rainy days in the south of france

July 26, 2024July 25, 20242 Comments

Provence is usually sunnier than this. I woke up one morning for my usual early sketch and pain-au-chocolat run, to the sound of heavy rain against the cobbles. We were heading to Nice that morning, but with this storm rolling over it looked like the Cote wasn’t going to be as Azur as we’d hoped. We get enough sunshine in California. Still a little bit of rain didn’t deter me. I remember that it poured down the last time I’d been in Aix-en-Provence, a torrential downpour that nearly caused me to miss my TGV to Strasbourg. Doesn;t stop me from sketching. I walked over to Place Richelme, where the mornings are alive with colourful fruit and veg stalls before being whisked away by lunchtime for the cafes. It’s one of our favourite squares in Aix, and I found a dry doorway to stand in and draw, and listen. People passed by me on their way to work in the building, each one with a pleasant “bonjour” to me on the way, this is how they do it in France, people say “bonjour” to each other, and I like it. Looking across the Place, I remembered there was a pizza stand on the other side years ago where you get big slices of Neapolitan style pizza very cheap, the ones so big you fold them to eat them, and we’d get those at night after a couple of drinks at the nearby bar Le Brigand, we had many evenings sat outside there. When I first met my wife we went there with some friends and I think I surprised her by having three conversations at once, one in French, one in English, one in German, with people I knew around us. I would struggle to have one conversation in English nowadays. Le Brigand is still there, unchanged. There was another place nearby called Happy Days, which is now gone. I would sing the theme tune to Happy Days as we passed, but in French, and deliberately bad French for comic effect. I hummed that to myself as I sketched the market. I listened out to the market people greeting each other, the thick Provençal accent I once heard described as ‘soupy’, or “le Parlé de Chez Nous” as my old barber would call it. “Dang dang dang,” they would say, meaning “Wait wait wait” (“Attends attends attends”), and “ah put-aing!” when they swore. “Vous dessinez bieng!” one man said to me as he looked over my sketch, I smiled in thanks. I love listening out for that southern accent. I drew as much as I could, and dashed off to get breakfast.

This church tower rises above the narrow and busy Rue Espariat, which sneaks uphill through the old centre-ville. This street always brings me right back to the early days in Aix, a sit was easy to get lost but here you knew where you where, more or less, and it is always a short hop over to the wide Cours Mirabeau. On this day, I had left my family at the shops to go and sketch, but no sooner did the sketchbook come out then so did that warm dusty rain, turning the air as soupy as the accent. I’m really doubling down on that word ‘soupy’. I still wanted to draw, so I stood tight against the wall and did my best. I had to go and sit down somewhere to add colour and shading, the raindrops were starting to glomp onto the page. I walked down to the Place des Augustins to a familiar old pub.

I do wonder when I write these posts, show these sketches, who is reading, is it anyone I know? Anyone that I knew from Aix, that has stumbled across all of this? If so, hello there, bonjour, I hope you’re doing well. My memories of people have faded a lot over the years, names and even faces, , though I still have a lot of old photos, and my year in Aix was during the time of physical photos that you had to get developed at a shop, then keep in a box in a cupboard, unseen. Anyway I went into O’Sullivan’s, a pub we all used to meet up in back in the old days, and it’s unchanged. I did last come here on that trip nine years ago and sketched the bar, just as I had done once in 2003, though much better. I didn’t want to sketch the bar this time, I just sat with a beer outside under the dry eaves, and I sketched a couple of people sat evading the rain opposite me. I remembered the street opposite, there was a little kebab shop I think, where my flatmate Emma and I would sometimes run into a local guy we knew called Corentin who played a djembe drum. He was a sweet guy, I remember he liked to climb trees. It was in that very little square that my future wife and I had our actual first date, eating tapas at a little restaurant across from me. We had met at my birthday party a few days before, on a much rainier night than this.

