Carcassonne - Missed opportunities and empty promises

Supplied by Google Images

View larger photo 

A sword wielding dragon slayer would not look out of place here in Carcassonne and nor would the dragon. This is how Camelot would of looked and if it didn't, it should of; and if it were only for the lack of a certain circular shaped table, it would most certainly be alive today in fact rather than fiction.

Welcome to the walled city of Carcassonne. Located in southern France it basks in the mediterranean summer and radiates that satisfying glow of another deep red sunset.  I am looking at the city from a kilometre away to catch the suns retreat. The newer build away from the city is modern and supplies all the standard amenities any other working city provides. The walk from the station is un-neccessarily long but then the day is wanning and the temperatures are still high and are twice as high on our backs where the heavy rucksacks feel as though a few pounds are added minute by minute.

The satisfaction of shedding the bag and sweat ridden clothes and removing the days grit and grim accumulated with a days travel with a long shower (even if the water pressure is feeble) can not be matched by much when traveling. The only thing that betters that is when you are sat in the setting sun with a cold brew in a comfy chair and the all-girls white t-shirt college across the street has finished for the day and they all decide to have a water fight!  OK, maybe thats a little far fetched....comfy chairs are hard to find on the continent.

On this occasion Rhys decided to catch a few Z's before venturing out within the confines of the walls. We were staying in a hostel which (from my memory) had a courtyard in the centre and the living quarters were on 3 of the 4 sides. It was a largish hostel and we were somewhere on the 3rd or 4th floor but like I said, my visual recollection of this place has all but vanished into myth along with Guinevere and Lancelot. This is why I was stood, primed with my camera catching the sunset on film. Whilst meandering back to the old town I picked up 3 bottles of a French red at 1 Euro each and as you can imagine the body was more than that of weak black current juice than that of a full, woody, heavy wine. But for 3 Euros and money running out fast, it was a bargain and Rhys would appreciate a bargain when he finally awoke.

1 solo bottle of plonk later and with Rhys up, we were having drinks with a large group of travelers from all over the globe. 2 French Canadians, a couple of Brits, some Frenchies, Romanians and 3 burly Turks. I was a little drunk and of course whilst keeping pace with the rabble, I soon slipped over the line and was inexcusably drunk and my behavior that night was deemed unmanly by my companion Rhys in the morning.

It would be Rhys who would eventually piece my clouded memory back together and with every chunk back in its rightful place within the grey matter of my brain the night unraveled itself to my horror...

<<<TO BE COMPLETED>>>