In the heart of the Southern Alps, just over the lavender fields across from the crowd of the Mediterranean Sea nestled in the Blanche Valley, lies Seyne-les-Alpes.

Far from the beaten track, this village is primarily renowned for the breeding of mules.

Every year at the end of August there is the celebrated fair, where farmers from far and wide come to admire the latest breeds.

There is an enchanting atmosphere to this valley, where the radiance reflecting off the snow capped mountains and the rural odours mingle to create this preserved refuge. You may catch the fragrant scent of the sea air and at the same time breath in the sharp mountain breeze. You may cross through the forestland on skies or snow rackets, and on the same day stroll along while bordering grazing fields. Here gardens and fields have no boundaries, giving the feeling that the land belongs to every body and nobody.

Cattle live in the outside air virtually all year round while horses graze on the field during summer as well as winter when they dig up the odd clumps of grass buried under the snow, while waiting for the farmer to pass with the odd bail of hay.

Here a calm attitude prevails. An atmosphere of typical: “what we can't do today we'll do tomorrow”, with an added touch of genuine friendliness, unlike the next door French Riviera, where tourists are considered as dispensing machines.

The folk's lack of efficiency blends in with the undulating valley, a smooth rhythm that brings harmony back to the restless minds. Even the roads that cut through the unspoilt landscape seemed to radiate an undisturbed quality.

This is where one re-establishes a link with nature, here is an environment that has been undisturbed by Man's manipulation, where the old customs still hold on firmly. The folk are nearly all farmers who have passed on their love for the land throughout generations.

While following the narrow lanes you may see hillocks of stones, formed by the discarded stones thrown by the rough hands of those men and women who worked the land in passed generations, and who continue to heap up those stones that make their earth so difficult to cultivate. As the stones are piled up, the rocky hillocks rise from the land, leaving landmarks that reveal the men's and women's obstinate nature.

This is where the real character of France still lives, where men have not abandoned their traditions and have tried to come to terms with progress without loosing grip of their land.