The storm passed and the sun came back to Provence. The rain swept out all the entertainment industry people from last week's conference and Cannes seemed to feel fresher and lighter in every regard.
Cafes were no longer crowded. The streets were quieter. Locals' voices could be heard again. I walked easily down the sidewalk on the main street by the water, which was no longer flooded with people - not even Diane Keaton. The last great event of the year is over. Trucks were taking away all the conference accoutrement (because that's the word they actually use here). It was as if everyone in Cannes took a giant breath of fresh air.
They were free to go back to the business of being Cannoise - which of course involves watching the sunset. I love being in a place where sunset viewing is part of the way of life. It was especially so in Patmos where sunsets took on colors and shades that made it a show - and the people know it.
The Patmos sky has deep hues of reds, blues, purples and oranges giving off a warm glow to end the day. Not so in Cannes. It's more like a giant GE Soft White bulb moves gently toward the mountains and lowers itself, diffusing its pale yellow glow with whatever clouds are available.
Sunsets have a way of stopping time. Watching a sunset, I can easily remember so many amazing sunsets I've been fortunate enough to enjoy. In the spark of a moment of light and water, places and times came rushing back to me - causing me to have to remember where I was.
I've seen some remarkable sunsets. I thought back to Bali where sunset is also an event to watch. Reds and deep pinks stretch out across the sky, leaving it in glow the color that little girls wish they could get their dresses to match.
I remember not long after moving to Bali when a neighbor took my friend Chad and I to Ku De Ta - a restaurant which at the time I thought was the epitome of Western spoiling of the island and which later became one of my absolute favorites. Ku De Ta sits up against the beach in Seminyak. People gather there for drinks while they watch the sunset over the water. Like a magic alignment, the sun sets at Ku De Ta - giant, bold and right in front of you as you stare back at it heading down behind the Indian Ocean.
Of course, that's not the only place you have to be in Bali to watch the sun weave its magic. Watching a Kecak and Fire dance at Ulu Watu, stopping at a ridge on the side of a windy road running through the volcanic mountains, looking out my upstairs window, sitting in my yard - I saw the sun color the sky in ways I hadn't imagined possible.
I remember my first night ever in Bali - years before I lived there. While watching the sun drop slowly over the water, smelling the clove in the air from their kreteks (clove cigarettes), fragrances wafting from the flowers and spices from the restaurant kitchens - I thought how amazing it must have been for the first European traders to land here. Bali felt so mysterious, exotic and far from home.
In places like Bali, Southern France, and Patmos, people take and make the time to watch the sublime. It's one of the great joys of living in these places.
But I come from a culture that doesn't take sunset so seriously. Sure, we catch a good one here and there - often out the car window when we're heading home from work. If you live on the water in places like Marina Del Ray, Malibu or Seattle - maybe then you notice it more. It's one of the reasons to buy in these places. But by and large, the sun sets as we hustle and bustle around in our evening routines.
We're certainly not the only ones. I can't remember too many sunsets in Taiwan and I don't remember anyone stopping to watch them. In Singapore, it's a shame that people don't look up at the sky. Singapore has amazing clouds, light and some phenomenal sunsets. I had many evenings in Singapore when I thought how no one noticed how gorgeous their sunsets are.
In the golden glow illuminating columns of clouds, I could imagine a mysterious, older Singapore of trade, and spices and all sorts of people passing through port. In the early visits to Singapore before living there, I loved to go up to Fort Canning on the top of the hill overlooking the harbor, where at sunset you feel like you've fallen back in time.
I'm fortunate to be in a moment in my life when I have the luxury to stop and watch the sunset. After all, time isn't always ours for the taking. I'm even more fortunate to be in a place with sunsets as interesting as these and with people - local people - sharing the sunset with me.
I'm fortunate to have a wonderful and amazing wife with whom I will rendez-vous in Istanbul this Saturday. I look forward to wondrous sunsets over the Golden Horn, the Bosphorous, the Himalayas, Bali and numerous other places ahead. Each and every day, something in those time-stopping flashes of light, coming out of the sky and bouncing off the water, brings me back to her.
