Summer walk in Saint-Jean-Cap Ferrat, France.

The sun is hot and burns since the very first hours of the day. The sky has no hesitations in its compact blue. A gentle breeze agitates the top of the cypresses, ruffles the lentisk shrubs and lulls the large umbrella of the maritime pines, scattering small powered bullets and resin perfume. Lonely cicadas rest among the branches. They challenge the wrapping silence with a syncopated sound that ignores the noise of the sea. Not the rhythmical murmur of smooth and polished cailloux, which roll back and forth, pushed and grabbed by waves that break on crowded beaches, but the strong crash of billows that, from the open sea, slam against the rocks.

As you pass beyond the gate of the small cemetery, gravel creaks under your steps, white and crispy as handfuls of confetti. Small pebbles cover the area among the tombs nested in the peninsula in the first kilometres of the Blue Coast, in the southeaster France, in Saint-Jean- Cap Ferrat.

Graves are closed to the boundary walls or in the centre, white and sober parallelepipeds that lay on the ground as boxes. Marble books lean on them, with opened pages that, with names and dates, tell the story of the village.

Bunches of fresh flowers face a relentless sun to surrender untidily. More reliable are the bright garlands moulded in the clay, whose generous violets and roses never fade. Two daturas bow their dangling pale flowers close to the entrance, while crimson geraniums, escaped from a vase long time ago, dip their roots in the gravel and lengthen their clumsy branches in the air.

If you raise your glance, away from the sparkling sea and beyond the cemetery walls, you see the statue of a crowned Madonna, close to a small chapel, her bronze mantle unfolds near the cypresses. She holds a sceptre and her child watching over the sea. It is an imposing, beautiful statue, 11 metres high, dated 1903. The near, tiny church - the Chapelle Saint-Hospice - is older: it was built during the XI century on the ruins of a tower where hermit Saint-Hospice lived during the VI century. He was a friar known and respected for his miracles, his prophecies and a frugal life.

To reach the cemetery, which is closed to the American military one, you can drive comfortably up to the hill or you can walk.

Leaving Saint-Jean port and keeping your left you reach Paloma beach. There, after a refreshing swim in the clear water, a tasty lunch and an unavoidable nip, you will be ready to keep up the Sentier du Litoral - the Coastal Path. The sea is so closed you feel the spray of the waves and longing secret villas, hidden under a screen of thick vegetation, you arrive in Pointe St.Hospice. To reach the cemetery you have to make a diversion up to the hill. Otherwise, following the path, you will find the small bay of La Pinede and then decide to go back to the port or continue towards Cap Ferrat and its lighthouse.

Summer with music, traffic and laughs is not far. Instead, to rest in the eternity peace a silent sky and a mighty sea is all you need.

Gardens to visit in the neighbourhood:
Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild; http://www.villa-eprhussi.com/

Photos:
Travel in a garden
except: Nuvole, Sofia P.