In which I scream for grown-up joe.

This may be the most pathetically inadequate set of photos ever, which is a real pity, as Arles is a sweet, very walkable, very old city. Yes, it can be quite touristy too, but with a bit of effort, you can escape the near-ubiquitous van Gogh postcards and kitschy bull-fighting paraphenalia. But back to the inadequacy of this photo sampling: after about, oh, the fifth shot (and twenty minutes into my visit), I ran out of camera juice. This may not seem earth-shattering--alright it isn't--but I was astonished. Crushed. An hour or so from home, and I didn't even have the foggiest notion of where the spare battery might possibly be. I thought of you, fervently, because it was a beautiful day, and I was in a beautiful, ancient space.
And I. Couldn't. Take. Photos. I did masochistically, compulsively take note of all the photos I would have taken (just so you realize, there were some real prizewinners)...until finally I shook myself out of it and got myself something to eat.

Arles has a lot of restaurants; you can easily lose count. Unfortunately, most appear rather mediocre at best. When you're only there for the day, you don't want to spoil your visit with poor camera planning AND a bad meal. I wandered in circles until I decided upon something charmingly off-kilter: a tiny restaurant that serves Provençal and Japanese food, in the form of salads, sandwiches and sushi. (Have you culinary purists lost all respect for me yet?)

But wait--one of the owners is actually, truly Japanese. And I didn't have any sushi anyway; in fact, we all chose sandwiches. By God, if these weren't the finest sandwiches I've had in a very long time. Simple as all get out, but with the perfect baguette (i.e. ideal ratio of crispy crust to soft, non-doughy interior) and well-chosen, high quality fillings. The baguettes were topped with finely chopped tomatoes sprinkled with fresh-ground cardamom and pepper and a judicious lashing of superb local olive oil (which the shop also sells). Never before has lunch at a randomly chosen restaurant been this degree of satisfying. We argued loudly over whose sandwich was the best. Run, don't walk: go pick your own favorite at Fadoli et Fadola, 46, rue des Arènes.
One of the Roman amphitheaters, nearly 2,000 years old and in beautiful condition, is now used for bull-fighting. The image above is just inside the main entrance. If stones could speak...

In fact, many of them do, with intriguing, scratched-in tags. En bref, Arles a un charme fou (basically, Arles has a crazy amount of charm), not least for the history buff, with its seemingly endless pile of gorgeous old buildings. For those of us overheated and recovering from our own small follies, however, there is this to come home to. Luscious, almost slushy, darkly, deeply caffeinated, with the slightest grownup edge of bitterness and a pronounced liqueur accent that elevate it beyond a regular sorbet and make this concoction damn near irresistible. Not to be shared with munchkins--especially when they beg.

Café hyper-glacé pour les grands (Frozen Coffee for Proper Adults)

Number of servings varies widely.

1 ½ cups fresh-brewed strong coffee, chilled
1 cup coffee liqueur, such as Kahluá
¾ cup condensed milk
¼ cup milk
½ teaspoon vanilla

Combine all the ingredients, pour into your ice cream maker and churn. That’s it.