Kiss count: 3. Left-Right-Left.
The most famous resident of Arles was one Mr. Vincent Van Gogh. The Dutch painter spent the penultimate year of his life creating some of the world's best known, most popular and most expensive paintings here whilst battling severe depression. It is also here that he stalked his artistic partner, Gauguin, with a razor blade on 23 December 1888 before famously slicing off the lower part of his own left ear lobe, wrapping it in newspaper and giving it to a local prostitute, named Rachel, telling her to "keep this object carefully." Van Gogh committed himself a few months later to a nearby mental hospital where he would spend the next year before shooting himself in the chest with a revolver, on 27 July 1890 at the age of 37, in a field near Paris. Oddly, he didn't die in that instant and didn't realise he had fatally wounded himself - he died two days later in his bed. Van Gogh's last words, as reported by his brother Theo, were "la tristesse durera toujours" - French for "the sadness will last forever"... Poor guy...
Despite Van Gogh being such a prominent part of Arles' history, not a single piece of his work can be found here - except for some reproductions by other artists - which I find very odd. Nevertheless, the city is quite charming with its Roman architecture and colourful buildings situated on the banks of the River Rhône (one of the main waterways in Europe, passing through France and Switzerland), and you can see where he was able to find the inspiration for his paintings.
Like many towns in the area, Arles (pronounced Arl) only prospered after it became a Roman stronghold around 49BC. The city soon replaced Marseille as the region's major port and within a century-and-a-half had become such an important centre that a 12,000-seat theatre and a 20,000-seat amphitheatre, reminiscient of Rome's Colosseum, were built here. Today, these structures still stand and are used for cultural events and even bullfighting (with a slight twist - around this area, known as the Camargue, a non-lethal form of bullfighting is practised whereby white-clad razeteurs attempt to remove ribbons tied to the bulls horns using hooks held between their fingers).
On the Saturday morning of every week a massive market, stretching on for what seems like miles, is held in the streets of Arles with everything from fresh produce to jewellery, used electrical goods to Islamic fashion items (it appears as though there is quite a large Muslim influence in France). I checked this out for an hour or two before going on my obligatory wander around town. In the evening, two girls from the hostel and myself headed to place de la République in the city centre where a four-piece female a capella group was performing - we had a great time listening to them but unfortunately had to leave early as our hostel had an 11pm curfew.
The following day I took a bus south to an old farmhouse-turned-hostel in the heart of the Camargue, a huge delta of the Rhône famed for its expansive beauty, white horses, black bulls raised for bullfighting, flamingos and mosquitoes! So many mosquitoes! Anyways, so I managed to hitchhike down to the coast to the main town in the area, Les Saintes-Maries de la Mer. I spent a good few hours here and bumped into some of the people from the hostel in Arles before bussing it back to the hostel where I spent the night eating dinner and trying to make conversation with a lovely French family from Lyon using our very limited knowledge of each others' language.
I spent most of the next day riding a bicycle (a velo) I had hired around the Camargue. Unfortunately I had given away my insect repellent to Alana and Brooke in Beijing and it was way too expensive to buy there so I decided to brave it and go without. Big mistake! I got to see thousands of flamingos in their natural environment but at the same time came back with thousands on mozzie bites all over my shoulders, hands and ankles. I don't know how they got to my shoulders since I was wearing two thick long sleeved tops... Mutant mosquitoes maybe? After all this fun, I decided to give hitchhiking another go back up to Arles - very unsuccessfully. I was picked up once but got dropped off about halfway and eventually had to catch a bus after another hour or walking.
When I arrived back, instead of staying in Arles - where there was no vacancy in the hostel anyway - I walked to the train station just outside of town and bought myself a ticket...
