Posts by a day in the life of an adventuresome couple; not your average AARP Seniors

Another Day – about Nothing – THE BUS RIDE DOWN RUE PARADIS

Seinfeld had a deal that their  show was “about nothing. ”  Sometimes I think my writing is about “nothing” , but basically, it is about “something.”

It’s just little vignettes – of a day – in Marseille –

THE BUS RIDE DOWN RUE PARADIS

Bus stop (Photo credit: pimhorvers)

She held the kleenex close to her nose as it was constantly her nose’s best friend these last hours, a teeny cold coming on, perhaps, and the bus stopped at her exact spot.  She stepped up – plastic bus card swiping the meter in front, clambering to her seat, ” oh no, wait!   I’ll stand”   SHE THINKS, “it’s not that far,”  so she grabs the bright yellow pole.   Then she decided to sit.  After all, the bus was empty up front, only half full in back.  Oh! She would have to face the strangers.  And ride backwards.  Okay, so be it.  She did and she stared at them and they stared — – – mostly out the window into the darkness.  No one stares, well, they do…but it’s so unobtrusive, it’s nothing.   The one thing she does know for sure is that they are all in black.  Everyone wears black. Black coats, black trousers, black dresses,black!  This COUNTRY  *LOVES*  black!!!!!! She starts to crane her neck, and that’s not good enough, so she turns her entire body in her big coat towards the front of the bus to check her stop.  After 20 seconds  she decides to get up and converse with the driver (in French.) She says something to the effect – prochain arrette?  (next stop?)  He shakes his head.  “WHAT the heck does he not understand about 2 simple words that she said correctly?”  Granted, she really should have said, “Avez-vous un arrêt de plus dans cette rue?” Do you have one more stop on this street?”  – but 4 hours of french earlier from class, 1 hour of french in the café with her “ mon ami” – 1/2 hour of which was explaining “Carafe d’eau” to her friend – and it being a late hour, she just didn’t have a brain to think anymore.  French was done for the night.  It had gone to bed long ago.   So, frustrated, she sat back down, sure – almost POSITIVE that he had one more stop before getting to the big boulevard PRADO.    Sure enough, there was one last stop – and it was hers!  She happily bounded off the bus – which is a feat for her decrepit knees and said very amicably – “OH that is what I wanted….this is perfect…..thank you!

Merci beaucoup – Bon soiree – Au Revoir”    – off the bus!

Walking down the hill to PRADO – where her next bus will come – was pleasant, quiet,

uneventful. THen, there are steps behind her.  No one is on the street but her and the steps she is hearing are louder and louder.   She saw someone stumbling out a Tabac moments earlier,  and she was not afraid, but then her brother’s words came into her head……...”They say Marseille is very dangerous – be careful out there walking. “  Well, hell!  She walks  ALL the time and a good bit of it is in the after sundown hours.  Then, all of a sudden, she hears a KKKKKKkkkkkkkkkkkkclllllluoooogggGGGGG   – SPIT!  Ah, nice,  – this is a man, an OLD man, that has to SPIT.  He is not after her, nor could he catch her. His chief desire in this night is to visit a Tabac, get cigarettes, and most definitely SPIT.  “ Just stop your imagination of “being Taken” now- get to your  Next bus stop – bus # 19.”  She tells herself.   Now she arrives at the bus stop and looks at the schedule.  It is going to be 10 minutes.  Ah sacre bleu – an ETERNITY.  Sit, pull the down coat around her legs tight, shove her cold hands with kleenex into the pockets and wait, and think, and dream, and wait some more.  The man to her right was fiddling with his iPhone earphones trying to untangle them.  The woman on her left was carrying a huge long mirror or some work of art wrapped in brown paper, amidst some squished fresh (or they were fresh) cut flowers.  She was wearing a long black coat ofcourse.   She tapped her black boots on the pavement impatiently, the right guy kept untangling what looked like was already untangled. Maybe he was using the earphones as prayer beads…but what does he get on that thing, like 2 PRAYERS???

