The Barbecue of Summer 2022

 Part I

The roasting started early June when the first heat wave hit France.  We humans were being baked with average daily temperatures above 35⁰ C (95⁰F), and commonly in the 40s during the afternoons.  To add insult to injury, not a drop of rain. This hellish situation is the new normal along the rim of the Mediterranean Sea.  Nimes, the capital of our county (department in French bureaucracy) has earned the unsavory title of France’s hottest city: 60 days above 30⁰. This is actually inaccurate: temperatures were above 35⁰! Consequently, wildfires were ravaging entire regions and water is so scarce that it is being rationed in many villages. 

Blame global warming, climate change, people’s green gas emissions, run away and profligate consumption in industrialized countries, etc.., and you get this beastly cocktail which makes life in Provence feeling no longer Provençale.  Even the Cicadae, the true symbol of Provence, were too stressed out to sing during the days.  Their song was replaced by the roar of water bomber Canadair planes on flight to soak wildfires.

We are reluctantly adapting our routine.  Gone are the leisurely apéritifs and lunches under the hackberry tree, the strolling in the medieval villages and the promenade in the garrigue (wild hillside vegetation).  Only at sunset, when the temperature drops to less torrid levels do weary people emerge from their homes.  Our summer of 2022 routine mirrored that of Saudi Arabia, minus the abaya (robe) and plus rosé and pastis.

Early birds like me do endure better in this beastly weather. I can still enjoy a nice breakfast al fresco; but at 10 am, I have to retreat indoors to seek shelter from the heat.  I only go out to dip in the pool, which feels more like a bathtub since the water temperature is around 30⁰.

It was a perfect incentive to go north.  For years I had planned to visit friends in the south part of Sweden.  I had put it off because I didn’t feel like wearing woolies in the middle of summer.  Summer 2022 was different, and Scandinavia enjoyed collateral heat waves, with temperature in the high 20s.  This convinced me to explore the charms of southern Sweden without the need to load my suitcase with cashmere and Macintosh.

Travel “light” was the only way to arrive hassle-free to one’s destination.  Summer 2022 will be remembered for airline strikes, horrendous flight cancellations, delays and mountains of “lost” luggage.  After successive Covid lockdowns, European airports were grossly ill-equipped to meet the surge of passengers on “revenge” travel.  I flew on Norwegian, a low-cost airline on the more gentrified end of the no frills low-cost segment.  Until I landed in Kastrup, Copenhagen’s main airport, I had never stepped into a luggage graveyard.  One could hardly move around the luggage area, as everywhere one looked were mountains of dumped suitcases.  I pictured the outraged mood of their hapless owners.

My suitcase happily collected, I walked to the railway’s ticket office.  Everything is so simple in Kastrup, which also serves the southern part of Sweden.  A staff helped me buy a train ticket to Malmö, Sweden, where my friend was meeting me.  The Øresund bridge (about 12km long) makes life easy: trains and cars zip through the Strait above ground and in a tunnel.  From Malmö, we went to Skanör by bus.  It was the beginning of my week in Scandinavia.  I was very pleased not to have to change euros for local currencies: in Sweden and Denmark, I only paid by credit card.  A great improvement over France where many merchants only accept cash.

                                                                 Ystad flower show

The Skåne region, in the south of Sweden is very picturesque.  The Skanör/Falsterbo peninsula is regarded as the Swedish Riviera but without the hordes of rowdy tourists and traffic jams! I saw beautiful people, chic homes and a scenic seashore. The weather was hot by the region’s standards but marvelously cool for me.  We also visited the quaint town of Ystad (not in Summer though), birth town of my friend.  Like Skanör, Ystad was already bustling during medieval time.  Both were herring fishing ports and trading posts of the Hanseatic League.  In his Inferno novel, August Strindberg described Ystad as a pirates’ and smugglers’ haunt.  Now, taken over by tourists, I found no trace of its exotic past.  Nonetheless, this little town bowled me over: the locals compete over the floral façade of their half-timber houses.  It was a hollyhock flower show with a profusion of colors.

Bachåkra is not far from Ystad and could not be more different.  It was the Spartan country retreat of former United Nations Secretary General Dag Hammarskjöld, albeit never used by him.  His life was cut short by a fateful plane crash in Zambia.  Hammarskjöld is an iconic figure in the UN.  In the midst of the Cold War and the decolonization movement, the Secretary General quixotically tried to steer the UN to the middle ground, and he may have been murdered for his boldness.  The farmhouse is now a museum and in 2018, a symbolic Security Council meeting even took place there.  It is hard to imagine today’s irate delegates meeting in these peaceful surroundings.

Finally, I spent three days off the beaten track in Copenhagen.  It was my first visit.  Because my flight back to Montpellier was so early, I booked a hotel at the airport.  Public transportation is very user friendly, even illiterate visitors can find their way.  The new, fully automatic subway is a piece of art and worth a ride.  One feels comfortable and safe in the airy stations, even those built 20 meters deep.

During the Renaissance, the Danish kings punched above their weight and with their business acumen amassed a significant wealth which they spent on superb castles, tons of art and jewels and warring against their neighbors.  In Copenhagen, this royal opulence is conspicuous.  Built as a pleasure castle, Rosenborg is a gem.  Sprawling Christianborg slot[1] is the Danish power base which has been made famous worldwide by Borgen the Swedish television political drama.  I never watched the show, but I explored the tower and took the lift up to admire the sweeping sunset view from the tallest tower of the city.

Art wise, the Danes also punch above their weight.  Danes are design-obsessed, which is well known.  However, I passed modern art museums to concentrate on two smaller, less visited museums: the Hirschsprung Collection of 19 and 20^th century Danish art and the David Collection.  I am particularly attracted to the distinctive Nordic light in landscapes by Impressionist painters.  My favorite is P.S Krøyer, a virtuoso painter who suffered mental breakdowns and early blindness.  The David Collection houses a prestigious Islamic art collection, a true Ali Baba cave.  The collections are exhibited in small adjoining rooms, each protected by reinforced doors.  I felt like I was visiting Fort Knox and since it was near closing time, I felt claustrophobic and could not truly enjoy the exhibits fearing the doors would close on me.

On my cultural to do list was another “slot”: Kronborg in Helsingør[2], half hour train ride from Copenhagen.  The visit can be bundled with that of the Louisiana seaside sculpture gardens.  What truly makes the castle impressive is its location, overlooking the Sound (the narrow strait between Sweden and Denmark).  Greatness, self-indulgence and plain expediency in turn define the castle.  Kronborg was Frederik II’s vanity project; it was made famous by Shakespeare, whose play Hamlet, Prince of Denmark was set there.  For 400 years, the castle was no drama but uninspiringly a tollbooth where ships paid taxes to navigate the Sound.  Easy money flooded medieval Helsingør which still shows its past riches.

                                                                   Louisina Art Park 

Louisiana is an amazing place, a must see: an outdoor museum, a modernist art gallery and artistic center with a view of Sweden across the strait.  The weather was blissful, and the art looked particularly impressive under the sun.  The galleries and the lawns were mobbed by families with children.

And then, I flew back to Montpellier to another month of barbecue.

 

 

 

    

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[1] Castle in Danish.

[2] Elsinore as it is called in English.