The past few weeks have been one of discovery, adventure, and most of all, learning.
I have been lucky enough to visit beaches every weekend, in different regions of Southern France including the beaches of Camargue, Marseille, La Ciotat, and Cap Taillait, which is not far from the wealthy city of Saint Tropez. Needless to say, these beaches were magical. Each of them had their own unique qualities. For example, Marseille is a very busy port city and tourist spot, and there are numerous boats located around a central hub of activity. It is surrounded by various cafes, street performers, and demonstrators with a busy metro stop and buses everywhere. Danielle and I found a small but nice beach to lay on and met a nice girl from the United States who had been living in Marseille for 9 months. She described Marseille as a “funny” city filled with interesting people and a ton of activity. Carrying a watermelon under the crook of one arm she casually explained to us what goes on in the city, she was one of the warm and welcoming personalities we met on our journey.
In Marseille, even the vendors are in the water!
I took a great liking to the city of Camargue. Difficult to get to, Camargue is considered to be the Texas of France. Mainly because of their famous black bulls and white horses. It is also home to pink flamingoes. I took a particular liking to Camargue because it had a very relaxed atmosphere. The cafes were not nearly as pretentious as I have seen in Paris, or even in Aix. There was louder music, more casual dress, and that laid back beach vibe that may be spread through the salty air. The vendors and shop owners were incredibly kind, and there were people from all over who just wanted to enjoy their time at the shore. I felt very comfortable here, and really could imagine that being a place where I could live at some point.
oh so humble Camargue
La Ciotat was also very interesting: its tourist level was between that of the busy port of Marseille and the laid back atmosphere of Camargue. The city is renowned for two things: petanque, which is a game played with metal balls in which the object of the game is to get them as close to the wooden ball in the center as possible, and also film. It is in La Ciotat that the first film was ever filmed, by the Lumière brothers. The short silent film was called “l’Arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat” and the city has garnered a lot of fame from that film. The first beach we arrived at was a pebble beach, with clear waters and many caves to explore. The second one was a bit more feet-friendly, with pebbles not being big enough to crush your soul with every step. Overall, the day was a great success.
La Ciotat, location of the first film ever filmed (“l’Arrivée d’un train en gare de La Ciotat” by the Lumière brothers)
That weekend we also visited the city of Saint-Tropez and a beach close by called Cap Taillat. Saint-Tropez is one of the wealthiest cities in the world, and I could immediately see why once I arrived and looked at the menu prices of the first restaurant I saw. The streets were willed with well-dressed individuals surrounded by Prada, Gucci, and Fendi outlets, and the city was bordered by a line of yachts that stretched down the length of the boulevard. It was one of those times that I felt relatively underprivileged. By the end of our time in Saint-Tropez I was ready to head out and go to the beach, where no one really boasted about one’s own wealth. The beach there was one from a fairy tale. It took a 40 minute hike to get to our destination, but the breathtaking landscape made it all worth it. I loved everything about my surroundings and did not want to leave once I arrived. Unfortunately all good things come to an end and we had to get back on the bus, but the memory of that day still leaves a pleasant aroma drifting about in my head.
Breathtaking scenery of Cap Taillait
more of our hike to Cap Taillait
Finally made it to the beach! and pretty excited I didn’t fall off of this rock
The weekend trips are fun, but I can’t forget the city that I am slowly becoming a native of. In between bits of class I love sitting by my favorite fountain and observing my surroundings, usually eating my newfound favorite pastry called an Opéra (highly recommended). There are usually an abundance of street performers in the area, especially as it gets closer to the weekend. One day, there was one of those standing still performers that pretended to be a statue. I watched as a little girl in a beautiful white skipped ran over to the man and stared at him for a few moments. She then proceeded to reach her hand up to offer the man some money to see if he would take it. I found myself grinning as this was going on, watching how beautiful the wonder of this child was as she ventured to see whether or not the man in the middle of the square was real. He robotically accepted the money, and with very limited motions, took the little girl’s hand to kiss it. Her mother watched anxiously but quietly, and as soon as the event was over the girl trotted back to her mother and they retreated down the street into the crowd. I was still left standing there looking at the same spot as if they were still there, pondering the curiosity of that little girl and if I would have done the same thing when I was her age.
managed to actually capture a photo of this beautiful moment
It is always noteworthy to meet new people in a foreign land, especially those who are similar to you. Not only is it easier to get along with those people, but I am left wondering how we became so similar despite the fact that we were raised about 4,000 miles away from each other. Danielle and I met two french teens who had just graduated from le lycée (high school) and were waiting for their bus home after work. They approached us by speaking loudly from a stoop on the sidewalk we were walking on by saying “hello! vous êtes americaines?” and we stopped and happily explained that we were indeed american. We then asked why they thought so, and they gave us the following reasons: 1. I was wearing a backpack with a water bottle pouch, 2. we had our phones in our front pockets, 3. we were wearing aviators, 4. we didn’t dress like french people and 5. we actually responded to them when we were addressed. The last one confused me so I asked them to elaborate. “The french are not as nice as americans. When they walk around and you talk to them they are always ‘what do you want?’ and ‘why are you talking to me?’ they are never nice…” one of them proceeded to demonstrate to me how a french citizen would react to being addressed by strangers by saying hello to some people on the street whom he did not know and having them either not acknowledge him and walk away or become angered by his advances. I thought it peculiar how a french citizen would hold these stereotypes to be true. These two were very funny and are both named Alex, and we made two good friends on the streets of Aix that day.
This world is starting to shrink for me and I am starting to appreciate it. You can make a joke to someone who doesn’t even speak your native tongue and they will still find it funny. You can look at an amazing sight with someone you can barely communicate with and both share something. While the art of conversation in french continues to be a challenge for me, I hope to meet that challenge head on and explore every possible avenue I can and keep discovering that the people I meet here are not so different, and the places I see will be taken home with me.