Trip to Nîmes

Finally, something to write home about. Since my last post, we've been doing nothing much, nothing exciting anyway. But the day before yesterday, Karen and I took the train to Nîmes, about 35 minutes east of here. It was a good day, about which more in a moment.

The rest of the time since Pat and Sue left ten days ago, we've kept active with walks around the city, including some fairly long ones. One day we walked through the Beaux Arts district. It confirmed our impressions from the first time we wandered into this neighbourhood: it's not that interesting, and it's a mystery how it gets its name as there is no sign of much art activity, beau or otherwise.

Beaux Arts District, street art and cheeky young passerby

Another day, or perhaps it was the same day - they tend to run together at this point - we did a cemetery tour. I had hoped the cemeteries might at least be visually interesting, and possibly with some historical intrigue too. But both the small Protestant cemetery not far from our place, and the much larger main burial ground further out of the centre date from the 19th century. Where are the older grave yards?

These were certainly different from cemeteries at home, with stone family sarcophagi in tightly packed rows instead of individual plots with gravestones. Most just looked like tombs with crosses or small statues, but a few were elaborate carved stone buildings, including one that looked like a miniature cathedral. Inside was a carved tableau of the dead man lying in state, with his wife and daughter standing looking down at him. I think he was a doctor, one with a very inflated idea of himself from the looks of it. A more imaginative photographer might have been able to make something of this, but not me, alas.

The only grave of historical interest, and that only slight, was the final resting place of Queen Elena of Italy, Elena of Montenegro. She reigned from  1900 to 1946, when her husband, Victor Emmanuel III - he who colluded with Mussolini - abdicated in favour of their son Umberto (who lasted about a month before the Italian monarchy was abolished.) Why was she buried in Montpellier? No idea. And oddly, I haven't been interested enough to find out. The grave site wasn't very distinguished either. There are some WWI dead buried here as well, including a few poor Belgian soldiers who had died far from home.

One day we went to the new photo exhibit at the Pavillion Popular, La Vie en Kodak. The Pavillion Popular is a small public gallery in the Esplanade that shows only photo art. We saw a very good retrospective of Aaron Siskind there soon after we arrived. This one was about a long-running Kodak advertising and promotion campaign, a series of mural-size panoramic shots of American scenes taken between the late 1950s and early 1970s and mounted in Grand Central Station in New York. The works on show here are much smaller copies.

Some, but not many, were shot by top photographers. They are all highly staged, lit like movie sets, and totally artificial. The exhibit verbiage pushes their sociological interest, the  idea that these are icons of the American Dream - more like the great American Lie, I'd say. Interesting, though, that starting in the late 1960s, there are black people in many of the scenes, always very glossy, middle class-looking Sidney Poitier clones, and usually a little separate from the white figures in the scene.

It's hard to imagine a Canadian gallery mounting such an exhibit. I can only think that the taste for this kind of stuff in France is a little like the appetite for American cornball comedy of the 1950s and 1960s, especially Jerry Lewis, who a previous generation of French unaccountably adored.

Karen was down with a migraine another day. I went out for a couple of hours to another photo show, a festival, called Boutographies. There are a few venues, but the one I went to is the main one, in a School of Pharmacy building in the Ecusson, a facility called La Panacée. It has been gorgeously renovated as a display and public meeting space. There were exhibits of work by a number of young photographers. The best of the bunch to my eye was a Japanese-German guy, Heiko Tiemann. He was showing lovely, poignant large-scale portraits of troubled children taken at a  home for kids suffering from Asperger Syndrome and learning disabilities.

(c) Heiko Tiemann

I also did some photographing of my own. The big news in Montpellier is that spring is in full flower. The redbuds and wisteria in particular are glorious, and everywhere.

Eglise Saint-Roch (no, not a redbud or a wisteria)

The other big news is that the fountains are finally on. I noticed the ones in the Esplanade while out for a morning run one day, and then in the afternoon, Karen and I went exploring down to Antigone and found the fountains there were on as well, including the fountain of the three swimmers. We've been kvetching since we came about how all the fountains were dry. No doubt it's a money-saving measure by the city - it certainly can't be worry that the pipes will freeze. In any case, they're a very welcome sight, and sound.

