Lost In Limoges

From the sheep-dotted pastures of France's underpopulated Southwest, Limoges rises in all its grey glory. The city's claim to fame: fine porcelain. The half-timbered houses of the Medieval center are surrounded by strip malls and McDo. Land-hungry Brits descend with flailing pocketbooks (thanks, RyanAir). The weather is remarkably cool year-round. Sure, I live on rue de Nice, but this is NOT the Cote d'Azur. Welcome to Limoges, "the middle of nowhere"-- or as Pierre says "everywhere"-- France.

Friday, June 08, 2007

The Feria at Nimes


I know where I'll be next winter. Forget the drab, grey days in the Limousin. I'm heading down south to the Mediterranean-splashed turf that bakes in the sun for 300 days out of the year. Specifically, to the Roman city of Nîmes, where my friend Marielle hosted her 30th birthday party over the Pentecôte weekend (the fourth, and final, Pont de Mai, oh how I love the long weekends: Viva La France!) The tourism brochure says of Nîmes: This is the real South. And that's what I like to hear. Nîmes straddles the frontier between the Languedoc region and Provence, so it's the best of both worlds: a mélange of robust Languedoc spirit and Provençal serenity.

Here, the light is exceptional. The inspiring landscape is illuminated by this intense daylight: tall Cypress trees tower over groves of olives, their leaves radiant in the sun. The air is scented with herbs: thyme, rosemary, lavender. This city is often called the "French Rome" which is just another reason why I'm totally smitten.

First founded by Emperor Augustus, the Roman city blossomed until it was overrun by Vandals in the 5th century. The amphitheater, perfectly preserved, is still used for sporting and cultural events today (more on that later). Nîmes is also known as the birthplace of jeans. The denim fabric (get it: de Nîmes) was first made here in the 18th century; Levi Strauss immigrated to California and set up shop. Voila! The ultimate American symbol has its roots in France.

But the best thing about Nîmes: the weeklong féria, where the streets are packed with musicians and Flamenco dancers, and revelers sip little cups of pastis (only Ricard) against the backdrop of centuries-old monuments. Olé! We walked down the main boulevard toward Les Arènes, lined with trees, where colorful banners floated overhead, listening to Spanish guitar riffs. Arriving in a main square, I looked up to see the Maison Carrée and it took my breath away. The rectangular Roman Temple dates from AD 5. The photo says it all.

PS. Designer extraordinaire Philippe Starck designed the metallic medallions which are embedded in the sidewalks around the city, depicting the symbol of Nîmes: the palm and the crocodile. This ancient reference alludes to the conquest of Cleopatra's Egypt by the armies of Caesar (which apparently camped out in the hills around Nîmes upon their return from battle).

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