It was time to go and have dinner, but before meeting up with the family I had one more sketch, a fountain that I definitely also drew back in 2003, the one on the corner of Cours Sextius. I used to pass it on my way to visit my future wife, so it always reminds me of that walk. Cours Sextius is another tree lined boulevard, busy with traffic, well shaded, and I remember there was a club there called the Bistrot Aixois which I didn’t really like much, very popular with the American frat boys spending their semester abroad in France. I had never heard the term ‘frat boy’ before coming to Aix, an American guy I knew brought me to a party held by some frat boys. I remember having a lengthy discussion with one guy about how Robert De Niro is not actually a good actor, he just plays Robert de Niro all the time. There were a lot of American students in Aix, for many it was their first time outside of the US, and it’s not a bad place. I got to know a lot of art students while I was there, though I was only just starting to get back to drawing myself. And of course I met my wife, from California, and that’s how I am now living in Davis of course. This was a short visit to Aix, it was nice to see how the place is doing, though we’ve come a very long way since then. It was time to leave for Nice. Until next time Aix, jusque’à la prochaine fois.

the return to aix

July 24, 2024July 24, 20241 Comment

We took a few days away from London in the south of France. We went first to Aix-en-Provence, the very city where my wife and I met each other, 22 years ago. This was the first time we had been back there together in 21 years, and the first time our son ever went there. The last time I was in Aix was in 2015, I came here before my trip to Strasbourg, but it was great to finally come back here together, after all this time. The world is a different place now, though Aix hasn’t changed that much, give or take an Apple store and a lot less dog poo. It’s still a busy place, especially in summer, and we stayed in an apartment which overlooked the same street my wife used to live on when we first met, another flat up a steep narrow staircase. We ate dinner at our favourite old place, La Pizza, still there and still delicious, although the nearby Place d’Albertas has lost some of its charm, the little old fountain now looking clean and sterile. Aix still has a lot of character though. On our first morning I woke up early, as I always do when travelling, and went out to do some sketching. We were right by the Place de l’Hotel de Ville, and I had to sketch it, of course. It was here in Aix that I rediscovered my love of going out drawing, all those years ago before blogs and social media and Urban Sketchers. I remember doing a sketch of this on a trip back in the year after we left, 2003, and then again in 2015 on that last trip. An almost unchanging view. One day I’ll actually finish a sketch I do there! The town was setting up as I sketched, vans would occasionally park right in front of me, cops (‘les flics’) from the police station would greet each other with the little pecks on the cheek, restaurateurs would start slowly opening up their shades and putting out chairs. And then it was time for me to go and pick up pastries for the family, seemingly the one thing untouched by the beats of inflation, still the cheapest breakfast there is, and nothing tastes as good as freshly baked French pastry. When I lived in Aix, I lived above a bakery and the smell would waft up to my window.

The drawing from 2003, that was drawn in a Canson sketchbook I got from my favourite shop in Aix, Papeterie Michel. They always had the absolute best selection of art materials and sketchbooks, as well as everything I needed to make masks and costumes for the extremely silly play I directed. I am pleased to report, Michel is still there and even better than I remember. We all spent a long time in there, and I fought the urge to buy everything. I did buy new pens, many postcards, and a beautiful set of placemats. Elsewhere we bought a couple of new tablecloths, because we always loved the Provence tablecloths. Michel is on the Cours Mirabeau, the regal thoroughfare of Aix that separates the old town from the also old Quartier Mazarin. We walked around there, memories bouncing around those dusty old orange walls. The cinemas where we watched so many films; the first time I saw Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and of course where my wife took me to see Attack of the Clones on the opening night, playing only in French (VF) at the Cezanne because it wasn’t playing in English (VO) at the other place. People were dressed as Jedi and fighting with lightsabres (sabre-laser) in the aisles, we’d only been dating for a couple of months and she got me the tickets as a surprise. The music from that film still reminds me so much of those early days together in Aix. We walked down to the old Parc Jourdan, where we’d often hang out as it was halfway between centre-ville and the university where I worked as a ‘lecteur’. I didn’t walk down to the old Fac des Lettres building, I heard that it was knocked down and replaced with something more modern (and presumably, hopefully, a lot better). I also didn’t walk out to where my old flat was, our time was short in Aix, there were only so many memory lanes. I hoped to see some old men playing pétanque in the park but not today. So we walked back up to the Cours, mooched around Monoprix, and wrote postcards over cold drinks at a cafe. La vie can be pretty belle sometimes.

