A Tale of Two Cities

The sun came out today. Not the timid sun that peered through the clouds yesterday, tempting and teasing worshipers with just the slightest hint of its rays. Today, the morning sun blazed through the night sky, releasing a bright new day here along the Cote d’Azur. Today, the morning sun broke through the glass window where I slept, spreading light and warmth into an otherwise cold and lonely room. This is Cannes in November.

Here I sit now, in Cannes, on a large balcony overlooking the residential zone, shielding my eyes from this blazing sun as I gaze out into the rolling hillside dotted with homes and apartment buildings, a lone monument here or there, lush green trees filling every possible space. This apartment belongs to my dear friend, and he has entrusted and invited me to stay here alone for a couple of weeks and enjoy the tranquility that comes so naturally to this place. High up on this 5th floor balcony, the soundtrack is pure: birds singing nearby can be heard, but not seen. The cadenced church bells of l’Eglise Prado tell of time creeping by. Motorbikes speed past, car doors slam as shoppers return home for the afternoon meal, yielding freshly baked baguettes. Seagulls call out in the distance, somewhere out over the sea.

The sea is close. If I turn my head toward the South and peer over the rails of the balcony, I can see the water, the bright sun breaking over the horizon, infinite blue skies that extend as far as the eye can see.

So I sit. Cup of coffee in one hand, laptop resting on my knee, waiting patiently for a delivery truck to pull into the drive, carrying with it the two new mattresses I selected yesterday. At the request of my friend, I was assigned the all-important task of purchasing new mattresses for the Work In Progress that is this apartment. I was thrilled by the adventure that came with this task. Mattress shopping in Cannes. What could be more random? A 20-minute ride on the local city bus out to l’zone industrie left me standing along a busy road, surrounded by large warehouses and shops selling furniture, light fixtures, home décor and design. The night was falling fast, and so I walked into the first mattress shop I saw (la literie) and purchased two mattresses within minutes. The salesman, Jon, spoke little English, and my French leaves much to be desired. But we managed nonetheless to make the exchange of mattresses for Visa cards, plan a delivery for this morning, throw in a couple of mattress protection pads “at a good price”, and voila! Done. So now I wait, enjoy the morning, and enjoy the view.

A quaint coastal town, sleepy and still when there is no international festival going on - think Carmel, or Monterey - excitement in Cannes must be created, imagined, and will certainly come in the most unexpected ways (i.e. mattress shopping). My days are quiet and uneventful, and are typically spent napping, surfing the internet, mopping the floors, jogging along the beach, walking through town, and trying not to shop. I sit in a quiet cafe to enjoy a café crème whenever I feel like it. I let my tongue play with the French language hesitantly, carefully, and with quite a bit of pre-planning. My French intensive class starts on Monday, and I look forward to the safe environment in which I can practice speaking the language. I try not to get lonely or depressed by this all-consuming quiet, rather I remind myself often that I will be back home in my daily routine within a matter of weeks, and that this quiet is only a temporary pleasure, one I should make the most of while it lasts.

I will do my best to unwind and embrace my current environment. But I probably will not stop wishing I were in Paris, running through the cold and rainy streets, wasting the day away at a café, sipping on an $8.00 capuccino while watching the scene that is so uniquely Parisian unfold before me. Cannes is lovely, but I am a city girl through and through, and I am madly in love with Paris. Many would laugh at the utter absurdity of it all, me here in Cannes, living rent-free without a care in the world, nothing to do, nowhere to go… and yet all the while wishing I were elsewhere. But I cannot help it. Truth be told, it is difficult for me to be so close yet so far away from the place that I love most.

And so now I spend a good part of my time here thinking about my return to Paris, assessing my finances, deciding how many days I can afford to be there… and wondering how soon I can get back to that City of Dreams that I so deeply love.

But in the meantime, I will write, soak in the warm rays of the sun, make the absolute most of my time in Cannes, and patiently wait for the delivery truck to arrive.

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