Bedtime Journeys
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Bedtime Journeys
Dreamtime in Uzès' Golden Stone Streets
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Exclusive access to our premium content and ad-free!Journey with me to Uzès, France's first duchy, where golden limestone buildings glow like honey beneath the southern sun and time seems to move at the pace of seasons rather than seconds.
Perched on a limestone promontory between Languedoc and Provence, this medieval gem has preserved its ancient character with remarkable integrity. As we wander through streets that have remained largely unchanged since the Middle Ages, the warm stone radiates different colors throughout the day – buttery soft in morning light, honey-toned at midday, and transformed into liquid gold as evening approaches.
At the heart of Uzès lies Place aux Herbes, a vast cobbled square surrounded by Gothic arcades where markets have been held continuously since 1241. Here, beneath centuries-old plane trees, locals still gather twice weekly to buy vegetables arranged like edible art, olive varieties that range from bright green to deepest black, and honey collected from bees that feast on the wild herbs of the Garigue. The 19th-century fountain at the center creates what locals describe as a gentle "chuckling" that has provided the soundtrack to daily life for generations.
The town's skyline is dominated by three impressive towers representing medieval power – the Duke's Bermond Tower, the King's Tower, and the Bishop's Tower. From these heights, Uzès reveals itself as a living mosaic of terracotta rooftops, hidden courtyards, and private gardens. The Fenestrel Tower, France's only circular bell tower, rises like a stone finger pointing skyward, its unique architecture creating perfect acoustics for bells that have marked time for centuries.
In delightful contrast to all this ancient grandeur, Uzès houses the world's only Haribo Candy Museum, where the serious business of creating gummy bears is treated with the same respect as fine wine production. Nearby, the Pichon pottery workshop continues traditions dating back to Roman times, demonstrating how simple clay can be transformed through skill and patience into objects of lasting beauty.
As darkness falls, the town doesn't so much illuminate as glow, the limestone having absorbed sunshine all day now radiating it back as gentle warmth. Join me for this peaceful journey through a place where beauty isn't found in grand gestures but in the patient accumulation of centuries of care, where daily life unfolds against a backdrop of extraordinary beauty.
Close your eyes and let the sounds of fountains, the scent of medieval herbs, and the warmth of ancient stones carry you into dreams of golden light and timeless grace.
Hello there, fellow travelers, daniel here, welcoming you back to Bedtime Journeys for our second evening in France. Yesterday, we wandered through the seaside artist's village of Collioure, watching the Mediterranean lap against ancient castle walls, breathing in the salt air mixed with anchovy workshops and discovering those narrow Catalan streets where Matisse first fell in love with color. Tonight we're heading inland, about two and a half hours northwest from Collioure, to a town that sits perfectly balanced between Languedoc and Provence. That sits perfectly balanced between Languedoc and Provence Uzès, france's very first duchy, where golden limestone buildings glow like honey in the southern sun and medieval streets wind through eight centuries of carefully preserved beauty. Before we begin our gentle journey, I want to thank all of you who are premium subscribers. Your support makes these nightly wanderings possible, and knowing you're out there settling in for sleep with these stories well, it makes every word worth crafting. Thank you for being part of this peaceful community.
Speaker 1:You know, there's something almost impossibly romantic about a town that calls itself the First Duchy of France. It sounds like something from a fairy tale, doesn't it? And in many ways Uzès is exactly that A place where a real duke still lives in a thousand-year-old castle, where medieval towers rise above terracotta rooftops and where the Saturday market has been happening in the same square since 1241. That's let me do the math here over 780 years of people gathering in the same spot to buy their vegetables. I can barely remember where I put my car keys yesterday and these folks have been remembering to show up at Placeau Herbe every Wednesday and Saturday for nearly eight centuries. But here's what really captures my imagination about Uzès it's home to the world's only Haribo candy museum. Yes, you heard that right. This elegant medieval town, with all its ducal dignity and Renaissance architecture, also happens to be where you can learn the complete history of gummy bears. I suppose there's something beautifully French about that the ability to take both their ancient heritage and their candy-making equally seriously.
Speaker 1:The town sits on a limestone promontory, one of those perfect defensive positions that medieval builders loved, high enough to see enemies approaching, but not so high that daily life becomes impractical. About eight and a half thousand people call Uzaz home today, living within and around medieval walls that once protected kings, bishops and dukes. The limestone here has this particular quality. It's not white exactly, and it's not quite yellow. It's this warm golden color that changes throughout the day as the sun moves across the sky. Morning light makes it glow softly, like butter left on the counter to soften. Midday sun brings out honey tones, and evening, oh evening light transforms the entire town into something that looks like it's been painted with liquid gold.
