Virtual Insanity

On escaping the online world, wild flamingos, and switching off in Occitanie.

A couple of weeks ago, I looked around at my family. We were all staring at our screens. I thought, “Great, we’re THAT kind of family.”

I’d been wanting to throw my phone in the bin for weeks. The news, social media, the constant low-level anger of being online, it was wearing me down. And here we all were, doing exactly what I’d been complaining about, in our own home, on a Tuesday evening.

Last week we decided to take a last-minute holiday to the Occitanie region of southern France, which is about two hours from Provence. We were staying on the edge of the Camargue, which is famed for its flamingos, wild white horses and salt pink marshes. You could say it's not your run-of-the-mill place. We then made our way to Nîmes, which is famous for its Roman history.

Photo by Sophie Laurent on Unsplash. The Camargue is full of white horses like this little guy. They look so bright against the green background.

It’s safe to say that I’d been on countdown for this holiday; by the end of term it’s not just the kids who are ready for a long-needed break. I was finding that my usual routine of getting up early and running about was too much. The 38°C/100°F temperature might have something to do with my exhaustion too. I was fed up and needed some downtime.

I’m someone who, even if I’m sat on the sofa, my mind is running a marathon (I wish my body was up to it). I feel like I'm in ‘permanently productive’ mode. So when I packed for the holiday, I packed a notepad, a pen (for Substack plans), and my French grammar book to prepare for the upcoming French immersion course. However, they didn't see the light of day.

Something strange happened on the journey there; I somehow seemed to (metaphorically speaking) chuck my to-do list out the window somewhere between Provence and Occitanie. Even when a warning message popped up about halfway there on the car's display that there was an engine issue, I shrugged and said pragmatically, "Let’s just get there and see; we’ll work it out.”

Thankfully, we arrived safely and made our way to our beachside hotel near a place called Étang l’Or (etang means lagoon in French). Our days were spent leisurely swimming in the pool, watching sunsets on the beach, eating summery food, and, for me, reading the two novels I brought.

A sunset near the Étang l’Or, look at those colours!

I kept away from my phone as much as possible and avoided going online, even on Substack. I uninstalled my social media apps, and I avoided the news like the plague. I swear my shoulders and neck softened, and my anger and stress levels dropped about 10 notches.

I didn't plan on any of this; you could say I was “accidentally doing nothing.” Maybe, for once, I was in sync with my mind and body, and they were telling me to focus on the important stuff, like building sandcastles and appreciating my kids' laughter.

This, plus the beauty surrounding me, calmed me in a way I didn't expect. Being next to the sea always turns the noise down in my brain. There’s research behind it, too: a 2020 review of 35 peer-reviewed studies on what’s sometimes called the ‘blue mind’ effect found that simply being near water calms the nervous system, lowers stress hormones, and slows heart rate.

I also had my own ‘pink mind effect ’, going on as in the Camargue there are dazzling pink waters caused by salt-loving algae. It was so unapologetically pink, almost like someone had added food dye.

There were hundreds of flamingos, far more than I expected, standing completely still in the shallows like pale pink statues. I’d always imagined flamingos as vivid coral, but these were softer, almost washed out, which made the sheer number of them all the more striking.

And then there were the pine parasol trees, which looked like acacia trees stretched into strange shapes and seemed like something that wouldn’t look out of place in the African savanna. It’s definitely not the stereotype of what you expect France to look like.

Photo by JD Designs on Unsplash I had to use a stock photo as the photos I took of the flamingos were disappointing.

We rounded off our trip with a visit to Nîmes. This southern gem was one of the Roman Empire’s most important cities, and evidence of that is everywhere you look: an amphitheatre still standing, a temple still intact, and the quiet stone basin where Roman water once arrived from twenty kilometres away.

The amphitheatre is impressive, and we were there to visit this very place as we took the kids to their first concert, which was the British band Jamiroquai. This was part of the Festival de Nîmes, which hosts some superb acts. The amphitheatre was built at the same time as the Colosseum in Rome, in the first century AD. It used to host gladiatorial competitions, so for the kids' first gig, it will be a tough act to follow.

Our seats were next to the stage; it was such a fun experience to see the comings and goings.

I've seen Jamiroquai a couple of times; the first time, when I was 17, my friend and I managed to jostle our way to the front row and hold our places there. The festival was being filmed for television, and I remember being worried that my parents would see us smoking!

This time around, sitting in the warm summer air, watching the kids' faces light up, and being among 24,000 others enjoying the atmosphere of this ancient venue felt remarkable.

And then Jamiroquai played the song Virtual Insanity. Standing in an amphitheatre built two thousand years before smartphones existed, I listened to Jay Kay sing about the useless twisting of our new technology, and I laughed. Because it was so perfectly, absurdly right. I’d spent a week running away from virtual insanity, and here it was, set to music, in ancient stone, under the stars. I’m not sure I needed a cleaner sign to switch off more often.

Do you ever feel like throwing your mobile phone? How do you relax and get away from the online chaos? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.

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Merci beaucoup,

À la prochaine fois,

Jenny