As I clamber out of a taxi on the riverfront, I smell oleanders, car exhausts and a promenade hot in the late spring sunshine. Avignon's half-remaining mediaeval bridge thrusts a bony finger into the river, above which the pope's palace flaunts a feudal heap of towers and crenelations. There could hardly be a better place to board a river ship and, between battered monuments, whizzing Renaults and plane trees, I couldn't be anywhere but France.

Even the new SS Catherine, trim and white and chic, looks impeccably French, afloat on a sun-sparkled Rhone that gurgles towards the Mediterranean. In contrast, its interior is cool and dim and colourful. I undertake a quick recce - bar at the back, lounge in front, restaurant below - but will savour its luxuries later.

For now, I hurry down the gangplank, dodge across the road and enter Avignon under a tower skew-whiffed by the passing centuries. Streets are pitted limestone canyons, squares chatter-loud and strewn with cafe tables. History lurks on every corner.

My afternoon walk is only a sneak peak. As dinner is served on board we're already sailing away, but no matter. My itinerary shows we'll be passing this way again, with ample time to explore. By the time four courses have been devoured, we're tying up at Tarascon, where a bold fortress sits above the river, surprising passengers as they emerge onto the rooftop deck for a post-dinner stroll. Cameras click as the light fades, and conversation is abuzz with satisfaction.

Uniworld's SS Catherine was launched in April and carries 159 passengers. Cabins are bright, spacious and luxurious, with snuggle-worthy sheets and bathrooms that won't break your elbows as you swivel. Many upper cabins have balconies that can be glass-enclosed to form extra interior space.

Public areas have a similar luxury focus, though the design style (ornate artworks, leopard prints, baroque clutter) won't be to everyone's taste. That wouldn't matter, except that design considerations often trump outlook; swathes of drapes and pots of windowsill orchids impinge on views, especially from the restaurant. Outdoor space is very limited given that the rooftop deck is often closed due to low bridges.

Yet service is close to impeccable. Waiters, presided over by ever-vigilant maitre d'hotel Dimitar, are outstanding. In contrast to the middle-of-the-road international cuisine served on many river ships, Uniworld features excellent, regionally focused cuisine. It can sometimes veers towards the inventive but even carries off blue cheese ice-cream with taste and style.

Next morning we're on a 40-minute coach journey to Arles on a road that winds through fields of sunflowers, melons and rice. Our garrulous guide Jeanette ("The only thing French about me is my name") is British, but a long-term resident of the region with an insider's knowledge, yet an outsider's eye for the absurdities of local culture.

"You see?" she says as she leads us into the old town along pooped-upon flagstones. "Everyone washes the streets outside their home or shop early in the morning. But then they let their dogs out, and you see the result ... "

Even this early in the season, the alleys of Arles are tourist busy. Van Gogh is the drawcard. Some of the mad Dutchman's most famous canvases were painted here: Starry Night, Sunflowers, Bedroom in Arles, Night Cafe and several portraits of cafe owner Madame Ginoux. Van Gogh was half-poisoned while he stayed here by faulty gas lamps and the pigments on his fingers, which he never cleaned, according to Jeanette.

"He practically survived on bread, he was a stroppy fellow by all accounts, he cut off his ear and shot himself. But my god, those paintings!"

We walk among van Gogh streetscapes. Yellow buildings with green shutters wobble in the heat haze, red fruit spills from market stalls, bright orange cafe awnings sag. But Arles has a pedigree that far predates the post-Impressionists. It was founded in the seventh-century BC and is crowned by a bulky Roman amphitheatre that sits, curiously almost ignored by visitors, in a swirl of postcard stands and pickled-olive shops. It's still used for operas and bullfights.

"You wouldn't want to be a matador's wife," sniffs Jeanette. "Your bedroom would be full of the cut-off ears of bulls that the bullfighters of Provence get as trophies."