Cafes were no longer crowded. The streets were quieter. Locals' voices could be heard again. I walked easily down the sidewalk on the main street by the water, which was no longer flooded with people - not even Diane Keaton. The last great event of the year is over. Trucks were taking away all the conference accoutrement (because that's the word they actually use here). It was as if everyone in Cannes took a giant breath of fresh air.
They were free to go back to the business of being Cannoise - which of course involves watching the sunset. I love being in a place where sunset viewing is part of the way of life. It was especially so in Patmos where sunsets took on colors and shades that made it a show - and the people know it.
The Patmos sky has deep hues of reds, blues, purples and oranges giving off a warm glow to end the day. Not so in Cannes. It's more like a giant GE Soft White bulb moves gently toward the mountains and lowers itself, diffusing its pale yellow glow with whatever clouds are available.
Sunsets have a way of stopping time. Watching a sunset, I can easily remember so many amazing sunsets I've been fortunate enough to enjoy. In the spark of a moment of light and water, places and times came rushing back to me - causing me to have to remember where I was.
I've seen some remarkable sunsets. I thought back to Bali where sunset is also an event to watch. Reds and deep pinks stretch out across the sky, leaving it in glow the color that little girls wish they could get their dresses to match.
I remember not long after moving to Bali when a neighbor took my friend Chad and I to Ku De Ta - a restaurant which at the time I thought was the epitome of Western spoiling of the island and which later became one of my absolute favorites. Ku De Ta sits up against the beach in Seminyak. People gather there for drinks while they watch the sunset over the water. Like a magic alignment, the sun sets at Ku De Ta - giant, bold and right in front of you as you stare back at it heading down behind the Indian Ocean.
Of course, that's not the only place you have to be in Bali to watch the sun weave its magic. Watching a Kecak and Fire dance at Ulu Watu, stopping at a ridge on the side of a windy road running through the volcanic mountains, looking out my upstairs window, sitting in my yard - I saw the sun color the sky in ways I hadn't imagined possible.
I remember my first night ever in Bali - years before I lived there. While watching the sun drop slowly over the water, smelling the clove in the air from their kreteks (clove cigarettes), fragrances wafting from the flowers and spices from the restaurant kitchens - I thought how amazing it must have been for the first European traders to land here. Bali felt so mysterious, exotic and far from home.
In places like Bali, Southern France, and Patmos, people take and make the time to watch the sublime. It's one of the great joys of living in these places.
But I come from a culture that doesn't take sunset so seriously. Sure, we catch a good one here and there - often out the car window when we're heading home from work. If you live on the water in places like Marina Del Ray, Malibu or Seattle - maybe then you notice it more. It's one of the reasons to buy in these places. But by and large, the sun sets as we hustle and bustle around in our evening routines.
We're certainly not the only ones. I can't remember too many sunsets in Taiwan and I don't remember anyone stopping to watch them. In Singapore, it's a shame that people don't look up at the sky. Singapore has amazing clouds, light and some phenomenal sunsets. I had many evenings in Singapore when I thought how no one noticed how gorgeous their sunsets are.
In the golden glow illuminating columns of clouds, I could imagine a mysterious, older Singapore of trade, and spices and all sorts of people passing through port. In the early visits to Singapore before living there, I loved to go up to Fort Canning on the top of the hill overlooking the harbor, where at sunset you feel like you've fallen back in time.
I'm fortunate to be in a moment in my life when I have the luxury to stop and watch the sunset. After all, time isn't always ours for the taking. I'm even more fortunate to be in a place with sunsets as interesting as these and with people - local people - sharing the sunset with me.
I'm fortunate to have a wonderful and amazing wife with whom I will rendez-vous in Istanbul this Saturday. I look forward to wondrous sunsets over the Golden Horn, the Bosphorous, the Himalayas, Bali and numerous other places ahead. Each and every day, something in those time-stopping flashes of light, coming out of the sky and bouncing off the water, brings me back to her.
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