She’s  sitting in the middle watching him from the corner of her right eye, watching her out of the corner of her left eye, while looking straight ahead.  That was the apartment of her friend A who moved back to Texas, and she was still sad she was gone.   The cold wind picked up. She is sitting on the bench pulling her scarf up half way to her nose and her coat tighter around her.  The three of them sitting/standing  there – a real boring combination.  It’s such a long 10 minutes.

And then

Bus 19 appeared.  In the distance.  It took FOR EVER for it to get from the previous stop to driving up   to the BORING THREE (at ST GENIEZ-PRADO. )  Oh for heaven sakes.  She gets off at her stop PRADO- TUNIS- and walks towards her husband’s school where he teaches.  She feels very safe and secure and at peace.  She is wearing her long black coat.  She is French.   (She wishes).

NOTE:

Okay – note:

I’m thinking of writing in third person for this NON book I’m writing.  What do you think of this so far?   SHould it be Third person, or should it be I, I, I, I, I, I, I.

I hate that.

But it IS all about *I* – Me –  My — MOI experiences. What am I to do……….?

Just a ho-hum day – but great SUN and…..what’s that coming out of the SEA???

CASSIS- Marseille – High of 45 – Low of 37 degrees – – –   PARIS – RAINY & 39 = ouch

High of 45 today!!    Impossible!  We were in the sun all day. It felt like 70 as we hiked and lay on the rocks.    Lovely lovely sun!  So, we are now getting warm inside as the temperature plummeted so quickly as the sun was setting.  I actually turned on the heat in my little car -& now in my apartment –  it got so incredibly cold, so quickly.

Time for using that new bathrobe -fluffy white and plush…….my luxury.

It’s impossible to bring a big robe back across the pond when it takes up so much room – unless ofcourse you have a vacuum bag that sucks everybit of air out of it – but it’s still going to take up a lot of room in a small carry-on suitcase. Thus, we splurged and bought one from IKEA.  My favorite home away from home.

Now, walking and hiking brings on a huge appetite and here is where we had our picnic today!  It was cool, very sunny, and we ate our lunch on the rocks.

Brilliant Sun, cold water

Calanques Marseille Cassis 1 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

2 divers came out of that freezing cold water while were munching our sandwiches.  Jaw dropped, ham & lettuce fell out  of my open mouth and my eyes were glued to their svelte bodies wrapped in special diving suits as they walked past me, my head following their every move – – splat splat across the rocks, things dangling from them like goggles, spears, and then a huge lovely silvery fresh fish. No time to grab camera!!!  It cracked me up (inside) what a sight!! I didn’t laugh outloud but  I was just glad it was them, not me in that water.

I do admire those divers though.   But, my thing?     I CHERISH hot water – hot showers – especially.

It’s so important – we take such things for granted sometimes.

ALORS!   A day in CASSIS – A LOVELY hike, a memorable picnic.  Wish everyone of you could have been with us today…………….. 

The Night We Got Locked out of the PARKING GARAGE in Marseille

It was an uncharacteristically balmy night in old Marseille.

Curve (Photo credit: iko)

After several very cold days and staying indoors way too much we finally had tickets for the Cinema on Prado to see LINCOLN.   But It wasn’t going to be an ordinary night…….although it started off quite sane and normal.
We were early for the film, so we strolled Prado and dodged dog poop.  It’s getting better, or perhaps the rains have washed a lot of it away.  It doesn’t bother us anymore……..we have “radar” that advances so far ahead, that even with my near sightedness – it is spotted farther than a fishing line is cast, I swear it to you.

The street was now virtually still, but that’s because we had been in the very center of the worst traffic a half hour earlier.

Apparently rush hour is exactly from 4:30 to 5:30, because we were stuck in it for a full hour upon leaving IKEA on the outskirts of the city.