Antigone

We planned the Nîmes trip well ahead and bought rail tickets online - just over €30 return for both of us. We set out a little before nine, caught a 9:15 train and were in Nîmes well before ten. The city is mainly known for its Roman monuments. This is one reason we hesitated so long before deciding to go: we're neither of us big on classical ruins. But the Nîmes monuments are fabulous. They include an intact arena and temple, both dating from the first century AD, and among the best preserved anywhere, and a another temple and a city wall tower in ruins.

Nîmes, Arena

Nîmes, Maison Carré (Square House)

The day started with a visit to the city's other main attraction, the Jardin de la Fontaine, which encompasses the Roman ruins. It's an absolutely gorgeous park with a network of canals - originally built to regulate the water supply for the cloth dyeing industry in the 17th century - and terraced hillsides, lawns and walkways. At the top is the Tour Magne, one of the only remaining remnants of the original Roman city wall.

Nîmes, Jardin de la Fontaine

We paid €11.70 each for a ticket that gave us entry to the Tour, the arena and the Maison Carré, the intact temple. It's pretty decent value, although too much of what you're paying for is "media" - a movie at the temple, an audio guide at the arena. At the Tour Magne, all you can do is read the placcards about the history of the place and climb to the top and look out across the city. It's a wide panoramic view, to be sure, but not especially interesting or pretty. The Nîmes skyline, with a few exceptions, is flat and featureless.

Nîmes, Tour Magne

Nîmes, Jardin de la Fontaine

The temple, called the Temple of Diana - although there is apparently no real evidence it was devoted to the goddess - is down below, near the ancient spring that gives the park its name. It's at least untouched, largely unrestored, and free to enter, but there isn't much to it. I was intrigued by the historical grafitti on the exposed columns, some dating to the early 18th century. We spent close to two hours in the park.

Nîmes, Temple of Diana

The next order of business was lunch. We walked back towards the arena and dove into the small streets of the Ecusson - yes, they call their historical centre the Ecusson, just like in Montpellier, and for the same reason: its shape, like a heraldic escutcheon, when viewed from above. We found a relatively inexpensive little place and had a formule lunch: starter plus plat (chevre salad starters, steak pour moi, Thai chicken for Karen) for a total of €32 plus a modest tip. Not the best meal we've had here by a long shot, but pretty decent value.

The Maison Carré, which we visited next, is a jewel, an absolutely ravishing building. I don't know why I found it so - something do with the proportions and the beautiful golden stone glowing in the sunlight - but I was bowled over. You go into the Maison - into a much later concrete-looking structure inside the original temple columns - only to watch a cheesy movie about the history of the Roman period in the city. It is kind of fun, and the production values are high enough. But as Karen said, "It was made with teenage boys in mind." It mostly focuses on the early non-Roman natives who allied themselves with the Romans against their marauding cousins in the northern part of Gaul. Lots of battle scenes, the joyful homecoming (with the protagonists oddly unaged after 25 years), etc. Twenty minutes.

Never mind, the real point is the outside of the building. Just look at the pictures and you'll get the idea.

Nîmes, Maison Carré (Square House)

The last major stop was the arena, also amazingly well preserved and very atmospheric. Like the one in Arles, it has modern bleacher seating built over the original stone bleachers. It's still used for bullfights and other entertainments, including a re-enactment of gladiatorial games running in a couple of weeks to kick off the summer tourist season. I don't think Karen was terribly impressed. It was too much like other Roman arenas we'd visited in the past, she felt. Fair comment. I enjoyed it, though.

Nîmes, Arena

The audio guide was good, and certainly detailed enough. Much of the commentary was about the gladiatorial combats for which the arena was originally built. What an appallingly barbaric entertainment! Even during the heyday of this arena, it was awful enough - with mass public executions of prisoners and martyrdoms of Christians, sometimes ripped apart by wild animals. But at least there were rules, and the competitors were mainly professionals. In the waning years of the empire, it was just an unrelenting bloodbath, with conscripted fighters who had no choice but to kill or be killed. And we think bullfights are barbaric!

With what was left of our time, we went in search of the cathedral, which when found, turned out to be small and singularly unimpressive. We sat in the park in the central square between the train station and the arena for awhile, then caught our train home.

Yesterday was a down day. Today, we were supposed to take the bus to Pézanas, a pretty little town between here and Béziers to the west. The trip was aborted after a comedy of senior-moment errors.

First, Karen forgot to take a gravol, or bring them or her migraine pills with her. After our bus excursion to Saint-Guillhem-le-desert, I was not prepared to take the chance on her being okay without them, so I ran back to get the pills and met her at the tram stop with just enough time. At that point, however, I realized I'd left my wallet at home. That's the first time I've done that in a very long time. So we'll go tomorrow.

