A 47 Point K Turn, Cathar Tunnels, Fruit at the Market and a La La La

Carcassonne market, coffee under orange anings
see all photos »

Saturday, September 22.

So, I'm almost back on track! Right now I'm sitting at an internet cafe called "Alerte Rouge" (red alert), in Carcassonne and for 2 euros an hour I can use my own laptop, and therefore download my pictures too. Cool! My streak of gorgeous Indian Summer days is broken, and today there is a light rain.

I was saying Miercoles not Mercredi...duh, that's Wednesday in Spanish!

This past Thursday was my check out day from Amboise. All week long I had been passing this cafe with a big glass display with delicious glace' (ice cream), but I never had any. I order une boule (scoop) of Vanille. Their ice cream is so much smoother and creamier here, it was delicious! I wanted it in a cup, and she offered me a Tasse (which in German IS cup), but in France it's a waffle cone. Oh well. I still mix my languages up a little, and laughingly realised that when I rented my bicyle I kept telling the guy I wanted to return it on Wednesday. I even ticked it off on my fingers..."Cette jour est Dimanche, Lundi, Mardi..." oops, I was saying 'Miercoles" not Mercredi...duh, that's Wednesday in Spanish. No wonder he didn't get it! I also stop and buy a couple postcards of castles I didn't make it to see, for my scrapbook, and two chocolate eclairs from the corner shop. Ice cream for breakfast, and eclairs on the way to Carcassonne. Life really is good.

the market, Carcassonne
see all photos »

This drive is a long one so I get on the superhighway that I have been avoiding. There are tolls, and at one point I got into a truck lane and had to back my little peugot up into oncoming truck traffic! (they wanted some sort of prepaid ticket that I didn't have, and I wasn't about to stop traffic up and have people yelling at me). Even though I got out of the lane, some french guys in a pick up truck still said SOMETHING to me, that I'm sure had to do with "stupid". I waved. "Toute a l'heure" I sang. Who knows me in france?

the market fountain
see all photos »

I have directions to my next cottage, a small place on the Canal du Midi, which runs for 250km and connects to rivers and other canals all over France. people rent barges here like we rent houseboats in the states. They haul their bikes, and put potted flowers on the roof with their lawnchairs, bring their dogs, and float from town to town. I don't know what to expect, but I am surprised at how little and old the town of Trebes is. I am just a few miles from Carcassonne. This place is 16th century! It turns out the directions I am given aren't so good...I pass a bridge where a couple of old men are sitting watching people go by. The canal is very close on my right, somehow I have ended up on the tow path, and there's another car coming toward me! We maneuver around each other, but it's intense, because all I can think of everytime I put in the clutch and start to roll toward the canal, is "don't go in  the water!!". This is a big fear my sister devon and I share, going in water in a car. I have my windows rolled down just in case I have to swim away! I proceed to make a 47 point K-turn so I can go back the way I came. I think I want to turn right on the next street, but it is almost 180 degree turn, and I can't make it. I do a whole circuit again, and pass the men on the bridge again. Door number two, I go up another narrow street and stop a man who is parking his car. I show him my written address...Non, a droite, descend, a doite... I think I'm suppose to go right, down the hill, right again, but the road is too skinny to turn around. I make the whole circuit again, and pass the little men on the bridge. This time they jump up to offer me help because I am so obviously lost. I find my cottage, nombre 5, Rue Plo D'Orbiel. It has blue shutters and is one of many tall stone townhouse on the block. I fiddle with the lock box and I'm in.

the higher tow path, riding my bike
see all photos »

The first thing I do is open all the shutters and windows, and bring my suitcases in. I'm afraid to leave my car in front, for it will surely get sideswiped. There is hardly room to drive down the empty street, much less pass a parked car. That doesn't seem to stop everyone else...they just pull in their mirrors and climb over the console to get out of the car! I find a square with real parking spaces, and after trying to parallel park in the teeniest spot, someone vacates a straight in spot, and I grab it! As I walk back I realise I have left the combination to the lockbox INSIDE. I can't remember it! I am seriously taxing my brain, and just about ready to climb in the window in my skirt, when one of my tries, works. I can just see the Gendarmes hauling me away for breaking and entering, and the little men on the bridge would probably testify against me, saying I had seemed disoriented.

more market square
see all photos »

My apartment this time is very rustic, but cute. Checkered floor in the kitchen and a little winding staircase that leads to a sitting room and bedroom. No washing machine this time. I wish I had done more laundry in Amboise, but I was having too much fun. I wash a few things out in the sink, specifically the t shirt I was wearing when I was driving the tow path!! I change clothes and go for a walk around town. It's very cute, and all along the canal are little restaurants and shops. I eat outside at "Taste of Napoli". Mussels au Gratin, and a Margherita pizza! De-lish! There are 4 guys from Dublin at the next table and they have flown over to float a barge for four days and see a rugby game in Toulouse (France vs. UK). There are lots of Brits here.

crossing the canal, Carcassonne
see all photos »

On Friday, I recharge. I sleep until 9am, even though the church bells ring every hour, and a chorus on special hours...I haven't figured it out yet. My landlord stops by ( a brit). He is a composer and musician, his wife is an actress. They had an epiphanie one day and sold everything and moved to France. They own several "gites" (apartments for vacation rental) and are restoring an old ruined Cather church which they live in.

