TRAVELING IN STYLE : PROVENCE IN DARK AND LIGHT : The Air Is Sweet and Warm in the Alpilles Region of the South of France, but Watch Out for the Monsters

SPRING ARRIVES EARLY IN THE ALPILLES. By the end of February, the almond trees are in blossom, snowy pink promises of more to come. In March, leaves suddenly appear on the chestnut, linden and plane trees that border every country road and village street. With April come roses, jonquils, irises and the flowering of the peach and pear and apricot trees. Soon everything explodes into color and the herbs of the garrigue (the Provencal moors)--thyme and rosemary, chervil and sage--perfume the soft, warm air.

The Alpilles are a short, sharp range of mountains in the south of France, just east of the Rhone River--great balding, pine-stubbled white rocks lurching out of the Provencal plain, carved into strange shapes by the violent lashings of the Mistral, the region’s punishing north wind, and by the quarrying hand of man. Spread beneath them are the fertile fields of Provence, checkerboard acres of vineyards and silvery olive groves outlined by single files of black-green cypresses--Van Gogh landscapes, just as the artist himself painted them, again and again, during the two years he lived in the region, in Arles and St. Remy.

Sun-dappled St. Remy is the most seductive town in the Alpilles. It’s the quintessential Provencal village: narrow streets of stone houses with jaunty blue-gray shutters and hanging geranium pots, a rectangular central square with a miniature City Hall and a Saturday morning market, a handful of shops, restaurants and little hotels, all enclosed within a circular avenue shaded by plane trees. St. Remy is lighthearted and uncomplicated. Its contagious joie de vivre erupts periodically in festivals such as the Carreto dis Ase (Donkey Cart) on May Day, when several dozen donkeys tow a flower-cart through town; or the Abrivados, the arrival of the bulls, held on Bastille Day (July 14), Aug. 15 and the last Sunday in September, when six bulls are run through the streets to general mayhem--a sort of mini-Pamplona.

St. Remy is the hub of the Alpilles. Shooting out from it are spoke roads leading to other nearby delights: The houses in the village of Fontvieille turn into floral bouquets in spring, and on the hill behind the town sits the famous windmill in which the writer Alphonse Daudet lived and worked. At Maussane--one main street and change--the local olive-growers cooperative produces the best olive oil in the world. Maillane was the home of Frederic Mistral, the poet, writer, Nobel Prize winner and founder of the Felibrige, a turn-of-the-century group of writers dedicated to the preservation of the Provencal language. He spent his life writing about his beloved Alpilles. The superb ruins of the 10th-Century Abbey of Montmajour appear in many of Van Gogh’s paintings and drawings. The church and crypt are overpowering in their vast emptiness, but there are many fanciful stone carvings on the capitals and walls of the cloister.

There are ruins at St. Remy, too, on the outskirts of town. Two 1st-Century Roman monuments sit all by themselves within a curious circle of flat stones on one side of the road: a triumphal arch with its top missing and a tall funereal memorial, in perfect condition, with superb carvings of battle scenes on all four sides.

Across the road are the ruins of the Greco-Roman town of Glanum, discovered under an olive grove in 1921 and still being excavated. Next to the temple of Valetudo, goddess of health, a pool still fills with water from the Sacred Spring around which the town developed. The original settlement was destroyed in the 2nd-Century B.C. battles between the Roman general Marius and the invading Teutons. (Marius eventually won a decisive victory against them near Aix-en-Provence, rendering the empire safe for another 300 years, and ensuring that Marius would become a common given name in Provence ever after.) Glanum was rebuilt, and then wiped out once again when the barbarians returned in the 3rd Century A.D.

VAN GOGH SPENT THE LAST FULL YEAR OF HIS LIFE IN the asylum of St. Paul-de-Mausole, adjacent to Glanum, where he painted the gardens, the rock quarries, the olive groves and the view toward the hills. Visitors today may wander in his footsteps in the countryside outside the hospital walls. The 12th-Century chapel and its graceful small cloister are open to the public, too, but the main buildings are still in use as a psychiatric hospital and closed to outsiders.

