Canoeing and Tipping in the Aude

 Monday, we finally made it on a long awaited canoe trip. We have changed the date three times because of bad weather. 

Old bridge supports framed our back and forth movements down the river. 

We went with our friends Ray and Claudine who are into more extreme sports than we are, but they assured us this was a level 1 canoeing trip, just a calm ride down the Aude river in the south of France. 

Earl and I have limited canoeing skills. We haven't gone canoeing very often, and certainly not in areas with rapids. We have been kayaking on a canal in the past few years and of course we floated on rafts down a river in Massachusetts several times, but that did not prepare us for the canoe trip. 

The biggest problem was mostly the yelling between the two of us. That and getting stuck on rocks and having to get out on slippery rocks where the water is running fast to budge the canoe off the rocks. And one time, we did turn over completely with Earl going under the water because it was deep there. 

Tipping over

Although it looks like I'm leaning on the canoe to keep Earl from emerging, I wasn't.

The circus-type atmosphere did not prevent us from enjoying the beauty during the calm parts of the river. At one point we saw two blue herons take flight and crisscross above the river like a beautiful dance. 

Ray and Claudine would stop and wait for us. That's how they took so many pictures.

The water was low, so that might have been part of the problem as we got stuck on rocks. Earl and I were just too heavy and weighed down the canoe rather than skimming over the rocks. Surprisingly, there were a lot of important decisions to make as we paddled along the canoe, watching Ray and Claudine go before us. If they had a hard time or got stuck, we would try another route , but it wasn't usually better than the route they had taken. 

Ray and Claudine were much more in sync than we were. 

At one place, we pulled the canoes up on some rocks and looked at caves. My phone was tucked away in the waterproof container that stores important things on the back of the canoe, so I don't have pictures. But Claudine did take this picture of us before we climbed back in the canoe. 

 It wasn't far from the caves to the end, so it should have all gone splendidly, but as Earl got in the canoe, I pushed it off the rocks and hopped in, I felt a pain in the back of my thigh just below my swimsuit. Had I sat on a burr from the hillside? Nope, a bee sting. What are the odds that I would sit on a bee in a canoe. Very rare. Luckily, the cold water helped ease the pain of the sting and I'm not allergic.

We provided our friends with a lot of laughs as we meandered down the river, getting stuck, turning over, getting stuck again, going down some whitewater backward at one point. But we agreed that we would try it again in the future when the water level got a bit higher. 

After canoeing, we stopped at a friend's restaurant in Couiza. Andy is an English chef who has worked on Russian yachts among other places. Last year he started a restaurant right before Covid hit. We had been there once before for English roast, which is a Sunday thing with meat and Yorkshire pudding and lots of roasted vegetables. But we aren't English so it was hard to judge. 

Monday's meal assured us that dining at Andy's restaurant À Table, which means "to the table" or "come to the table" in French, is a great experience. It started with some amuse bouches, baba ganouches (like a humus from eggplant) and little potatoes with spices and a mayonnaise-type sauce to dip them in. We ordered the 19.95 Euro menu which included a starter, a main course and a dessert. But before the starter, first there was another amuse bouche of gazpacho.  

We weren't sure, so asked the server and she said we were supposed to drink it.
It had a kick to it with garlic, pepper and paprika added. 

For my starter, I had a poached egg served over spinach and a basket made of parmesan cheese.

The main dish for me was lamb plus gratin potatoes. I paid a 6 euro supplement for the lamb. 

And for dessert, a sticky toffee pudding with a side of ice cream. I hadn't eaten
sticky toffee pudding before going to Andy's restaurant, so I can't compare it, but
the first few bites taste like delicious brown sugar and butter. 

 
We left Andy's restaurant very full but delighting in the delicious meal. 

We might not be able to canoe very well, but we can eat a nice French lunch and return home for a nap with the best of them. 

Run Aways in the South of France

 Let's just pretend I haven't been gone for a month and a half, like friends who start a conversation after being absent from each other.

This morning on a run, I was headed out the cemetery road because it's flat and easy to run on. It follows the river, goes past an abbatoir, an organic food store and the water treatment plant -- that doesn't sound like a great place to run, but it does go past the cemetery and there are fields where sometimes hay is rolled up and sometimes horses munch on grass, and many glimpses of the surrounding mountains -- but mostly it's flat. 

As I'm running, the postal lady passed me on her bicycle. She rides her bike to work then many times rides around town delivering mail on the post office bicycle. She always says "Bonjour" but this morning she held out her  hand and said, "Faites attention..." But I didn't catch that last part. What was I supposed to be careful of? 

"Merci," I called as I continued on my way and she in the other direction. It could be a snake on the road; a car accident; a wild boar; road work? 

Soon enough, I came across the culprit, two horses running free on the road. 

The runaways

The horses, tossing their heads and neighing, had been spooked by a big truck going to the water treatment plant. They began to run up the road toward me. The pony is black and white with spots like an Appaloosa. The bigger horse, which Earl says looks like a quarter horse, has some white patches like a palomino. I've seen these horses on the road before. These aren't the first runaways we've seen either. Rather than expecting someone else to take care of it, I've seen French strangers clap their hands at horses to send them in the direction of home. But horses are big and I figured I should just stay out of it. 

I stopped running so I wouldn't scare the horses. The smaller one is much more skittish, wanting to race past me. I didn't have much farther to go before I turned around on the 5K run. I saw that the horses had entered a field (Reminder to self that I must learn to say 'field' in French -- reminder to self, you already know that word - champ, as in Champs Elysees) but I couldn't think of the word as I ran this morning. 

The fence had an opening and the two horses had entered the field and were placidly munching grass. A woman was entering the enclosure from the other end. "Are these your horses?" I asked her in French. She let me know they weren't and she had been saving this grass for her horses and she wasn't pleased the horses were taking it. 