Our lunch was the thing I’d been wanting most of all, the fabled Poulet Frites, which I got from a very busy little kiosk called Le Regal which has been operating there since I lived there, although it’s across the street now and looks much changed. The poulet frites were still amazing though, fresh and hot, although my favourite ones back in the day were from a little place by where I lived. This one is by the Place de la Rotonde, which circles around a huge fountain, which I drew above. I did not quite finish the sketch, but didn’t need to. It actually started raining while I was sketching; it had been doing so on and off, very lightly, for a little while once the morning sunshine had, er, dried up. This rain though was not like normal rain, as you can see from the little orange splotches on the page, made by sand carried all the way from the Sahara. I remembered this would happen occasionally, either through warm sticky rain or just blown up on winds from the south (winds that were not as fierce as the fabled Mistral). It didn’t deter me for long. There were a lot of tourists in town, many being herded around by guides telling stories of the great figures of Aix, the capital of Provence and once ruled by a king called Roi Rene, whose statue stands at the end of the Cours Mirabeau. The entrance to the Cours is marked by two statues, one dedicated to the Arts and Sciences (which I sketched below), the other dedicated to literature or maths or something (if I didn’t draw it, I don’t remember it). Aix is a big university town, packed with scholars and students, a bit like Davis (but otherwise nothing like Davis whatsoever). Between 2001 and 2002 I taught English there, more a learning experience for me than any of the students in my classes. I wonder sometimes about all the people I met that year, though I’ve not been in contact with any for years (except of course my wife!). As I walked about the streets I remembered people I had not thought about in two decades, but that’s all part of life, the scenes and characters change and you’re in a new play. Now I’m a man pushing 50 who wanders about with a sketchbook trying to catch the places while I can.

The Cours Mirabeau has these odd little fountains on it, covered in thick green moss, that sit slap bang in the middle of the street. Aix has been called the City of a Thousand Fountains; I don’t know if there are exactly that many, it seems a bit specific, but there are a lot around here. Aix is built on a thermal spring – its name comes from the ‘Aquae Sextiae’, which means ‘sexy waters’ in Latin. Ok fine it doesn’t mean that, it means the waters of Sextius, who was a Roman consul back when they were beating up the local Gauls and founding the city in 123 BCE. This fountain comes right up from those hot springs, and is very old indeed, dating from 1667. It’s older than St. Paul’s Cathedral. It’s older than the USA. It’s older than (weak jokes about how old) Joe Biden (is). It’s called the Mossy Fountain (Fontaine Moussue) which I think you’ll agree is a good name. I drew it while my family were looking at clothes in Monoprix.

The most famous Aixois was definitely 100% without a shadow of a doubt the painter Paul Cézanne. Aix is wall to wall Cezanne obsessed. His studio was at the top of the town, uphill with a nice view of the big mountain, Mont St. Victoire, which I have climbed up twice, I never fail to tell people whenever we see one of his painting. “See that? Mont St. Victoire, I went up there, yeah easy, no sweat. Had to run down to catch the bus before it got dark though.” I make it sound like I rock-climbed up the face like that Free Solo guy, as opposed to just walk up the path along the less steep side, and peered over the edge. Cézanne loved that mountain though, he couldn’t get enough of it, drawing and painting it over and over again. I can’t relate to that at all, eh (Bike Barn, Varsity Theatre, Silo, these are all my Mont St. Victoires). Other famous people lived in Aix over the years, while I was there everyone kept going on about John Malkovich, “oh I saw John Malkovich at the market the other day”, “oh I sat next to John Malkovich at the cafe the other day”, “Oh I stood behind John Malkovich in the line for the toilet at the Red Clover the other day”, like let it go, Malkovich fans. I didn’t even know what he looked like, so I wouldn’t have known him from Paul Cézanne, but everyone had a Malkovich story. I was more impressed that the legend Nina Simone lived in Aix when we did, though she died in 2003. There should be a statue of her there. This statue of Cézanne though is nice, standing by the Rotonde outside where the old casino used to be, now knocked down and turned into a fancy shopping district. He’s there with his bushy beard and walking stick, and backpack full of art materials, so I had to draw him (though I did have to check I wasn’t unexpectedly drawing a statue of Malkovich). As a few more drops of sandy rain plopped on my page, I moved along. I have some more Aix sketches to show, even rainier ones, but that will be in the next post.

wherever i lay my hydrant, that’s my rome

August 7, 20172 Comments

Almost there with Rome! Rome wasn’t blogged about in a day, but this will be the last one, much shorter and with less complaining. Above are a couple of fire hydrants! I was pleased to discover some in Rome, add them to my collection. Not many, but here they are. Rome is also well known for its fountains, not just the grand ones in the piazzas, but also the smaller ones dotted around the streets with drinking water for anyone who gets thirsty in those heavy, hot Roman afternoons. So I sketched the one below, the man with the barrel and no nose, in Via Lata. Next to that is a very quick perspective sketch just off of that street.