The Provencal town most associated with Van Gogh, of course, is Arles. With its port on the Rhone, Arles was once the Roman capital of Gaul, and later the residence of the Emperor Constantine. At its apogee it had a population of 100,000, as well as the largest amphitheater in all of Gaul, a splendid theater and baths to equal those of Caracalla in Rome. The 1st-Century, 25,000-seat amphitheater, commonly called Les Arenes, is nearly intact, missing only its attique , the third story of arcades. During the Middle Ages, it was turned into a fortress, with 200 houses and a chapel built inside. (These were cleared away only in 1825.) Now, where gladiators fought lions and bears 2,000 years ago, Provencal matadors fight bulls every Sunday afternoon from April to September.

The Roman theater, pillaged over the centuries, is a touching, melancholy ruin, with two lonely Corinthian columns--known as the “two widows”--standing tall amid the rubble of what was once the stage. Even this ruin, though, is still in regular use, as a summertime concert site and for nighttime projections during the city’s annual photographic festival in July. Of the baths, all that remains is a semicircular apse.

The later history of Arles and its region are documented in the wonderfully old-fashioned Arlesien Museum, endowed by Frederic Mistral and full of local folk arts (the original versions of all those Provencal fabrics and olive-wood implements that crowd the souvenir stores), antique home furnishings and agricultural tools, historical documents and waxwork tableaux depicting scenes from Arlesien life. The Lapidary Museum, on the Place de la Republique, which Henry James once called “more Roman than anything outside of Rome” is the principal repository of the splendid Greco-Roman remains found around the city. The facade and portal of the church of St. Trophime, which faces the museum, is a miraculous amalgam of 7th- to 15th-Century stonework (freshly cleaned). Its medieval cloister, rather somber in feeling, is one of the most ornate in Provence.

Ancient Arles sat at the intersection of three important Roman roads--Via Aurelia, Via Domitia and Via Agrippa. As a result, according to a 5th-Century text, “all that the Orient, all that Arabia with its pungent perfumes, all that luxurious Assyria, all that the rich soil of Africa, all that beautiful Spain and fertile Gaul can produce is met in Arles, and in quantity as great as in their native countries.” Even today, Arles hosts one of the largest and best markets in the south of France, stretching for blocks along the Boulevard des Lices every Saturday. Here you’ll find not just every imaginable fruit and vegetable and a wide array of breads and cheeses, olives and spices, fish and fowl, meat and sausage, but also horse blankets and bridles, cowbells on thick leather straps, rock and rap CDs, 19th-Century Provencal grammar books, designer sunglasses and local artisans’ jewelry, Provencal fabrics and purple feather dusters, pots and pans and plants and the pungent perfumes of Christian Dior.

And, of course, nearly every corner in Arles seems to be a reminder of Van Gogh, who spent about a year, in 1888 and ‘89, painting the city and its environs--the “straight-nosed Arlesiennes” intheir traditional costumes, “Vincent’s Room” in the now-gone “Yellow House” on the Place Lamartine, the “Starry Night” from the banks of the Rhone, the “Cafe Terrace at Night” in the Place du Forum, the Roman Alyscamps with its long allee of stone sarcophagi. . .

For the Dutchman from the gray world of the North Sea, the intense colors and strong light of the South were a revelation, and his letters to his brother Theo are a passionate litany of color. “Under the blue sky,” he wrote at one point, “the orange, yellow and red splashes of the flowers take on an amazing brilliance, and in the limpid air there is something or other happier, more lovely than in the North.”

PROVENCE SOMETIMES SEEMS POSITIVELY ELYSIAN--when you’re sitting in the garden of the Regalido hotel in Fontvieille on a May evening, for example, sipping a glass of cold white Chateauneuf-du-Pape; or enjoying coffee and croissants with your morning newspaper at one of the outdoor cafes on the Place du Forum in Arles, basking in the still-cool sunshine.

But Provence isn’t always what it appears to be. Beneath the Mediterranean brightness, there is something dark and mystical. Dig down under a medieval church and you’ll find a pagan temple. Sip too much Chateauneuf-du-Pape and you might catch a glimpse of the mythical tarasque of Tarascon--a scaly, spike-backed creature with a serpent’s tail and a lion’s head; or the Drac of Beaucaire, a dragon that lives in the Rhone and feeds on maidens and children; or the Cabro d’Or, the golden goat that guards an underground horde of treasure, in at least a dozen different locations, depending on who’s wagging the tale.

