Catalan Beach and Pistachios
Even though the weather forecast predicted a gloomy day, I still ended up at the beach, sitting in front of a pistachio pizza. Surprisingly, it was more comfortable spending the night in a bunk bed than in a hammock between two pine trees, with the gentle sound of the sea below. Sometimes, the unexpected brings the best experiences.
I started the day at the local bakery: raspberry, chocolate, and coffee. Since I was in town, I decided to visit the war exhibit downtown. Here in southern France, they commemorate the year 1944, not the end of the war. If I recall correctly, Marseille was captured by the Germans in 1942, and in 1944, the Americans landed, bombing the area thoroughly under the banner of “liberation.” This is what they celebrate today.
When it comes to Americans, I often feel like, since 1940, they haven’t done much except keep their war-supporting factories running. It doesn’t matter what war it is, as long as they can sell some sort of military infrastructure—no problem if the payment comes later; they’ll just treat it as a loan. The key difference between the Americans and other occupying forces? The Americans eventually leave—they only have economic interests.
Despite the cold, I hopped on the bus heading for the beach because the internet said the sun might shine for a few hours. Luckily, the sun was out most of the day, and where the buildings didn’t cast shadows on the sand, it felt like summer.
Lunch was fruit, salami, and cheese, followed by a pleasant nap. Swimming was once again a test of courage, as the water wasn’t any warmer than an Olympic pool. But after seeing the girls take a dip, I couldn’t back out. After a few strokes, I proudly lay on the sand, having officially swum this weekend. I won’t mention that I spent twenty minutes talking to myself waist-deep, wondering if I was normal. The answer was no, and with that, I dove into the deeper waters.
Dinner was at the harbor. I hadn’t planned on spending money, but with time before my train left, I decided to do it in style. As the sun set, I searched for the rising moon while enjoying a pistachio-topped burrata pizza.
Marseille, Monday, September 16, 2024
