The entrance to Grotte de Saint Cezare (“Cave of Saint Cezaire”) was deceptive. The nondescript beige-colored building with the undersized balcony in the middle of the woods could not possibly be the entrance to an underground network of tunnels. Maybe this was just the ticket office or the gift shop. We would still have to tromp another half mile through the trees to some gaping hole in the mountainside to meet our guide. Fluorescent vests and hard hats would already be laid out for our subterranean adventure.
But in typical French fashion, the entrance was elegant and understated (and indoors!).
I had no expectations of the place as I’d never been anywhere like it before. Even my usual claustrophobia seemed a little disoriented. Perhaps that was one of the beauties of travel; the sloughing of who we think we are to reveal a little of our truer self.
The Cave was one of the sights that Bob thought we should check out while in Provence. We were glad we did.
The tour was capped off with a beautiful piece from Beethoven’s Ode to Joy (Symphony No. 9) by our talented and patient (explaining how a stalagmite was formed three different times in three different languages must have been daunting) tour guide.