Even the benevolent climate of Provence has its dark side. It often changes without warning, and goes to extremes--suddenly turning from mild sunshine to bone-bleaching white heat or gothic thunderstorms that bring flash floods. It is said that Provence has 32 different winds, but the unquestioned maestro of that orchestra is the mistral, which sweeps down out of the Rhone valley and clears the sky to a knife-blade blue. It blows relentlessly--always, say locals, for three days, or six, or nine, or multiples thereof--and it can drive you mad.

But nowhere is the dark side of Provence more evident than at Les Baux. Rising from a lunar landscape of prehistoric caves and gaping quarry holes on a solitary plateau, the ruins of Les Baux loom over precipitous cliffs that drop straight down--on one side to the peaceful Val d’Entreconque, and on the other to the jagged and sinister Val d’Enfer--the Valley of Hell. Dante, it is said, was inspired to write his “Inferno” by the Val d’Enfer. And the Cabro d’Or is said, in one version of the legend, to live beneath it--in the Fairy’s Hole Labyrinth, where it guards an immense treasure of gold and jewels buried by a Moorish sheik defeated in some long-ago battle.

Arrogant and unassailable on its wild mountaintop, the citadel was the redoubt of the powerful lords of Baux, whom Frederic Mistral described as “a race of young eagles, vassal to none.” In the 13th Century, Les Baux was famous for its “Courts of Love”--tribunals of gallantry and chivalry, where troubadours vied for fair ladies’ favors with poems and love songs, and in the process established the glory of the Provencal language, the langue d’oc. During the 15th Century, the citadel achieved renown of a different kind, due to the habit of its then-ruler, Raymond de Turenne, of forcing his prisoners to throw themselves off the cliff. (Today, Raymond’s free-falling prisoners would probably land in the pool at the luxurious L’Oustau de Baumaniere or one of the other upscale hotels that now line the valley.)

The lower village of Les Baux is now mostly the preserve of tourist shops and cafes, and the former city hall is now a delightful museum of the painted wooden figures called santons. Some of these are of the traditional characters who are part of the Christmas Nativity scene--Magi, shepherds, et al. Others, though, are butchers, bakers, laundresses, cooks and every other sort of “little saint” of daily life in Provence.

The higher reaches of Les Baux grow colder. Post Tenebras Lux --After Darkness, Light--implores a stone lintel, hopefully but also desperately. The square Romanesque church of St. Vincent is pitch-black except for a roughly carved wooden Madonna, eerily skylighted. Its side chapels are really caves hewn out of the rock; in the penumbra of the first sits a small wooden sculpture of a boat with two women standing in it, looking very much like the kind of dolls that might come alive in the middle of the night. (They are Mary Magdalene and Mary Salome, who, along with Lazarus, are said to have arrived in Provence in a miraculous boat to convert the Romans and Gauls. The two are the Saintes Maries de la Mer--Saint Marys of the Sea--for whom the nearby port town famous for its annual Gypsy festival is named.)

Nothing prepares you, though, for the impact of the dead city at the top. All that remains of the grandiose castle are its walls, broken and open to the sky, and under them half-columns and doorways to nowhere, a perilous stairway and the dozens of stone skeletons of what used to be houses and shops, a hospital, chapels--an entire village razed by order of Richelieu in 1632. From the dungeon tower, if you dare, you can see all the way past the marshes of the Camargue to the sea. The look down is terrifying.

So powerfully does Les Baux grip the imagination, that it’s sometimes difficult to shake the spell. But the warm, light side of Provence is always just around the corner, or just down the hill--and eerie chapels and terrifying vistas will seem very far away as you drive back toward St. Remy or Arles, beneath the new green canopy of just-awakened plane trees, past orchards aglow in pink, white and pale yellow, back to a favorite cafe terrace to sip more of that cold, crisp white Chateauneuf-du-Pape and to look forward to another bright starry night.

GUIDEBOOK: France’s Enchanting Alpilles

Telephone numbers and prices: The country code for France is 33. City codes in France are now integrated into the phone numbers, so no additional codes are needed--unless dialing from Paris, in which case it is necessary to dial 16 before the number. All prices are approximate, subject to seasonal change, and computed at the rate of 5.3 francs to the dollar. Hotel rates are for a double room for one night. Restaurant prices are for dinner for two, food only.

