It's October. The rest of Europe is rushing between closed doorways with a woolen hat and a scarf, wincing slightly from the wind. Not Marseille. Welcome to autumn Mediterranean styles.
The buildings on the old harbour crowd in like a football stadium, the vast collection of pleasure boats hugging one side or the other like two teams ready for the whistle, then through the narrow entrance toward the sea streams this golden light. It's as if the whole thing was designed by Christopher Doyle (the cinematographer for The Mood for Love) turning everyone into some kind of glamorous spectator. Perhaps this time of day has been especially chosen for me.
I parked here along the harbour front (assuming this is the best real-estate in town) not long after the fish market had disappeared, leaving an aromatic presence and a wide open gap facing the busy shopping street on one side and the harbour just behind me out the back door.
It's a mildly strange thing to be in a completely new city yet surrounded by my own familiar things, to be welcoming people to my tiny space when I'm surrounded by people and places that have passed by here for years and years without me.
Yesterday I met a man who immigrated here many years ago from Tahiti (in fact I met very many people who had moved to Marseille from distant places) and he sat a while speaking with me about what I thought I was doing here. In fact the answer to that question doesn't get any easier since there is always a new reason to be in a new place... anyhow, he reminded me of how the house is a spiritual place, it is the home we give to ourselves, intended to complete us. The house, in so many cultures, is a physical trace of ourselves. It may be run-down or pristine, big or small but it always remains a necessary part of who we are.
Small is Beautiful (the festival who invited me here) is, as it's name suggests, small but well formed. This means I was inundated with good conversation, people who wanted to know why or how or at least hear what I had to say. To be honest I don't think I do have much to say, the point is more to hear the questions and to be here listening and asking back. Every now and then I meet someone (like the businessman who was making his way back to his car after being at an Expo of some sort) who asks me questions and expects that because I have put myself here that I should have some kind of statement or message. And for everything that I have collected, spoken about, discussed and seen, I still remain at a loss to answer him. He tells me the expo was not so good this year (partly caused by the economic down-turn). Perhaps next year will be better. Perhaps two years ago will be the best year in his memory of the Marseille expo.
Evidence that the harbour with evening sun must have been designed by a sophisticated lighting designer. In actually fact, this guy is aged 35 under florescent lighting.
This is looking back up the main shopping street, here are some folk that were hanging out on the front lawn for some time during the afternoon. Of course, my view of this is totally different, I have Nisha to thank for the photos... my view is still all knees and shoes... scroll down for more on that...
