Saying 'I Do' in Provence

Mina's people were there: Danielle, an elegant woman who was a dancer and is an artist, and her husband, Claude, who had come to Saignon from Corsica. Danielle designed and painted the rustic banner that led the wedding procession.

Jean-Francois, Joe's tall friend from Paris, had carried the banner, coming close to being electrocuted when suspended wires swayed dangerously near. Had that happened, we would not have been entertained with his Edith Piaf renditions following the lamb course. It is an immutable fact of life: If you play Edith Piaf, the French will sing.

Saignon is believed to be one of the 10 oldest villages in France. Its name derives from signum, the Latin word for signal, and the first recorded mention of Saignon dates it to the year 976. But its history goes back far beyond that, before the Romans, before the Greeks, even long before the troglodytes who lived in caves throughout the region. Saignon is ancient.

It overlooks the market town of Apt and is not far from Avignon, to the west, and Aix en Provence to the south. Marseille is only an hour's drive away. Each of those towns has much to offer, but it is the region's small villages that weave a particular spell. Gordes, one of the most beautiful and visited villages in the country, is nearby. The ocher cliffs of Roussillon are another rich attraction.

In the days after the wedding, we followed Marcia's advice and drove the narrow roads across the Combe of Loumarin, the geological cleft between the Petit and the Grand Luberon, to explore the village of Ansouis and the Fort of Buoux. Both are rarely mentioned in American guidebooks and attract little attention, even among the Europeans. But both are spectacular.

Most every village has its chateau, a great many of them crumbling. But unlike most every village, the chateau at Ansouis is intact and still occupied by descendants of the same family that has owned it for more than eight centuries. Over the centuries, the chateau has been rebuilt so that it now displays a Louis XIV influence. Visitors are guided through a selection of rooms for a look at France's prosperous past.

We passed through the village of Buoux, which has only about 100 We passed through the small village of Buoux en route to the Fort of Buoux. The fort was built high upon the spur of a cliff, and its remains can be viewed for a few francs. By all means, view it. Take a lunch with you. Include a bottle of wine. You can savor both as you take in the 360-degree view from the top of this rugged rock.

It is at times a treacherous climb, and those with height phobias are advised to think twice. In the litigious United States, sights such as this would be made safe with railings and warnings or placed off-limits all together. There would be plastic dioramas depicting a Middle Ages stronghold, but certainly not the real thing. In France, they assume you have the good sense to be careful and recommend only that you not go too near the edge. What you clamber over and touch for balance are the same stones carried and put in place by ancient civilizations. It is a deeply moving connection.

The progress of man is recorded by the settlement of the mountain. At the mountain's base is a wide, deep overhang of rock that provided shelter for prehistoric tribes. Midway up are caves that sheltered troglodytes. As man progressed, so did his inclination to head for higher ground and the strategic advantage offered by the encompassing view at the top. Joe, who whimpered when he came within 10 feet of a drop-off, would surely have ended up in a shallow grave or been sent to clean toilets by the higher-ups.

The Romans built there and left behind a sophisticated series of cisterns and silos for collecting water and storing food. The cisterns are still there, perfectly round and hewn from solid rock with machinelike precision, inches away from the cliff edge.

Across the Durance River, near the town of La Roque D'Antheron, we found testament to a more recent history. At the top of yet another steep and rugged mountain is a monument dedicated to 440 members of the French Resistance who were killed there by the Germans during World War II. The Resistance fighters took shelter in the hills, but were flushed out and killed by German troops. Their bodies were thrown off the cliffs to the rocks below. So much sadness. So much history. So much beauty.

We had been in Saignon for almost two weeks. We'd had memorable food, drunk fabulous wine, laughed every day and gotten married in the company of wonderful strangers. We had connected with Saignon, with its stones and with its spirit. We would take that home with us, to sustain us in Washington and throughout our marriage.