Some years ago, I traveled to the French Riviera and explored about as much as possible – it was February, so not much was open. Many of the locals relocate to warmer climes, especially in the villages that mainly cater to tourism in the sunny summertime.
This past summer on our trip to the French Riviera, we were able to dip down to Italy for the day to visit many small villages all along the coast, some new and some I’d visited seven or so years ago.
One day-trip took us to Saint Jean Cap Ferrat. Now, day-trip is a relative term. We very quickly learned that because of the geography of the Riviera, a seven-mile drive was equivalent to about 30 minutes or more in the car. More twists and turns, slower speed limits, etc. So, our day-trips were planned carefully, with a lot of thought to dinner schedules and small child patience levels.
The village of Saint Jean Cap Ferrat is among the many tiny places that dot the coast of France; not much there to remark upon, except for the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild.
Somehow, even the most enchanting places are more magical when viewed through the eyes of a child.
Sitting right across the Bay from Villefranche sur Mer, the villa commands a view of the sea and the terraced hills of surrounding villages. The gleaming pink villa is crowded next to houses and gardens and a busy road running just out front, but as soon as you begin the trip up the long drive, it’s as if nothing exists for miles – as if the villa sits alone on its own peninsula.
Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothschild divorced her husband and with her father’s Rothschild inheritance, she got to work on her dream: construction of the villa and gardens began in 1905 and continued for seven years. The gardens are glorious and varied. Apparently, the land wasn’t conducive to gardening; but, where there’s money (and lots of it) there’s always a way, and Beatrice Ephrussi de Rothchild had the cash and the vision, thus the villa and its enchanting gardens came to life.
And what a vision it still is – certainly more stunning in the summer than when I first visited in late winter so many years ago. The estate boasts themed gardens: French, Japanese, Spanish, Florentine and Mexican, with exotic plants arranged in styles reflecting the region of origin.
And yet, none of this mattered at all to a six-year-old boy. The statues in the gardens, the riot of different plants from around the world, the careful, intricate layouts … nope. But the fact that they were pretty and fun to explore? That was incredibly important.
After an extensive “adventure” through the grounds, we were ready for a quick bite in the elaborate dining room overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. We (adults) had a nice bottle of local rosé and crisp salads, and the child helped himself to multiple servings of very expensive apple juice and a glorified grilled cheese.
From there, we explored the villa’s beauty and stood in awe of the art collection amassed by a sad woman with an unbelievable amount of capital. Statues, paintings, pottery, furniture. Everything uncommonly lovely and captivating. Marble floors and columns, Louis XV furniture, the interior walls taken directly from historical Parisian hotels.
But again, to a young boy, these things are meaningless. The rooms and hallways are places to explore, the furnishings only interesting if they have animals or are ornate in a way that would appeal to children.
The villa was beautiful. A reminder of a time long past, of opulence and refinement that has disappeared. But for us, it was a “jungle” to explore and a “castle” for adventures. And somehow, even the most enchanting places are more magical when viewed through the eyes of a child.