Thus, our usual plan of parking for FREE at the BRITISH COUNCIL, where David works, was nixed (by  moi) as I thought we should get closer to the theatre.  Parking for free, at the BC, though secure and easy, requires waiting for Bus 19 to Castelane, standing in rushhour madness for 15 minutes on that bus,  and then walking backwards to the theatre.  So, I urged my husband to park in the CASTELANE underground parking.  Our little car slid down the steep ramp and little lights set into the pavement greeted us.  Plenty of openings! We were in luck!

Parking garage (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We walked to our Cinema Theatre through the metro entrance.  (Very convenient for persons needing to park and take the metro and then train to various towns. )

After our pleasant stroll dodging doo doo, we made our way into the plush theatre and sat in bright red cushioned seats for LINCOLN.    Ofcourse, an amazing film, though even as I boast a certain relative who was a Confederate General in that Civil War, my historical knowledge of that particular 13th amendment was severely lacking.

After the film we had dinner at Paulaner, nearby underneath clear glass  and plastic covering indoor/outdoor little dining room.

Candles glowed and sticks of sawgrass in corners added texture and ambience.   The wine was good, the entrees very fresh – so much in fact that my husband is now used to my frequent expression…….”Ah….isn’t that a lovely plate, but alas, the head is still on.  Oh well, I can cover his eyes and be okay.  It’s definitely fish, freshly caught!”  And it was delectable.

It’s getting close to midnight now.   Eating dinner in France is always very late……so we head now for the parking garage with the little lights in the floor.

Castelane – Marseille (Photo credit: Josélito TIRADOS)

We cross at Castelane by the big pointed statue and head down the steps to the garage. It’s sealed.  I mean the shutters are down, there is no opening.  We go back up and head down the metro entrance.  It’s also shuttered tight.  It says overt 7:30 and ferme at 19;30.  That’s odd, we were sure it was a flashing 24/24 when we slid down the ramp 5 hours earlier……..what the heck?

I won’t go into the dialogue, but let’s just say that it was lively, loud  – words were flying everywhere all up into the high apartments above us as lights came on in front of us and which resulted in perhaps waking up souls in those apartments because that’s just the way it goes sometimes.   Alas, there is no way some situations are not going to bring about certain dialogs of………..

“  SHOULD HAVE,   COULD HAVE,   WOULD HAVEs ” – so,      from afar,    it probably looked a bit – shall we say – theatrically comical?

After a call to a friend, who had a friend who had a taxi service and after the conversation on the phone with the taxi driver we nixed the 65 euros that it would cost to take us up and over the mountain to our home in Cassis.

Plan C was to now find the CITADINES where we stayed when we first arrived in Marseille 5 months ago while  researching  apartments.   It was an extended stay sort of hotel and they gave British Council members a discount.  On the way towards The Citadines, I see an IBIS Hotel.  We get points there, so……sometimes the “Pollyanna”  I say, “hey, that’s a bonus, right? “    Then the miracle happens.

This clerk who had every motive to sell us a room for the night tells us in beautiful English “ I think that you might be able to get in at a particular entrance. I would love to book you a room, but if you want your car, I think that you can get it.”  He then proceeds to WALK us OUT of the IBIS to the Street, taking us part way up and pointing to exactly where we need to enter to find an opening so that we can get into the parking garage.    We thank him profusely and head towards the spot.  I’m the first to see the ramp down and it’s closed. Sealed. Then I cross the street leaving my husband standing under the bright neon 24/24 Parking sign.  I see this is no ramp – it’s stairs so gingerly walk down them and see it’s – ofcourse –  locked.

A- HA!  There is an intercom .  Pressing it – I am thinking that NO ONE is going to answer…….I begin:  “HELLO, – BONSOIR!   ma voiture est ici. J’ai besoin de ma voiture d’ici.  OKAY?”       (“My car is in here.  I need my car that’s in here. okay?” )

Some noise…and then OUI Madame……and then a buzz and voilà!  The door was opened!
The rest is history.  We drove on the moonlit Gineste D559 to our little abode in Cassis.  Our newly made bed with flea market sheets  had a big hole in it –

but alas, those sheets were clean, they were a pretty color and most of all – it was OUR BED.

