I have had a complicated relationship with colorful soil.
I grew up on one of the pineapple plantation camps that the Del Monte Foods company had built for its immigrant workforce. Our camp, known as Poamoho, was situated on the central plain of Hawaii’s most populous island, Oahu. The telltale sign of someone who lived near or worked in the fields was the ubiquitous (though fecund) dusting of red volcanic dirt. It was in everything, from the treads of our car tires to the soles our flip-flops. I think it might have even seeped into our skin; I’ve always wonder where the slightly reddish tint to our tans came from.
Despite the movement to embrace our red dirt reality, I was still embarrassed to get off the public bus that serviced this shantytown of corrugated sim roofs and peeling gray paint adrift in a sea of thorny pineapples.
So it was a bit strange that one of the places high on my list was Le Sentier des Ocres (“The Ochre Trail”) in Roussillon.
TRAVEL TIP: Stroll around the adjoining ochre-hued town of Roussillon and learn more about the natural clay pigment.
