Travel in France. Visit to Sète in autumn, when the city becomes soft and melancholy

The cities of the South have you of these melancholies when the tourists leave… Sète is no exception to the rule. And coming back to the singular island after the madness of summer provides a mixed feeling. We appreciate the calm of the depopulated streets and we can better see the city, its architectural lines, which stand out against an often immaculate blue sky. But we regret the warmth of the summer entertainment – ​​six festivals in a row, frequent parades by the jousters’ brass band and even guided tours of the series tomorrow belongs to us who pass by the bottom of the house and always repeat, tirelessly, the same song…

When autumn comes, the cold rushes into the narrow and steep streets of the Upper Quarter. We shiver in the apartments with little or no heating and we remember with nostalgia the colorful discussions of Sétoises and Sétois calling out to each other on the road. We even come to regret the deafening mopeds that climb rue Paul-Valéry, breaking, for sure, the sound barrier…

The city is not dead, no, it is just dormant. It still comes alive on market days or festive Sundays.

The light remains beautiful. Limpid and invigorating in the morning, golden at the end of the day. Sometimes the mist descends on the city, and we feel that the sun, a little annoyed, tries to break through. There is sweetness in autumnal Sète. An invitation to laze around. To go to the arthouse cinema, the mythical Comoediaoften visited by the late Agnès Varda, [habituée] places, or at the museum. the crack for example, this Regional Center for Contemporary Art in Occitanie, which stands out for its cutting-edge programming and its staff, who are incredibly kind and competent.

And then, of course, there is the sea. Majestic and haughty. We bathe in it chillily – at 16 degrees, it’s not the tropics –, but we walk around it endlessly and without getting tired. Twelve kilometers of a continuous beach that takes us by the hand. And invites you to daydream, your eyes lost in the azure horizon. A cliche ? Yes, but a beautiful and soothing shot that we cannot refuse…

“Where the sand is so fine”

Especially since the seagulls and gulls accompany this stroll with their strident cries, even their whimpers – sometimes, their “song” sounds like a cat mewing or a baby crying…

Never forget that if Sète is the homeland of Paul Valéry, poet of spirituality, it is also the canteen of Georges Brassens, genius of small people, even small strikes, more chaotic, less aligned.

Because he would have been 100 years old in 2021 and the beach was, in his wish, his ultimate destination, we leave it to the naughty troubadour The final word. “Right by the sea, a stone’s throw from the blue waves / Dig if possible a soft little hole / A good little niche / With my childhood friends, the dolphins / Along this shore where the sand is so fine / On the corniche beach.”