Writing about France is different from about any other country where I stayed on my big trip. Back when I was still a teenager, with the Vietnam lottery looming, my dear friend Marina & I—not long after leaving Vassar, & then attending Woodstock (separately)!—boarded a passenger ship on a five-day passage to Le Havre [& have to confess, I took a steamship chest (upright), oof!]. We moved (with All our stuff) to Paris, where we lived for the better part of a year. That is, I did until I got so sick I almost died and my father came and got me (which I vehemently opposed—poor guy~). . . . but that’s another story . . . and as the story goes, Marina never came back. We stayed in touch~ But that time—France—was in me, and years later I wrote my dissertation on (& translated & directed plays by) Marguerite Duras, great French writer/ filmmaker/ dramatist. The culture always felt close.
I visited Marina several times over the years, both in Paris and when she had to leave the city—she bought a wonderful home in Tonnerre, an ancient (and retro) village a couple hours southeast. For my big Kind of Tour trip, I had chosen one of France’s gorgeous small historic cities, Dijon, for my 1st month in France, & then would explore southward for 2 more weeks. This worked perfectly because Marina needed medical care in Dijon, so she could stay with me & I could help. I lucked out with a stellar top-floor apt. in central Dijon—and loved the intimate, car-free, stylish, culture-full, happening city core.
That was the summer of brutal heat waves across Europe, though, that July—so bad that the train from London had to slow way down and I missed the train to Dijon, improvising for a night in Paris, at first a nightmare with luggage & equipment, but—once I found a hotel I could afford—lovely to walk the City of Light of an evening once again!
Way back in the day, Dijon was a center for the Dukes of Bourgogne, who for centuries ruled not just Burgundy but the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg—huge areas. The buildings still in Dijon from the 14th to 16th centuries are flamboyant, ornate; the central ville mostly pedestrian—and pretty affluent. I lived across from the big central market: full, lively, and spilling into its surrounds several days a week. The town sponsored many cultural activities: music in the market, wine tastings, various promotional parties, festivals by the lake a ways out. The music in the central market reached my apartment—I would go down, and one time I sat in with guys to sing—Dock of the Bay~ The folks there liked :).
Dijon is beautiful as well as vibrant. I never tired of walking the core, to the big park on the way to the train station (though they have a free shuttle), mostly just weaving through nearby blocks, the oldest, full of character and history. Several museums within striking distance chronicle not just the Dukes but the “bourg” (read: bourgeois) ways of life—at least for the prosperous, conservative middle class. The streets were full of music, restaurants, bars—the good life for young, old, & in-between. Summer in the city.
And I had a lover in Dijon, which was nice!~ New to me, he had been connected to our Paris circle decades ago. He lived in a nearby rural village—and we drove the countryside taking turns speaking French and English, hiked a spectacular plateau/former medieval settlement, walked the cobbled & narrow streets holding hands, ate & drank, cooked & talked & went to the library & the art cinema. He filmed me singing my songs—stay tuned for those videos! Good company, comfortable. Tranquille.
For my Pop-up Concert I picked a spectacular spot—the most!—the vast grand plaza before the Palace, a semi-circle lined with cafes, and always lots of folks out—crossed by a splash pad that drew the children. It went great, people were great, the children loved it—folks even contacted me after about bookings. Place de la Republique.
When I left Dijon I visited Marina in Tonnerre, then headed south for my first visit to Marseilles—talk about a vibrant city!! A cultural crossroads for millennia. I also visited another old friend in his mountain village, partied with the locals there—so fun! And I enjoyed Menton for some days—almost like a Newport Beach in France, still with plenty of history, including the multiple legacies of Jean Cocteau, in a big museum & the city hall; he had adopted the town in his day.
I must add that, back around about 2011 or so, I worked with Marina on my version of My Man (now on the Four Sweets CD). It includes the French version, as well as an original archetype rap in French at the end, which she & I wrote together. So cool! It's pretty amazing, if I do say so~ Check it out (under music, Four Sweets, above) if you haven't! [I've called that song a woman's manifesto . . ]
How grateful I am for such a culture, that I hold so dear.