Sometimes that’s all you need.   😉

RESCUE ME – the Story of an Almost Forgotten soul, in the Soul of a Hardworking Neighborhood

Nothing much happens in our little town of Overland, a suburb of Saint Louis – this is where I have made my home since moving from Ft Lauderdale in 1998  and now, France, in 2011.    The biggest thing that might happen in Overland some days- is dumping some shock in the spa, breaking into the house when getting locked out, or going to get my eyebrows waxed and embracing that incredible pain when she starts with  above the lip and then the chin.  “I am MY grandmother!!!”  I shout in pain,  as she removes the hairs that  are growing EVERYwhere.   The other excitement while back home was getting THE Christmas Card, quite lovely, but from the Bellefontaine Cemetery.  Okay , folks, we know that I’m getting “up there” in the age thing – but honestly?  Bellefontaine?      Must you?   And the greeting of ….. Peace on earth Goodwill to ALL – no signature – kind of eerie – I’m thinking – wow, I’m that old……. That I get a CHRISTMAS CARD from a CEMETERY?!?!

WELL, there was some news – that actually mentioned OVERLAND in the news the other day.   It seems that the  American R&B  singer, Fontella Bass died the day after Christmas 2012. She was best known for the 1965 hit “Rescue Me”.  She was the wife of jazz trumpeter Lester Bowie and the sister of David Peaston a gospel singer.

Yep, she was from our hood.   She lived on Pasteur, right down the street from Richard, my airline buddy friend.

I remember dancing to that song.  I remember hiding liquor in a (new) douche bag so that my mom wouldn’t see us putting rum in our cokes when I had a “new home party” back in Aretha Franklin days of “Rescue Me.”  That song that Fontella wrote catapulted Aretha to the top of the charts.  It was indeed, her best song.

Rescue Me (Fontella Bass song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Fontella Bass remained popular in Europe, where she toured occasionally.  She made a memorable appearance at the Womad festival in the UK in 2001. She was also sought out by young producers such as Jason Swinscoe of the electro-jazz group Cinematic Orchestra, but when Swinscoe travelled to St Louis in 2007 to record vocals by Bass, he found her in poor health, having suffered a series of strokes.

Bass is survived by her children, Neuka, Ju’Lene, Larry and Bahnamous, and 10 grandchildren. Bowie died in 1999 and Peaston died in 2012.

• Fontella Bass, singer, born 3 July 1940; died 26 December 2012,  Saint Louis, Missouri
• NO, she was not that old either…….only 72.   Rest in Peace Fontella Bass.   Thanks for the memories………..
• http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/9769797/Fontella-Bass.html
• is the one of the best articles on her. She lived for a while in Paris and cut the acclaimed albums –  The Art Ensemble Of Chicago.

Fontella Bass star_3702 (Photo credit: MBK (Marjie_ BLUEBERRY HILL  SAINT LOUIS MO 

English: Art Ensemble of Chicago, New Jazz Festival Moers (Moers Festival) 1978 left to right: Lester Bowie, „Famoudou“ Don Moye (half covered), Roscoe Mitchell (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    Related articles

•       Fontella Bass obituary (guardian.co.uk)

Finding EACH OTHER in *ICY* Amsterdam

Whoa! It’s been forever since I’ve written. Home for the HOLIDAYS.  Lovely time all around.  But!    This is a Non-Rev story – for my airline friends and anyone who must fly standby……..It’s GOOD NEWS!

Finding Each Other in Amsterdam !!

Crossing the bridge to the RESISTANCE MUSEUM. Fabulous!

 
We didn’t at first, and then we did.  But to coordinate the flights was actually pretty cool.  Now we “NONREV’S”  are able to book a zed fare with a participating carrier anywhere in the world, as long as you have your computer, iPad, iPhone, whatever.

