Campervan Therapy

Base Fluvial Paul Riquet Camper Stop in Palavas is on the port of the canalised Le Lez River. We’re surrounded by a watery wonderland of lagoons and river. I watch the flamingos out on the water from our pitch.

Even better, we’re a five minute walk to town centre and beach front. The colourful Catalan fishing barques are romantic beside the sturdy fishing boats with their stainless steel fish counters along the quay.

Night time Palavas is a mini Blackpool with multi-coloured lights twinkling from trees; from the flying saucer coastguard station soaring above the town; from bridges, from the cable car over the river to St.Pierre’s red-tipped spire.

We end the evening in Bar au Pêcheur where we feast on a salad of duck parts, a plateau of local cheeses and cured meats, all washed down with a bottle of local red, called after that unfortunate queen, Marie Antoinette. Our feast accompanied by an incongruous 1970s disco soundtrack.

Palavas calls for further investigation in the light of day. The cafés are buzzing quayside on Saturday and the beach is packed with volleyball teams. We’re struck by the huge bronze sculpture, L’Espoir by Nella Buscot, at the opening to the River Lez from the sea. It depicts a group of shipwrecked travellers, the panic on their faces haunting.

On the other side of the river entrance is Buscot’s huge bronze of a fisherman pulling in his nets and further along the port a dreaming woman.

Of course, living itself seems a work of art here, from the mosaic inspired planters to the local butchers, to the diver with his harpoon fishing for octopus in the port.

But not to be missed is the Traiteur de Poisson Bleu, in the backstreets.  It encapsulates a fishmongers, take-away and roadside dining. It is unfussy and egalitarian: paper cups for wine, and fruits de mer in tin foil containers. We order octopus flash fried, doused with garlic, olive oil and parsley and accompanied by aioli. This place is all about the freshness of its produce and is totally unpretentious.

The arts and crafts project, Les Ateliers Palavasiens, is a feast of a different nature in the town, providing a showcase of painting, sculpture, textiles, macramé, and soap making. Now in its third year, it originated from a bet between three friends. We pootle around the shops, and are most taken with a giant abstract collage in the street and every time we look we find a new and surprising detail.

The words of the mayor, Christian Jeanjean, sum up this imaginative project, “The event welcomes artists and artisans who do not necessarily have the opportunity to have a shop all year round.” And I’m struck at just how much some of our British towns, with empty shops, need such a venture. As the mayor says, “Long live art! Long live the crafts and shops which, open all year round, bring our seaside resort to life!”

I’m drawn in to St. Pierre’s Church as if hypnotised by the amazing soprano’s voice soaring out through the open door. The woman sings, face to the altar, with the voice of an angel. I sit entranced bathed in colour from the abstract stained glass window above.