Chantiers Navals

Last week, I went to the old shipyards in La Ciotat as part of a tour with Maria, the Spanish assistant. 

The shipyards were once the biggest employer in La Ciotat, mainly producing naval ships, cargo ships, and big oil tankers for the French Navy, but they closed down production in 1988, due to the downsizing of the Navy, and the lower cost of producing ships in the Nord-Pas-Calais region of France, which has been a notable industrial center for hundreds of years. 

Currently, the shipyards are still in business, but privately: a yacht-building company is housed on the property, and, although they employ some Ciotadens, they do not quite have the output the French Navy had in its time. The work is mainly yacht repair, not building new ones, on commission from rich people wintering in St. Tropez or the like. They repair 500 yachts per year, according to the website.

The history of the chantiers navals in La Ciotat begins in 1851, when, shortly before the start of the Seconde Empire, Napoleon III commissioned the construction of steam ships which were destined to sail out of Marseilles as imperial freight ships. This was changed to "national" freight ships once the third republic was instated in 1870.

The area near the shipyards was designated solely for shipyard workers. A mini-town sprang up next to the docks, separated from the rest of La Ciotat. In the 1860s, it was top-of-the-line, very modern and very chic. Today, most of the housing is abandoned, since the shipyard closed its doors, and the town that once was is desolate. There are bits of the "shantytown" that have been incorporated into the rest of the downtown area, mostly housing restaurants and souvenir shops now. Some were demolitioned in 2007 when the yachting company requisitioned the old shipyard, and the only nightclub in La Ciotat (Sur les Quais - On the Docks) is found in the new building.

In 1916, the dock workers unionized, creating the Société provençale de constructions navales, or the Provence Shipworkers' Union, taking part in the global movement of Socialism and the working man's rights. This really helped morale during World War I, when there was a huge rush in business. There was another big uptick in workload again during World War II. The Société was replaced by the Chantiers navals de La Ciotat in 1940, which is what some locals still call it. The name was changed again in 1982, but I don't remeber what they changed it to. 

Now, during the off-season, they give tours of the shipyard to those interested.On our tour, there were a lot of little old ladies who seemed to know more than the tour guide and kept interrupting him every six seconds. Our coordinator, Mme. R, signed us up for the tour, as something to do during the long vacances de Toussaint.  Unfortunately, it rained cats and dogs all morning during the tour, and even though I was wearing a heavy-duty camping rain jacket, I was completely soaked from head to foot--even my hair got wet through the hood! 

As you can see, I got some photos in, but I was terrified I'd break my camera by shorting out the flash or the battery. I did actually do that once with a different camera in Dresden. I took pictures while it was raining and slid the camera into my rain jacket pocket to discover later that it was trashed. NOT FUN! I guess the Le Mistral is to blame? That or plain old autumn weather. At least there is always hot cocoa and pain au chocolat to warm up with at home!

Le Mistral and Other Sea Breezes

Le Mistral is a sharp, cold wind that comes from the north, usually in the winter, and blows through the Rhone and Durance river valleys. In Provence, the Mistral usually comes after a cold rain and clears out all of the clouds. This is partly where Provence get the reputation of being sunny even in the dead of winter. I've noticed in my month of being here that the weather typically chooses an either/or scenario: rain or sun; unlike in Vienna, there are no cloudy, rainless days; only sunny, cloudless days. I think it makes a difference in the locals' temperament.

The Mistral also has the reputation of bringing good health, because the winds are dry, which helps circulation, and they clear away pollution and other nasty things that might develop in urban areas. The winds also work similarly to the Föhn, but in the opposite direction: it can dump lots of snow from the Alps onto lower altitudes; or, the Sirocco, which comes up from Africa over the Mediterranean, rather than down from the Bay of Biscay.

All this talk about le Mistral has made me think about other types of sea breezes; or, brises marines as they are known in France. In fact, a rather funny story springs to mind. I've been having a good time interviewing my new students. Some of them have great English skills, some have mediocre ones, and some...don't get me started.

Point is this: I have a number of students who are Corsican, and one of them was telling me how much she loves crime dramas because she is Corsican, and things like The Godfather are like a slice of life in Corsica...okay...I will leave the stereotyping of italophone peoples to those better versed in Mediterranean cultures. The problem of organized crime, my student was telling me, was really widespread in Corsica about 20 years ago. The crime family brise marine controlled basically everything, but they've more or less been shut down. She didn't know how to say their name in English, so I offered: "Sea Breeze?"

"Yes," she said. "There is no more Sea Breeze in Corsica."

At face value, this is hard to believe. But in this case, it's most likely a good thing.

Rainy Sunday

my patio with rain-slicked table top

It's tough having to deal with rain when you get to the South of France and all you want to do is go out and play!

Tomorrow should be sunny, but it rained all day today and yesterday. I was caught in a torrential rainstorm yesterday going out and about to pick up groceries and a SIM card that will work in France. I got my goals accomplished just in time for the clouds to roll in and me in a t-shirt, no umbrella. I waited out the storm in a souvenir shop, until one o'clock when they kicked everybody out to close for lunch (mais, oui! This is France). Luckily for me, the storm had calmed to a sprinkle.

But--I forgot toilet paper while I was out yesterday, and I'm trying to decided if it's worth braving the weather.