Speaker 1:Tonight we're going to wander these ancient streets together, climbing medieval towers when we feel energetic, resting in hidden gardens when we need a moment of quiet, discovering corners where pottery traditions stretch back to Roman times. We'll explore Place aux Herbes, where plain trees filter sunlight through their leaves onto cobblestones that locals claim are the finest stone paving in all of France. We'll peek into the Duchy Palace, where Renaissance architecture displays all three classical orders Doric classical orders, doric Ionic and Corinthian, because apparently, when you're building for a duke, you don't choose just one architectural style, you use them all. We'll climb the Fenestrel Tower, the only circular bell tower in France, which looks rather like someone decided to build an upright, leaning tower of Pisa, except this one actually stays vertical. We'll discover medieval gardens where 450 varieties of plants grow exactly as they did in the Middle Ages Medicinal herbs, dyeing plants and enough culinary herbs to season every pot of soup in southern France. And, yes, we'll visit that Haribo museum, because sometimes, even on the most sophisticated cultural journey. You need to know how they get those gummy bears so perfectly chewy.
Speaker 1:The air in Usaz carries different scents depending on where you walk In the market square. It's all about food Fresh bread, local cheese, olives glistening with oil. Near the pottery workshops you catch that distinctive smell of clay and kiln fires. You catch that distinctive smell of clay and kiln fires In the medieval garden, its herbs, rosemary, thyme, sage, all releasing their oils into the warm air. And everywhere underneath it all there's that particular scent of old stone Limestone that's been absorbing sun and rain for centuries, developing its own subtle perfume that speaks of permanence and patience. The sounds here are equally layered. Your footsteps on those famous cobblestones create a distinctive rhythm, not quite a click, not quite a tap, but something in between that echoes gently off medieval walls. Water fountains provide a constant soothing soundtrack. There's one in Place Aux Herbes that locals say has been quietly chuckling at all who pass by since the 1800s. Church bells mark the hours. Of course, this is France after all but in Uzès they seem particularly musical, perhaps because they're ringing from that unique circular tower, sending their bronze voices spiraling out across terracotta rooftops.
Speaker 1:What I find most peaceful about Usess is how it manages to feel both important and intimate at the same time. This is a town with serious history, roman mosaics under its streets, a duke in residence, connections to the papal court at Avignon, but it wears all this heritage lightly, like a comfortable old sweater rather than formal robes. People actually live here, not just in the modern outskirts, but right in the medieval center. You'll see laundry drying from Renaissance windows, cats napping in Gothic doorways, children playing in squares where knights once gathered. So tonight we're going to experience Yuzes not as tourists rushing through, but as gentle wanderers with nowhere urgent to be. We'll take our time, pause when something catches our eye, rest when the warm stone invites us to sit for a moment. After all, this is a town that's been here for over a thousand years. I think it can wait a few more minutes while we catch our breath and enjoy the view.
Speaker 1:Now let's prepare ourselves for tonight's journey with some gentle breathing. Find a comfortable position, let your shoulders drop away from your ears, feel your body settling into wherever you're resting. Tonight we're going to practice what I call fountain breathing tonight, inspired by that eternal fountain in Place Aux Herbes that's been providing its peaceful rhythm for over two centuries. Take a slow, deep breath in. Imagine you're drawing in the warm air of southern France, scented with lavender and old stone. Now let it flow out gently, gently, like water trickling from an ancient fountain no rush, no force, just a natural release. Again, breathe in slowly, feeling your chest rise like the medieval towers of Uzess, reaching toward the sky, and release, letting any tension flow away like water finding its way through cobblestone streets. One more time, draw in peace and quietness and let it go, feeling yourself becoming as calm and solid as those golden limestone walls that have stood for centuries. Perfect, you're ready for our journey now. So let's start our journey.
Speaker 1:We approach Uzaz from the south, driving along the D981 through a landscape that feels like it hasn't changed much since medieval times. Vineyards stretch across gentle hills, their neat rows following contours that were probably first mapped by Roman surveyors. Olive trees dot the fields, their silver-green leaves shimmering in the afternoon light. This is the Garigue, that distinctive southern French landscape of limestone hills covered with wild herbs and scrubby oak trees. Even from the car you can smell it. Thyme and rosemary growing wild, releasing their oils into the warm air.
