Counting the côtes in La Belle France isn’t the quick trick you might think.
The offshore islands and overseas territories aside, the country’s mainland boasts 3,400 kilometers (2,100 miles approx.) of coastline, comprising three dozen named côtes. Bordering the North Sea/English Channel, Atlantic, and Mediterranean, they range in length from the Côte Basque, measuring less than a kilometer, to the Côte d’Argent (the Silver Coast), at 230+ kilometers.
Though not the longest, the Côte d’Azur is by far the most famous slice of French coast, commonly known as the French Riviera. It begins somewhere around Saint-Tropez—the Western boundary isn’t specific—and passes east through a series of picture-postcard-pretty towns such as Villefranche-sur-Mer, Antibes, and Menton, extending to the Italian border.
Sitting in the western shadows of its famous neighbor, but spectacularly shimmery in its own right, is the Côte Bleue, the Blue Coast. It’s the second shortest stretch of named coastline at 25-30 kilometers, but includes some dazzling coastal scenes—in the most brilliant of blue hues.
One fun way to get the best bird’s-eye views is to hop aboard the Train Bleu, the Blue Train, that runs back and forth between Miramas and Marseille. It’s not a special, dolled-up tourist carriage but an ordinary train that offers an extraordinary visual experience. But just as the blank black views of the tunnels whizz right by, so do the most striking scenes. There’s no pausing for the photo ops of the stellar stretches since it’s a working train, after all, with a schedule to keep. But if you have the time, you can buy a one-day pass and ride around all you want.
Ralph and I were staying in Carry-le-Rouet for a few days, so we hopped on the train there, heading east. It only took a few minutes to reach our destination, the teensy enclave of Niolon, but the sparkling azure inlets were divine. After hiking along the coast in both directions, and a picnic lunch in the shade, with a glistening cove for our view, we reboarded the train. We didn’t disembark in Carry-le-Rouet, but kept on going to La Couronne, where we walked through town, down to the beach. There we had our pick of cafes to enjoy a cool drink, right on the sand.
Riding the rails may have been the novelty highlight of our getaway, but there was more to our mini adventure, under 90 minutes from home. We saw gannets dive for dinner in the leisure boat port at Carry, swam in an infinity pool overlooking the town, tried to eat our weight in fresh seafood, and watched France conquer Senegal in a World Cup match—en plein air—thanks to the projection on screens covering both sides of a very large van parked in front of the casino, just steps from the sea. An area filled with folding chairs was cordoned off, but no tickets needed. Friendly gendarmes invited us to take a seat alongside elders, youngsters, and everyone in between. With each roar of the crowd, we were easily swept up in the frenzy of the community celebration, the breeze balmy, a starry night in the making. A belle vie portrait, to be sure.
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Wherever you are, dear readers, wishing you health, happiness, and hope.
Bises, Gayle
PS
The gannet takes top honors for bird of the month for July. Love watching it torpedo dive.
PPS
On June 26, a brief excerpt of Pleasures of Provence was narrated by Lucy Bickley as part of the Human Voices Only project on Instagram. The purpose of the international event was to shine a spotlight on the importance of using human voices—rather than AI-generated voices—in narrated books. I was honored to participate in this worthy cause, and I hope that the future holds audio versions of at least one, if not all, of my books—lending the works the intended natural emotional dimension, narrated by an actual human. Let’s see, how about Sandra Bullock?
Gayle Smith Padgett 