It's not JUST a Color

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

The weather forecast for Lyon was cold and rainy.  I cared nothing for it.  My plan was to go south and bask in the sun.  My destination was the historic city of Orange, once the Roman center of Arausio.
Ok.  I get the title of the post now. (Someone thinks she's cute.)
The current name is the Occitan version of the Roman name.  It has nothing really to do with the color.
I began with the first of several disappointments.  My faithful cash machine was down.  Fine.  I can pay for my ticket with a credit card, which I did.  Here I want to mention that French boys and young men are carefully taught to be nice to old ladies.  I think that at least partially explains the charm with which I have been met by them, including the guy that sold me my ticket today, and very excited he was to give me the off peak travel discount.
In fact the travel times I chose were crucial to avoid the twin horrors of changing trains (I am capable of this; I just don't like it) and busses.  Some of the trips involved getting off the train and boarding a bus, and then getting back on a train a couple of stations down the road.  Non, merci! And this was a long enough trip without that.  Two hours is my day trip limit and this fulfilled it.
The trip down to Orange was somewhat dull.  Our way took us beside the river a lot, which I liked, and sometimes I caught glimpses of crumbing castles, but mostly it was industrial parks and things like that.  But then south of Vienne the country began to change.  It became bony by which I mean even though we weren't in the mountains a lot of exposed stone appeared.  The green of the vegetation altered, and when I saw the groves of olive trees, I knew we were in Provence.  The land began more and more to resemble Southern California albeit after a good rainy season.  The grass was gold, and I saw dry burnt looking fields and soil.
Orange made an initial bad impression on me.  We crossed a dry river bed and passed a junkyard full of rusting cars. Shades of Los Angeles!
The impression was not improved when I found that both google maps and the signs posts had let me down once again as to the location of the Tourist Office, and the public toilet I found (I was in need) took my money and did not open.  Fortunately I did find the Tourist Office, and another charming and gracious young man to whom I explained my need for facilities.  I decided that my first stop should be the Roman Theatre.
Zowie!  Orange's Roman remains are impressive, and this is probably the best preserved Roman theatre still in existence.  They still use it, too, touting its superior acoustics.  And it's not the only one.  Bits and pieces are scattered about the city, but I also walked out to the Triumphal Arch.  Incredible! Amazingly well preserved.  The center of the city is pedestrianized and very pretty although I did not have the good weather I'd hoped for.  It was cold, windy, and occasionally rainy.
Orange became an independent principality, and by various dynastic alliances came to be inherited by Willem of Nassau, later called "The Silent" and leader of the Dutch Revolt against the Spanish.  Orange was a Protestant enclave in this Catholic area and was eventually incorporated into the Kingdom of France by Louis XIV, who was understandably perturbed by the enmity of the current Prince of Orange, who ruled not just the Dutch Republic but Britain as well!
It's a fair step from the station to the town center and back, but when I arrived at the station the notice was that our train was going to be late.  I understand enough French to know what "en retard" means.  Phooey. I was cold and tired by then, but I'm home now, so all is well.