Submitted by Lauren Mottel on the 2022 winter session program in France sponsored by the Department of Material Sciences and Engineering and the Department of Physics and Astronomy…
The myriad of teal, cerulean, and cobalt blues of the Mediterranean Sea shine like stained glass under the midday sun. Seagulls circle overhead, their cries ringing out in time with the gentle crash of lapping waves against cleaved cliffsides. And there, in the distance, you’ll see a flock of Blue Hens venturing through these valleys and down to the shoreline for a quick dip — only to be quickly reminded by rippling gooseflesh and chattering teeth that it is, after all, a 45° F January day.
So incredibly worth it. (The temporary loss of feeling in our toes notwithstanding).
As we quickly approach the eleventh hour of our stay here in Marseille, France, it is all too easy to find myself taking longer looks over my shoulder, in an attempt to engrave these sights in my mind’s eye just a little while longer, so that they too, could stand the test of time like the beautiful limestone cliffs. It is fitting then, to reflect on our program here through the Calanques – a national park of cliffs and coves on the outskirts of the city – as it was punctuated by these trips into the water: the first week to La Calanque de Sugiton and the fourth week to La Calanque de Sormiou, interspersed with expeditions along the French Riviera.
I had never felt more human than when I was cradled within the rolling landscape, cast adrift in the land and sea alike. It allowed me to reconnect not only with my sense of self, but with those around me on this journey (who also quite literally witnessed me falling for France on the trails…).
All I can say is that I am grateful. I am grateful for every mad dash to the metro station and shivering scramble to towels along the shore, for vending machine macchiatos and home-cooked chicken curry, for 3 mini croissants for 1€ deals and grocery store-bought treats for rooftop birthdays — every single minute I am allowed.
And I know that when I do return to Newark, back to walks on the Green and Dunkin’ iced coffee runs, I will still be able to hear the soft crash of the waves on rocky beaches – the Calanques’ calling.
À bientôt, Marseille. You were so very wonderful.