From Jet-Lag to Joy
Welcome to La Borie
I am blaming my lack of posts on the décalage horaire (jetlag) that still makes it impossible to keep my eyes open after lunch, despite almost four days of acclimation. It might also have something to do with the glass or two of the local Domaine Fredavelle I have with lunch each day, but I AM on vacation after all. Enjoy this brief post on how my aunt’s home got its name.
As we pull into the driveway, I roll down the windows to hear the welcoming fanfare: the pulsating buzz of the cigales, and the sibilant sounds of the car tires crushing the chalky gravel path. My limbic system releases a wave of contentment that inundates my whole body. The stresses trapped inside for the last several months suddenly evaporate. I lighten in the seat as the smell of freshly cut lavender fills the car. For just a moment, my jetlag subsides. I’m home.
We have arrived in the heat of the day at La Borie, the name of my aunt’s house. Every good home should have a name (just like every good car). The property’s eponym comes from the igloo-shaped, dry stone shelter that sits like an archaeological artifact in the yard. Used for centuries by shepherds and hunters to get out of the weather, its current residents are some garden tools and a pile of leaves brought in with the gusty Mistral wind.
Now, before you get too excited that I may have outed our secretive location, you’ll have a hard time discerning our borie from the other lythic lean-tos that are as ubiquitous to Provence as lavender and vineyards. Several hotels and AirBnBs also share the name. There’s even a touristy village celebrating the different styles of borie found across the region.
My aunt’s La Borie is hiding in plain sight.
And that’s just the way I like it. Some days, I don’t even leave the property, preferring refuge from the tourist droves, the Internet, the news, or the drive to do something productive. Maybe today, I’ll crawl into that borie and take a nap, leaning into my jetlag, tucked away from the modern world's relentlessness.