Speaker 1:The first glimpse of Uzess comes as we round a gentle curve, and there it is, rising from its limestone promontory like something from a medieval manuscript. The town seems to glow against the blue sky, all golden stone and terra-cotta tiles, crowned by towers that have watched over this valley for eight centuries. Boulevard Gambetta, which traces the path of the medieval fortifications in a perfect circle. The modern road is tree-lined and pleasant, but you can still see sections of the original walls, their stones worn smooth by centuries of weather and hands. As we enter through what was once a fortified gate, the town reveals itself gradually. This is one of the beautiful things about medieval town planning. Streets curve and twist, so you never see everything at once. Each turn offers a new perspective, a fresh view, another layer of history to discover.
Speaker 1:The streets here are narrow, built for people and donkeys, not cars, and the buildings rise tall on either side, creating cool corridors of shade. Even on the warmest days, the limestone walls radiate a gentle warmth they've been collecting all day and the air between them holds the scent of centuries. We're walking on those famous cobblestones now, and, yes, they really are exceptional. Each stone has been placed by hand, fitted together like a three-dimensional puzzle, creating a surface that's both beautiful and practical. They're smooth from use but not slippery. Warm from the sun but not uncomfortably hot. Our footsteps create a gentle rhythm, tap, tap, tap that echoes softly off the walls. It's a sound that connects us to everyone who's walked these streets before Medieval merchants, renaissance nobles, revolutionaries and countless ordinary people just going about their daily lives.
Speaker 1:The buildings themselves tell stories through their details. Here's a Renaissance doorway with carved stone flowers, still crisp after four centuries. There's a medieval window, narrow for defense but widened inside to let in light. Iron balconies curve gracefully from upper floors, their railings worked into patterns of vines and leaves. Many buildings are painted in those distinctive southern French colors, not bright or harsh, but soft, weathered shades that seem to have absorbed decades of sunlight. Shutters in faded blue-gray, like the sky before a storm. Walls in the palest yellow, like butter, mixed with cream. Doors in that particular shade of green that seems to exist only in Provence and Languedoc.
Speaker 1:As we walk deeper into the old town, we pass through a series of small squares, each with its own character. One has a simple fountain where water trickles constantly, providing a cool soundtrack to the afternoon. Another shelters under an enormous plane tree that must be centuries old, its bark peeling in patches like an abstract painting. In one of these squares. An elderly man sits on a bench reading a newspaper. He's wearing the kind of flat cap that seems mandatory for French men of a certain age and beside him sits a small dog, equally elderly, equally content to simply exist in this peaceful moment. Neither looks up as we pass. We're just part of the gentle flow of life in Yuzes.
Speaker 1:The street begins to climb now and we can feel the town's topography, how it's built on this limestone hill streets, following the natural contours of the land rather than imposed upon it. Medieval builders understood something we sometimes forget that working with the landscape creates more beauty than fighting against it. As we climb, views open up between buildings, glimpses of the countryside beyond those vineyards and olive groves stretching toward distant hills. The air up here seems clearer, carrying hints of wild herbs from the Garigue mixed with more domestic scents. Someone's cooking with garlic nearby, and is that fresh bread we smell?
Speaker 1:We're approaching the heart of Old Uzaz now, where the most important buildings cluster around the highest point of the hill. Three towers rise above us the Burman Tower of the Duchy, the King's Tower representing royal power, and the Bishop's Tower for the Church. Medieval society in architectural form, the three powers that shaped life for centuries. But before we explore those grand structures, we're drawn by the sound of voices and activity. Ahead we're approaching Placeau Herbe, the beating heart of Uzès for nearly eight centuries. Even from here we can hear the fountain that gives the square its soundtrack and smell coffee from the cafés that line its arcades. Place Aux Herbes opens before us like a medieval theatre, and what a stage it is.
Speaker 1:This vast cobbled square has been the centre of life in Uzès since 1241, and standing here you can feel those centuries of human activity somehow embedded in the stones. The square is surrounded by Gothic arcades, those beautiful arched walkways that provide shade for café terraces and shopfronts. The arches aren't uniform. Some are pointed, gothic, others rounded, romanesque, each one built in its own era, creating a harmonious irregularity that's more beautiful than any perfect symmetry could be. Above the arcades, tall buildings rise in shades of cream and pale gold, their shuttered windows creating rhythmic patterns against the stone. Some shutters are painted in that faded blue-gray that seems to capture the color of morning mist, others in sage green or lavender. None are bright or new-looking. They all have that weathered patina that speaks of decades in the southern sun, of decades in the southern sun.