The most famous resident of Arles was one Mr. Vincent Van Gogh. The Dutch painter spent the penultimate year of his life creating some of the world's best known, most popular and most expensive paintings here whilst battling severe depression. It is also here that he stalked his artistic partner, Gauguin, with a razor blade on 23 December 1888 before famously slicing off the lower part of his own left ear lobe, wrapping it in newspaper and giving it to a local prostitute, named Rachel, telling her to "keep this object carefully." Van Gogh committed himself a few months later to a nearby mental hospital where he would spend the next year before shooting himself in the chest with a revolver, on 27 July 1890 at the age of 37, in a field near Paris. Oddly, he didn't die in that instant and didn't realise he had fatally wounded himself - he died two days later in his bed. Van Gogh's last words, as reported by his brother Theo, were "la tristesse durera toujours" - French for "the sadness will last forever"... Poor guy...
Despite Van Gogh being such a prominent part of Arles' history, not a single piece of his work can be found here - except for some reproductions by other artists - which I find very odd. Nevertheless, the city is quite charming with its Roman architecture and colourful buildings situated on the banks of the River Rhône (one of the main waterways in Europe, passing through France and Switzerland), and you can see where he was able to find the inspiration for his paintings.
Like many towns in the area, Arles (pronounced Arl) only prospered after it became a Roman stronghold around 49BC. The city soon replaced Marseille as the region's major port and within a century-and-a-half had become such an important centre that a 12,000-seat theatre and a 20,000-seat amphitheatre, reminiscient of Rome's Colosseum, were built here. Today, these structures still stand and are used for cultural events and even bullfighting (with a slight twist - around this area, known as the Camargue, a non-lethal form of bullfighting is practised whereby white-clad razeteurs attempt to remove ribbons tied to the bulls horns using hooks held between their fingers).
On the Saturday morning of every week a massive market, stretching on for what seems like miles, is held in the streets of Arles with everything from fresh produce to jewellery, used electrical goods to Islamic fashion items (it appears as though there is quite a large Muslim influence in France). I checked this out for an hour or two before going on my obligatory wander around town. In the evening, two girls from the hostel and myself headed to place de la République in the city centre where a four-piece female a capella group was performing - we had a great time listening to them but unfortunately had to leave early as our hostel had an 11pm curfew.
The following day I took a bus south to an old farmhouse-turned-hostel in the heart of the Camargue, a huge delta of the Rhône famed for its expansive beauty, white horses, black bulls raised for bullfighting, flamingos and mosquitoes! So many mosquitoes! Anyways, so I managed to hitchhike down to the coast to the main town in the area, Les Saintes-Maries de la Mer. I spent a good few hours here and bumped into some of the people from the hostel in Arles before bussing it back to the hostel where I spent the night eating dinner and trying to make conversation with a lovely French family from Lyon using our very limited knowledge of each others' language.
I spent most of the next day riding a bicycle (a velo) I had hired around the Camargue. Unfortunately I had given away my insect repellent to Alana and Brooke in Beijing and it was way too expensive to buy there so I decided to brave it and go without. Big mistake! I got to see thousands of flamingos in their natural environment but at the same time came back with thousands on mozzie bites all over my shoulders, hands and ankles. I don't know how they got to my shoulders since I was wearing two thick long sleeved tops... Mutant mosquitoes maybe? After all this fun, I decided to give hitchhiking another go back up to Arles - very unsuccessfully. I was picked up once but got dropped off about halfway and eventually had to catch a bus after another hour or walking.
When I arrived back, instead of staying in Arles - where there was no vacancy in the hostel anyway - I walked to the train station just outside of town and bought myself a ticket...
Photos:
Simona and Angel
enjoying the bread at the Saturday markets
the streets of Arles
the amphitheatre
from a different angle
some more artwork
who's been playing funny buggers?
my Japanese friend Satoko!
flamingos
flamingo
the famous black bulls
given up.. waiting for a bus in the middle of nowhere after a couple of hours hitchhiking
1 comment:
a) I did not know Vincent Van Gogh shot himself in the chest!!
b) I like the bullfighting without the killing bit.. and with ribbons too!!
c) I still cannot believe a hostel has an 11pm curfew!! What a funny funny thing..
d) Australian mosquitoes have ALWAYS loved you.. so why wouldn't their French counterparts..
e) Stop with the hitch-hiking!!
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