Getting there: Air France has daily nonstop flights from Los Angeles to Paris; United Airlines flies nonstop three times a week. There is also one nonstop weekly on AOM French Airlines. Numerous other carriers offer connecting flights. From Paris, Air Inter flies four times daily to Nimes and three times daily to Avignon--about 18 and 22 miles from Arles, respectively. There is also frequent train service from Paris to Avignon via the super-fast TGV, with a short connecting ride to Arles or other destinations in the Alpilles.

Where to stay: In Arles: Hotel Jules-Cesar, Boulevard des Lices, telephone 9093-4320, fax 9093-3347; U.S. reservations, c/o Relais & Chateaux, (800) 677-3524. The only luxury hotel in town, in an old monastery on the main street, with a small pool and a good restaurant. Rate: $175. Grand Hotel Nord-Pinus, Place du Forum, tel. 9093-4444, fax 9093-3400. A charmingly eccentric place decorated with old bullfight posters and Provencal furniture. Rate: $150. Hotel D’Arlatan, 26 Rue Sauvage, tel. 9093-5666, fax 9049-6845, with Provencal decor in a 15th-Century house. Rate: $125. Mas de la Chapelle, Petite Route de Tarascon, tel. 9093-2315, fax 9096-5374, about three miles outside of town, with a garden and swimming pool. Modest rooms at modest prices, and a dining room in a vaulted 16th-Century chapel. Rate: $110.

In Fontvieille: Le Regalido, Rue Frederic-Mistral, tel. 9054-6022, fax 9054-6429, U.S. reservations, c/o Relais & Chateaux, (800) 677-3524. Delightfully furnished, with a lush garden and an excellent restaurant (with one star in the Guide Michelin). Rate: $200.

In es Baux: L’Oustau de Baumaniere, Val d’Enfer, tel. 9054-3307, fax 9054-4046, U.S. reservations c/o Relais & Chateaux, (800) 677-3524. The most famous hotel and restaurant in the region, very Provencal, very elegant, with pool and stables. Rate: $180. Le Cabro d’Or, Val d’Enfer, tel. 9054-3321, fax 9054-4598, U.S. reservations c/o Relais & Chateaux, (800) 677-3524. The “second” hotel-restaurant of Baumaniere, with flowered terraces, pool and a tennis court it shares with its richer sibling. Rate: $150.

In St. Remy: Chateau des Alpilles, Highway D-31, tel. 9092-0333, fax 9092-4517. A serene hotel in a 19th-Century manor in a large park, with a pool. Rate: $150. Hotel des Arts, 30 Boulevard Victor-Hugo, tel. 9092-0850, a tiny hotel in the middle of town; the reception desk is in the cafe next door. Rate: $55.

Where to eat: Arles: Le Vaccares, Rue Favorin, tel. 9096-0617. Local specialties with a contemporary accent; ask for a table on the narrow terrace overlooking the Place du Forum; dinner, $100-$140. In Fontvieille: Le Regalido (see above). Filet of sea bass in olive oil, fresh strawberry mousse--and don’t forget that white Chateauneuf-du-Pape; $100-$150. Le Homard, Rue Frederic-Mistral, tel. 9054-7534. Small and comfortable with simple, well-cooked Provencal dishes; $70-$85. In Les Baux: L’Oustau de Baumaniere (see above). An elegant, very pricey restaurant (with two stars in the Guide Michelin), serving the likes of truffle ravioli, saddle of rabbit with basil sauce and souffle citrus tart, often using ingredients from the hotel’s own gardens; $200-$300. In St. Remy: Le Bistrot des Alpilles, 15 Boulevard Mirabeau, tel. 9092-0917, serves house-smoked salmon, stewed local lamb; $30-$85. Cafe des Arts (see Hotel des Arts, above), is the main local hangout; $40-$80. Lou Sant Roumie, Avenue de la Liberation, tel. 9092-1361, a friendly place to have pizza and a gigantic salad; $30-$55. Verquieres (near St. Remy): Le Croque-Chou, Place de l’Eglise, tel. 9095-1855, a charming stop with good Provencal food and wine; $65-$80.

For further information: The French Government Tourist Office, 9454 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 303, Beverly Hills 90212, (900) 990-0040 (calls cost 50 cents per minute).