Trouble on the French Riviera

It's spring, and as you drive on N98, the costal highway that links the towns and cities of the French Riviera, the excitement of the season is starting to build. It's been a rough winter; that season brought some unwelcome publicity in this part of the world, and now both the Provencaux and the recurring tourists hope that things will return to normal. Today's drive, as my high school instructors would have said, is not only fun but educational, because the Riviera these days is a microcosm of what's happening in Europe.

The quiet town of Frejus, with its recently restored pastel buildings and its Roman ruins, is behind us. The mimosas are in bloom and we are approaching the town of St. Raphael, with its summertime beaches and club scene. It was near here, in February, that a freighter unceremoniously deposited 900 Iraqi Kurds at Boulouris. A Parisian friend called me at the time and I asked her what the reaction in the rest of the country had been.

"Well, it's a difficult situation," she explained. "Being a Kurd in Iraq is not pleasant, so half the country thinks we should let them in. But the other half says that if we do we might see one boat a day arriving with 1000 or 2000 people each. And that is impossible, we just couldn't absorb those numbers."

Then she said something that I had not considered. "The other issue is how this could happen. The ship involved was a good size, and it was traveling slowly. Why was it not spotted by radar and stopped before it reached shore?"

This is especially troubling when one remembers that the main French naval base at Toulon is less than 50 miles west from where the ship ran aground. "It really is something to think about," she continued. "Suppose it had been a warship instead, with missiles?" At this point in our conversation we heard a couple of clicks on the line. "You know," she said, "you can quote me in an article if you want, but please don't use my last name."

About a week later the topic of the Riviera Kurds came up at a cocktail party in New York, and Countess Dagmar de Brantes, who had just returned from the Continent, lost it, as the saying goes. "Oh come on," she shouted, "all this has got to stop! Everyone needs to stay where they are for a while and make the best of it!"

The Cote d'Azur has never heretofore been thought of as a destination for refugees. Even the President of the Republic stated that he was "profoundly scandalized by the event."

Somewhat farther down the road from this incongruous immigration site is a huge Cross of Lorraine carved out of the cliffs as a memorial to the Free French who fought in this province during the Second World War. It is a symbol of a past that is gone and, thanks to the "new forces in Europe," almost forgotten.

The highway gradually guides us onto the Croisette in Cannes. Next month is the film festival, which makes Oscar night seem like a meeting of the Academie Française. "Producers" and "actresses" will be in abundance as a genuine art form is abused for the sake of throwing a two-week party. American films will win most of the prizes, an occasional European film will get a statue and a young starlet will cry hysterically as she is awarded the best new talent honor. No one will hear from her again.

The view of the mountains, however, never fails to awe. Salad Niçoise is a good choice for lunch in newly vegetarian Europe, and then on to Monaco, a country configured for adult entertainment. The ruling Grimaldis are a very old family not especially known for their "fraternity"; one Grimaldi heir stabbed the ruler in the jugular during dinner. When the shocked servant exclaimed, "The Prince is dead," the attacker, calmly continuing his soup course, replied, "The Prince lives."

Today's Grimaldis stick together, publicly at least. Yet they, like many Europeans, seem intent on destroying the legacy they inherited. The skyline, like many in Europe, is growing hideous, and the royal children are not aging well. But we hope they and this corner of France will endure?because, after all, if you can't find happiness here, happiness may become a purely American luxury.