The city of Arles in the south of France dates to pre-Roman times. Built at the mouth of the Rhône, three millennia of silt deposition has left the city ~50 km inland of its original situation on the Mediterranean.
Romans took control of the city and built an arena to entertain their new subjects with gladiator fights. The arena has been partially restored. Incongruous metal bleachers with safety rails were added to accommodate modern audiences in the highest places where the original stone seating could not be supported. Ascending and descending the steep stone stairways in the strong Mistral wind of the Rhône valley, we appreciated the new iron hand rails.
Not wishing to restrict entertainment to the martial arts, the Romans followed up their arena with an elegant semicircular amphitheater next door. It has been partially reconstructed as well. While we sat in the top row, one of a group of Japanese tourists stepped up to the stage at the coaxing of his friends. Here’s a snippet of what happened next:
Wherever I go, I seek out nature the way a beagle hunts a dropped slice of pepperoni. Accordingly, I spotted wild things on the periphery of the urban hardscape. High atop the rim of the ancient arena, I watched White Storks catching thermals to assist their migration southward to sub-Saharan Africa.
In the marsh of a finely landscaped park next to Frank Gehry’s shiny LUMA tower, I found happy frogs of Arles celebrating the departure of the hungry storks.
Vincent van Gogh, during his 16 month stay in Arles, produced 300 paintings. Gray, sketchbook and watercolor set in hand, cooed in ecstasy our entire week in Arles.
Gray’s excitement over the painting possibilities was contagious. As sun angles dropped each day, my eye was increasingly drawn to the glow and shadow of buildings along narrow streets of the old city.
I finish with a progression of photos showing the changing light through the afternoon and into the night. I promise I did not enhance the colors.
Goodnight moon. Goodnight Arles.
