Tokyo Notebook

-・- From My Everyday Life to Japanese Culture -・- Why don't you see the real Japan, not the typical foreigners' version.

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Posted by Kinakinw | --:-- | Comment [0] | TrackBack [0] | スポンサー広告

24 2013

Ventimiglia / Vintimille

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“Why don’t we go to Italy for lunch?”
With that word, we visited this Italian town (Ventimiglia in Italian and Vintimille in French) that was just off the border. This is a border station, a final destination of both Trenitalia from the direction of Genova and SNCF from the direction of Nice.

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That was my second visit of the station. Many years ago, I changed a train there on the way to Nice from Roma. After a long train ride, I set foot at the station late at night and wondered if I would come back there someday in the future. Then, the answer was Yes.

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I heard that at the time of the Arab Spring, few years ago, many people who escaped from the former French possessions in North Africa to France stayed in the town because they weren’t allowed to enter the country. But, it seemed not to be what the town used to be.

There was a midmorning market for locals between the station and seaside, which carried a variety of items. The items were fresh and in good condition, and I saw the prices low: tomato per 1 kg was about 2 euros and mackerel per 1 kg was 5 euros.

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This is one of my simple beliefs. If a town has a good market for locals, it’s a nice place to live. Especially, if its fish merchants and butchers treat items cleanly, that place is deserving of living. Seen in that light, Ventimiglia was worth enough to stay for a lengthy period. Someday, I want to rent a studio there and use it as a base for French and Italian Riviera sightseeing.

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We planned to visit an inland village in the afternoon, so we didn’t have time to walking around the old town and seaside. We just had lunch a café near the market and left the town.

Too see the electric cables, I felt that I was in Italy.

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By the way, there was a happening of a sort on the way to Ventimiglia from Nice. The door leading to the operator's seat of the train suddenly opened, and then, I was absolutely amazed at the young operator who took responsibility for the train. In Japan, an operator always wears a uniform and work diligently, and we can see that from a glass window. But, the boy who wearing shorts and a T-shirt stood up and came to shut the door at the next station seemed to be a collage boy spending his summer vacation. I imagined if he were asked by his father (a real operator who caught a cold) to operate that train in place of the father and told that he didn’t have to worry about to be lose his way.

Posted by Kinakinw | 23:55 | Comment [0] | TrackBack [0] | Travel & Hot Spring

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