Now one fountain I did not sketch, you will have noticed, was the world-famous Trevi Fountain. It was very crowded there, and the surrounding streets thick with tourist-tack. Beautiful fountain, but not my favourite spot in Rome. We did nevertheless each throw a coin into the fountain, ensuring, as the legends and all the guidebooks say, that we will return to Rome. And I’m sure that we will, and I can’t wait. Arrivederci Roma!

“People called Romans they go the house”

July 20, 2017Leave a comment

While I love an early morning when travelling, I also like the night. Depends where though – I’ve never really liked Venice at night, but Rome’s piazzas, lined with warm streetside cafes, are a pleasant place to be. I didn’t go to the Trevi fountain at night, that was crazy enough during the day that I didn’t want to spend too much time there, but Piazza Navona, a short walk from our place, was much more pleasant. Doing as the Romans do is the thing to do, so I went to a cafe and bought a beer and sat on a bench near the fountains. Actually it was mostly French students doing that, but I assume they were doing as the Romans do. Actually what is funny is that since I was there, the Mayor of Rome has brought in a new local law forbidding people from drinking alcohol in those public squares and places after 10pm at night, effective July. So the Romans aren’t doing that now. We also noticed that, during the day, anybody sitting down on steps or by fountains and monuments and eating anything, even a gelato, were being quickly moved on by local wardens. Apparently this was a new law as well, enacted just a week before I got there in June, and you can get big fines for breaking it, a fact completely not signposted anywhere. I sketched the above scene, as best as I could see. Piazza Navona is in the shape of the ancient Stadium of Domitian, which used to stand on this spot in Roman times. Well I suppose these are still Roman times, this city being still called Rome. It is the Eternal City after all.

A bit closer to home now. Right outside the front door of our apartment, which was itself about 120 steps up four steep flights, was a little trattoria/bar in a narrow lane just off the Pantheon. On our last night in Rome, after la famiglia had gone to bed, I walked down the stairs and sat at a table with a beer and my sketchbook, drawing Rome at night. The street is Via della Palombella, and that church, which has a stone head of a stag on top, is called Sant’Eustachio. The little Piazza before it is called, of course, Piazza Sant’Eustachio, and the cafe of the same name just across he street is where I would get my pastries in the morning. There were people strolling about, as they do, tourists and Romans on their nocturnal promenades. I sketched some of them (above), Romans going home. “Romanes eunt domus“.

going back to aix

July 11, 20154 Comments

On my CV, it says that I spent a year in Provence. Technically, it was more like nine months, but ‘nine months in Provence’ sounds more like a gestation period than a reference to a famous book (and a dull TV series). Between the 2001 and 2002 I lived in Aix-en-Provence, the ancient Provencal capital, teaching at the university, eating poulet-frites, losing at the French language. Most importantly, it was during that year in Aix that I met my lovely wife. We visited a few more times in the following years, visiting old friends and old favourite places, but I hadn’t returned to Aix since moving to America ten years ago. So you can imagine my excitement as my navette from the airport pulled into town, Mont St. Victoire looming in the distance. This was only to be an overnighter, just a couple of days to check out the old place, see what has changed, explore shops I used to love, eat some of my favourite food – and SKETCH! One of the other things I must mention about my time in Aix: it was here that I rediscovered drawing.