Speaker 1:Plain trees dot the square, their broad leaves creating pools of dappled shade. These trees must be ancient. Their trunks are massive, their bark peeling in that distinctive pattern that makes each one look like a piece of natural art. One look like a piece of natural art. The leaves rustle gently in the slightest breeze, adding their whisper to the square's symphony of sounds. At the center stands a 19th century fountain, not ancient by Uzès standards, but old enough to have earned its place in the town's heart. Water flows constantly from its spouts, creating that liquid music that someone once described as quietly chuckling at all who pass by. It's the perfect description Not a grand cascade or dramatic spray, just a gentle, continuous conversation between water and stone. The cobblestones here really are exceptional. Each one has been placed by hand, fitted together so perfectly that even after centuries of use, the surface remains remarkably even. They're polished smooth by countless footsteps and in the afternoon light they almost seem to glow with their own gentle radiance.
Speaker 1:We arrive on a Wednesday, which means the market is in session. Not the full Saturday spectacle, but the quieter, more local Wednesday version, where residents do their actual shopping rather than performing for tourists. The market stalls are arranged with an order that comes from centuries of practice. Vegetable sellers. In one section, their produce arranged like edible art Tomatoes, so ripe they seem to glow from within. Aubergines with skin like purple silk. Courgettes with their flowers still attached. Delicate yellow blooms that will be stuffed and fried for tonight's dinner.
Speaker 1:The olive vendor has dozens of varieties displayed in ceramic bowls the local Picoline olives in various stages of ripeness, green ones with a firm bite, purple, black ones, soft with oil. Some are flavored with herbs from the Garigue, others with garlic or lemon. The vendor, a woman who looks like she's been selling olives here forever, lets customers taste with tiny wooden spoons before buying. The cheese stand is a work of art in itself Wheels of aged comté, their rinds dusty with cave mold. Fresh goat cheeses, some plain, others rolled in herbs or ash. The star is the local pelardon, a small round goat cheese with a certificate of origin that goes back to Roman times. The smell is incredible, earthy and rich, with that particular tang that only comes from cheese made with milk from goats, that from all those wild herbs. He explains to a customer that the bees travel up to three kilometers from their hives, gathering nectar from whatever's blooming, creating flavors that change with the seasons.
Speaker 1:The wine vendors offer tastings of the local Duché d'Uzay's wines. This is a relatively new appellation, officially recognized in 2013,. But the vineyards have been here since Roman times. The reds are mostly Syrah and Grenache, deep and warming. The whites feature Viognier with notes of peach and white flowers. The vendors pour small tastes into proper glasses. None of this plastic cup nonsense, because even at a market, stall wine deserves respect.
Speaker 1:But the market isn't just about food. There's a fabric cellar with bolts of Provencal prints, those distinctive patterns of tiny flowers and paisleys that have decorated southern French homes for generations. A basket weaver demonstrates his craft, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he weaves strips of willow into useful beauty. The sounds of the market create their own music Vendors calling out their specials in that singing southern accent, the clink of coins and rustle of paper bags, conversations in French that sound like verbal music, even when you don't understand the words. And underneath it all, that fountain maintaining its liquid rhythm.
Speaker 1:The cafes around the square are filling with the lunch crowd now. Tables under the arcades are particularly prized, offering shade and a perfect view of the market activity. The smell of coffee mingles with fresh bread, and whatever today's plat du jour might be, we catch hints of garlic and herbs, maybe a beef-dob simmering somewhere. At one café, an elderly group of men play cards at their regular table. They've probably been meeting here for decades the kind of routine that provides structure and companionship to retired life. Their conversation is animated but not loud, punctuated by the slap of cards on the table and occasional laughter. As we wander through the market, we notice how it operates on trust, customers help themselves to fruit, adding up their own totals. Money changes hands with minimal counting. Everyone seems to know everyone else, creating an atmosphere that's more like a weekly social gathering than a commercial transaction.
Speaker 1:This is the France that exists beyond tourist brochures Real people living real lives in a setting that happens to be heartbreakingly beautiful. The market isn't performed for visitors. It simply continues as it has for centuries, providing what people need while maintaining traditions that give life its rhythm and meaning. From Placeau Herbe we make our way toward the Duchy following streets that grow progressively older as we climb. The buildings here date from different centuries but somehow achieve perfect harmony, like a choir where every voice is different but all blend into something beautiful. The Duchy of Ouzesse is still a private residence. The Duke actually lives here, but parts are open to visitors who approach, with appropriate respect for this thousand-year-old home.
