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This morning I get up at 3:30 am, drive to the airport, unfurl my umbrella and brave my way through the wind and the rain with one hand on the trolley cart and the other holding the umbrella. In the afternoon I am in warm and sunny Le Grande-Motte in southern France at a business meeting. In between the obligatory meetings I have time to escape and do some sightseeing.
Le Grande-Motte, a holiday resort town on the Mediterranean, combines the pacifying sound of the ocean and the rustling of swaying palm trees with strange architecture and the all-pervading odour of dog poo. Never have I seen so many little mutts depositing so many stinky stools while their well-dressed owners at the other end of the leash look on.
A summer holiday resort area in the autumn has a kind of after-the-party feel to it. Quiet, restful and empty. The back-to-back gargantuan hotels remain, though, overlooking the beach with their endless triangles, ellipses, circles and trapezoids. One particular architect seems to have been given free reign to design the hotels, the congress centre and all manner of other buildings in La Grand-Motte.
In nearby Montpellier, where I am treated to a guided tour, it is a quite different matter. Here the buildings are elegant and old, like the ones in Paris. Montpellier has a university so there are lots of students. The Fabre Museum, that I have never heard of before, is a delightful art museum well worth a visit as are the narrow and picturesque historic streets.
