St Cyprien, France
Created | Updated Nov 7, 2005
St Cyprien-Plage, Perpignan, 030805-110805
Grandparents
Basking beside the Mediterranean in the south-west corner of France, the resort of Saint Cyprien is 30 minutes drive from Perpignan. A miniature Cote d’ Azure, a place where French folk can enjoy the benefits of their country without suffering the pretensions of Europe’s wealthy people; a place with space and air to breath and the Mediterranean sea, food and climate to relish. A place where civilised families can enjoy their august holidays free from fear, anxiety and frustration. A blissful environment where young parents play with their little people whilst the grandparents watch with pride and satisfaction.
Harbour
The heart of Saint Cyprien is the working harbour where small boats and yachts are moored alongside fishing craft. In the boatyard barnacles are scrapped, hulls pressure hosed and the riggings rigged. Vessels are sanded, polished and painted in the obligatory blue and white colours. A miniature railway drags the complaining craft onto dry land where the beached boats perch incongruously, treacherously pirouetting on their keels, oversized spinning tops waiting to be set in motion.
Citadels
La Plage d’ Art is where the beautiful people mingle with the families. To the rear of the beach dubious muscle bound men take off skimpy black sleeveless vests, roll down miniscule swimming trunks, bees wax their mahogany skin to a high gloss and lie prostrate and motionless. No movement ensuring an envious consistency of tan with the only the tiniest of white bits.
At the waters edge citadels of towels, parasols, mats, bags and carrycots define the family area. Inflated alligators and yellow lilo swamp the wind swept waves, floating bucking broncos over which the children dive and fall.
Prostrate mothers feign sleep, nervously adjusting irritating G strings. Fathers compete to build the perfect sandcastle despite repeated attempts by their infants to demolish the ramparts. Father defends, children retreat, re-group and assail again. For a fleeting moment the monument is complete with a plastic flag raised on a corner turret. Success is short lived for a lapse in fatherly concentration allows the defences to be breached by flailing baby legs and arms. Sand reverts to sand reflecting nature’s way of returning man made structures to the dust from which they are constructed. Nearby Grandma and Pa proudly perch on canvas beach chairs protectively observing their offsprings at play. Vendors as black as ivory, clad in woollen smocks, weave between the citadels waving Moroccan jewellery and wooden idols; no one buys.
Bouncers
Restaurants and gift shops line the water front all bursting with giggling babies and laughing adults joyously privileged to holiday in a country where family values prevail and the pleasure of relaxation and play take preference over all else. A litter free town, no cans, bottles, wrappings or dirt to pollute these children. Parents chastise the little people if they inadvertently litter the streets, the children are obliged to rescue the offending debris and bin it. The diligent cleaners remove rubbish from the bins and the blue plastic liners are regularly replaced. There is no drinking in the streets and no bars, wine bars, or drink only establishments, alcohol is taken at the dining table. The only ‘bouncers’ are the brightly coloured inflatable castles where little people mimic the falling over routine of drunks.
Feminine
Grandfathers enjoy mock street fights, laughing with their granddaughters. Doting parents admire the street artists caricaturing their beautiful children in charcoal on canvas. Delicate beads and ribbons are woven into young hair; bare tummies, arms and backs are painted with brightly coloured inks. Children giggle and grandmothers gesticulate. There is little pretence of sexual equality on the Mediterranean; girls are feminine and sensuous, the boys’ are macho hunters. The girls have an instinctive knowledge of their own sensuality and of the male biological vulnerability. From an early age the eyelashes flutter, hips sway provocatively, heads tilt alluringly. Girls pose erect and proud, safe and desirable. Fathers and grandfathers surrender to the little girl people. Teenage boys hover around the teenage girls and wives gently persuade their husbands. Nature pure and simple. French couples marry whilst young thus boys and girls in their mid 20’s stroll with 2 or 3 children.
He’s behind you
At 10.30pm I squeeze into a child’s plastic chair and sit with 40 of little people mesmerised at a Punch and Judy show. A young husband and wife team tour the south of France in their camper van, erect their small theatre stage to bring laughter and joy to the under 5’s and over 50’s. ‘He’s behind you’ I chant.
Voiture
Voiture must be mentioned. These mechanised aids to mobility are not objects of desire or power in Saint Cyprien. Car parks are provided with defined areas where it is suggested that the motorcar
be placed. These car parks are always full and overflowing for French drivers manage to find sufficient space to park twice as many vehicles as the planners intended. Millimetres separate the bumpers. Access roads and verges are parked as tightly as the allotted areas and yet sufficient room is left for the newcomer to drive around and around with the unfulfilled dream of locating an available space. Many voiture are dumped in places not originally intended for parking. In the centre of roundabouts, on kerbsides and footpaths. They line the centre of pedestrian zones; rest contentedly on waste ground and dusty vacant plots. And Saint Cyprien must be free of crime for in 7 days I saw no police person, car or motorcycle. There are no speed cameras, no parking charges or penalties. The populace regulate themselves with equanimity, equality and kindness.
Ray-150805
