To All the Disillusioned Autumn Lovers, You Are Not Alone

The weather has always been a classic non-controversial conversation starter. References to the weather being the subject of unimaginative, banal small talk span from The American Claimant by Mark Twain to Taylor Swift’s sappy, poetic ballad “Back to December.”

As the Northern Hemisphere transitions from summer to winter, there is an interstitial period that most of the global population has the joy of experiencing — autumn. 

Growing up in northern California, transplants from other parts of the country and the world would inform me that our state was a barren desert with no seasons. This was a bizarre claim to make in the homeland of the coast redwood, with its temperate Mediterranean climate and its drought-resistant yet evergreen native vegetation that graces the hills John Steinbeck described as “a brown which was not brown but a gold and saffron and red—an indescribable color” in his chef-d’œuvre, “East of Eden.” The leaves of the non-native maples, oaks, elms, ginkgos and magnolias would turn an equally, if not more, impressive “gold and saffron and red” and fill the air with an overwhelming sense of coziness and joy.

Upon arrival in Menton, I enjoyed the scorchingly hot summer weather and the sunshine that the Côte d’Azur is renowned for. As the seasons changed, though, I found myself disappointed by the lack of “gold and saffron and red” leaves, pumpkins and the other autumnal accouterments that I became accustomed to back home. 

Like me, Menton second-year Sara Kovacheva has a certain tenderness for turning seasons. Her Bulgarian hometown’s autumn memories are of welcoming, joyful foliage-covered streetscapes; winter reminds her of playing with her dogs in the crisp snow and going on brisk walks with friends. These recollections contrast Menton’s lack of a true autumn and winter, which makes Kovacheva sad. Now in her last year in Menton, she has come to appreciate the Mentonese version of autumn.

Similarly, second-year Yasmine Afifi affectionately recalls the four palpable seasons of her native Casablanca, Morocco. She does not enjoy the fact that there is very little transitional period between the “beautiful summer weather” of Menton and the “gloomy, depressing rainy winter season.” Afifi states that her emotions are closely tied to the weather, and although she now is acclimating to the seasonal patterns of Menton, not being able to enjoy the beach for several months of the year and having classes before sunrise and after sunset are aspects of the town that she finds less than ideal. 

Absence does make the heart grow fonder for many students at Sciences Po Menton, but fellow autumn lovers need not wander too far to experience fall foliage. The trees in Square Victoria and the plaza abutting the parking lot behind the Marché des Halles are presently shedding their leaves, albeit rather unimpressively. The Roya Valley, nestled in the foothills of the Alps, also offers some colorful trees for those willing to make the trek. 

We should be grateful, at least, that we do not have to trudge through feet of snow to get to class.