Marseillan - Coup de Coeur

It takes a while to get into the rhythm of French life, as many aspects haven’t changed much for centuries, certain rituals are sacrosanct, and a lot revolves around food and wine, which is probably why it is still one of the world's most appreciated lifestyles.
My first forays into Marseillan, a small town on the Mediterranean coast, beside the Etang de Thau, surrounded by vineyards (of course) and occasionally buffeted by the famous Mistral wind, blended the expected, the unexpected and the downright puzzling.

At first, I thought the place was basically closed. Or everyone was somewhere else, hiding. A brief thought crossed my mind that there might still be the Plague in these areas and the town had been quarantined. Maybe Marseillan was only operational in the tourist season from April to September? I was wrong on all accounts – particularly the Plague one. Without fail, I’d arrive around midday ready for a brisk stock-up or a wander around the shops, basket and euros at the ready, only to find the place deserted. What was going on? A quick call to Holly, and the puzzle was solved.  I was quite simply getting my timing all wrong, and heading for the bright lights at Lunch Time! Everything, EVERYTHING stops at Lunch Time!  Silly me. 

Now that I knew I should revise my day to include a three hour Lunch, along with the rest of France, everything clicked into place. Only large supermarket chains remain functional over Lunch Time, with a single checkout open to serve the exclusively British and American contingent who are insane enough to be doing anything other than eating Lunch at Lunch Time. Who was I to argue?  Lunch it would be! 

And how nice it is, too, not to feel rushed, to peruse the Le Formule or the Prix Fixe and make selections from a menu that changes every day, according to the fresh produce available in the markets.  To sneak in a carafe of wine, a plump dessert, a heart-starter espresso and still have an hour left to digest it all.  There are delightful restaurants and cafés all along the adorable little port of Marseillan and they are always, always packed at Lunch Time, no matter what the weather, plus they do brisk tea and coffee business throughout the day. 

From our favourite café, La Maison de Camille, the click of the boules is audible as older French men, some of them unbelievably wearing berets, seriously battle each other for victory on the dusty blonde pitch, surrounded by tall plane trees and smoking spectators.
Les mouettes can be heard screeching out to sea, and the unique sound of the headsail sheets ‘ting-tinging’ against the masts of the boats lining the port, completes the scene. There are papers to be read, dogs to be walked, bread to be bought, zebras to be parked on, and, yes, work to be done, but around here it’s done at a slower pace and with a sense of the day unfolding rather than unravelling, as it often does when caught up in city life. It's another world but one well worth waiting for.