It'll be something to write about in my next blog, which will be the last from Montpellier. We only have a week left here.

Bonjour Pat et Sue...et bon voyage!

We've just had a lovely, if short, visit from my sister Pat and her sister-in-law Sue. They brought spring with them. Everything is busting out here: trees are budding, red bud trees are redding and the wisteria are fabulous. Pat and Sue had only nine days in France - far too short a time. They flew into Paris, stayed at a hotel in Saint-Germain-des-Prés for four nights and then came to us in Montpellier by train on Tuesday.

Montpellier, near River Lez, flood overflow canal

Karen and I hadn't really done anything since I last wrote, except one long-ish walk on Monday. We went down through Antigone to the river, along it as far as we could go, away from the sea, and then back through the centre and home. The walk took us through a quiet riverside enclave of apartment blocks, some with interesting architecture, and along part of an overflow canal that has been heavily painted with graffiti (see above). It wasn't the most fascinating of walks but did net a few pics I like.

Antigone, Médiathèque Emile Zola, statue of archangel Michael (note the horns - what's that about?)

Antigone, Médiathèque Emile Zola, vandalized statue of Demosthenes

Antigone, Médiathèque Emile Zola, back side

Then on Tuesday, Karen and I walked over to the market under the aquaduct (which I referred to as Les Arches in the last post, but is actually called Les Arceaux - the hoops.) It didn't seem much if any smaller than on Saturday, but not as busy. We got more of the vegetarian gallettes we'd tried on Saturday (very good) and looked for, but didn't find, hummus. This was all for a welcome lunch for Pat and Sue, with baguette, cheese, pate, etc.

Their train was due at 12:50. The main SNCF (national rail system) station, St. Roch, is about a seven minute walk from our apartment. They were travelling fairly light and had had a four-hour train ride from Paris so were glad of a leg stretch. After lunch, we trotted them out for even more leg stretching, the obligatory get-acquainted-with-Montpellier walk. It goes up through Place de la Comédie, down the Esplanade, through the Ecusson to the cathedral and the Place Royale de Peyrou, then through more of the Ecusson and home.

Back at the ranch, Pat got on the phone to try and resolve a problem with her credit card. When she went to pay her bill at the hotel in Paris, the machine declined her card. It didn't like Sue's either initially, but when  hotel staff learned the two didn't have enough cash between them to pay the bill, they did something to "force" the payment through on Sue's card - because they said they "trusted" them. (I'm guessing they knew they could use the information captured by their machine from the aborted transaction to put it through again later when whatever temporary problem in their or their bank's system was resolved.)

Pat tried calling her bank from here but after she was unable to answer the security questions confidently, they refused to give her any information. So she called Max who called the bank, which said the card was fine. That's where it was left. There was talk of Pat going out and trying to use her card just to confirm that it was working, but this wasn't done.

After dinner at home, we went out again  in the evening for a brief walk to Comédie. It wasn't as busy and lively as it often is in the early evening, probably because it was a bit cool and windy. And so ended their first day.

Pat and Sue had picked out some things they wanted to do out of town - Aigues-Mortes, the seaside walled town we visited with Ralph and Pat, and Saint-Guillhem-le-desert, the first of our bus adventures. We'd been to Aigues-Mortes twice and too recently to Saint-Guillhem to want to join them on either excursion. It was easy to help them figure out the transit, though, since we'd done the exact same tram-and-bus trip to Saint-Guillhem, and took the Aigues-Mortes bus as far as La Grande Motte the previous week. In any case, the regional bus system has detailed schedules online and the city transit system has a nifty interactive itinerary planner. We worked out detailed itineraries for the day.

Aigues-Mortes, view of walls on sea side (from our visit three weeks earlier)

On Wednesday morning, we walked up to Comédie with them to show them how to use the tram. It did not start well for Pat: the ticket machine declined her card. Sue paid again and off they went. They came home late that evening, happy with Aigues-Mortes, but with Pat still fuming about her card not working yet again at lunch. And apparently her cell phone didn't work either. (That turned out to be a very understandable user error.)

Karen and I had gone for a long walk in the afternoon - much longer than planned because we had no map with us. It took us through not very interesting, and in some cases, not very salubrious, parts of the city to the south and west of us.