Speaker 1:The entrance courtyard takes your breath away. The Renaissance façade displays all three classical orders of architecture Doric columns at ground level, solid and sturdy, ionic on the second floor more decorated, more elegant and Corinthian. At the top, elaborate and ornamental. It's like a textbook of classical architecture, but one made from golden stone and weathered by centuries of southern French sunshine. The courtyard itself is paved with more of those perfect cobblestones, and the walls tell their own stories. Here's a Gothic doorway from the 13th century. There's a Renaissance window from the 16th. Each addition has been made with respect for what came before, creating layers of history you can read like tree rings.
Speaker 1:We enter the Brahman Tower, the symbol of ducal power, and begin climbing its narrow spiral staircase. The steps are stone, worn into gentle curves by centuries of footsteps. The central column that the stairs wind around is massive, carved from a single piece of stone. As we climb, narrow windows offer glimpses of the town below each one framing a different view like a living painting. The staircase is lit by these window slits, creating patterns of light and shadow that shift as we ascend. It's cool in here, even on warm days, the thick stone walls maintaining a constant temperature that feels refreshing after the sun outside.
Speaker 1:135 steps later, but who's counting? One hundred and thirty-five steps later, but who's counting? We emerge onto the top of the tower, forty-two meters above the town. The view is spectacular in the truest sense of the word. Uzès spreads below us like a map made of terracotta and stone. We can see the pattern of medieval streets, the way they follow, no modern logic but their own ancient reasoning. Courtyards that are hidden from street level reveal themselves from up here Secret gardens, private terraces, spaces where daily life unfolds away from public view. Beyond the town, the landscape rolls away in all directions. To the north, vineyards stretch in neat rows, their green lines following the contours of the hills. To the south, the Garigue extends toward the horizon, dotted with olive trees and the occasional farmhouse. On clear days, they say, you can see all the way to the Mediterranean, though today a gentle haze softens the distant views.
Speaker 1:We can see the Fenestrel Tower from here, that unique circular bell tower that's the only one of its kind in France. It rises from the cathedral like a stone finger pointing toward heaven, its six levels tapering as they climb. The paired arched windows that give it its name Fenestrel means little windows Create a rhythm that's both architectural and musical. After descending from the Bermond Tower, we make our way to the Fenestrel Tower itself. Up close, it's even more impressive. Built in the 12th century, it survived the Protestant destruction of 1563 that claimed the rest of the cathedral. Perhaps even religious warriors recognize something too beautiful to destroy. The tower is built from that same golden limestone, but here it seems to glow with particular intensity. Maybe it's the way the circular form catches light from all angles, or maybe it's just the accumulation of centuries of prayer and admiration, but the Fenestrel Tower seems to have its own gentle radiance.
Speaker 1:Inside the adjoining Cathedral of St Theodori, rebuilt in the Counter-Reformation style between 1642 and 1663, we discover an atmosphere of profound peace. The vaulted ceiling rises 18 meters above us, creating a space that seems to naturally encourage quiet contemplation. The organ here is extraordinary. Dating from 1683, it's one of only two in France that retains its original painted shutters in gray and gold. It's tuned to an unusual pitch La equals 465 hertz instead of the modern 440, which gives it a distinctive voice, slightly different from modern instruments, as if it's singing in an ancient language instruments. As if it's singing in an ancient language. During the summer Nuit musicales festival. This organ fills the cathedral with baroque music, but even in silence you can almost hear the echo of centuries of music in these stones. The acoustics are so perfect that even our quiet footsteps seem to take on a musical quality.
Speaker 1:Near the altar, we find the Renaissance tomb of Joan de Noronha, carved by Nicolas Chantaran in 1525. The Portuguese nobleman is depicted in full armor, but his face is peaceful, his hands folded in prayer. It's a reminder that Uzès has always been connected to the wider world. Portuguese nobles, italian artists, traders from across Europe all pass through this small town, leaving their marks on its stones. Back outside, we explore the area around the cathedral, where medieval buildings crowd close together, creating narrow passages where sunlight barely penetrates. These are the oldest streets in Uzès, where you can still see Roman stones incorporated into medieval walls, where each building is a patchwork of different eras. In one small square we find a simple fountain, much older than the grand one in Placeau Herbe. This one is just a stone basin with a single spout, but the water that flows from it is sweet and cold, coming from springs that have supplied the town since before history was written. A small plaque notes that this fountain has never run dry, not in eight centuries of recorded history.
Speaker 1:Behind the impasse Port Royal, hidden from casual visitors, we discover the medieval Garden of Uzès. This isn't a reconstruction or a modern interpretation. This is a living garden that maintains traditions stretching back to monastery gardens of the Middle Ages. The entrance is almost secret, through a small doorway that you might walk past without noticing. But once inside, you enter a different world, one where time moves at the pace of growing things and seasons, rather than clocks and appointments. The garden spreads between ancient towers, using the medieval fortifications as its walls. It's organized in the traditional way, with different sections for different purposes, each bed carefully bordered with low hedges of box or santolina. The paths between beds are covered with fine gravel that crunches softly underfoot, a sound that somehow adds to the garden's atmosphere of peaceful purpose.
