The Light that Rises and Shines Across the Sea
Friends visiting Marseille, another book rec, epic art hikes, and the best meal
The front door opens and a loud “BON-JOoUuRrRrR!!” rattles the high walls of the old apartment. It’s Kate, one of our dearest friends, who Kyle has known for 20 years now (matching tattoos are happening soon) who’s joined us on our vacation here in Marseille. It’s always a joy to have Kate come along on our adventures—another point of view, another person to laugh with, who understands our eccentricities and the importance of blue-colored drinks. So far we’ve spent a lot of time at the beach. Kyle and Kate bob along in the sea, catching up as old friends do, the salt water making it easy to float, while I lay sprawled out on a towel, working on my tan and reading my summer novels.
I finished reading The Friend by Sigrid Nunez, my second book of the summer, and I will say, I really enjoyed it. It’s a very literary novel, by which I mean, the air of the book is about authors and the book industry and it’s culture, though the heart of it is about life and loss, about our creativity, about friendship, and how we remember people once they’re gone and the totems they leave behind. The way Nunez structured her book, with brief anecdotes, side notes, stray thoughts, often from authors that have long since passed, highlights that the things we feel have been felt before. It reminded me that, even as times change, we humans often go through the twists and turns, even though they may feel uniquely ours.
It’s special to have Kate along for the ride of our holidays. It changes the texture of the trip, the alchemy subtly influenced. Getting to be with someone we love in a place that we love only makes the experience all the more memorable.
Only a short train ride from Marseille, just outside the town of Aix-en-Provence, is a place called Château La Coste. The product of a billionaire Irishman, it’s been described as a 600-acre sculpture park and art destination with an organic winery. I would call it Disneyland for bougie adults.
When I arrived to the château I was greeted by a colossal Tadao Ando designed building, soaring walls of cast concrete and glass, with a massive moat at the front that frames one of Louise Bourgeois iconic bronze spider sculptures. Walking further into the grounds I was struck by the sheer number of artworks that are seemingly scattered around like Lego in a children’s bedroom. The plan for the day was straightforward: lunch at Vanina, an Italian restaurant that prides itself on fresh pasta and pizza dough, followed by a winery tour, and finishing the day up with art and architecture walk around the property.
Lunch was amazing, though I almost fell asleep during the winery tour, a side effect of two Aperol Spritzes and full belly from said amazing lunch. As it turns out, the wine was mediocre, especially for me, a person who craves a funky, sparkling, natural wine with an interesting character. I want a weird wine that tastes like hay and pop rocks, not a dry, chalky red that gives me cottonmouth. Anyhow, it ended up being the art and architecture walk that ended up being highlight, though, calling it a “walk” maybe a misnomer. Have you ever hiked in Los Angeles? Say like Runyon or Bronson Canyon? It felt exactly like that, which is to say, it was absolutely an art hike. A two hour hike with no bathrooms and no water or even wine!
The walk was lead by a fiery young man, expressive and effeminate in the best ways, with pants cinched tightly to stay afloat on his tiny waist. I had seen him earlier in the day, seated in a gallery space displaying floral paintings by Damian Hirst which I kept loudly describing as “gloopy” and wondered if the word’s meaning translated into French. “I do this tour only once I day,” he told me, “…but only when it’s cool out. My person is not made for heat!”
As we walked (hiked) we encountered more Damien Hirst pieces (there were easily millions of dollars worth of Hirst’s on the property), an underground room made of oak trees by Andy Goldworthy, a bench by Jenny Holzer, a massive leaf sculpture by Kengo Kuma, a massive pregnant woman sculpture by Prune Nourry, a random piece from Richard Serra (that was not addressed) and a meandering stone path by Ai Wei Wei. In case you’re curious, here is a full list of artists who have contributed, and well, it’s insane how much money has gone into the property, like it’s hard to fathom. Nonetheless, it was a magical experience, one I didn’t expect, which in hindsight I believe made it all the more special.
Last night I dined at Tuba Club, a charming restaurant in the coastal town of Goudes, a 30 minute drive south of Marseille. “Tuba” is the French word for “snorkel,” and the building it occupies was once a diving school. Myself, Kyle, and Kate cozied into a booth in the corner of the restaurant lined with rattan patterned cushions. It was a windy day, blow you over windy, so sitting outside on the rocky exterior wasn’t an option, though we could easily see the sun slowly setting over the sea from where we sat.
The room was filled with an eclectic assortment of characters. A couple sat across from us, her in a black jumper that sparkled in the light, he in white linen from head to toe, both tanned and radiant. The pair of couples next to them, two older men, bald with heavy paunches, with their elegant blonde wives, gulping bottles of Ruinart blanc de blanc. A group of woman sat near the windows all dressed like Diane Keaton if she lived off the Mediterranean, with flowing pants, eccentric hats, and dark glasses worn even once the sun had gone down.
As you’d imagine, the menu was mainly seafood, fresh catch from the local fisherman. Oysters aplenty, fresh turbot and tuna, the most amazing crab I’ve ever eaten, and even the butter was fish shaped. In the lead up to our trip I kept telling Kyle how badly I wanted to eat fresh fish everyday, and this meal felt like the culmination of those desires. We drank a cocktail called the Tuba Martini, made with vodka Romanov, raspberry liqueur, pineapple, and passion fruit. I could have drink three more. If you find yourself in Marseille I couldn’t recommend Tuba Club any more highly.
This week, on the 21st of August I turn 42. It feels like a special year when I look at the numbers involved. 2 and 1 and 4 and 2 and the month is 8 and the year is 2024 and my number is 4 and there’s a roundness to these numbers, a balance perhaps, and balance is important. I’m at that point where birthdays aren’t as important as they once were, another lap around the sun, making the most of my time while I’m here. Have a glass of something bubbly for me!
by my partner, Kyle Raymond Fitzpatrick, is a sharp and insightful look at all the things going on in the world, arriving every Sunday to your inbox. Highly recommended, obviously.
Sounds like a lovely trip. I miss Kate! Hope you enjoy your bday and your 42nd year ❤️
Loved this post. The art & the descriptions & the book recco. Thank you :-)