We started out going along Avenue Georges Clemenceau, but took a detour through Parc Clemenceau, where we spotted another trompe l'oisle fresco. It appeared to be by the same artist - or at least in the same style - as others we've seen around the city, including just around the corner from us and at the St. Roch church. This one was signed, by A. Fresco (haha). His website indicates that he (she,they?) works all over France. The site doesn't show either of the other frescoes we're familiar with, so maybe they're not his.

Montpellier, Parc Clemenceau

(I later checked the St. Roch fresco and found a signature. It's by a different outfit, 7e sens, apparently a collective of three artists. I also found an article about wall frescoes in Cannes that mentioned A.Fresco, 7e sens and a third studio, Fresqu'île, a two-person company in Paris. And the one near us is signed by another pseudonymous artist again: Mad'Art (with a web address that no longer works). It seems to be a whole genre of street art in France - not in the spirit of the more transgressive Banksy-style artists or the ones we saw in Valencia, but interesting and fun.)

We wiggled through some smaller streets which by chance took us by an exhibition space of the Fonds Regional de l'art contemporain Languedoc-Rousillon, apparently a regional arts funding organization. We popped in and looked at some not terribly inspiring art. There were some large monochrome photo prints with interesting subjects and compositions - abandoned buildings, dogs lying in the sun on a stone terrace, etc. - but I'm guessing made with a digital SLR that wasn't really high enough resolution for this level of enlargement (3x4 feet, maybe bigger). The prints looked a little soft focus and muddy to me.

The walk from there was through not particularly nice areas. We thought of turning down one street of slightly down-at-heels apartment blocks but the street was full of young men just hanging around, so we walked on. It probably would have been fine, but when you don't know the city...better to err on the side of caution. The route took us up the hill to the west of the city centre. As the ground got higher, the dwellings, as is usually the case, got more affluent. Rich folk like to be able to look down on the plebs.

We kept following our noses and ended up at Avenue de Lodève which runs alongside the number three tram line. At that point we knew more or less where we were. It looks like the street had once been prime real estate. There are some big early-20th century mansions with walled parks, now turned into apartments or, in one case, an old folks home (oldER folks, that is). Lodève intersects with Cours Gambetta near where we turn to go the Arceaux market, and from there it was a short walk home. We were out tramping over two hours altogether. Karen's Fitbit said she'd gone almost ten miles this day.

After a late-ish dinner (Pat and Sue didn't get back until almost 8), we sat around nattering and planning their trip the next day to Saint-Guillhem-le-desert.

They got going fairly early in the morning, shopped at the local Carrefour and market for the dinner they planned to make us that night, then headed out with a picnic lunch for Saint-Guillhem before noon from the tram stop just around the corner.

Saint-Guillhem-le-desert, Place de la Libertée (from our visit two weeks before)

Karen and I had a very lazy day, with a lunch out at Le Prince de Minorque, in one of the little side streets near the St. Roch church. Karen had a very nice beef stew, I had the inevitable faux filet (not really faux at all, just not what the French would call a filet) with frites. It was a cool little restaurant, decorated with pictures of 60s and 70s pop stars, mostly English and American, and guitars and other music memorabilia. They were playing old footage of concerts on the video screens. I had forgotten how good the Beatles were in their last concert on the roof of the Apple building in London in 1971. (And now I have the songs - not among the Beatles' best - as persistent ear worms.) Lunch was followed by a shortish walk around the centre.

The ladies returned about 7, enthusiastic about their day, and pleased that Pat's card is finally working. She had bought a pretty scarf at one of the nice little shops in S-G. They were immediately busy in the kitchen whipping up our dinner, which was followed by another evening, fairly late for us, of good natter.

Good Friday: the plan was to bicycle to the sea, to the Cathédral de Maguelone. Pat and Sue were keen to do it, although Pat is not much of a cyclist, and Sue hadn't cycled since the fall. The day was supposed to be gorgeous, and was. While they were out in the morning, trolling around the shops in the Ecusson, I thought to Google-map the route, and discovered it was a little longer a ride than I had assumed - 19 km each way. Hmm was that too much for them? I can't remember whether in the end I told them the distance or not. In any case, they were still keen to go, and go we did, setting out before noon with a picnic lunch.