Speaker 1:450 varieties of plants grow here, all chosen because they would have been known and used in medieval times. The medicinal garden contains plants that were once the only pharmacy available Comfrey for healing wounds, feverfew for headaches, valerian for sleep. Each plant is labeled with both its Latin name and its common names in various languages, along with descriptions of its medieval uses. The Dying Garden showcases plants that provided color before chemical dyes, wode for blue, matter for red, weld for yellow. It's fascinating to think that all those medieval tapestries and illuminated manuscripts got their brilliant colors from plants like these. The culinary herb garden is the most fragrant section. Rosemary grows in great bushes, its woody stems supporting clouds of narrow leaves that release their oil at the slightest touch. Time spreads in low carpets covered in tiny purple flowers that bees adore. Sage plants display their soft gray-green leaves, looking exactly like the botanical illustrations in medieval herbals.
Speaker 1:There's something deeply satisfying about a garden with such clear purpose. These aren't just pretty plants. Each one is here because it serves a function, provides something necessary for human life Food, medicine, color, fragrance, all the things that transform mere existence into civilized life. An elderly gardener works quietly among the beds, deadheading flowers and checking for pests. He moves with the unhurried efficiency of someone who knows that gardens can't be rushed, that plants grow at their own pace regardless of human impatience. His tools are simple, hand-forged and well-worn, the kind that improve with use rather than wear out.
Speaker 1:From the garden, a stone staircase spirals up inside the King's Tower. One hundred steps carry us to another viewing platform, this one offering a different perspective on the town and countryside. From here we can see the pattern of the medieval garden below its geometric beds, creating a living tapestry of greens and grays, punctuated by spots of color where flowers bloom. We can also see into private gardens throughout the town, each one a small paradise hidden behind high walls. Some are formal, with carefully clipped hedges and symmetrical plantings. Others are wonderfully wild, with roses climbing over everything and fruit trees heavy with ripening produce. All of them speak to that fundamental human need to cultivate beauty, to create small Edens wherever we settle, to elevate beauty, to create small Edens wherever we settle.
Speaker 1:Descending from the tower, we explore more of the quiet corners of Uzaz, away from the main tourist routes. The town reveals its residential character. Streets become narrower, more intimate Houses press close together their walls touching across centuries. We pass doorways that offer glimpses into private courtyards. One frames a view of a small fountain surrounded by potted plants. Another reveals a table set for lunch under a grape arbor. These aren't public spaces meant for display. They're private worlds where daily life unfolds in settings of quiet beauty.
Speaker 1:The afternoon light is changing now, becoming richer, more golden. The limestone walls seem to absorb this light and reflect it back softened, creating an atmosphere that photographers call the golden hour, but which, in Yuzes, seems to last much longer than sixty minutes. Cats appear as evening approaches, emerging from their cool hiding places to patrol their territories. They move along walls and through gardens with the confidence of creatures who know they belong here, who've been part of this town's ecosystem for as long as the town has existed. One particularly magnificent tabby sits on a warm stone wall, surveying his domain with regal indifference. The sounds of the town are changing too. Morning's market bustle has given way to afternoon's quiet industry, which now transitions to evening's social hour. We hear conversation starting on doorsteps, the clink of glasses being set out on café tables, the sizzle of something cooking in a kitchen somewhere nearby. This is the rhythm of life in a small French town, predictable but never boring. Each day similar to the last, but each with its own small variations, like a musical theme played with infinite subtle variations.
Speaker 1:On the outskirts of town, along the D-981, at Pont de Charette, stands a building that seems almost surreal in this landscape of medieval stones and ancient traditions. Real, in this landscape of medieval stones and ancient traditions the Haribo Candy Museum, the only one of its kind in the world. The museum occupies what was once Henri Laffont's licorice factory, built in 1862, when Uzès was the center of France's licorice production, was the center of France's licorice production. The transformation from medicinal root processing to candy wonderland tells its own story about how traditions evolve while maintaining connections to their origins. As we approach, the building's modern glass and steel entrance seems to shimmer in the afternoon light, a deliberate contrast to all the ancient stone we've been surrounded by. Yet somehow it works, perhaps because the French have always understood that honoring the past doesn't mean rejecting the present. Inside, the air carries subtle hints of sugar and fruit flavoring, not overwhelming but definitely present, like walking into a kitchen where jam has been cooking.
