Parc Bel Air

Beneath the sprawling branches of ancient plane trees, a secret sleeps within Parc Bel Air. This isn’t just a green space in Marseille. It’s a palimpsest of history, layered with stories of monks, revolutionaries, artists, and the echoes of a grand villa. Parc Bel Air rests on land once owned by the monks of Saint Victor Abbey. Imagine them, centuries ago, tending vineyards where children now play. Then, in the 18th century, Adhemar de Castellane arrived, establishing the Castellane estate. A map from 1793 marks the existence of the Bastide des Boissons, the future Villa Air-Bel. This elegant villa, later named for its clear air and stunning views of the Huveaune Valley, became a haven for Surrealist artists and intellectuals fleeing Nazi-occupied Europe. Varian Fry, an American journalist, orchestrated their escape, using the villa as a base for his daring rescue mission. He arrived in Marseille in August 1940 with $3,000 and a list of 200 people to save. His mission was meant to last three weeks; he stayed thirteen months, helping over 2,000 people. Think of André Breton and Jacqueline Breton, their daughter Aube playing in the very park where we stand. Picture Max Ernst and Victor Brauner, their conversations echoing the rustle of leaves. Sundays at Parc Bel Air, then the grounds of Villa Air-Bel, were alive with Surrealist fêtes. The “Jeu de Marseille,” a card game inspired by the Tarot de Marseille, was even created here. But this haven couldn’t last forever. The Vichy authorities grew suspicious. Following Fry’s expulsion in 1941, Daniel Bénédite continued the work until 1942. Eventually, the villa was abandoned, falling into disrepair and becoming a target for pillagers. Demolished in 1982, a retirement home took its place, only to close in 2013. Today, Parc Bel Air stands as a testament to this rich, layered past. The Pavillon Castellane, once home to the villa’s doctor, still stands, now housing a community center. A lone plane tree at the entrance, marked on the 1793 map, whispers stories of what once was. Even the pillars of the original gate remain, though shortened. Perhaps repurposed by Dr. Thumin for his other property, requisitioned by the Germans. Close your eyes, and you might hear the laughter of artists, the hurried footsteps of those seeking refuge, the whispers of history carried on the breeze through Parc Bel Air.