A Summer in Palavas-les-Flots
In the enchanting setting of Palavas-les-Flots, sunlight, the sea, and simple joys all play a role. Follow along as the day unfolds and let the relaxing atmosphere captivate you.
A bright future awaits me. I’ve already applied sunscreen to the top of my head. By 9 o’clock in the morning, the sun is already strong. I tidy up my bag, then head for a swim – for the second time. I woke up half an hour ago, already washed up, brushed my teeth in the sea, and even folded up the hammock. I slept quite well, although not for too long. At half past one, I was still swimming in the sea; there was no artificial light on this shore, and I could hardly find my towel thrown in the sand. I woke up at sunrise, took some photos, then fell back asleep. After swimming, I leisurely stroll back to the village, with the water up to my ankles. There’s a market at the harbor. Just like in Marseille, the fishermen sell their catches from their boats. The usual hustle and bustle of the mixed market greets me on the shore. I only buy some breakfast pastries and take in the fragrant aromas of the fruit and spice stalls. At the end of a short walk in the downtown area, I sit in the church pews at noon. It’s my habit to visit random churches, partly because the seating is still free there – mostly; and it’s peaceful, not just for the body, but also for the soul to rest a bit. The midday beach feels like walking barefoot in a desert of sand. At least the camera loves this gently rippled water, with the grayish sandy shade underneath. I munch on the bites bought at the market. The sausage made from duck didn’t appeal to me, even though I generally like duck meat. After swimming, I doze off for an hour and a half. Before I take the two-hour bus ride back to normal life, I allow myself a long backstroke swim. By half past three, I’m already sitting on the crowded train, heading back to Arles. I dozed off on the train, almost forgetting to get off. In the afternoon, I call my mother; it’s her name day. My sister doesn’t pick up, she’s probably working or with the kids. I tried to wish her all the best in the least clichĂ© message. I sit down to watch the Olympic broadcast; the opening ceremony is in the evening, and the French have been eagerly anticipating it for days, which is understandable. I write the journal of the previous days over a beer. I buy a fantastic sandwich from a street vendor. Bless this man, Mille! Meanwhile, I walk up to the police parking lot; I was lucky again, the scooter is unharmed. The plan for the evening was to watch the short films at the film festival, but I didn’t find the selection interesting enough for me. Of course, I notice the sound of a live guitar! Barely five minutes later, I’m sitting on the terrace of the restaurant. This father-son duo played beautifully. I can still hear them from RenĂ©len!
Palavas-les-Flots, July 26, 2024.