Speaker 1:The museum spans 1,600 square meters, with five themed rooms that trace the journey from sugar cane to gummy bear. The first room explores the history of sugar itself. Display cases show ancient Egyptian reliefs depicting honey harvesting, medieval manuscripts illustrating sugar cane cultivation and the revolutionary moment when Europeans discovered they could extract sugar from beets. It's more interesting than you might expect. The story of sugar is really the story of world trade, colonization and the democratization of sweetness. The second room focuses on Yuza's own sweet history. Yuza's own sweet history. Black and white photographs show the old licorice factories, with workers sorting roots and operating massive grinding machines. There are vintage advertisements for Zan pastilles, those strong licorice candies that French children either loved or hated. No middle ground. Glass cases display antique candy molds and tools, their worn metal surfaces, testament to years of creating simple pleasures.
Speaker 1:Then we enter the modern section and suddenly we're in Haribo's colorful world. The walls are lined with the history of the company, from Hans Riegel's founding in Bonn in 1920. Haribo comes from Hans Riegel Bonn to its transformation into a global phenomenon. Who knew that the original gummy bears were called dancing bears and were inspired by trained bears at European festivals? Trained bears at European festivals. The centerpiece is the 360-degree projection room where you're surrounded by footage from inside a working candy factory.
Speaker 1:Machines pour liquid candy into bear-shaped molds, conveyor belts carry endless streams of colorful sweets and packaging systems work with hypnotic precision. Every few seconds, another 30-gram packet is sealed and sent on its way. It's oddly mesmerizing, the kind of repetitive motion that's surprisingly soothing to watch. The machine room houses actual candy-making equipment, some vintage, some modern. You can follow the process from start to finish. Sugar and glucose syrup heated to precise temperatures, colors and flavors added at exactly the right moment, the mixture poured into cornstarch molds, where it sets into those familiar shapes. A display explains that it takes six hours for a gummy bear to fully set, which seems like a long time to wait for something that will be eaten in seconds.
Speaker 1:What's particularly charming is how seriously the museum takes its subject. There's no condescension here, no sense that candy is somehow less worthy of study than wine or cheese. The French approach to pleasure that it should be taken seriously, crafted carefully and enjoyed mindfully Applies as much to gummy bears as to gourmet cuisine. The museum shop is predictably France's largest Haribo store, but beyond the expected range of gummies and licorice, they stock exclusive items you can't find anywhere else. There are artisanal versions of classic candies made in smaller batches with natural ingredients, vintage style tins filled with traditional French bonbons, even sugar-free options, because this is the 21st century and everyone should be able to enjoy a little sweetness.
Speaker 1:Leaving the museum, we make our way back toward the old town, but stop at the Maison Pichon workshop at Pont des Charettes. This pottery dynasty has been operating since 1802, now in its eighth generation. Has been operating since 1802, now in its eighth generation, maintaining traditions that connect Uzis to its ceramic heritage dating back to Roman times. The workshop is a working space not prettified for tourists. Clay, dust, coat surfaces, tools hang in organized chaos, and works in progress crowd shelves and tables. The potter at work doesn't look up as we enter. He's focused on the piece emerging under his hands a bowl that seems to grow from the spinning clay as if by magic. What Pichon is famous for is their marble technique mixing different colored clays to create swirled patterns that are unique to each piece. They also create those impossibly delicate woven ceramic baskets where clay threads cross over plaster bases to create something that looks like it should collapse but instead emerges from the kiln strong and permanent.
Speaker 1:The connection between candy museum and pottery workshop might seem tenuous, but both represent the same principle Taking humble materials, sugar clay, and, through skill and tradition, transforming them into something that brings pleasure to daily life. Whether it's a gummy bear or a hand-thrown bowl, the intention is the same to add a small moment of delight to ordinary existence, extraordinary existence. As afternoon transitions into evening, we make our way back to the heart of Ouzes for one last wander through its golden streets. The light now is extraordinary, that particular quality that the French call entre chien et loup, between dog and wolf. When day creatures give way to night ones, when familiar things take on mysterious qualities. The limestone walls have been absorbing sunshine all day, and now they're radiating it back, creating a gentle warmth that makes the whole town feel like it's glowing from within. Shadows are long and soft, turning simple doorways into dramatic frames, making ordinary streets look like stage sets for some medieval romance. Some medieval romance.
