What do you think of when you imagine the Côte d’Azur? For me, the first image that springs to mind is a literal one of Jaques-Henri Lartigue’s photographs of his muse, the sultry glamorous Renée. Or perhaps the Murphy’s picnicking on the sands with the Fitzgerald’s in a devil may care fashion. So imagine my disappointment on my first visit to the French Riviera to find it over-built, over-busy, over-bling.
That champagne bubble swiftly popped.
Happily, I was invited to spend several truly wondrous days in Menton during les fêtes and there, during this sleepy time of year, I found the stuff of my dreams.
The mystery of it all…
…was rather romantic.
Stairs lead down to secret gardens…
…and up to sweeping sea views…
…the best of which was reserved…
…for those resting eternally…
…in yet another cemetery that left me breathless with wonder.
But oh, there was much charm of the genteel kind…
…for those still walking and laughing, as we did.
Wobbling arm in arm over stone-paved alleys, peeking towards horizons…
…passing a many fruit-laden bower with goods ripe for the picking.
Senses set to soften and soothe…
…to bring out the readiness to play.
Isn’t that the essence of their essence? Those long-ago loungers living for…
…luxe, calme et volupté? *
I felt right home, lost in time, slipping into a sweet vortex, accompanied by friends and a red-headed tree…
…giving a wink to me and the coast of near-by Italy (but more of that soon).
I don’t want to spend too much effort to imagine how very different this town must be sweating under the full summer swing. No, I am perfectly content, delighted even to have been slightly off and slightly on in the off-season of Menton.
to listen:
* L’invitation au voyage
Mon enfant, ma soeur,
Songe à la douceur
D’aller là-bas vivre ensemble!
Aimer à loisir,
Aimer et mourir
Au pays qui te ressemble!
Les soleils mouillés
De ces ciels brouillés
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
Si mystérieux
De tes traîtres yeux,
Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
Songe à la douceur
D’aller là-bas vivre ensemble!
Aimer à loisir,
Aimer et mourir
Au pays qui te ressemble!
Les soleils mouillés
De ces ciels brouillés
Pour mon esprit ont les charmes
Si mystérieux
De tes traîtres yeux,
Brillant à travers leurs larmes.
Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Des meubles luisants,
Polis par les ans,
Décoreraient notre chambre;
Les plus rares fleurs
Mêlant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l’ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
À l’âme en secret
Sa douce langue natale.
Polis par les ans,
Décoreraient notre chambre;
Les plus rares fleurs
Mêlant leurs odeurs
Aux vagues senteurs de l’ambre,
Les riches plafonds,
Les miroirs profonds,
La splendeur orientale,
Tout y parlerait
À l’âme en secret
Sa douce langue natale.
Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Vois sur ces canaux
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l’humeur est vagabonde;
C’est pour assouvir
Ton moindre désir
Qu’ils viennent du bout du monde.
— Les soleils couchants
Revêtent les champs,
Les canaux, la ville entière,
D’hyacinthe et d’or;
Le monde s’endort
Dans une chaude lumière.
Dormir ces vaisseaux
Dont l’humeur est vagabonde;
C’est pour assouvir
Ton moindre désir
Qu’ils viennent du bout du monde.
— Les soleils couchants
Revêtent les champs,
Les canaux, la ville entière,
D’hyacinthe et d’or;
Le monde s’endort
Dans une chaude lumière.
Là, tout n’est qu’ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme et volupté.
Luxe, calme et volupté.
— Charles Baudelaire
Invitation to the Voyage
My child, my sister,
Think of the rapture
Of living together there!
Of loving at will,
Of loving till death,
In the land that is like you!
The misty sunlight
Of those cloudy skies
Has for my spirit the charms,
So mysterious,
Of your treacherous eyes,
Shining brightly through their tears.
Think of the rapture
Of living together there!
Of loving at will,
Of loving till death,
In the land that is like you!
The misty sunlight
Of those cloudy skies
Has for my spirit the charms,
So mysterious,
Of your treacherous eyes,
Shining brightly through their tears.
There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
Gleaming furniture,
Polished by the years,
Will ornament our bedroom;
The rarest flowers
Mingling their fragrance
With the faint scent of amber,
The ornate ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The oriental splendor,
All would whisper there
Secretly to the soul
In its soft, native language.
Polished by the years,
Will ornament our bedroom;
The rarest flowers
Mingling their fragrance
With the faint scent of amber,
The ornate ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The oriental splendor,
All would whisper there
Secretly to the soul
In its soft, native language.
There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
See on the canals
Those vessels sleeping.
Their mood is adventurous;
It’s to satisfy
Your slightest desire
That they come from the ends of the earth.
— The setting suns
Adorn the fields,
The canals, the whole city,
With hyacinth and gold;
The world falls asleep
In a warm glow of light.
Those vessels sleeping.
Their mood is adventurous;
It’s to satisfy
Your slightest desire
That they come from the ends of the earth.
— The setting suns
Adorn the fields,
The canals, the whole city,
With hyacinth and gold;
The world falls asleep
In a warm glow of light.
There all is order and beauty,
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
Luxury, peace, and pleasure.
— Translation by William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)
Hooray, merci! Oh and to you as well Gillian…in Rome…le sigh. We both live/spend time in some dreamy places and know how lucky we are…
And I am glad that you liked the Jean Sablon. You know, Remi and I always refer to his music or others similar from that time period as "Cote d'Azur" music and then, there we were, right in the middle of it! It was too perfect…
I love it when you leave a response that I have to chew on for 24 hours. So I'll just say it: I don't know if anyone has ever tried to describe me in a single sentence before but you nailed it. It is kind of mind-boggling and yet one more check in the "meant to be" box of our friendship.
I am very, very grateful to the Maestro for opening the path for me to find you.
Oh I love the Var! It must have been heaven 20 years ago. But there are still some good spots! Take a look at this older post (mainly to see a favorite photo of Ben if you wish): http://lostinarles.blogspot.fr/2012/04/la-mer-deux.html
Silke, c'est très dur à voir…on peut rien faire… 🙁
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So beautiful, thank you. So looking forward to seeing it with my own eyes, soon. XXXX G
You've beautifully captured my memories of the time we visited Menton! A lovely post, Heather.
Poor Ben! I feel for him…
Que bello! Les couleur et la brûme! L' Italie c'est tout proche, ca ce voit! C'est vrai que hors saison ou juste avant la saison on peut eviter le "bling" à la Côte d'Azur et découvrir de merveilleuses endroits.
Le Cap d'Antibes, la vieille Antipolis avant que les milliardaires soient arrivés, la magnifique Domaine de Rayol, les Îles d'Or, surtout Port Cros, le merveileux Cap Bénat, Bormes les Mimosas et je suis sûr d'autre que je n'ai pas encore vue.
Mais pendant la saison c'est vrai que c'est pas supportable.
Charles Baudelaire, the Flâneur , with his poem: “order and beauty,luxury, peace, and pleasure”.
Is there really a Shangri-La that is vanishing somewhere? Beauty that’s about a wink away from eternal repose?
Your poetic exploration, your idea of strolling, finding the “sweet vortex”, the “essence”, the romantic “mystery”, “sweeping sea”, “charm of the genteel” and a “red-headed tree” captures the day, and my day. I don’t have to imagine I’m content.
Thank you Heather.