Saint-Paul-de-Vence. A Dream Village on a Hilltop

Saint-Paul-de-Vence – A Dream Village on a Hilltop

When we visit our French family in Nice, things get cozy quickly in their charming but compact apartment. For short stays, city hotels are fine – but for longer visits, we yearn for the peaceful, green hills behind the coast.
This time, Airbnb led us to a small cottage near Saint-Paul-de-Vence. Surrounded by olive trees, lavender in the air – and right next door to Violette and Hervé.

Arriving and Instantly Belonging

No need to settle in. We arrive – and we’re already home.

The sun warms, the cicadas sing, and life slows down.
Then we discover Saint-Paul-de-Vence – a village that looks like it fell out of an old painting.

A Village Like a Painting

Encircled by ancient walls, Saint-Paul perches high on a rock, with views over the Provençal hills and all the way to the sea.
Artists like Marc Chagall and James Baldwin knew exactly why they came here – it’s not a museum, but a living, glowing work of art.

Falling in Love as You Stroll

We wander the narrow lanes, drifting from shop to studio, past stone walls bathed in warm southern light.

Art, Light & Way of Life

“I love places where art and life are inseparable.”
– Marc Chagall

Everywhere you feel how art and everyday life intertwine.
Sculptures casually lean against old stone, galleries open like living rooms – and above all is that light. That special southern light that makes shadows dance and colors sing.

An Evening Like at Nonna’s – the French-Italian Way

Our Airbnb with Violette and Hervé? Sadly, it’s gone – they’ve moved to Bordeaux.
But before they left, they invited us for dinner.

Violette – with Italian roots and a passion for cooking – created a meal we still remember: Polenta alla spianatora.
Violette cooked, Hervé stirred (and refilled glasses).

The artist in the kitchen: Hervé stirring and pouring more wine.

 

We were hoping for pasta – and got a northern Italian masterpiece: creamy polenta spread on a wooden board, topped with tomato ragout and then – cheese. Lots of cheese. Seriously, a lot.

No menu, no etiquette. Just hearty, shared food – eaten together, from the center, with spoon or bread.
A night you don’t plan – but treasure.

This is hospitality à la Provence-Italo-style: cooking together, sharing, laughing – and savoring.

Living Like a God in France? Oui.

That evening on our little terrace, a glass of wine in hand and crickets in the background, we knew: Saint-Paul-de-Vence is not a place to rush through.
It’s a place to stay, to sink into, to return to.

There won’t be dinner with Violette and Hervé next time – they’ve moved on.
And so will we.

But somewhere out there, another little house is waiting. New hosts. Pasta instead of polenta.
And maybe another evening that lingers – quietly and beautifully – in memory.

Next stop ➡️ Menton. The Lemon Capital