LIVING IN FRANCE

I’ve Never Duplicated My First Magical Visit To Languedoc’s Little Venice, But There Are Still Many Reasons To Visit This City Of Canals.

Including music festivals, jousting tournaments, and a different sort of vibe.

I’d been living in France for a couple of months — a small village in the middle of an endless sea of vineyards — when an English-speaking friend suggested a visit to the port city of Sète. Less than an hour’s drive from home, but worth an overnight stay — miles of beach, interesting shops loads of restaurants, and picturesque canals.

I jumped at the chance. With no car, still trying to figure out bus schedules, and most days spent at my desk, I was finding village life ever so slightly claustrophobic — I’d even wondered whether my California friend might have been right about boring village life.

(That was early on. She was wrong, as I was to discover. See link)

Before we set out, I read up a bit on our destination. Dating back to the 1, Sète is the second-largest Mediterranean fishing port in France — Marseille is the first. Essentially an island built around a hill, the city is surrounded by the Mediterranean on one side and the Etang de Thau (a saltwater lagoon) on the other.

It’s dubbed Little Venice for the maze of canals that wind through the city, linking both waterways.

Not surprisingly — and of great interest to me, I learned that Sète also had a reputation for excellent seafood and certain local Sèteois delicacies such as moules farci (mussels stuffed with sausage) and tielle, a cuttlefish filled pastry. Since I’m allergic to certain fish, the jury was out on tielle but plenty of other things for me to eat including local oysters, tuna, and shellfish.

I love ‘em all.

And we were off. With my first glimpse of the Mediterranean, barely half an hour into our journey, I was primed for discovery.

The first canal on the approach to the centre of Sète is lined with maritime factories and businesses and is, frankly, a bit scruffy. I didn’t care. Almost falling out of the car window to take pictures, I saw only the battered, but picturesque fishing boats bobbing in the water, the nets heaped along the quai. I watched gulls dive and swoop, dungareed men with leathery faces stooped over boats and I breathed in the salt air — perfumed with just a soupçon of fish and diesel oil.

And declared myself in love.

My friend grinned at my enthusiasm. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She was right. It’s hard not to be charmed by Sète — the maze of canals and bridges, the colourful facades of the buildings, the quai side restaurants. On a sunny day, the reflections on the water remind me of a Monet painting. At night, the shimmering lights are magical.

So on that first visit, everything vied for my attention — I could have spent hours just strolling through Les Halles, the huge covered market. Gaping at the charcuterie, the patisserie, the . . . everything and taking pictures.

I decided to pass on the tielle. Something more substantial was called for. Any one of the numerous restaurants we strolled past would have been fine —it was my first visit, and they all look enticing.

My friend dismissed them all. “Too touristy,” she muttered. “Some of them even use frozen fish.”

Quelle horreur!

So we headed down to the waterfront and what at first glance seemed a stretch of dimly lit industrial docks. I thought of the bright lights and enticing aromas of the area we’d just left and hoped she knew what she was doing.

She did.

In those early days in France, I often had the sense of having walked onto a stage set — moments when everything seemed exciting, but not quite real. I’d almost have to convince myself that it wasn't a very vivid dream.

This was one of those times.

It was around 8 and dark. Fishing boats bobbed in the water a few yards from where we stood. Waves splashed against the dock. Out on the horizon, lights from boats punctuated the blackness.

Under an illuminated sign with most of the bulbs missing, and nestled between two buildings, was a small kiosk. The smell of wood smoke wafted from inside. A short line had already formed.

No written menu, just a list of poisson and coquillage to choose from, threaded on brochettes and cooked over a grill in the back of the kiosk. Fishermen dropped off their catch at the adjacent building.

We ordered half a dozen or so brochettes — scallops, prawns assorted fish — then ordered more. I thought then, and nine years later still believe, that it was absolutely the freshest and most delicious seafood I’ve ever eaten in France.

Brochette after brochette washed down with a bottle of local white wine.

Pic Poul which, my friend said you have to drink in Sete.

A guy asked if he could join us — the half a dozen or so tables were now full. We talked — my French matched his English, but my friend’s fluent French came to the rescue. He’d lived in Sete for years, he said. Wouldn’t live anywhere else. Not Montpellier, no. Sete is real, he said. A working place, with working people.

I asked if he was a fisherman. He smiled. No, he just knew where they served the freshest fish in Sète.

I’ve been back to Sète many times since, but I’ve never eaten another meal at Le Grilladin. On a couple of visits, I couldn’t locate it — another time, I managed to find it, but it was closed. When I Googled it recently, a notice said the place was permanently closed.

Sad, but I’ve discovered over the years that it’s better not to try to replicate a magical experience — somehow it’s never quite the same. And there are still so many reasons to visit Langedoc’s Little Venice.

Including numerous festivals — music and jousting — which draw thousands to the town every summer. More in another story.

I write about my life in France, places in my area of the Languedoc, and a few of the people I’ve met. My neighbour told me about her long-ago love affair with the famous chanteuse mentioned in the stories below — who happened to have lived in Sète

If you’d like to take me along on your walk, or wherever you’d like to go. Just press the listen button at the top of the story to hear it read aloud.

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Many thanks!