We returned from France over over a month ago, but still the memories linger and must have their due. Here, the fourth and final installment finds us on our last full day of the trip in Sete, a small maritime city near Montpellier.
The first thing upon arriving is to find your way to the top – a challenging climb up steep streets and steps to the highest point, Mount St. Clair. The elevation is a mere 574 feet, but the view is spectacular and lays Sete’s waterways out for you so that they make sense. To the right, the Mediterranean. To the left, Etang de Thau, a sort of large lake or lagoon. And, in the middle, bisecting the town, a series of canals connecting the two. Water, water, everywhere.
Because that climb up and back down will surely make you hungry, the next thing to do is to find a spot at one of the long string of canalside cafes. If the weather is fine, as it was the day we were there, finding a seat around lunch time at one of the outdoor portions of the cafe may involve an awkward wait. Seeing as most of these cafes seem chronically understaffed, also expect a leisurely experience once you are seated.
That said, the local seafood is worth it all no matter which cafe you end up at, and the menus are all very similar. The most famous local dish is a sort of octopus pie which is called tielle setoise. We got the last one in the cafe that day, and savored every bite of the salty crusty tomatoey minced octopusiness of it. Mussels were also on offer, mine steamed and M.E.’s in a rich tomato sauce with sausage. Water all around you, seafood inside your tummy…how much better does it get?
There is apparently a nice art museum in Sete, and a lighthouse which we saw from afar, but we didn’t make it to either. We opted instead for wandering around the town, up and down the canals, poking into some shops and a modern art exhibition, snapping pictures of sites along the water. Here, a pile of fishing nets. There, a row of Crayola colored small boats for rent. Trying to capture the essence of the last place, the last day, of our wondrous trip.
I boarded the train back to Montpellier that afternoon with mixed emotions. Tomorrow we would be making the long trek back to our normal lives via train to Paris and flight home. It would be good to be home, but I felt as though I was leaving a part of me behind somehow. The intrepid traveler who “conquered” this portion of southern France. The adoring Mom who got the rare gift of spending protracted time with her grown daughter and loving every minute of sharing this part of the world with her.

Adieu, France, and thanks for opening your welcoming southern arms to us.
We started our adventure by parking near the train station, which is close to the Canal du Midi – which figures later in the story – and setting out for the walled city. In all the photos you see of the walled city (which is situated as every fortification worth its salt on a high and formidable hill) one would assume that it must loom up from the more modern part, and that you should be able to see it from everywhere you look. Not so.
You can merely stroll around the walls, which offer lovely views of the hills in the distance, or you can go the historical interpretation route of a visit to the
We finally, and reluctantly, left the walled city and headed back to the canal for another history lesson wrapped in a relaxed boat ride. The
As you glide down the plane tree lined canal a guide gives you excellent background information, you go through a lock to find out how those work, and you have a lovely rest stop at an old inn. A whole different view from the rugged walled city, which you could not see from the part of the canal we toured. It seemed something we had dreamed instead of actually having visited just hours before.