Yesterday my friend Faye – whom I had met in New Zealand 3 years ago – took me on a day trip to Melaka, the birth place of Malay civilization. The saying goes: “the one who has seen Melaka has seen Malaysia”, and that is almost true.
Melaka became in the 15th century the capital of the Muslim Malay Sultanate, although its founder was originally Buddhist (prince Paramesvara had fled the falling Srivijaya empire based in Sumatra in the end of the 14th century). Soon Melaka became an important trading port and many Chinese sailors ended up finding a Malay wife and settling there.
The result is Melaka: a Chinatown with its pastel colors and colonial architecture (some English and Portugese had also settled there for a while) that makes one feels like in Merida (Yucatan, Mexico) and yet it is Chinese speaking, an indian looking mosque (the minaret is built like a stupa), european styled street planning (no sense at all, not like the squared American cities)… The list goes on.
But the best of all is that the city gives the feeling of having a soul, a history, as the buildings look old and aren’t necessarily restored, which is an amazing thing in Asia (I found the Forbidden City in Beijing absolutely boring); although this is maybe the point of view of the spoiled European that I am, as 2000 years old Roman buildings are everywhere in my home town, Arles.
Et voila. After my previous post people might start thinking that the only good thing about France is it’s Art of Baguette! But I write today to bring light and understanding upon you all. There is also Provence, the jewel of France! When you first set your feet on the fairy ground a subtle sparkle of shiver goes through your entire body. Yes, nothing less.
So, in my three weeks here I went to many places; the Calanque of Marseille being one. The cristal clear water, the little creek, the sun, the mini beach… very nice! And then when tired of this awfull situation you can head back to the city of Marseille, have a salad or something with a glass of rosé on the Vieux Port and it’s many terraces. Wonderfull.
But to the request of some of my friends I also went to the village where I grew up to picture it a bit. This is Maussane les Alpilles ‘downtown’… On the right you have a specimen of a local villager buying cigarettes in the ‘Tabac’.
I spent about 10 years in this place, and I come back each year if I can. Life is definetly more “chill” here than in Montreal or China or the rest of France. The only other part of the world where I could accept to have a house later in my life would be the Caribean, maybe in Mexico around Qintana Roo or Yucatan. Yet it will be long before I settle anywhere, and first of all in a week I will be in China for the second time in my life, and in two weeks I will be on following the ancient path of the Silk Road all the way to Kashgar…
Here is a little slideshow with more pictures from the region of Provence and Côte d’Azur, just click on it to have it bigger:
Today we had b-day lunch at my Mum’s place in Arles. We were almost getting started when I suddenly realized something vital was missing, deadly missing: a baguette! So I took the bike and went to by one, of course. 80 cents of euros. Cheaper than in Montreal – actually half price. Life is a long stream of event punctuated by baguettes, so the cost of baguette matters. But damn, what about the quality? The crust must be tightly crispy, because it must break between your hands very easily – almost like the crust of a creme brulee. And yet the inside – la mie – must be tender as flower petals from Central Asia! Oh yes like in Central Asia! Or just Provence.
So, to be back to where we were, this baguette was amazing. Astonishingly amazing. I was amazed. I was delighted. And I was hungry. Ah, lunches in France… It’s always something.
Indeed after series of barbecue meet and merguez, taboulet, diverse salads and multiple Tiramisu sparkled by Champagne and strawberries, I could finally rest. Eating isn’t nothing here.