Arles, formerly Arelate in Roman times, my current home town. The old stones glowing under a féerique light. The brusk haughtiness of red-eyed Gypsies in the streets. Girls with hair dyed too black, clothes too tight. Muscle men in faded Souleiado shirts pounding through the Camargue on horseback, chasing wild bulls. The flock of the world to discover, uncover the Rencontres International Photography Festival. Being blasted by rapid-fire gastronomical feats at L’Atelier de Rabanel, our Michelin two-star. Dancing under the rain during the Féria, the twice-annual bullfights or in the Amphitheatre to Massive Attack. Sitting at Mon Bar on the Place du Forum at sunset with 2€ glasses of rosé, trying to be patient as the heat simmers down. A passing car screaming local boys done good, The Gypsy Kings. The ringing bells of Saint-Trophime calling the faithful on a Sunday morning. Tai-chi stepping through the throngs of Provence’s largest outdoor market. Closing the shutters, then opening them for a new day.
All of this is Arles, if just a tiny slice of the pie. But if anything, the Arles of my everyday is best experienced while walking with Ben, our Golden Retriever. Certainly on the Rhône, which makes its last sweeping curve towards the sea just yards outside my front door (and which I am so attached to that it calms the voice in my head that beckons me towards the chic St. Rémy). Strolling with my friend Frederique and her yippy-sweet mutt Galinette. Or alone, or with my companion, Remi, in all seasons. And since it has been far too long since I have written about my town, I thought that I would take you with us, especially as the day was as lovely as they come with a slight breeze puffing around mushy white clouds. So this is what I saw on one typical day but I will divide it up into two parts, to start, to leave a bit of room for the future.
Before we hop up the stone steps on the quay to breathe in the river, we pass the Thermes de Constantin. Built in the 4th century AD by the Emperor Constantin, the thermes or baths, were only uncovered in the 19th century and were a part of his palais or palace. Didier, the wood-carver on the corner, remembers playing in it as a child when it was still largely abandoned. Archeologists have come to realize that the structure stretches out across the neighborhood and originally included not only hot and cold baths, but a library and community meeting rooms. Personally, I prefer the architecture of the Musée Reattu that lines the quay. Formerly a Grand Priory of the Knights of Malta, the 15th century structure was saved by the painter Jacques Réattu after the French Revolution when such monuments were sold off to the public. It is currently home to an avant-garde collection of sound based art as well as a series of fifty-seven drawings that Picasso gave to the museum in gratitude for the wonderful moments that he had spent in Arles. Gargoyles stand guard over the treasures.
I love this random arch on its roof and wonder if it previously held a bell for the priory. The street below offers the perfect balance of light, shade and protection from the Mistral winds. More importantly, it is also piétonne, or closed off to cars for most of the day. Ben knows this and usually kicks into one of his rabbit hops of delight just beyond the red light. Safe to run as he pleases. There are petitions that circulate every so often to close off the entire historic center of town, what a miracle that would be if it ever becomes law.
Winding away from the museum, we pass the gates of the Hôtel Montblanc. Remi and I wishfully tried to imagine squeezing into a small apartment that is for sale in one wing of this Renaissance monster with its courtyard stuffed with sagging orange trees. Alas, not possible but I really need to post photos of the front hall if I haven’t already.
All roads lead to the Place du Forum. Two stately columns are all that remains of what was previously the entry to a sprawling complex that was the heart of Roman Arles. They are firmly entrenched in the walls of the extravagant Grand Hotel Nord-Pinus, famed for having welcomed the likes of everyone from Henry James to Stendhal to Yves Montand and Jean Cocteau. The fabulously sexy photograph of Charlotte Rampling sitting naked on a dining table was taken by Helmut Newton here as well, which says not a little about Arles itself. Speaking of celebrities, yes, there is also the Café Van Gogh, once represented by a certain Vincent in the painting Le café, la nuit. Charming as that might be, as I have voiced before, no, no, no. Don’t be tempted by the shade of the plane trees nor the wily smiles of beckoning hostesses. Do not eat here. Or anywhere on the Place save for the new Chez Caro. Otherwise, a pastis, a glass of wine, ice cream if you must. Ben and I will keep walking.
I often turn up the Rue des Arènes as it is is lined by some of the finest hôtel particuliers in Arles. What examples of grandeur remain in this fine city and I can only imagine what lies behind such finely carved doors. Exceptional details are everywhere. Best to walk slowly enough to take them all in.
The street eventually narrows into a cobblestone alley that squeezes you out with a pasty-chef style plop, où? Where? At the Arena, of course! It is something to behold, isn’t it? I’ll leave you here to explore, picking you up soon, I promise, to tell you all about it and then continue our walk…
Dear Heather,
Thanks for the engaging post.
One of Louisa Jones's most admirably restrained comments concerned the Hotel Nord Pinus in Arles:
"Their main contribution seems to have been a name that never ceases to puzzle and amuse American patrons".
