I took the long slow run around the Cap this morning. It’s cool and cloudy, just like last time. Hoping for a change in the weather, the restaurant on the first beach is setting its outdoor tables with the good white linen and the crystal. The second beach has been freshly groomed for the season, new sand replacing what had been lost to the winter waves. Yesterday afternoon the far end of this beach was crowded, not just with beachgoers but with locals waiting for the annual Stations of the Cross procession, led by the priest up the rough and steep Chemin de Calvaire to the chapel at the top of the hill. This morning the beach is empty.
Sunday morning the bicyclists are always out in force, many of them riding through from Nice in the east or Cannes in the west. Almost all of them are men wearing official bike racers gear riding thin-wheeled road bikes. Bicycles outnumber cars ten to one on Sunday mornings.
I see a sign along the road advertising the exclusive life to be had in the Cap villas. Oddly, the sign is printed in English — maybe only the English and the Americans can afford it. The gates are open at the Hotel du Cap, so I run up the driveway to the Eden Roc restaurant at the waterfront. Some day I’ll have to stop in and have a gin fizz at the bar. Maybe I’ll try next month when the film festival is on.
In Juan les Pins I see a bearded guy in a black suit and yarmulke: today is the last day of Passover, I believe. France has the biggest population of Jews and Muslims in Europe. I’m reminded of David Sedaris and some of his fellow emigres in French class trying to explain Easter, in French, to a Moroccan woman.
It is a party for the little boy of God who call his self Jesus and… He call his self Jesus and then he die one day on two… morsels of… lumber… He die one day and then he go above of my head to live with your father. He weared of himself the long hair and after he die, the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples. He nice, the Jesus. He make the good things, and on the Easter we be sad because somebody makes him dead today.