Getting them rental bikes from VeloMagg was the same frustrating hassle it had been initially for Ralph and Pat because of the less-than-user-friendly interactive system at the kiosks, but eventually we succeeded. The sun was out, the temperature was heading up over 20C, the wind was light. The cycling was easy on the Allée de la Méditerranée along the Lez river. All was well, except it was clear Pat's seat wasn't set up high enough. She did adjust it once but it still wasn't high enough. By half way into the ride out, her knees were hurting.

This time we made all the correct turns coming into Palavas-les-Flots off the Allée de la Méditerranée and easily found the route out to Maguelone. We found a picnic table under the trees near the cathedral, just being vacated by a boisterous and welcoming group of young French hikers and had our picnic right away. It was the usual baguette, cheese, hummus, apples, plus Carrefour almond cookies slightly pulverized during the ride. But it tasted great.

The peacocks, two white, two full-colour males and a full-colour female were very interested in our food and kept hanging around. One hopped up on the picnic table vacated by the hikers. I'm not sure Pat and Sue were as taken with the cathedral as we had been. They decided not to do the audio tour, so I was their  incompetent guide. We were probably at the cathedral, all told, including picnic, for less than an hour.

Cathédral de Maguelone, relief carvings at front door

We had a look at the beach near the cathedral on the way back. It's stonier than I thought I remembered, but quite nice. Lots of people walking and sitting at the water's edge. We rode back into Palavas, which on this holiday Friday was a different place from the quiet little town we saw with Pat and Ralph three weeks before. All the tourist shops were open. It was easy to imagine what a zoo it could be in the summer. As Pat said, this weekend was probably a little like our May 24th weekend at home: a prologue to the summer, a weekend for letting loose after the privations of winter. We had a drink at the same patio bar we went to with Pat and Ralph.

Pat in her new scarf (Palavas-les-Flots)

The ride back, predictably, was not quite as pleasant as the one out, although the wind was not  a problem this time. Pat did put her seat up to a suitable height and reported that her knees at least weren't getting any worse, but they were still hurting her. My bike, never the best because it's too small, with handlebars too low, started acting up. The handlebar somehow came loose in its clamp at the top of the stem. It was quite wobbly, making steering difficult. I finally fixed it by slamming the end on the pavement, jamming it back into the clamp. Then as we were riding up the tram ramp at Polygone, the derailleur popped out of position and got fouled in the spokes. That was the end of riding. It will take some fairly serious repairs, I'm guessing. I had to walk it home from there.

I think Pat and Sue were done in. But we rested for an hour and a half or so and then went out looking for a restaurant. They were insisting on buying us dinner. We went up to the Eglise St. Roch area again and found a little place called La Chêneraie, a terrific discovery. Pat was thrilled with the room, with its low ceiling beams and stone arch - very medieval-y. The place offered a three-course formule for €16.80. Everything was very tasty, including the apple pie with caramel sauce we had for dessert. I had a salad with "hearts" (little nuggets) of duck - very nice. With a pichet of wine, enough for four (well, two of them very light drinkers), the total was only €70 and some odd centimes (a little over $100). A meal of that quality at home, with tax and tip, would I'm guessing cost closer to $200.

Pat and Sue headed for their bedroom almost as soon as we got in the door. We wore them out.

Saturday was train day, they were taking the TGV at 3 for a night at a hotel at CDG before their flight the next morning. They had a full schedule planned in Montpellier, though. In the morning about ten, we walked over to Les Arceaux market and bought stuff for our lunch and their picnic on the train. The gypsy jazz boys were back and sounding very good. As Pat said - now why hadn't I noticed? - "they're so cute."

Les Arceaux market, Pat and Sue (background) listening to gypsy jazz boys

I think Pat was referring in particular to the one on the right

Les Arceaux market, Pat and Sue buy bread

We came home and they almost immediately went back out for a final shop in the boutiques of the Ecusson, returning about one, each with clothing purchases. We had lunch, they finished packing and then it was time to walk down to the train station. Bon voyage Pat and Sue!

Near apartment, walled garden with Wisteria

Karen and I had a lazy rest of the day. On Sunday, Karen was down most of the day with another migraine. I went out briefly for a walk in the late afternoon and was remarkably unsuccessful in taking advantage of the evening light for photography. Karen's migraine is ongoing today. This is a little worrying. I hope it doesn't mean she's in for more of these going forward. She hasn't had anything like this since she was in her twenties. She thinks it's the south of France's changeable, windy weather, and she may be right. I found a French website listing typical migraine triggers and the Mistral was at the top of the list.

Eglise St. Roch, Easter Sunday