The first thing I sketched was one of the old moss-covered fountains on Cours Mirabeau, above. This is the main historic thoroughfare of Aix, dividing the old town from the slightly less old but still historic Quartier Mazarin. The fountain sketched above is called the Fontaine des Neuf Canons, which dates from 1691. I stood on the less busy side of the Cours, which was actually part of an ancient road running from Arles to Italy. The fountains are important; Aix gets its name from the Latin for ‘waters’, and was founded by the Romans in 122 BC as ‘Aquae Sextiae’, after the thermal springs named for the Roman consul Sextius Calvinus. All of that information leads us into the next sketch, which was made in Cours Sextius itself. Below is the fountain at the junction of Cours Sextius and Rue Van Loo (presumably a reference to another water spring). Now, I’ll provide the map of the town when I make the final Aix-sketches post, but Cours Sextius is a busy tree-lined road that runs up the eastern edge of the old town. I stood outside what was once upon a time the Bistrot Aixois (or Bistrot d’Aix), which as I recall was one of my least favourite places for a night out in Aix when I lived there. Now, it was all boarded up, oh what a shame. This view however, this will be so typical and familiar to any of you who have spent time in Aix.

While Aix hasn’t changed much, I was impressed with what changes there were. The old closed-down Casino at the Rotonde has now made way for a beautiful and aesthetically sound new shopping district, with the tourist office relocating to a fancy building next door, while the old tourist office building has been knocked down in favour of, well, an Apple store. Little has changed in the old town itself however, and I wandered up the long and narrow Rue des Cordeliers, which is where my wife lived when I met her. This leads up to the Place de l’Hotel de Ville, Aix’s famously photogenic square, but I wasn’t going to sketch the big clock tower just yet (I did it next day). Instead I stood and sketched Chat Rêveur, a shop I always loved in Aix. It always had lots of funny cat-themed items (I remember years ago buying a wooden cat-shaped coat-hanger, I think it was for my sister). Well it didn’t seem to have so much of that now, mostly general cards and souvenir stuff, but I was so glad it was still there that I sketched it, albeit without the full colour it deserves. It’s a beautiful shop front. The cat theme is relevant though because this square was always where we would see the ‘dog people’, who would tend to gather in the square being a bit scruffy and letting their dogs run all over the place. Sometimes they would play hand-drums (the people, not the dogs). I knew one such drummer actually, Corentin, he was a lovely bloke but he wasn’t a dog person (no dog), though he did like to climb trees if I remember correctly. Well on this evening, there were no dog people, no drums, no old friends dans les arbres.

The shop closed up while I was sketching, and as the warm evening drew in I wandered through old Aix, a head full of memories. Stay tuned for more sketches, stories and aix-periences to come…

en bas et en haut

June 12, 2012June 12, 2012Leave a comment

So, there are no fire hydrants in Paris. None that I could find anyway. What I did find were nice drinking fountains, such as this one nearby to the Eiffel Tower, at Champs de Mars. Oh, and look, there is La Tour Eiffel herself. I just had to grab a quick sketch, while my son played (who was so excited about seeing the Tower that he had to pretend to be a race-car for a little while and do a few laps of the park). Sketched in the Miquelrius ‘Lapin’ sketchbook. When we got to the Tower (and we didn’t go up it), it was very foggy in that Parisian way, but as we passed beneath it the fog suddenyl burned away and the sun shone, in that very Parisian way. It was lovely weather we had.

More Paris sketches to come…

to the manor born

February 9, 20095 Comments

I turned 33 at the weekend. We left the baby with his nana, and went to Healdsburg to stay overnight at the most excellent Madrona Manor, an amazing building from the 1880s overlooking the magnificent valleys of Sonoma County. The heart of the wine country. Easily the best hotel room I’ve ever stayed in (and the door had a key, not one of those bloody card-swipe things; it was great!). The furniture was old, ornate and well-kept. It was pretty foggy and cold, but I was able to do a few drawings; I’ll have to come back up in sunnier months to draw the grounds. We wandered about the vegetable gardens, and were encouraged to pick an orange or two from the pretty orchards by the friendly owner (and I don’t remember the last hotel I stayed at where I chatted with the owner; no soul-destroying corporation this). And speaking of fresh oranges, the freshly squeezed orange juice was te perfect way to start the day. There is very little better than freshly squeezed orange juice, but particularly if you can see the trees where they were grown from the breakfast table.

A sketch of the bed. Very, very comfortable. The rooms are sans-TV, a big plus for me. And below, a drawing of the main mansion. I’m glad we were lucky enough to stay there.