Off to Montpellier

Last Thursday on a gorgeous day we arrived in Montpellier, a city in the southern region of Languedoc-Roussillon where we had spent the spring semester in 2003. It’s always a relief to get to a place where you have been before, to walk right out of the train station and know exactly where to find the hotel. After dropping off our bags, we headed for the historic downtown, known as l’Écusson because on a map the area resembles a badge or a coat of arms. At noon we were able to enjoy a meal at an outdoor café near Les Halles, the covered central food market; it was so nice to have lunch out in the sun for the first time this year.


Close by is the bookstore Gibert Joseph, where we spent nearly an hour looking over new and second-hand books, DVDs, and postcards. From there it is just a short walk to Place de la Comédie, the impressive square that is the heart of downtown. We inquired about walking tours at the office de tourisme, but none suited our schedule. So, we gladly found a bench for reading our newly purchased books, overlooking the flower beds of the Esplanade Charles de Gaulle.





There is so much we love about Montpellier: its warm people (Coucou, les amis!), its narrow medieval streets, its mild climate, its nearness to the Mediterranean. One thing we’ve never been too crazy about, though, is its lack of fine cuisine. But on Thursday night, after doing a little Internet research on the French equivalent of Chowhound, called Où Bouffer (“Where to eat”), we were lucky enough to come across glowing reviews of Le Nhà-Quê. This restaurant of just ten tables, which is only open from Thursday to Saturday evening, serves delicious Vietnamese cuisine, probably the best we’ve ever had. The owner/chef/waiter, a very vivacious fellow, delighted us with his wonderful fare as well as his impeccable French. My mouth still waters thinking about le magret de canard laqué ("lacquered duck breast") that I had that night!

On Friday and Saturday we visited friends and explored some familiar and unfamiliar parts of the city: la Promenade de Peyrou (the elevated place royale in honor of the Sun King, Louis XIV), l’Arc de Triomphe (just across the street and restored since we were last in town), le Jardin des Plantes (where the hyacinths and mimosa were in bloom), la cathédrale Saint-Pierre (with its fortress-like towers), and next to it la Faculté de Médecine (where, believe it or not, Nostradamus and Rabelais studied in the 1530s!). We dropped by another favorite bookstore, Sauramps, where a helpful clerk searched his database for secondary works on Vargas for me.

To round out the weekend on Sunday we took the tram to Port Marianne and grabbed a bus to the beach. We were not the only ones to have the idea! The restaurants and shops along the canal and the boardwalk of Palavas-les-Flots were swarming with folks like us, who were eager to benefit from the warmer spring temperatures. A few people were playing games on the beach and there were even some brave souls swimming in the Mediterranean. The whole trip was a wonderful way to celebrate the true and long-desired beginning of spring.