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Hear the fascinating stories behind some of the South of France's most charming sights – from Nice, Arles, and Avignon. Below are some of the stories you will discover for yourself while on a South of France Vacation.
General: The Artists' Homeland
 Art Gallery: Most people get their first glimpse of southern France in an art gallery: Perhaps no place on earth has been home so many celebrated painters, leading some critics to put it on a par with Paris and New York as an international art center. The influx began in the late 19th century, when the Impressionists Paul Cézanne and Jean Renoir became captivated by the south’s dazzling light, its sun-baked towns, the azure sea views and color-saturated hillsides. Passionate about painting en plein air, “in open air,” they were naturally drawn to a land with over 330 days of annual sunshine. (Cézanne took his love of the outdoors to extremes, and by 1906, at the age of 67 was still painting in the mountains near his home, Jas de Boffon in Aix-en-Provence; he was finally caught in a storm and collapsed, dying not long afterwards). The roster of painters who either lived or holidayed in southern France, particularly Provence and the Riviera, becomes a who’s who of modern art: Van Gogh, Gaugin, Matisse, Monet, Cocteau, Leger, Degas, Dufy, Braque and Dali were all inspired by the landscape here. But perhaps the most prolific and celebrated artist to fall in love with the south was Pablo Picasso: He first visited the Mediterranean coast in 1939 (producing optimistic works with names like Joie de Vivre) and he returned to live in the south permanently after the Second World War, moving between beachside residences and a castle in Vauvernargues, near Cezanne’s home in Aix. Picasso found the landscape liberating, declaring that “in Paris, I never draw fauns, centaurs, or mythical creatures… yet they always seem to live in these parts.” Until his death in 1973 at the ripe age of 92, he stayed up until 3 am every night painting in his hilltop villa in Mougins, ceaselessly attempting to capture the magic of the South.
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Nice: Temples to the Sun
 Temples to the Sun: We think of the Riviera as a summer resort, but it first took off as an escape for the winter months. During the giddy period known in France as la belle époque – “the beautiful era” of the late 1890s and early 1900s, when the country enjoyed a delicious spell of prosperity and peace – a new railroad connection from Paris to Nice allowed aristocrats to easily swap the gloomy northern shores for the Mediterranean coast, which basked in sunshine all year long. The English were particularly fond of wintering in the Riviera, and their presence transformed Nice from a quiet fishing port to a chic seaside paradise. They funded the now-famous beachfront walkway, called the Promenade des Anglais (English Promenade) which remains the symbolic heart of the city, always crowded with walkers, bicyclists and roller-bladers. But to get the most vivid sense of Le Prom's original glory, call in at the Hotel Negresco, which has been the most beloved of Nice’s many Art Nouveau hotels since a Romanian immigrant, Henri Negresco, opened it in 1912. You can still picture Europe’s high society parading through its gilded portals to dance the night away in the Salon Royale. This ballroom is justly famous for the glass dome designed by Gustave Eiffel (of Paris’ Tower), as well as the magnificent Baccarat chandelier, containing 16,309 piece of crystal. (It had been created for the Tsar Nicholas II but delivery was canceled due to the 1917 Russian Revolution and the Negresco acquired it; its twin today hangs in the Kremlin). Virtually next door is the magnificent Massena Museum, housed in one of Nice’s most flamboyant palaces, owned by the Massena family; today, it is a museum to the history of the city. And a few steps further down stands the recently-restored Art Deco masterpiece of a hotel, the Palais de la Mediterranée, the ultimate choice for a sunset cocktail ever since the Jazz Age.
