The Art Of Being French
If you search the internet for the history of Nice and the Alpes-Maritimes, you might come across the statement that our hometown and surrounding region was ‘Made in Italy’.
Yes, la dolce vita may be alluring, but la belle vie is undeniable. In Nice at least.
A quick history re-cap will tell you that Nice was exchanged between the Italian County of Savoy and the French government no less than six times before it finally returned to France in 1860. Borders move, governments change, populations flux.
And even the promenade is English, right? The belle époque, the golden years brought the first form of tourism to Nice. Aristocracy from northern Europe came, bought, built and leisured on the beachfront. The Niçois lunchtime cannon to mark the most important part of the French working day, was started by a Scotchman.
But. Walk through the marché des fleurs on the Cours Saleya loud with life and smelling literally of roses. Stroll past the Provençal pointu fishing boats that form a floating kaleidoscope of colours in the harbour outside the Café HQ. Stop and observe the boulodromes that buzz with the click-clack of metal on metal and the chit chat of tactics and competition. Sit at one of the brasseries that dot every corner of every quartier and observe the to and fro of the adjoining tabac, or the queue for baguettes at the boulangerie across the street.
These are things that you can find throughout France. The flavour varies depending on the location, but the essence remains the same. The administrative divisions from big to small indicate the complexity of geo-specific eccentricities – quartiers, arrondissements, communes, cantons, départments, regions.
A case in point : there are estimated to be somewhere between 1,000 and 1,600 different types of French cheese. Important note : they are all French. And so Nice doesn’t do cassoulet but it does do daube de sanglier. It doesn’t do a Bretagne crepe, but it does do the best socca in the world. It doesn’t do a heavy Bordeaux but it does do a mean rosé.
Those regional variations of products come from one thing that unites the country, literally from the ground up – le terroir of the countryside. Rural France is what artists like Renoir and Matisse fell in love with and is what July holiday dreams are made of. Wide-open spaces, picnics in the pastures, getting lost in old town streets.
The Niçois arrière-pays is awash with villages lost in time – pastel colours, fountains with adjoining stone laundry baths, and big church spires. In every town you’ll eventually find the Hôtel de Ville, each one with La Marianne inside. She is the symbol of ideals that the nation shares and aspires to.
La Marianne is the antidote for the struggle to define the concept, introduced by our very own President, of “the art of being French”. To explore that concept would take a lifetime… which would not necessarily be time wasted.
What can be assured though is that despite their history, Nice and the Alpes-Maritimes have mastered that art. Stop, sit on the street and observe - you will begin to get the notion. Or otherwise simply come and celebrate Bastille Day.
Or, you can do so anywhere by wearing Marianne with pride as she adorns the Francine Limited Edition jersey.