So, I booked from the US, my husband David,  on a Marseille to Amsterdam flight.  Nothing to it.

He had it saved to a flash drive (since we have no printer in the apartment) and then took it down to the little shop in our village of Cassis. They printed it out.  You must have  a “hard copy” of the zed pre-ticket/booking. Everything with names on the paper and on your passport must be identical.   David then took it to the airport in Marseille – boom boom -AirFrance  handled it quickly and efficiently – not like the first time we did it.  Then (in October) it was a brand new procedure, and the agents were making a lot of calls to get the boarding pass to print.  Now, it’s a breeze.

David arrived at 11:15am from Marseille to Amsterdam on Friday.    I arrived from the midwest United States  to Amsterdam at 10am.  I waited by Starbucks, then went to meet him. Had apparently just missed him, and since the “CHOCOLATE AIRPLANE DISPLAY “ was no where to be found – (which is where we were supposed to meet – turned out it was behind the boarding gates)., we finally met each other with our forlorn looks right in the center of that big Amsterdam Airport.  Not bad.   We return to Marseille on Sunday via the same Zed fare deal.  You “NON REV’S”  get the “armchair booking” going. It’s almost like being a regular passenger!! They are fast  easy and not costly.

A French Provencal Noel Celebration – Gemenos – Provence – France

It’s 5:25PM in the afternoon and already it’s very dark.  Closing in on the shortest day of the year, here in December, here in Marseille.   The wet cold streets covered in solid glistening leaves have been replaced by still wet streets,” sans” leaves.  They are all gone now. It’s winter in Marseille.

Candles light the inside of a neighboring Boulangerie  and we’re peering inside like what is this? Is this a Hanukkah celebration?  Is this an early NOEL celebration?  It’s so pretty inside.   Turns out that the electricity went out, and the front door was open for any and all patrons who needed to come by for their daily bread.  Such a beautiful sight. – it was as though we were standing in the 17th century, and freshly made bread was pouring out its scent into the busy and crowded street next to The Grand Beauveau Hotel.

“Une  Russe Blanc,  Sil vous plait”, my friend says to the bartender…….well, actually SHE didn’t say, I told her HOW to say it, but she insists on using ENGLISH and I INSIST that she speak French, even though she says that she does not know how to do this.  (she does.)

She tries  really hard to speak FRENCH and – guess what – the French PEOPLE do appreciate it.

What a day of mind bending, and walking, and more eating and more expresso’s

(express, actually is what they are called and what you need to say when ordering “Un Express, sil vous plait” – or Express, avec creme) and philosophizing and smoking and more talking even with strangers – who are invited over to our table, because they “just looked so nice.”  It turns out – that the FRENCH, though maybe “tourists’” themselves –  if you have them over to your table – have a lot to say, in their very broken English, but, which is better than yours. This particular day, we met Francoise who is related to non other than George Sand. Ooooh la la.   She is writing her history, which is detailed and complicated and controversial, in that all of her ancestors where killed during THE Revolution.   Yes. “The one”.  1789.  Hmmmm.

Tonight was a different kind of fun, in that we drove our little car 10 miles away to the town of GEMINOS and had a real PROVENCAL NOEL CELEBRATION, complete with Santa Claus, a team of 18th century costumed villagers who sang, and danced.  So enjoyable milling with the locals and watching their performance with the free mulled hot wine and the MARRONS (Chestnuts).  Such  a lovely, warm, & wonderful time!!!!   

Here are a few photos from this night.

PLUS – here are some marvelous links to French handicrafts that were absolutely to die for cottage home crafts.

You will LOVE (all those that admire this type of art)

http://anniickdec0.skyrock.com

http://www.alittlemarket.com/accessoires-de-mode/

(are just a couple) – there were SO many last night.  I have to go back ce soir to get more business cards!!  🙂

and one more that is SENSATIONAL!!!
http://www.anemya-photos-creations.com/#/book-sculptures/4165145

“Altered Books!”  Lovely!!

