A flash flood ripped through Vaison-la-Romaine this September making international headlines. The most devastating flood since 1616 left a path of destruction along the course of the Ouvèze River killing 53 people when they were swept away from a riverside campsite. Pictures on CNN showed homes along the river dropping, wall by wall, into the turmoil. The only surviving bridge was Roman, built over two thousand years ago during the first century BC.

Soon, engineers from all over France came to Vaison to study this wonder: the bridge that has survived two major floods (in 1616 and again in 1992), a direct bomb hit during World War II, and two thousand years of heavy traffic.

My father, my daughter, Heidi, and I braved July in southern France to go to Vaison-la-Romaine. The temperature nudged one hundred degrees, humidity could be wrung out of the air, the mistral winds hid their cool, life-saving breath, and rain was a distant memory. The Roman ruins pulled us from our heat-induced lethargy to wander in the scorching sun around the bleached stones of antiquity.

Vaison-la-Romaine is famous as a treasure trove of history, an archaeologists dream. Where Roman ruins rub against a modern town, where a medieval village dominates Castle Hill overlooking both. Each part is separate and complete. Only in a few other places do three complete eras of history exist side-by-side.

Vaison-la-Romaine drapes itself around Castle Hill like a dropped skirt. And like Rome, Vaison nestles between or on seven hills.

In 1907, Joseph Sautel, a young abbot from Avignon, decided to prove his theory that the Roman city of Voconos, known to have been in southern France, was actually the nearby town of Vaison. He chose to excavate on Puymin Hill, a bare hill surrounded by the modern village of Vaison. A few exposed bits of what looked like Roman leftovers stuck out of the ground. It seemed a logical place to start.

He uncovered so many municipal and imperial statues there that the government quickly funded his efforts. Soon, the city of Vaison purchased the whole of Puymin Hill.

There has been constant excavation since Sautel's efforts began, uncovering the remnants of at least six major houses, many small shops, streets, an amphitheater, public baths, parks, a water tower and parts of the network of aqueducts serving the entire town of Vaison.

Now it is known that there are four different layers of civilization at Vaison: prehistoric, Roman, medieval, and modern.

Castle Hill, largest of the seven, juts out the valley floor. From the river it rises quickly, but steadily, to its peak then drops abruptly hundreds of feet. The ruins of a medieval castle sit on top, the medieval town crawls down the hill. There, during the Hundred Years War, citizens huddled in safety.

The Romans, with no marauding armies to worry about, yet, built their extraordinary city along the Ouvèze River and lived there for over three centuries, from about 100 B.C. to 200 A.D.

Vaison was a huge trading crossroads, its citizens growing wealthy on the trade of their locally-grown and produced wines. Their city flourished until the "barbarian" Gauls further north began to grow their own vineyards, produce their own delicious wines — and trade. As the trade and money lessened, so did the population.

In Roman times, the Ouvèze ran high, allowing ships to sail up the river, load and unload cargo. Nowadays rain is a scarcity and the meandering green river is so low, navigation is impossible.

Sautel's first excavations uncovered the remains of the Voconos amphitheater. Unfortunately, not much was left. Two arches known as the "Spectacles" and the bare traces of the stage foundations were left. The rest was a jumbled mass of stone. Most of what exists was reconstructed according to the 1932 idea of what Roman amphitheaters were presumed to have looked like. Today the theater is used for a summer series of operas, plays and concerts.

Roman engineering provided easy and quick access to all 32 rows of seats. Seven thousand people either walked up the aisles, or came in the back passages and entered the theater through "vomitories" — the passageways from the back corridors leading out to the seats. We have them in our modern stadiums. We just use a different name: exits.

Puymin Hill, more like a large bump, seems to be the center of the Roman water works. The Water Tower in Puymin Hill is assumed to be the start of an underground network of aqueducts. As the excavations here are far from complete the archaeologists can only surmise about how the water arrived on the hill. As the Romans are famous for their aqueducts, it's a safe bet that an aqueduct was involved.

They do know that there was a three tier system of priority to dispense water, all done with pipes. The first and lower pipe led out to the general fountains for public usage; the second, or next higher, pipe dispensed water to the public buildings, particularly to the public baths; and the third and highest pipe lead to the private homes of the wealthy. In this way, flow could be controlled depending on the availability of water.

I remember the first time I went to Vaison, with my parents, five years ago. We wandered through a fair share of the ruins, but without the aid of a guide or guide book. Since my French is abysmal at best, I didn't learn much. That May, as we strolled along the mistral-cooled streets I tried to make sense out of the walls, columns, gardens, and stray piles of building materials lying around. My impression was one of small homes, tiny rooms, compact living. Was I wrong.

This time, my father, Heidi, and I paid our six dollars and stepped down the ancient steps back into another world. On our left, a fence separated the modern town from the ruins, behind us the walls of the modern era stopped the excavation into the past. I don't suppose the current residents would appreciate their homes being excavated away to prove a Roman point. To our left and in front of us spread out the stark, sun-bleached ruins. Some almost two thousand years old. This time, I managed to get an English copy of the guidebook.

As we entered the ruins in the middle of modern Vaison, the first home we visited was that of the Messii family, one of the wealthiest in Vaison. Since this home meets modern foundations rather abruptly at Rue Burrus, the educated guess is that it must cover at least 56,000 square feet — and that is just the first floor. That's about the size of 25 of today's houses shoved together, plus or minus a few square feet.

The houses were constructed around gardens and atriums. The usually windowless outside walls were built along the property lines affording privacy, and protection against the intense sun. To the casual pedestrian, all they saw were white walls. Homes were built next to each other, with a "sanitary strip" of stone walkway between them.

Inside was luxurious. Atriums provided light and air. Gardens, pools, fish ponds, and in one case a small fish hatchery, gave much needed and welcomed fruits, shade and greenery. Rainwater collected in pools and irrigated gardens. Large colonnaded overhangs shaded walkways.

If the walls were decorated, the floors weren't. And vice versa. The Romans were firm believers in keeping furnishings and decorations simple. Traces of elaborate mosaics still show in some of the rooms, fading with time and exposure. The few preserved mosaic floors and walls are in the museum farther up the hill.

Statues were a common decoration and many have been found. A Roman version of a classic Greek statue found and displayed at the Messii home has been known for years as the "Vaison Venus." He is actually the Greek god Apollo. Since the discoverers only had a head to go by, and it is lovely, they can be forgiven.

All of the excavated houses have plumbing systems. Water was brought into the house through lead pipes. Cisterns in the kitchen held the water, steam rooms and thermal baths used more. The waste water was flushed out through another system of pipes and aqueducts to the river.

Granted, the homes uncovered so far are the rich owners' homes, with just a smattering of shops scattered in pockets along the roads. While the rich lived lavishly, it is just as clear that not everyone lived this way. Portions of what could be the "rented buildings" have been uncovered. These are presumed to have been several stories high and built around a courtyard with shops on the bottom.

The latrines are, surprisingly, a tourist delight. Although using them today is a no-no, it is guessed that the Romans built their latrines to the outside of their homes with outside access so passersby could avail themselves of the facilities. A constant stream of water flowing underneath the stone slabs (with the appropriate holes) flushed away the waste. One of these latrines is a 30-holer.

As my daughter and father sat on one slab pretending to read the morning paper for the obligatory photo, a man walked by, "Why don't you take off your pants?" My father, a Frenchman himself, stopped laughing long enough to translate and add, "Just like a Frenchman."