History lesson: This area is called Languedoc, and the language that use to be spoken here was Oc (language of oc, get it?). The french we know, was called langue d'oil and the "oil" part is where "oui" comes from. We are very close to the border of Spain here, and in fact Spain use to own all the way to Limoux, which is just south of here. So the langue d'oc was really Catalan, and was spoken by all the old locals well into this century. In some towns you will see signs in French AND Catalan. Also this part of the country had religious tolerance and were not threatened by the Cathars who were extremely pious. In fact, they all lived happily together until the Roman Catholic Church decided it was their way or the highway, and began to persecute the Cathars as heretics. lots of torture and burning at the stake.  So lots of the old homes here, churches and castles had underground tunnels for escape. If any of you are interested, read the book "Labyrinth" by Kate Mosse. She is a brit who lives also in Carcassonne, and it is a great novel as well as historically explanatory.

the doorknob in the middle of the door
see all photos »

Any way, here's a cool story told to me by my landlord John.  A few years ago, when he and his wife were renovating the old Cathar Church, they both were getting sick. They asked around and a local said they needed a "dowser" (yeah, like the kind that finds water with dowsing rods), and recommended this 72 year old man. Well, they had tried everything else, so this man comes out and tells them their bed is over a magnetic stone buried under the ruins, and they are sleeping in a wave of tremendous energy that is making them sick, and will eventually give them cancer. They move the bed, the dowser finds the rock and "caps" it with metal. He can also discern the outlines of underground foundations, caves and tunnels, and tells them there are tunnels under there too. The reason for the magnetic stone, was so that the people attended church, they would feel very "crushed", and in awe of "god's presence", and when they would leave, and no longer be under the influence of this tremendous energy, they would feel great and happy that they had apparently done something good by attending church! John talked with his neighbors, and one lady said her husband had sealed the tunnels up under their house in 1956 because they were afraid their kids would fall in. Believe it or not!

the artifact shop
see all photos »

Anyway, today I caught the Saturday outdoor market in the square of Carcassonne Center. Imagine a sea of colorful umbrellas, and tables of fruits, vegetables, jams, spices, cheeses, flowers! Don't come here without a wheeled cart or your own bag! I bought croissants and "chocolatines" (those fresh bread rolls from Club Med with chocolate cooked into them), a jar of cassoulet (made with canard comfit and white beans), strawberries (fraises), haricot vertes (green beans), oranges and a bouquet of flowers. People are drinking little cups of coffee under orange awnings, and it is a feast for your eyes. I would have enjoyed the market even if I didn't buy a thing.

Gladiator anyone? NO? Maybe a Buffalo statue?
see all photos »

I need to exchange money, and as I said, you do it in the post office, which closes at 11:30 on Saturday. The closest one is temporarily closed for remodling, and I have to walk 5 or 6 blocks and across the canal to another one. I can see the foundations of the canal, all brick and stone in arched patterns, very roman. There is still a light rain falling, but the walk is fun. I pass a shop with art and artifacts...barrels, carriages and huge statues of knights on horseback, gladiators and happy little bakers. Also I pass a wine shop with these beautiful wooden doors, and the knob is right smack in the middle! I reach the poste just in time, but the line is long. There was a drunk old fellow inside, and he is loud and pretty off balance. Everyone is pretty respectful to him, because he's old, but he almost takes out a revolving stand of postcards, so they send him to the front of the line. Such excitement! I change my money and now here I am at the internet cafe'.

wine shop with funky door
see all photos »

My last description will be of my dinner last night in Trebes. It was also the night of the big UK-France Rugby match, and my restaurant had a back room with a tv. It was so hilarious about halfway through my dinner when a chorus of french men began loudly singing some anthem with a La La La , and soon after a bunch of brits singing some national song of their own. Can you just imagine your husbands breaking into song every time the Redskins score?!! The end to my lovely dinner, overlooking the quiet canal under the stars was the dessert du maison, which was described to me as nectarines in a sauce in puff pastry with red ice cream/. OK, I should branch out and try something NOT chocolate. Well, it was good, but imagine my surprise when I break through this marvelous light flaky cust and bite into...a fig. She got her fruits mixed up, I guess!!

I walk home with other people strolling with their dogs, and revelers leaving the bars after the rugby, and wind my way up and down the little well lighted streets to my cottage.

Bonne Nuit.