40 THINGS – A Day in the Life of a Marseilles (person, aka – Student, Grand Mere

40 THINGS – A Day in the Life of a Marseilles (person, aka – Student, Grand Mere.

40 THINGS – A Day in the Life of a Marseilles (person, aka – Student, Grand Mere

40 Things – – – – – – – A DAY IN THE LIFE…….in MARSEILLE……………….

1. RUSH to get out the little apartment door to the car towards La Gineste down the mountain into Marseille
2. hop out of le voiture, kiss hubby, cross at Rue Paradis (across from favorite Pharmacy)
3. get into class 3 minutes late
4. speak French for 2 hours
5. Take a break at PAUL,  eat sandwich David made for me (& the girls say, ‘OH HOW SWEET is YOUR husband!!!!”     🙂
6. Back to class – speak French another 2 hours
7. Class is over!!!
8. Forget our Expresso, as Paul’s tables are inside – the vent is too much  –  go to Perrier to the metro – walking with teacher – say goodbye to her, she goes one way we go another
9. Say to my friends, “That was the HARDEST class EVER!!!
10.   look across the tracks and see my teacher standing there, hearing every word.
11.   Take metro to Vieux Port
12.   Find an optometrist for Teresa ‘s reading glasses
13.   She finds them.   They are only 95 euros
14.   sigh
15.   find a place to eat
16. We “settle in”, coats off, bags thrown over extra chair and then told it’s “drinks only” – have to go across the plaza for “mange” .  We do, but not before looking for my L’Artisan Parfumeur next to L’Opera
17. in the meantime find my favorite La Droguerie (knitting shop from Paris) and think I’ve died and gone to heaven.  Ah….but do I still know how to KNIT!?!?!
18. Found the place to eat a ( very pas cher )  pizza……and tested the waiter on “tres difficille cocktail” and lo and behold……….he actually did a fantastic job.  It went like this:
19. “I would like vodka, with 3 green olives, un peu vin blanc, (because they don’t have American VERMOUTH) and un petit glace (a little ice)
20. Ahhhh, he says, “An American Martini?”  Yes, we can do, with vermouth.  I said “Not your vermouth.  You don’t have vermouth.  You only have ‘Martini and Rossi” (stuff) – and that is not acceptable. “   No problem he says.  I can do it.    Then he says, ‘Ah, but we only have noir olives (black) and I say, “Black is fine.”
21. 5 seconds later he comes from the “CAVE” with a bucket full of GREEN olives – and says, “I have green olives for you!!”
22. God, I really love the French
23.   He serves me my first “American Martini”  (in 14 months)- – absolutely perfect to the core – and I tell him – that it is just that – and that I will come back to his establishment to try this again.  It was indeed – a PERFECT American Martini……..(shaken, not stirred!! ) ha ha ha
24. Pay for a lovely very inexpensive meal, and martini and head for BUS 41S
25. It’s gone.    Actually, it’s “fini” for the evening.  I’m not going anywhere.  (this woman told me it was “done” – “fini”)
26. Thank her and go to VIEUX PORT METRO after kissing Teresa goodbye 3 times on the cheek.  (It’s THREE times in the South of France!)
27. get the Castelane stop
28. Get off at Castelane and change for Pont du Prado
29. Miss  the Pont du Prado metro by 2 seconds.  Next one  ?  —-   11 minutes
30. ooy vey!   Call Esti and talk, and that takes a lovely 10 minutes
31. get on next metro
32. get off metro at ROND PONT du PRADO
33. walk towards exit.  Drunk man by exit yelling  AAAARRRRRGGGGGGG
34. 2 young men with pick ax in their hand yelling back at him AAAARRRGGGGG
35. This does not intimidate me, and I just about hit them with my backpack and say “STOP IT” – LEAVE THE MAN ALONE” – when I decide to not do that
36. As I swish past them and glance behind to see if the “pick axe “ is going anywhere I see that it is a harassing concert only – and that these boys have nothing better to do on a Monday late evening.
37. Get to Rond Point Prado and pass the “Sandwich truck”.  The lone sandwich clerk greets me with a huge smile and says “ C’est froit c’est soir – vous marche tres vite”      – then I say, ““Oui, tres vite,  bien sur!!”   And  I just smile so big as I past because this is just the nicest thing – to be greeted by this hard working sandwich maker in a truck -late at night –  and I say “THANK YOU GOD for people like this”    You know, he did not have to say a THING when I past by………..and it was just so refreshing to see his smile and to hear his happy words…………
38. Go to bus stop for 19 to David’s ecole – “British Council”
39. Bus stop 19 has “fini’ for c’est soir – finished for the evening
40. I walk the long walk along PRADO to the British Council in the freezing cold and wind and find my way- no problem, thank God for “les toilettes” inside, and my husband on the other side…..finished teaching!

