, only a few years before the church was first built. But don’t let this grand old building fool you-it’s been through more makeovers than a reality TV star! An earthquake left it shaken, a fire tried to roast it, and its own enthusiasm for rebuilding even led to part of it collapsing in 1485. (Sometimes, even churches need to slow down and read the instructions!) Local lords, queens, and kings were all tangled up in its fate, from Raimond-Bérenger V gifting land to the monks, to the states of Provence deciding inside its walls that they’d join France. That makes this not just a church, but the dramatic stage for some pivotal moments in history-think of it as Aix-en-Provence’s own “Game of Thrones,” but with fewer dragons and more incense. Fast forward to 1691, when master builder Laurent Vallon and his team were called in for a total transformation. You’d hear the chiseling of stone, the sling and clang of scaffolding, as the church was rebuilt in the elegant classic style you see now-all rounded arches and stately columns. Even in the 19th century, the talented architect Henri Révoil gave the façade its last extreme makeover, with the sculptor Auguste Bosc adding a tympanum (that’s the fancy bit over the door) showing Mary Magdalene herself with Jesus. Of course, the Madeleine is not just famous for its stones and statues. The church has starred in quite a few important life events: Right here, Paul Cézanne, the future trailblazer of modern art, was baptized as a baby. André Campra, who helped jazz up French opera, had his first holy splash here too. And, back in its heyday, this was the final resting place for Aix’s most illustrious families and statesmen. Don’t forget the music! The Madeleine’s grand organ, built in 1743 by Jean-Esprit Isnard, might look quiet now, but it’s hiding a whopping 3,500 pipes. Can you picture it? In the candlelight, the organ thunders into life, echoing off marble and stone under painted vaults, filling the air with music-and maybe, if you listened closely, a few off-key notes if the squirrels got involved (hey, anyone can have stage fright). Art lovers-you’d have feasted your eyes on masterpieces like “The Death of Saint Joseph” by van Loo, or “The Martyrdom of Saint Paul,” originally spirited away from Belgium with all the drama of an art heist, only to end up gracing the altar here. Even relics from the Revolution, like a 1443 triptych, were sheltered from destruction inside these walls. Everything grand comes with a price, though. By 2006, the church was closed for major restoration-its ancient bones needed some serious TLC after earthquakes, centuries-old shops leaning on its side, and just plain old age. For years now, behind these doors, experts have been bustling about, gently stabilizing stone arches, cataloging each artwork, and shooing away imaginary pigeons. According to the latest news, the Madeleine will soon be ready for a glorious rebirth-just one final round of dusting, hammering, and maybe a little Poltergeist prevention. So, as you gaze at this silent giant, imagine all those lifetimes: the smoky incense, the echo of sermons, the sounds of decision-making that changed the course of Provence, and the laughter of children baptized, some of whom grew up to change the world. The Church of the Madeleine may be closed to visitors at the moment, but its history is anything but quiet-it’s humming beneath your feet, just waiting to burst into song again. Fascinated by the organ, personalities baptized in the church or the personalities buried in the church? Let's chat about it

Look up ahead and you’ll spot Place Richelme by its lively market scene: colorful tents, piles of fresh vegetables, and a canopy of plane trees shading the square, all tucked among the warm yellow shutters and bustling faces of Aix-en-Provence’s old town. Imagine the buzz all around you-shouts from vendors hawking tomatoes and olives, the smell of herbs drifting through the air, sun casting dappled light across heaps of vegetables, and the shuffle of locals picking out the ripest produce. Welcome to Place Richelme, which has been at the very heart of Aix-en-Provence since the Middle Ages. Back in 1360, after the two parts of this town became one, this was the “place aux Herbes”-the spot where everyone came together to trade in the freshest goods, largely thanks to Queen Jeanne, who put it on the map with royal approval in 1365! If you visited in the days of good King René, you might have seen a chapel dedicated to Saint Sebastian right here, but-spoiler alert-that was replaced by a fish market in 1618, and if you’re unlucky you might catch a whiff from the ghosts of old sardines. But there’s more: this square is really two squares snuggled together, each from a different era. One corner still carries the memory of the “banc du Roi”-the King’s bench-where special stone seats once lined the market, and anyone who claimed that prime seat was the envy of every tomato-seller. In 1930 the “place aux Herbes” got a fancy new name: Place Richelme, honoring Marie-Rose Richelme, whose uncle was a local opera star-can you picture the arias echoing among the cabbages? Even today, every morning, farmers and gardeners show up just as they have since medieval times, so no trip to Aix would be complete without a whiff and a wander here. And don’t leave without finding the “Fountain of the Boar” at the south end-a bronze beast with a tale as tangled as the roots of the old market stalls. Now, on to our next adventure!

