Nîmes, France
In which I choose to celebrate Ferria by watching river jousting instead of bullfights, and somehow stand directly in front of one of the world's great Roman ruins without noticing it.
{Nimes, France}
My first point of business in Nîmes is to buy myself a new pair of sunglasses.
A wide pedestrian boulevard leads from the train station into the center of town, and it culminates in a white-pebbled plaza with a beautiful marble fountain in the center. It is another blazing hot day, and the sun glinting off the street and fountain is so very strong that it is impossible for me to even keep my eyes open, let alone see. Luckily, street vendors are selling anything you could possibly want from stands set up right behind the plaza.
Rap music is pumping from a nearby DJ stand, crowds of people mill about everywhere, and it becomes obvious pretty quickly that this isn’t an ordinary street market. We’ve arrived, inadvertently, during the annual Feria festival. Ferias - feria means “fair” in Spanish - occur all over the south of France during the warm months, but the Feria de Nîmes is the largest. It is a week-long celebration with a Spanish flair: vendors serve paella and sangria along the city’s wide boulevards, and men wear those neck scarfs that seem to be unique to the Basque country - scarves that say: “I could run with the bulls, or indeed fight a bull at any time.” (But first, let me just set down my sangria.) Because that’s what the Feria is really about: bullfighting.
The Arena de Nîmes is even more impressive than the one in Arles. It is larger, more intact, and holds more people. The celebration radiates from the Arena, filling the surrounding streets with boisterous crowds. And it is inside of the Arena that the bullfighting occurs.
Did you know that almost 250,000 bulls are killed every year in bullfights? I certainly had no idea. There are two types of bullfights during the Feria de Nîmes: classical Spanish bullfights (“corrida”), and a type of bullfighting that is specific to the south of France, called Courses Camarguaises.
Even though I have respect for other cultures’ traditions, you know that in a million years I could never sit through a Spanish-style bullfight. We all know what happens at the end - and I don’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. But in French-style bullfighting, no one dies. The “fight” involves matadors attempting to grab a ribbon from the bull’s horns. These are the fights that the prized bulls from the Camargue are raised for - and the lucky few that get selected to fight live out their days in retirement: in comfort and happiness. And when they die, they are buried upright with their heads facing the sea out of respect for their service.
However, that’s not really what the people here want to see. There are only a couple of French-style bullfights on the schedule at Nîmes, and they seem to be at inopportune times. Besides, the nice lady at the tourist office says the French-style fights are “kind of boring”. She suggests we come back in a couple of days for the procession and for the water jousting tournament. And, since Nîmes is less than half an hour by train from Arles, that is exactly what we decide to do.
I am constantly watching my phone as I walk, using it to navigate. As much as I like the idea of wandering and just enjoying my surroundings…sometimes you have to be somewhere at a certain time. At the train station, for example, to catch a train.
Nîmes is a relatively large city, and so I have to navigate the way back to the train station. Along the way, I remember that I should be looking out for the Maison Carrée. I stop to Google it and am surprised to see that it is kitty-corner from where we are standing. A reminder to pay attention to what is in front of my nose, I guess.
Maison Carrée may not be a household name, but if you ever took Art History 101, you likely remember it. I remember it from my first art history class in college - I remember thinking that it was kind of boring. But seeing a little black-and-white photograph in a textbook is completely different from seeing something live and in person.
Maison Carrée means “square house”, but it is in fact neither square nor a house. It is a rectangular Roman temple that when it was built was dedicated to the goddess Roma - the female embodiment of the Roman state - and to the Genius Augusti. In ancient Rome, it was believed that every person had a genius - a spirit who was with them from birth to death, and who was responsible for their traits and personalities, failures and successes. It is where our word “genius” comes from. And so the temple was dedicated to the Genius Augusti, the guiding spirit of the Emporer Augustus.
It is considered a picture-perfect example of Vitruvian classical architecture and is notable for its remarkable state of preservation. The Maison Carrée was built somewhere between 19-12 BC - a very long time ago. It has undergone a recent cleaning to remove centuries of grime and automotive exhaust from the creamy limestone, and the results are breathtaking. Imagine if the ruins of the Roman Forum or even the Acropolis in Greece had survived in such a perfect state of preservation.
Not far from the Maison Carrée is a canal, and this canal leads to the Jardin de la Fontaine, a massive and ornate 18th-century garden that was built around some of the city’s remaining Roman ruins. The garden is filled with walking paths, statuary and terraced flower gardens - and it is in the canal at the front of this garden that the water jousting tournament takes place.
Never heard of water jousting? Neither had I, although of course I was familiar with the kind of jousting that involves horses. Water jousting is unique to Provence and the south of France, and they have been holding tournaments here since the sixth century. There are two teams: red and blue…the red consists of married men and the blue team bachelors. Each team has ten members and the tournament consists of ten rounds so that each member gets a chance to joust. The jousters stand on an elevated platform on the prow of the boat with a long lance and shield, while the rest of the team acts as rowers and rows the boats as closely past each other as they can. Which, frankly, seems to be the hardest part of the whole tournament, as they only get close enough to joust about half of the time. Anyway, each round ends when a jouster is knocked into the water - at which point he has to do the swim of shame to the side of the canal.
It is more theater and tradition than actual sport. Still, this is the only place you’re going to see it, and the canal was absolutely packed with spectators, all enjoying an event that they’ve probably been attending since they were young enough to watch perched on their parent’s shoulders. Which is what makes it such a joy to experience. And, no animals are killed. So there’s that.
When we return to Arles, it is that awkward time in the middle of the afternoon when it is virtually impossible to find something to eat. This is something that is difficult to get used to in France - restaurants and cafes are only open during very short periods every day. Most restaurants are open for lunch from noon to about 2:00 or 2:30 and then they close again until around 7:00 - when, again, you have a 2-3 hour window to get dinner. It is such a change from the United States, where you can pretty much get whatever you want any time of the day. It makes sense as far as staffing…but it is a change to always keep this schedule in the back of your mind. And to remember, too, that when restaurants are open for lunch, it is likely that other shops are going to be closed. Pharmacies, clothes stores…even some museums close for the lunch hour. It reminds me of a sign that I saw on the door of an antique shop in Rouen, which said something to the effect of: “No, I’m not always here. I have a life, too.”
To which I say, good for him.
