The Marseille train station was unusually crowded, even for the week before Christmas. I would soon discover that there were technical difficulties on the line between the station and Nice and that no trains had departed eastward that morning. James would walk past me as I huddled over my pack but in the chaos of long lines, train whistles and announcements, he was lost among the crowd before my calls could reach his ears. I left Aix-en-Provence at 11:30, and after a delay in Marseille for three hours, several changes and more delays, I arrived in Nice at 18:30, ironically drained by the hours of waiting, the time spent doing nothing, and the irritation of the two. I was happy to count the seventy stairs to the fourth floor of Nice’s familiar youth hostel after cooking my own dinner in the kitchen on the ground floor.

Grasse

A bus rid through winding roads ascends toward a small town known for its perfumes. Typically, the main Museum de Parfumerie in Grasse is closed for two months. There are however, other venues to visit: A small gallery exhibiting clothes and jewellery from the 18th and 19th centuries offers in a bronze room with exquisite examples of crosses and broaches that lie on green velvet in small glassed boxes that protrude from the wall. Above each piece is a colour macro photograph of the work’s fine craftsmanship and I read that all fifteen unique pieces have replicas that you can purchase in a nearby shop. I pick up two free postcards at the shop from a young saleswoman who easily wears one of the replicas around her purple turtleneck. I assume she takes the cross off before she goes home.

Petals in a perfume factory in Grasse

Everything in Grasse is as refined and manufactured as the scents that fill all the stores. The complete presentation was indicative of the money that builds the cosmetic industry. The Fragonerd perfume gallery provided some wonderful examples of perfume containers from all around the world. Most notable was a white alabaster vase about four inches tall from the end of the Moyen Empire in Egypt. It was thinly carved and irregular as it glowed from inside. It had solid horizontal white lines that trailed like the foam on ocean waves. After a small tour of an old fashioned perfume factory, I notice throughout the store were trashcans overflowing with thin white strips of paper used to sample the many available scents: It seemed to be the icon of the town.

Tags: travel