David and I left the cemetery in search of seeing where Vincent had painted and lived. He felt alive in Auvers. You could stand in front of a spot and instantly recognize it from one of his paintings. The goosebumps on your arms when you realized, "He walked these streets." As did Cezanne, Daubigny, Pisarro and Corot.
I took over 500 photos in one day.
Color and inspiration were everywhere in Auvers sur Oise.
David ruined my nerd reference when I leaned over and whispered, "Do you see it?"
Once inside the gift shop, I waited for two women to check out before approaching the clerk. A few minutes passed before she could help me. She looked at her watch. "It's already begun. Go ahead up." She opened the door. I stepped inside.
I was alone.
I walked up the stairs. Music was playing. A lone chair sat in the room. Holes in the wall. Paint scratches. Old nails. Creaky floor boards. I stood in the door frame and stared.
Vincent's room.
The room was tiny and dark.
I wondered where everyone was... I walked into the next room. It was set up as a room of that time period may have looked but it was brighter. The windows were bigger. Music played from the room next door. "They're watching the film." I realized (I had forgotten all about it.)
I decided to take the time and stand in the door frame of Vincent's room. I think I stood there for at least ten, maybe fifteen minutes before I remembered that my husband was waiting for me sitting on a bench by the town hall.
I took one last look around the room and ran my hands along the railing as I walked down the stairs. The same stairs I had come up.
I walked into the gift shop. "YOU DIDN'T WATCH THE FILM?!" The woman was incredulous and shocked to see me. Upstairs, a door opened and a crowd of people (where had they all come from? How did they fit?) flooded the gift shop.
I asked about seeing the restaurant downstairs.
"Impossible." (This was a word I heard several times this trip and it made me shake my head almost every time.) She then told me it was full and I would be unable to even peek inside. (Later on, after it had closed, David and I went back and peeked in the windows. That's where the above photo of the interior is from.)
I left the Inn as we had more to see.
Adeline Ravoux lived here. Vincent painted her.
I had one painting site left that I really wanted to see before the sun went down, Bank of the Oise at Auvers. We walked up and down the Oise trying to find it. Over the bridge. Under the bridge. No matter what we saw on the map, we couldn't find it. I think we walked for at least two hours looking for it. David and I finally realized, "Here. It was here where the fence is but they took the sign down."
We had been walking for almost fourteen hours. We were tired and hungry. The sun would be setting soon. We headed back to town. We had given up any hope in finding food that late on a Sunday night when we passed a pizza parlor.
A redheaded bearded gentleman greeted us (how appropriate was that?!) Like practically every French person we met, he told us he spoke, "Very little English." Yet (like the rest of them), his English was perfect and we walked out happy campers with a pizza in our hands. We headed back to our temporary home.
Upon arrival, we found out that the lights were off. A little further investigation and it wasn't just the lights! The power was out. I texted the owner who responded with a prompt, "I'm on my way!"
In the first post, I told you about the nightmare that woke me up. I'll finish the story in the next post...
Related Links
Visit the Ravoux Inn
Dear Vincent: Auvers sur Oise Part Une
Dear Vincent: Auvers sur Oise Part Deux
The Dear Vincent Project
Vincent related posts
Atlas Obscurba on the brothers' grave (and how you can help)
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