To spot the Aix-en-Provence International Festival of Lyric Art, look ahead for the lively arc of water sprays catching the sunlight-right where a statue stands surrounded by dancing droplets and a leafy tree canopy. Let’s set the scene: imagine you’re in the heart of summer in Aix-en-Provence. The air is warm, and the faint scent of lavender sometimes drifts by, but now, you’re surrounded by the gentle splash and hiss of water from the grand fountain nearby. It’s more than just a fountain-it’s a symbol of a festival that has made this city sing aloud every summer since 1948! Here, just a few steps away, the magic of opera and classical music has blossomed into one of Europe’s most celebrated musical gatherings: the Aix-en-Provence International Festival of Lyric Art. In its earliest days right after World War II, the city needed a bit of joy (don’t we all?), so an ambitious music lover named Gabriel Dussurget, with the help of the generous countess Lily Pastré, decided to create an event that would bring music soaring over Aix. The first festival arose in the open-air courtyard of the old Archbishop’s Palace, the night stars providing the only roof. The scene was set for Mozart’s “Così fan tutte”, and suddenly, it was as if characters from the opera-Fiordiligi and Dorabella-were almost about to stroll down the Mirabeau, singing their way into the hearts of the crowd. As the years passed, opera lovers flocked here not just for Mozart but for the drama of “Don Giovanni”, with new breathtaking stage sets appearing in 1949. Imagine the excitement and a dash of nervousness each year as a fresh audience, eager journalists (over 200 of them in recent years!), and even television crews from France to Japan crowded the city, hoping to catch a once-in-a-lifetime performance. Through the decades, each festival director added their signature touch-Bernard Lefort opening the stage to the dazzling voices of Verdi and Donizetti, Louis Erlo inviting the timeless music of baroque masters like Purcell and Rameau, and then, in the late 1990s, Stéphane Lissner orchestrating a world-famous “Don Giovanni” with Peter Brook and Claudio Abbado, turning heads from Vienna to New York. The venues themselves evolved right alongside the music: not just the Archbishop’s Palace anymore, but the opulent Grand Théâtre de Provence and the intimate Théâtre du Jeu de Paume began to hum and reverberate with arias and overtures. And what a following there is! Imagine: over 86,000 people gathering in a single summer, some dressed up like it’s the Oscars, others arriving straight from the market still holding their baguettes under their arms, all falling under the spell of the music. The festival isn’t just for the musical elite anymore-it’s an annual celebration for everyone, from lifelong opera fans to unsuspecting first-timers who wander in and leave dazzled. In these open-air nights, you might hear Wagner’s epic “Ring” cycle or the otherworldly twist of a brand-new opera, all happening as dusk settles over Aix. Over the years, the festival has become a leader in opera innovation, honored with grand prizes and recognized across Europe. Even in tough times-like 2020, when the world fell oddly silent due to the pandemic-the spirit of the festival pulsed on, ready to burst back to life. As of 2025, it’s even been awarded the prestigious Birgit-Nilsson Prize for artistic achievement. Not bad for a festival that started in a little courtyard, inspired by musical ghosts and the dream of sharing Mozart under a southern sky. So as you stand here, take in the energy: the delicate mist of the fountain, the anticipation that lingers from music waiting to be played, and the history that swirls with every breeze. For every dramatic note sung, every spectacular set, and every memorable summer memory, you’re part of a living story-right where the world’s greatest voices meet Aix-en-Provence.