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Arles I: The Expat Scene in Gaul
 The Expat Scene in Gaul: Thanks to the British author Peter Mayle, whose wildly popular memoirs about the expatriate life in Provence were turned into a 2006 film, A Good Year, starring Russell Crowe, this sun-dappled pocket of southern France has become the ultimate choice for Europeans to retire and renovate old farmhouses. Few realize they are echoing a habit laid down 2000 years ago. The ancient Romans conquered the whole of Europe, but they too had a soft spot for Provence, which was their first acquisition outside of Italy. (The very name Provence comes from the Latin provincia). No sooner had it been taken in 121 BC than its delightful ports and pretty rural villages began to attract wealthy Roman citizens looking for fresh air and sunshine. Today, the landscape of Provence is rich with relics from that ancient golden age, especially in the city of Arles. Around 50 BC, the town had the good judgment to support Julius Caesar in Rome’s civil wars, and was showered with rewards when he won. As a result, Arles was transformed into the hub of the Western Empire, and a miniature version of Rome itself. Modern visitors can still stroll from the Arena (a scaled-down Colosseum, where today bullfights have taken the place of gladiators) to the Place du Forum (the site of ancient market and meeting-place), inspect the Crypto-porticus (the granaries) and the Baths of Constantine (where citizens would while away whole days swimming, exercising and flirting). To put all this in context, visit the new Museum of Ancient Arles. Built next to the Roman Circus, where chariot races were once held, on the edge of the city, the museum contains a wonderful set of scale models and dioramas recreating Arles in its Roman heyday. Afterwards, the ancient ruins of the town seem to come alive: You can virtually hear the Arena packed with 20,000 citizens howling for blood, the Forum filled with food vendors, and the riverfront promenade lined with wealthy tourists from Italy, lounging on marble benches and enjoying the sun – not so different from today, after all.
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Arles II: "The Red-Headed Madman"
 "The Red-Headed Madman": Few towns celebrate a single artist as thoroughly as Arles does Vincent van Gogh. Copies of his paintings are set up at the very sites where van Gogh painted them, so we can admire the same picturesque street views that once inspired the Dutch-born visionary. Cultural centers are named after van Gogh, a replica of his home the “Yellow House” has been recreated (the original in Place Lamartine was bombed in WW2) and the Café La Nuit on the Place du Forum has recreated the lemon-accented color scheme he used to evoke gaslight in Café Terrace at Night. All this devotion belies the embarrassing fact that, although van Gogh painted around 200 canvases in Arles, not one of them is owned by the town. Worse, van Gogh’s actual experience in Arles was famously miserable. In 1888, at the age of 35, the troubled artist was lured here by the brilliant colors of Provence. But money was a constant problem: He only sold a single painting in his life, and in Arles, his work was held in such low esteem that, when Vincent gave a local doctor a portrait in thanks for his services, the doctor used it to cover a hole in his chicken coop. Van Gogh was also desperately lonely: He hoped the town would become an artist’s colony, but only Paul Gaugin came to stay with him. The pair argued constantly and Gaugin fled when Vincent, racked by mental illness, famously lopped off of his earlobe with a razor and gave it wrapped in newspaper to a local prostitute for safe keeping. The citizens of Arles had no patience for van Gogh’s drunken, crazed antics: they called him the “fou roux,” or red-headed madman, and insisted that the authorities lock up van Gogh in a mental asylum outside of town. Prolific though he was, the painter’s mental and financial problems never eased. Upon his release, Vincent moved to Auvers-sur-Oise near Paris and soon shot himself, never imagining how beloved his work would become. His suicide note read: “The sadness will last forever.”
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Avignon I: Colors of the middle Ages
 Colors of the middle Ages: As the world’s largest Gothic castle, the Papal Palace dominates Avignon more completely than the Eiffel Tower does Paris. But awe-inspiring as the edifice is, we must use a little imagination today to picture the interior in its medieval heyday, when it was home for nearly a century to nine Pontiffs. Like almost all Gothic structures in Europe, the palace’s interior has been slowly stripped of decoration and furniture, so today the bare stone walls give us the impression that the residents existed in austere, monastic self-denial. Nothing could be further from the truth. The medieval Popes, who had abandoned Rome because of its political instability, enjoyed a level of sensual luxury that many of the faithful considered scandalous, thus earning their stay in Avignon the nickname “the Babylonian Exile.” We should perhaps think of the Papal Palace as the Las Vegas of the Middle Ages, with state-of-the art décor designed purely to delight and impress its occupants. Every floor gleamed with brilliant marble tiles. Elaborate tapestries covered the walls, and statues lined the corridors. In the Grand Tinel, or Banquet Hall, (Room 11), the ceiling was once hung with purple velvet studded with solid gold stars in order to evoke the night sky. Luckily for us, two rooms in the palace still contain remnants of their original decoration. In the Pope’s Bedroom (Room 15), every inch of wall space and ceiling is covered with a tempura mural of a forest, the delicate leaves hiding colorful wildlife; the painted birds were echoed in reality, as the Popes loved to keep caged nightingales to serenade them to sleep. The adjoining Stag Room (Room 16) was once Clement VI’s study, and its walls are covered with hunting scenes; for good measure, a unicorn and dragon frolic in the woods. These miraculous survivals were only discovered in 1906; they had been painted over by French soldiers when the palace was used as a military barracks in the 19th century, an act of vandalism that accidentally preserved them. The subsequent layers were simply scraped away.
