In the morning there was more bustle with cleaning up and a post party brunch 
with leftovers from the previous day. Breads, cheeses, weisewurst, sausage salad and cakes were all consumed as well as coffee with beer chasers. That’s right, beer for breakfast. We packed up, said our goodbyes and Renate drove us to the airport.
Bye Jazz! 
Our first plane took us to Frankfurt and from Frankfurt we flew to Marseille in the south of France. Uncle Andreas owns an condo in Port Camargue, a kind-of prefab marina town on the coast of the Mediterranean sea.
The Camargue region is famous for its flamingos, bulls, sailing and seafood, and would make a great launching point for our trips into Provence. The town we were staying in, Port Camargue, is just west of the Petit Rhone and thus officially out of Provence, but this phase of the trip would really be all about Provence. Just above Port Camargue is Provence, to the southwest of PC the French cost curves south towards Spain.
Andreas leaves a modest car at the airport, which we found and got ourselves packed into. From the airport we drove west, first through the industrial grime that is the outskirts of Marseilles and then finally into the mirror-flat coastal countryside of southern Provence. It had been a while since Chris had driven a manual transmission car (or even a gas car, for that matter) but he got the hang of it. We arrived at the apartment around 9pm, settled in and prepared for a busy few days in Provence.
Mediterranean