A Sunday in Arcachon

Sundays in Arcachon are best begun without too many plans.

A morning at the market, coffee in the sunshine and a walk along the long seafront promenade. There is something about Arcachon that always seems to lift the spirits: the light reflecting off the Bassin, the gentle sound of the water and children’s laughter drifting up from the beach. And every now and then, there is the irresistible temptation to slip into one of the little shops. Perhaps to emerge with a new pair of espadrilles.

Behind Arcachon’s carefree seaside atmosphere lies a surprisingly colourful history. The town became an independent municipality in 1857, and a few years later, Ville d’Hiver, the Winter Town, began to take shape among the pine trees. People came in search of sea air, a mild climate and the restorative qualities then attributed to the surrounding pine forests.

To this day, Arcachon’s neighbourhoods carry the names of the four seasons: Ville d’Hiver, Ville d’Été, Ville de Printemps and Ville d’Automne.

Ville d’Hiver is an architectural gem. Hidden among the pines, its villas form an extraordinary expression of 19th-century imagination: Swiss chalets, Neo-Gothic residences and Moorish pavilions, with carved balconies, turrets, verandas and exotic gardens. Every house seems to have a story of its own. Little wonder that Arcachon became such a sought-after resort during the Belle Époque.

One of its best-known houses is Villa Alexandre Dumas, built in 1895. The name is a little misleading. The writer Alexandre Dumas never actually lived there. The villa belonged to banker and art patron Daniel Iffla, known as Osiris, and its architecture brings together Spanish-inspired details with a belvedere reminiscent of Italian villas.

Towards evening, the road often leads to Pyla. The first time you reach the dune, there is something strangely familiar about the view: endless sand, sky and the feeling that, for a moment, you have stepped into the world of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince.

In Saint-Exupéry’s story, the Little Prince meets the fox on Earth, who teaches him something simple and profound: the bonds we create are what make someone, or something, special to us. Only then does the Little Prince truly understand why his rose is his rose.

Perhaps places are a little like that too.

But more about Pilat in our next story.