"WHEN THE NIGHT HAS COME, AND THE LAND IS DARK, AND THE MOON IS THE ONLY LIGHT WE SEE...."

I sat at the edge of the Mediterranean watching a fisherman cast his line toward the moon……

Down the corridor of shimmering light that hit the horizon and reached toward the smooth pebbly beach on which he stood.

His trickery floated effortlessly into the reflected light, suspended in time. For a moment it was if there was no force of gravity……timeless, silently holding the sky as the moonlight glinted off the lure at lines end.

Then it gracefully fell to the ocean, far away into the night – and time started again.

My absence was broken by the soft rolling rumble of another jet banking low and left along the line of the beach and descending with the same ease into the airport as the lure to the sea. In fact, here all things seemed to occur with such ease, no matter the task. I had arrived in Nice, the cosmopolitan capital of the French Riviera.

I looked to my left and saw the promenade lights stretch away towards the far headland. A mural of pastel shaded houses that have adorned the stony hillside for centuries. The glitzy buildings along the beach front are filled with people spilling onto the pavements. Dining on the fruits of the ocean, drinking wine and coffee, smoking cigarettes and recounting the sun kissed day amongst friends and lovers.

The sound of a guitar and its master’s voice gently floated across the water and flowed through my head. The choice of song matched the atmosphere at that moment and others must have thought so as I could here the tinkle of coins being tossed into a hat that invited passers by to lighten their pockets.

I turned back to the horizon and saw the lights of what seemed like a thousand boats gently rock back and forward with the movement of the waves. The ocean rising and falling like the chest of a sleeping giant.

I threw my gaze further a field and squinted to see if I could see the dark continent south of the sea – but only my imagination saw what lay on the other shoreline, my eyes only aware of the darkness pierced by needles of light.

In that moment I stood and turned toward Antibes – I began to stroll back towards shelter for the night. Looking forward to the morning when the sun would take place of the moon and a new day in another new land would begin…..

AUX GRANDS HOMMES LA PATRIE RECONNAISSANTE

"TO THE GREAT MEN, THE GRATEFUL HOMELAND"....These are the words written over the entry to the Pantheon. The wonderful thing when walking around Paris is the frequent reminders of a country that prides itself on the illustrious achievements of its citizens. The Pantheon is a place that honours those that have given so much to France through their works and ideas.

What I like about Paris is it celebrates achievemnet and encourages greatness - it does not seek to pull those that have lofty goals back to earth, rather it provides a fertile ground for them to soar.

Speaking of fertile grounds - I have come to the end of the second week of my course at Alliance Francais. I am pleased to report that je suis parler francais comme un Parisen. Quand je retourne a l'Australie, vous m'appellez didier. Au revoir pour maintenant.....

What's that Mr Kandinsky?

With a few from the class we took ourselves along to the Kandinsky exebition. It was a chance to explore my appreciation and understanding of abstract art....I discovered I have neither.

Now Kandinsky was a switched on cat. Born in Russia in the 1860's - he is credited with painting the first modern abstract works.

The display was in the Pompidou Centre - itself an abstract piece of art. What I could decipher from the works was that Kandinsky was exploring the relationship between colours and the three basic geometrical shapes (square, triangle and circle).

This was a relationship I later pondered amongst the leafy surrounds of the Jardin Luxemburg......

Sing once again with me! Our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet....

As you know I am a fan on a good musical, big fan. In the late 19th Century, the Palace Opera was to be a focal point of Paris, located at the junction of the city's elegant new boulevards. The little know architect Charles Garnier was chosen out of 171 contestants for the job, but the project was slow to be finished due to the discovery of water underground that could not be drained away.

This gave rise to othe story of the famous "phantom of the opera," although the water is not a natural lake and the tale was imagined by the novelist Gaston Leroux. The water came from the original course of the river Seine, which once had a deeper meander before retreating to its present position.

A vivid imagination though Gaston, good one. This was my favourite tale as I soaked up the "city of light" last night....

My French Life

In my apartment today I came across a book - My French Life - to my surprise it was the story of an Australian, Vicki Archer and her love for all things French. The book details the realising of a dream as Vicki and her family buy and restore a seventeenth century farm house near Saint-Remy-de-Provence in South West France. Superbly illustrated by Paris based Australian artist Carla Coulson (see my blog list), it was a great find.

The book does a fantastic job of articulating what is so alluring about this country, its people and culture. Another liitle victory!

Speaking of my apartment - for those intersted here is a little snap of home for the next month - 33 Rue du Four, Paris, 75006. Well loacted on the second floor of a 18th century building in the heart of St Germain des Pres. It is a 35 sqm studio aprartment. It took me a while to work out what the low rumblings that I could hear every 5 minutes were - then I realised it was the sound of the metro underneath the building carry commuters along Metro line 4 to St michel...!

This morning I am off to Monmatre hill the see the view and lazily stroll back through the Parisien markets.

A bientot.

Allez Les Bleus!

Well today I signed up for my Alliance Francais course beginning this Monday. After having my linguistic confidence rattled during the level testing - I bounced back after being allocated to the A2 level (not a complete linguistic dunce) - something must have impressed my examiner - little victories.........went off and ordered "un pain au chocolat et chocolat chaud svp" with Gusto to celebrate.

P.S If you are wondering what happened to the great French fullback Serge Blanco - I found him. Now operates a menswear shop a few hundred metres down from my apartment in St Germain. Loved your work Serge - will have to buy him a beer....... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyqRwnXf5ns

Mt Ventoux

As I came down from Montelimar I could see her baron moonscape away in the distance. Approaching Bedoin I was ever aware of the great peak that dominated all around it....I could sense the Ventoux new what was arriving tommorrow - and the great mountain was preparing to defend her slopes with all her at her disposal.....I set up camp with 50000 others at the foot of of the beast - its mythical slopes would bring darkness early tonight. I slept uneasily..........