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…
Chin up, Mr. Terry! For if not a Pulitzer, you have been awarded the "Most likely to make me Laugh outloud" Award. And for that, I thank you.
Dear Heather, I know, I know….
Given my remarks about Taschen's books, I might as well tune into the QVC channel and then begin disingenuously complaining to anyone-who'll-listen "I hate this channel! They're just trying to SELL you something! They don't fool me one BIT!"
Duhh. I probably won't be awarded a Pulitzer for in-depth, investigative online-journalism anytime soon.
dispiritedly yours as ever,
david Terry
Good morning Mr. Terry. Well, I am not going to tumble (or dive) into the pitfalls of your last question. Namely as I have not yet embided enough coffee to give you a deservingly witty response. 'Expectations' is a verrry dangerous word.
I think that Taschen's editorial line is often about allowing folks to dream or fantasize (they offer an entire category called "sexy books" ). There you have it. Their success says a lot about what people are looking for these days…
Oh, Miss Heather….. I wouldn't pay too much attention to my opinions if I were you. Like all too many other academics who've spent years lecturing captive audiences of folks under the age of 25?… I probably don't spend enough time wondering whether anyone ASKED for my literary opinions.
In any case, I just came in for lunch and, thinking that I might have been more than usually a complete bitch in my assessment of Angelika Taschen's "Living in Tuscany", did a quick tally of the book's contents. Turns out that the contents comprise 9 actual homes, four sorta/maybe-homes (designer showcases, I gather), and six official hotels/b&b's.
So, it's close to an even split between folks who "live" there and folks who will gladly SELL you something if you come there with a lot of money. duhh.
Still, the book would have been more accurately named if the title were "Provence Interiors", "Decorating in Provence", "How to Spend a Buttload of Your/Someone's Cash in Provence", etcetera.
Since getting that book, I've stuck with Flammarion editions. They meet my expectations, which all I ask of the world these days. That's not too much, don't you agree?
Level Best as Ever,
David Terry
http://www.davidterryart.com
Whew, thanks for the warning, David. Well-heeded! I will definitely look into the purchase of the former and avoid the latter. I DO have Taschen's Provence Interiors which has a well-written forward by Christian Lacroix.
And Q, yes, I wish I had known you then. Sunday in Arles is verry tricky. All the more reason to come back. 🙂
Thank you Greet! There is more to show and you are definitely welcome in Arles when you want. Not far at all for you! 🙂
I am so excited to hear about your upcoming visitor and can't wait to hear all about it…
Bisous,
H.
What a lovely tour of Arles!! Oohhh I wish I could visit you right away!!! Looks so beautiful!! Love the front doors you posted!!
Thank you for sharing my dear!
xx
Greet
Dear Heather,
Louisa Jones's "Provence: A Country Almanac" is readily available through Amazon USA. go to:
http://www.amazon.com/Provence-Country-Almanac-JONES/dp/B000IOF10M/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1308136210&sr=8-1
I have two copies…one for myself and one for the guest house (it's a perfect "dip into" book). Bascially, it's a collection of short "travelogue" essays, with something in it to accomodate all interests. Jones obviously knows her food, art, architecture, gardens, and history. It's quite worth the read and is THE book I give to folks who want to visit or just know about Provence.
Blessedly, it's not another of those silly "lifestyle" books, nor does it discuss Provence as though the region (and its customs/attributes) were some sort of wildly unique (Provence isn't, finally) dry-terrarium.
Have you ever seen a copy of Taschen's "Living in Provence"? It's the most irritating book I've read in a very long while (which is too bad, since not one, but THREE, friends have given me copies for inexplicable reasons). The whole, pretentious book would be fine, I suppose, if it were something you were supposed to take from your room after staying some deluxe hotel. Flipping through the entries, one quickly realizes that practically every "home" is, actually, an actual hotel or For-Rent…or a showcase for one or another high-end interior decorator. It does have entries for the houses of Cezanne and Mistral….but, however great they were as artists, they don't exactly count as "living" in my own book, so to speak. All in all, a big bore…and irritating in its transparency.
So, there you have it…my favorite book on Provence AND my most-loathed.
Now, you can proceed safely….
Level Best as Ever,
David Terry
http://www.davidterryart.com
Oh Heather- I wish I had known you before my visit to Arles 2-1/2 years ago. You could have been my tour guide. As it was we enjoyed the beauty of the city but it was Sunday and much was closed. Clearly I need a revisit to Provence!!
Oh my! Look at all of these wonderful comments! First off though, Helen Tilston, my apologies for not see your comment sooner. And yes, I just got back from a wonderful lunch and walk with them. I am over the moon.
Clare–make it happen! I missed out on Viola and it kills me.
Sister, there is ALWAYS ROOM FOR YOU! 🙂
Hello Vicki, I love to hear that you appreciate Arles. It has such a different ambiance than St. Remy. My friend Sonny says that Arles is already Spanish while St. Remy is Provence. I think she is right.
Mr. Terry, of course this all made me laugh! Because it is true! There is SO much that is wrong with Arles but that is what makes it all the more endearing. It is unique and uniquely beautiful. Now, I will be on the hunt for the Louisa Jones book, which I have never heard of. Many thanks for the recommendation. Jim Harrison, who is not as appreciated in the States as he is here, wrote swimmingly of Arles in his memoir: "Off to the Side". Also a great read.