Arles is about painters, Avignon next morning about popes. Their empty and austere palace - more fortress - is a little disappointing, but the town is lovely and the undercover market provides a chance to salivate among cheeses and candied fruit. By afternoon, we've scattered between a choice of Uniworld's shore excursions, some to a cooking class, others to kayak the Gard River or pedal the promenades. Stories are swapped later over roast duck and creme brulee, served by white-gloved ship's waiters.

The pleasure and frustration of river cruising is that you're ever moving onwards. By morning, 80 kilometres upstream, we're disembarking at Viviers, technically no longer in Provence but in the less glamorous-sounding Rhone-Alpes region. The ancient riverside town is topped by France's smallest cathedral, where we're treated to an organ concert that makes the pews tremble. The town itself appears to have more cats than people and, away from the mainstream tourist trail, provides a snapshot of a crumbling provincial town.

In all truth, the town would be unremarkable if it weren't for the banter of our guide Jeanette. It's my good luck that she's once more in charge of my excursion group, because her anecdotes of French life bring the town alive. She has lived in Viviers since 1982, having met her French husband when he came to fix her fridge. She points out the hospice where he was born, their favourite frescoes on the town hall, the hanging sausages in the butchery where they shop.

"The French always eat between 7.30 and eight. It's the most dangerous time on the roads, because everyone rushes home for their food. If they're late for dinner watch out, they have a brain-snap and get ratty.

"So here's my tip for marrying a local. Always carry a slice of bread in your pocket if you're with a Frenchman, you never know when you might need it."

We sail from Viviers shortly after lunch. An overcast sky is leached of the Provencal colours that entranced van Gogh. Power plants, a nuclear station and the slimy walls of locks move past my cabin windows. Distracted by my two-hour dinner, I miss a sudden transformation. As the ship nudges into Tain l'Hermitage, vineyard-knitted hills have emerged, backed by a blue smudge of Alps. The sky has cleared, the river is a blue mirror etched with an orange sunset. Two villages, linked by a pedestrian bridge, bristle with church spires. On the opposite bank, Tournon has a Madonna-topped tower and grim castle.

Shortly after breakfast I'm working off my omelette in the hillsides above Tain, following a trail on the map provided by the ship's concierge. It's a steep hike through vineyards towards a tiny chapel, but the reward is a sun-soaked view down the Rhone Valley towards the still-hazy Alps. I still have time to join the 10am shore excursion to Tournon on the opposite bank, where local guide Philippe provides an erudite tour peppered with historical detail.

I decide to skip the final cellar-door visit; after all, regional French wines are served on SS Catherine every night, and I reckon a good Cotes du Rhone will accompany this evening's menu. I take Philippe's advice and head up behind the town on a hiking path that provides a serendipitous hour. The path winds upwards through poppies and daisies and into a cedar forest before returning through vineyards. Two defensive towers provide delightful views of rooftops and Rhone. The cabin windows of my Uniworld ship wink below.

Afternoon is an upriver meander. Hillsides are pegged with vines, and terracotta towns drift by as I sit on the sundeck. There are many things to love about river cruising, but this slow glide through pretty landscapes, feet up and beer at my elbow, is one of the best. Another is being transported to a new scene with the scantest of effort. Tomorrow's treat will be to roll out of bed, pull back my curtains and find Lyon outside.

Until then, I have nothing to worry about, except whether I want a bearnaise sauce with my beef tenderloin tonight, and whether I can possibly choose between the Charouce and Saint-Nectaire on the cheese plate.

The writer travelled as a guest of Uniworld Boutique River Cruise Collection.

TRIP NOTES

MORE INFORMATION

visitprovence.com; rhonealpes-tourisme.com.

GETTING THERE

Etihad flies to Abu Dhabi with onward connections to Geneva, from which direct trains run to Lyon. Phone 1300 532 215, see etihad.com.

CRUISING THERE

Uniworld Boutique River Cruise Collection's eight-day Burgundy & Provence cruise runs between Avignon and Lyon (or the reverse) and is priced from $4159 a person twin share, including meals, gratuities, port charges and guided shore excursions. Phone 1300 780 231, see uniworldcruises.com.au.