Speaker 1:We return to Place Auxerre, now transformed from its morning market bustle into evening social center. The café tables have multiplied, spreading further into the square. As the day's heat dissipates, umbrellas are being folded away. The evening is cool enough that shade is no longer necessary. The fountain continues its eternal conversation with the cobblestones, but now its sound mingles with the clink of glasses. The murmur of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter. The plane trees rustle overhead the occasional burst of laughter. The plane trees rustle overhead their leaves, catching the last of the sunlight and turning it into dancing patterns.
Speaker 1:On the stones below, people are emerging for the evening promenade, that civilized tradition of walking simply for the pleasure of walking. Elderly couples move slowly arm in arm, greeting friends and neighbors. Parents push strollers while toddlers run ahead, their voices echoing off medieval walls. Teenagers cluster in groups, trying to look sophisticated while sneaking glances at each other. This is small-town life at its most appealing Intimate enough that everyone knows everyone, but large enough to provide privacy when wanted. Historic enough to feel connected to something larger than the present moment, but alive enough to avoid feeling like a museum.
Speaker 1:We find a quiet spot on a low wall near the edge of the square, perfect for people watching without being obtrusive. From here we can see the whole theater of evening life in US unfold. A waiter navigates between tables with impressive grace, balancing a tray of drinks while avoiding children, dogs and chair legs. His white shirt glows in the evening light, his movements efficient but unhurried, the mark of someone who's been doing this for years and has found his rhythm. At one table, a group of women are deep in animated conversation, their hands moving expressively as they talk. At another, a solitary man reads a newspaper, a small glass of red wine at his elbow, completely content in his solitude. A young couple shares a plate of something, feeding each other bites and laughing at some private joke. The smell of cooking drifts from restaurant kitchens Garlic and herbs, meat roasting, the sweet scent of something caramelizing. Menus are being written on chalkboards, tonight's special's based on what looked good at this morning's market.
Speaker 1:As the sun drops lower, the Fenestrel Tower catches the light in a way that makes it seem to glow like a golden candle. The bells ring the hour, their bronze voices carrying across the rooftops, marking time as they have for centuries. We take a final walk through the quieter streets, away from the busy square. Here, uzez shows its residential face again. Through open windows, we catch glimpses of daily life Someone cooking dinner, the blue glow of a television, a cat curled on a windowsill.
Speaker 1:The streets we walked this morning look different now. In the evening light, details we missed before reveal themselves A carved face above a doorway, ironwork that creates beautiful shadows, a tiny shrine built into a wall. It's as if the town is showing us secret treasures it kept hidden until we proved ourselves worthy by staying all day. We pass the medieval garden one more time, now closed for the evening but still fragrant, with herbs releasing their oils into the cooling air. The towers stand dark against the deepening sky, solid and reassuring guardians that have watched over this town through wars and plagues, revolutions and restorations.
Speaker 1:Near the duchy we find a small square we hadn't noticed before, with a simple stone bench, positioned perfectly to catch the last of the evening light. We sit for a moment, feeling the warmth of the stone through our clothes, listening to the sounds of the town settling into evening. Somewhere someone is practicing piano, the notes drifting through an open window. It's not professional playing. There are hesitations and repeated passages, but somehow that makes it more beautiful, more human. This is someone learning, improving, finding joy in the simple act of making music.
Speaker 1:The swallows are out now, swooping and diving in their evening hunt for insects. They move like living calligraphy against the sky, writing temporary messages that dissolve as soon as they're formed. Their calls add another layer to the evening. Symphony, sharp and wild, against the domesticated sounds of the town, against the domesticated sounds of the town. As darkness finally begins to fall, lights appear in windows and street lamps begin to glow. But these aren't harsh modern lights. They're warm and golden, designed to compliment rather than overwhelm the medieval atmosphere. The town doesn't so much illuminate as glow like embers in a dying fire. This is how we leave Usaes, not with any dramatic finale, but with this gentle accumulation of small, perfect moments the taste of local wine, the texture of ancient stones, the sound of fountains and footsteps, the sight of golden light on limestone walls.
Speaker 1:Tomorrow we'll continue our journey through France, discovering new treasures and different beauties. But tonight we carry with us the peaceful rhythms of this first duchy, where time moves at the pace of markets and seasons rather than clocks and schedules, where beauty is found not in grand gestures but in the patient accumulation of centuries of care. As we make our way back through the medieval streets, one last time, the stars are beginning to appear above the darkening towers, the same stars that have watched over Uzaz since Roman times, that guided medieval travelers. That will continue to shine long after our brief visit becomes just another layer in this town's long history. Sleep well, fellow travelers. May your dreams be filled with golden stones and gentle fountains, with the taste of local honey and the scent of medieval herbs.
