Vince

This weekend I went down to Aix-en-Provence to research Cezanne. My hotel didn’t have internet so I apologize for this being late. I took the high-speed train out of Paris early Friday morning and three hours later was in a different world. Stepping off of the train it was like stepping into a sun-soaked dream. I fully and completely understand why Cezanne kept coming back to this place. Needless to say, I fell utterly in love and had a hard time getting back on the train today. But, from the beginning. The TGV station is a in between Aix and Marseilles so there is a shuttle that you can take that will get to right to the heart of Aix. I got a little lost in the station and ended up just barley catching the navette. By the time I got there it was nearing capacity so I squished myself into one of the few remaining seats.

It was so crowded and stuffy on the bus, yet the person sitting in front of me still leaned his seat all the way back to lay down. The man sitting next to me got upset for this inconsiderate action and ended up yelling at the person sit up. After this outburst the man asked if I had enough room. It’s been hard to tell if French men are just being nice or looking for a conquest, but he seemed genuinely nice. So I ended up talking to him, Vince, for the whole ride into town. Our conversation was a mix of French and English, because we both spoke a little of the other. He asked about me and was shocked that I was travelling alone. He was traveling home from vacation, to Aix from San Francisco, and was really jet lagged. Despite this he was really interesting and we had a great conversation about Aix. He was born in Brittany, where I’ll be going this coming weekend, so we talked about the differences between there and Provence. He was a normal guy but even he understood how light affects colors and the importance of that in painting. It was wonderful to have him talk to me about this and about Cezanne.

By the time we arrived at the bus station in Aix, he was legitimately concerned that I was alone in a new city. So he walked with me to my hotel and gave me his number, in case I need anything. I didn’t end up calling him, because we had only just met and I wanted to be on the safe side. But I was a wonderful experience to connect with someone, especially in a different language. I discovered that everyone I met in Aix was much more open (?) and genuine than the people in Paris. I supposed it’s the difference between a big city and the country. But I was a lot easier to fall into conversations with everyone, whereas in Paris I have to make a point of trying to connect with people.