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Avignon II: Partying With the Popes
 Partying With the Popes: The Popes of Avignon certainly knew how to throw a party. When Clement VI celebrated his ascension to the Pontiff’s office in 1342, the surrounding farms were decimated for the feast: Records show that for this single-day extravaganza, the kitchens prepared 118 roast oxen, 1023 sheep, 914 lambs, 7428 chickens, 1195 geese, 3043 fowl, 39,980 eggs, 6000 pounds of almonds, 50,000 tarts and 90,000 loaves of bread. Several hundred of the most important guests gathered in the Banquet Hall for the most elaborate meal. Naturally, the medieval dining arrangements were far different from today’s. Food did not arrive in courses: The dishes were laid out on trestle tables before the guests arrived for an impressive visual effect, and diners had to choose from whatever they could reach from their assigned seat. Medieval cooks loved to make the food itself brightly colorful and even patterned, using contrasting dyes made from herbs, flowers, saffron and gold leaf, and finishing with pomegranate seeds to resemble rubies. The meal was a carnivore’s paradise, with beast after beast arriving from the kitchen. The meat-carving was a prestigious, noble skill, and was often performed by the Pope himself, using an ivory-handled knife; the Pope’s own portion would then be passed under a narwhal’s horn, which was thought to detect poison. There were no individual plates at that time: Each guest lay his meat on a thick slice of bread called a trench, which soaked up the juices and would be devoured in turn. The only eating utensil was a knife, so well-mannered diners used only their thumb and two first fingers to eat, with the pinky kept clean to dip into the salt. And there were no napkins: Guests would wipe their hands on the table clots. The Papal feast ended with desserts highly prized in the Middle Ages – wafers, marzipan treats, jams and candied fruit, all prepared within the palace itself.
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Avignon III: Ghost Bridge of the Rhône
 Ghost Bridge of the Rhône: One of the most striking sights in Avignon is the truncated Bridge of Saint Bénézet, which juts out into the Rhône for four elegant spans then abruptly ends mid-river like a forgotten artwork. It may no longer have practical use today, but the bridge is one of the most beloved structures in France, and surrounded by charming legend. Its story begins in the Middle Ages, when a shepherd boy named Bénézet declared that he had been told by angels to build a span across the mighty river. Locals scoffed, but Bénézet proved that God was on his side by lifting a giant rock above his head and tossing it onto the riverbank to lay the first foundation stone. Eight years later, in 1185, the 2700-feet-long bridge was completed, with 22 arches running from the Papal enclave of Avignon to the village of Villeneuve-lès-Avignon. Bénézet became a local hero and after his death he was declared a saint and buried in a small chapel that can still be visited on the riverbank. For centuries, the structure enjoyed enormous strategic importance as the only crossing between Lyon and the Mediterranean, and it was immortalized in a popular French nursery rhyme, Sur le Pont d’Avignon. But the bridge created by religion was eventually ruined by it. In the 1600s, Avignon was still officially controlled by the Pope, but the faraway Vatican no longer had the funds to cover repairs when the bridge was weakened by floods. The French royalty, which had long resented the Papal presence within France, refused to help out. The bridge had been teetering dangerously for years when around 1660 it finally collapsed, leaving the poetic stump we see today.
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