Of course, Henry James wrote (in the 1880's) of Arles's main square: "ill proportioned…not at all monumental, and given over to puddles, and to shabby cafes."….adding that there were only "two shabby cafes" both of which were so awful that, whichever one you chose, you were bound to wish that you'd gone to the other one.
Vincent Van Gogh also (as youmight know) complained mightily and lengthily about the food in Arles in letters to his brother, Theo.
I gather your opinion differs from theirs; but, then, this wouldn't be the first time your writings have indicated that you're neither a pompous, Anglophilic novelist nor a lunatic Dutchman.
Oh…don't forget….
The poets, Frederic Mistral and Alphonse Daudet, also deigned to grace Arles (and, in particular, the Hotel Nord-Pinus) with their patronage. they hated it (particularly the waiter), cl;aiming that it served "ridiculous" food meant for "traveling salesmen".
In the 1970's, damned old, bile-filled, self-indulgent (if famous as a food writer) M.F.K Fisher also visited….and was crushingly disappointed to find that practically nothing and nobody managed to even approach living up to her expectations/standards.
Not that I would want to spend an evening anywhere with any of the above-mentioned folks.
Louisa Jones's marvellously entertaining and informative (if underservedly obscure) book "Provence: A Country Almanac" has three wonderul entries concerning Arles and the Hotel Nord-Pinus's "story".
I should emphasize that I scarcely learned all of these facts while growing up in East Tennessee. I give full-credit to the very funny (I think) Ms. Jones and her good books.
sincerely,
David Terry
http://www.davidterryart.com
One of my favourite towns of all….lovely shots, xv.
Yep, that's how I remember it, with teeth chattering in the December mistral – brrrr!! Next time I have to come in beautiful weather; do you have room for me in your new apt? Thanks for the elegant tour, mon soeur!
Thanks for this lovely tour of Arles! Wish I was there…. sigh… Looking forward to part 2.
~ Clare x
PS: Jealous that you got to play Ophelia haha! I hope to play her one day soon before it's too late – eek!
Good evening Debra, come on over! 🙂 Well, it is interesting here as Arles is the largest commune (town zone) in all of France because of the Camargue to the South–it is far larger than Paris in terms of acreage though far less populated, of course. The Historical Center of town has only about 52,000 residents. So that means that there is always room for another family (especially with another golden)!
I am glad you appreciated the start of my little tour. The town itself is quite something as you have well seen…I never take it for granted.
Bon soirée…
I just love your town Heather and you describe it so well. Funny but your town has gargoyles standing guard and I have gargoyles in my studio guarding my textiles, I have this thing for gargoyles. I'm especially drawn to the stunning architecture on the buildings and the doors are fabulous! May I ask how many people live in your town? You make me want to jump on a plane and visit Arles, if only…….
Have a wonderful Sunday evening Heather!
Hug Debra
You have made visiting Arles very tempting. Thank you for the educational tour. It is always much more meaningful to view a town through the eyes of a resident.
Wishing you a pleasant visit with our guests.
Helen
Jane and Lance, Beauvoisin! That is a half an hours drive from my door! Maximum! Really, what on earth are you waiting for? Actually, hold that. I have dear friends that I haven't seen in over ten years coming tomorrow (!) but other than that, please think about it. Although, having an idea of what could be your preferences, I would highly suggest that you wait until September. After this week, when the weather is at its finest, the crowds come rushing in and it is no fun at all. And yes, we will be soon moving but! Something to think about and I am so glad that you both enjoyed the beginning of my little "tour". I know that this is a rather gimmicky post but if it brings friends from around the world to my door, all the better!
And so Trace, yes, that also means you. But I know that I certainly don't have the means to hop on a plane to Cali otherwise I would have already been tempted to do so. And no, NO, you can't swing out Twain for any So-Cal morning, girly. Tsk-tsk, you have been living under the palm trees for too long!
Were I as ambitious/close? as Jane and Lance I might be inspired to do the same, and what a house party you would have inflicted upon you! but as it is, I was inspired to google some of the many things you know that i do not, once again, given the gift of your life experience and more impressively, I was inspired to roust myself from under the down comforter on a California morning that might have inspired Twains "coldest winter" comment in order to take a walk of my own with a dog of my own and I'm doing it right now or I'd stay in bed all morning bouncing around Arles virtually speaking. xo trace
Hello Heather:
As we sit here in our Morning Room, glasses of chilled Cotes de Provence rosé [ another dinner guest gift] in hand, we have strolled with you through these most delightful mises en scenes of Arles which you have so beautifully presented us with today.
Such drama of the Arena, such well-heeled splendour in the Rue des Arenes, such ancient foundations and such modern style. It all speaks of a thriving community, holding on to what is good of its past whilst also being unafraid to face the future. A quality of life to be admired and enjoyed. How fortunate you are to live amongst all of this.
We have knowledge of Nice and the Cote d' Azur but, in spite of repeated invitations from friends in Beauvoisin have yet to explore Provence. Even after Part One, we feel that we are inspired to book the train to Zurich [gateway to Provence from Budapest] this very day.