Violets for the Soul

Since we married in 2003, my husband and I have visited more than a dozen countries together. We’ve celebrated Independence Day in Windsor, his birthday in Amsterdam and Paris, and New Year’s Eve in Tokyo, where we got swept up in a procession to an ancient shrine and savored bowls of udon noodles to ensure a long life ahead.

Our cellphones store photos of faraway lands, and the treasures we’ve tucked into our suitcases remind us of memories made. Yet perhaps the most lasting souvenirs are of the intangible sort – new customs learned, different cultures experienced and a broader perspective on life. Sometimes we find these little nuggets at the most unexpected of times and places.

This past fall, for example, we took a cruise along the western Mediterranean, from Italy to Spain, to commemorate our 20th wedding anniversary. One of our favorite excursions included a drive along the Côte d’Azur, where we took in some of the bluest “azures” imaginable, from the bright, clear sky to the sun-dappled water lapping the pebbled beaches of the French Riviera. I pretended our motorcoach was a low-slung convertible, top down, and envisioned my hair blowing in the cool breeze a la Grace Kelly in the 1955 film “To Catch a Thief.”

It was a bittersweet moment, though, knowing that the actress-turned beloved Princess Grace of Monaco had died in an accident on a treacherous stretch of the road nearby. That afternoon, we visited Monaco, where we toured a park dedicated to her memory. Later we paid our respects at the St. Nicholas Cathedral, where she and her husband, Prince Rainier III, are buried.

The stop in Nice offered time to explore the seaside city and stroll the Promenade des Anglais, so named for the 18th-century English aristocrats who frequented the “Prom,” as the locals call it. The paved walkway is more than 4 miles long and is popular among walkers, bikers, runners, skaters and, as in our case, people watchers.

We set out on the storied pathway, admiring the palm trees and architecture of Nice on our right and the sparkling Mediterranean on our left. Blue-and-white umbrellas shaded sunbathers at the glamorous Opéra Plage, which, according to its website, is the oldest beach in Nice. Soon we came upon a graphic outdoor sculpture, the giant cobalt blue “La chaise de SAB” (SAB being the pseudonym of the French artist Sabine Geraudie). Set atilt on a large concrete base, the piece pays tribute to the chairs that have become a symbol of the beaches in Nice.

The sight reinforced our relaxed holiday mood as we continued our walk down the promenade. Eventually, we turned around and headed back toward our group’s meeting place. At one point, I happened to glance over my right shoulder to notice what appeared to be a tall, thin pole – in the exact same cobalt blue and in the same spot where we’d admired the chair sculpture.

Were my eyes failing me?

That’s when we realized that “La chaise de SAB” is a striking use of perspective, an artistic tool that imparts three-dimensional depth and space on a two-dimensional surface. As a painter might use trompe-l’oeil to create an optical illusion on a wall, SAB used perspective to bring the blue chair to life on an otherwise flat surface.

How very clever, I thought. But I wanted to ask the artist if her design might suggest the importance of another kind of perspective – our own.

From one side, “La chaise” appeared to us as simply an industrial-looking flat pole. But from a different perspective, our eyes opened to the beauty of an inviting icon, one that beckons visitors from around the world to have a seat and soak up the sun together, differences and all.

The more we explore, the broader becomes our worldview. We learn how we can grow from opening our minds to fresh new perspectives. We gradually expand our lens to cultivate a more panoramic understanding of others who live thousands of miles away yet share our same sky. And these impressions return home with us, informing our lives, our mindsets and the issues at hand.

Little did we know that a sunny morning stroll along the waterfront in Nice would provide a visual reminder of just that.