Roman Arena, Nimes
I found myself discussing books and travel on a train to Nimes with a computer scientist named Sebastian and a woman reading a French translation of a Carl Jung book: I was once again in the south of France. I had returned after two weeks, one spent in Kettering enjoying familiar company, too much Christmas food and the jumping enthusiasm of a black lab named Juno. The other week I spent in London visiting exhibitions at the National Gallery, Serpentine Gallery and Kenwood House. I remember in particular the Impressionist show at Somerset House which featured Manet’s ‘A Bar at the Folies-Bergers’, among many Monets, Van Goghs and Cezannes. I spent New Year’s eve in the heart of London and its chaotic crowds with two strangers.
Nimes is known for its Roman arena, a mini Coliseum that is still intact. Next to the ongoing restoration scaffolding, its modern winter roof domes an empty space that is used for bull fights during the warmer months. I was able to climb to its height and read in the warmth of the low flush of the afternoon’s sun. I was determined to squeeze as much value as I could from my overly-priced student-rated entrance fee by taking a long time in its arched corridors and open walkways.
Pont du Gard, Roman Aqueduct, near Nimes
A short bus ride away is an impressive Roman Aqueduct, which I visited on the sixth of January. After an hours walk through the surrounding footpaths on compacted soil and hard mud, I ate lunch under its imposing golden red heights next to the river over which it crossed. Thankfully, my interactions with daily affairs were no longer hampered as they were last year: my apprehensive tentativeness was replaced by a calm practicality that made conversing with time and its inhabitants an easier process. Despite the hints of a sore throat, I felt stronger. That being said, my arrival in Toulouse was too quickly accompanied by a growing irritation with poor accommodation planning and the frantic pace of an all too expensive city life. Travelling should be more than coping, which is what my situation was eager to be described as. My escalading but controlled exasperation would be appeased by a refreshing meal and a filling shower, not to mention the encouragement of telephone conversations and heartening e-mails…It was to the Pyrenees that a train would take me the next day.
Tags: travel