Santons and their History

This is the season for Santons!!!   They are EVERYWHERE in the the Marseille region and also in Aubagne, where we often take a drive.  The way in which they are displayed is an art work all on its own, showing complete villages from the 17th century  with families, friends, bakers, farmers, blacksmiths, and the lighting adds to this ambience.  

One of the highlights for me in all of the Santon displays were the special ones created without any forms, or molds  and were crafted by hand.   They were shown in the Provencial museum Chateau- Gombert in the 13th Arrondisement of Marseille.  Here is an excerpt of the trade that you will enjoy.   

Santons are clay figurines that depict the colorful people, traditional trades, activities and costumes of Provence. Santons derived from the idea of the Provencal inhabitants on their way to the Nativity with their humble, local offerings.

Santon comes from the Provençal “santoùon”, or little saints. Another, probably parallel, derivation is from the Italan “santoni”, a shortened version of “Santi Belli“, for beautiful saints. Santons have come to typify the people of Provence, their work and their trades, and they are generally depicted in 19th-century dress.

The original Crèches in Provence date back to the 17th century, when the few bas-reliefs evolved into carved wooden figures and eventually included marionnettes, clockwork characters and even costumed children in living crèches.

In 1789 the churches were closed, depriving the population of crèches to observe and depriving crèche makers of their market. Jean-Louis Lagnel (1764-1822) of Marseilles, who made molded figurines for the church crèches, decided to make the santons for the general population, at a price they could afford.

Santons for the public became an instant success, and an industry (and tradition) was born. A santon fair was started in Marseille, and then another at Aubagne (10 km to the east), and before long there were santon fairs at villages throughout Provence. Today santon fairs and exhibitions are a common regional event during November and December. The original Marseille santon fair is still in existance, from the end of November to Twelfth Night (Epiphany).

Santons made for the Nativity scenes (crèches) include the three wise kings who join the shepherds to visit Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus. In addition to the Christmas scene, crèches often depict typical Provencal villages. The largest crèche in the world (an official Guiness record) is an 1136 square-meter miniature of a Provencal village, located in the town of Grignan in the Drôme, 10 km west of Valréas.

Santon Making

Provencal santons are made from the fine clay (argile) found in the region of Marseilles and Aubagne. Two-piece plaster molds made from original carvings are filled with the clay for molding. The piece is removed from the mold for painting before beind dried and baked. The hand painting is done with great care, using bright colors and with encredible care for detail.

Santon making is today one of the cottage industry trades practiced by artisans in some of the smaller villages in the Beyond region. You can find santons in village shops and ateliers, and often in the markets.

Annual Crèches

Every winter in Provence several towns and villages present elaborate crèches or santons festivals.

The Bouches-de-Rhône, with its history of the Marys (see Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer), has a rich source of santon festivals every winter. Arles has its well-known Salon International des Santonniers. Fontvieille had been hosting a Foire aux Santons for over 20 years. Tarascon (north of Arles  and Gardanne (south of Aix both have a santons weekend at the end of November. The town of Aubagne, just east of Marseille  has a biannual santon festival on even-numbered years ( 2008, 2010, 2012 …)