Two Walks in France

One holiday in France. Two locations. Two mindful evening walks. A world of difference.

In the Provence countryside…

A dog barked in the gloaming. Not so close as to be alarming, rather it barked in an indeterminate middle distance. Barking at a sound in the dark, as dogs have done for millennia. Friends and sentinels, guarding in exchange for food and affection.

The gloaming is a time of unmade night. The disappearance of the sun is not yet the night, but wait for a few minutes, and the night will be fully formed.

The dominant sense of vision is humbled as the light fades. Only shape and movement can be perceived. The intense glow of a streetlight tricks the eye into seeing blackness beyond it. No wonder that the brain, always greedy for information, switches to hearing. The loyal dog signals this switch, I hear it in a way that I wouldn’t during the day.

The paved road gives way to a dirt track. I am a little concerned that I will trip on my way back up the hill when the light is even scarcer. But I want to explore the new area and the new time for walking. Adventure wins out.

A river runs parallel to the track and can be heard clearly. So can some unseen ducks. Frenzied quacking fills the air. Are they repelling a predator or just arguing? Eventually, the road ends at a ford across the river. The sound of water becomes strangely loud. As I get closer, I see a waterfall just beyond the ford. There is a two-metre drop. I imagine that when the snow melts and turns this river into a torrent, this would be a dangerous place to be.

Here by the river, the sky is obscured by trees, and there is no artificial light. Soon, the track will be in total darkness. Self-preservation is speaking louder now. I turn back.

In the centre of Nice …

A violinist played in the gloaming. I’m not sure where they are. It sounds like they are on the north side of the square, near Galleries Lafayette. The musician is not obscured by darkness, but by walkers. The music is interrupted by the bell of a tram.

Middle-aged couples promenade in white or cream trousers and comfortable shoes. I look down, I fit in.

As I entered the square, five young women were ahead of me. They wore elegant party dresses. They were impeccably turned out and had the head-tossing, hair-swinging body language of girls having a good time. Their night will be full of adventure.

Other people in sleeping bags slumber against shop windows in a sheltered arcade. One has a silver MacBook on his lap. Have I made the wrong assumptions about him? Maybe not, homeless is not the same as computerless.

On the south side of the square, a loving couple conduct an impromptu photoshoot. The man beckons the woman to walk towards him as he records her movements. A growing number of people stop to avoid interrupting the pair. The video is shot, the man thanks his partner, then realises he is an object of attention. He apologises profusely to the bystanders, who are not at all put out. His partner dissolves into embarrassed laughter.

The sun set a long time ago, but nightlife continues under the glow of street lamps. Diners can see to eat, drinkers can see their glasses. Late-night shops attract shoppers and moths.

A woman inspects her child’s teeth with her mobile phone’s torch.

A man outside the opera house has two white doves on his arm. He tries to attract the attention of passersby. They all ignore him.