At least the horses were safe, I thought, as I continued toward home, my "run time" totally ruined by the horse incident. But I got to practice some French and horses don't go running down the road higgeldy piggeldy very often, so I might as well enjoy it. 

Mid-Winter Outings

The groundhog may have seen his shadow on February 2nd, but spring is fast erupting here in the South of France. 

Some things haven't changed much. Restaurants and bars remain closed. We have a 6 p.m. curfew every night, which means we can't gather with friends in the evenings. (Yes, this is what it is meant to do.)

The vaccine is being given out at a very slow rate in France, which is a bit disheartening. 

Still, we find ways to occupy our time. 

My time is complicated because I work most days from 11-2, taking only Wednesday off work. But when I have the day off, we try to have an adventure.

This Wednesday, thanks to friends who recommended it, Earl and I traveled with Jack and Jules to Roquefort les Cascades. That's roquefort like the cheese, but not a cheese in sight. Instead, the end of the name "cascade," which means waterfall, is what we went for. 

Our friends Jim and Theresa had been earlier that week and said the waterfalls we're at peek from the melting snow. 

Several cascading jets of water made their way from the top of the hills

Each rise we climbed showed us more waterfalls.
 If the temperature had been warmer, I might have suspected a tropical paradise. 

My perpetually crooked sunglasses on top of my head as we attempted to pose in front of a waterfall. 

There's a short video of a waterfall at the bottom of this post. I couldn't get it to move up 

A week ago Sunday before, I had seen a sign advertising a honey festival. I grew up with a honey festival and continue to dream about the deliciousness of honey ice cream. I wasn't expecting that, but still decided it was worth a trip. The day was gorgeous and our friends Sue and Steve agreed to join us. 

The honey festival was in Tautavel, famous for an ancient skull discovered there proving that human ancestors lived in the area 550,000-400,000 years ago. 

The sunshine convinced us to show Sue and Steve the gorge near Tautavel. 

 The honey festival couldn't hold a candle to Lebanon's honey festival that I remember as a child, but we enjoyed looking at some bee basics. Earl and I bought a jar of honey to support the local beekeepers, along with a loaf of fig bread. Everyone who bought honey got a free sprig of mimosa. 

The mimosa blossoms were gorgeous.
Too bad I learned they can be toxic to cats so had to throw it out. 

The Wednesday before that, we had to travel to the "big city" of Perpignan to pick out new tiles for the half bath on our first floor. Since we were in Perpignan, we decided to take a trip to the beach, the Mediterranean. 

Glorious sunshine. The sand was soft, no wind blowing. But the water was cold. 

Jim came prepared, as always, wearing shorts.
Earl just walked in with his pants rolled up and they quickly unrolled. 

We didn't stay on the beach long, but it was nice to remember that warm weather and more outings will come our way as winter turns to spring. 

Theresa and I didn't spend much time in the water. 

On another Sunday morning, we went to the market in Esperaza with Jack and Jules. 

The market is in full swing, including little cups of take away coffee. 

So we'll consider having outings with our friends and exploring this beautiful country we live in. 

Here's a video of the waterfalls at Roquefort les Cascades

Sunday Morning Market

Every Sunday, our routine is to go to Esperaza market.

It closed during the lockdown, or confinement as we called it in France, but now is as crowded as it was in previous summers. 

This picture captures the bohemian spirit of Esperaza. 

Yes, that is a cornucopia hat on his head as he carries his instrument. You might assume a guitar,
but don't, because it could be a Medieval stringed instrument that you don't know. 

The first few weeks after lockdown, the town required masks for anyone attending the market. Now that we're more than a month out of confinement, maybe a quarter of the people wear masks, and the people patrolling the bridges to make sure shoppers wear masks, are gone.
Earl and I wear masks when we're walking around but not when we are sitting at a cafe. We especially wanted to wear our masks when an influx of British people began visiting this area of the country. I would feel the same way if a bunch of Americans came to visit. Coronavirus isn't under control in those two areas of the world.

This man plays the banjo while waiting to sell jams, oils and breads

You can get fresh food like fruits and vegetables, or cooked food, like paella, rotisserie chickens, potatoes, or egg rolls. Some mornings we buy egg rolls and eat them as we walk back to the car, but the French don't really eat food as they walk. It's supposed to be more of a dining experience. It's hard to get the American out of us!

Guess what he is selling? Baskets, so he might as well work on one while he's waiting for customers. 

Some of the vendors don't waste their time simply selling their products, they are busy making more, like this basketmaker. It looks more like a wagon wheel to me, but he's the expert.

The material in this booth is amazing. 

You can always find inexpensive clothes at the market, cotton dresses from "Italy" but some of the stalls in Esperaza have hand-loomed material. The colors are gorgeous.

Here you can buy handmade hats, headbands, necklaces, knickknacks.
We bought Grace some fancy gloves from here before Christmas. 

I love the variety of the Esperaza market. There are locally produced products you aren't going to find anywhere else. There's even a stall filled with musical instruments that I know the great nieces and nephews would love. But I won't do that to their parents.

We walk over a bridge going to and from the market. The town has just added flowers to the bridge.

You can tell from the sparkling river and the blue sky that it was a stellar day in the South of France on Sunday.

Here you can see the various people headed across the bridge to Esparaza

Back home in Grandview, we would have gone to mass at the Newman Center and maybe gone to brunch with friends. Or maybe we would have walked to Grandview Avenue for an expensive brunch, or just a cup of coffee at the Grind. It's a different experience, here in France, but one we're soaking in and holding onto every memory.

Chateau de Queribus

Another day, another castle.

Just kidding! I can never get tired of the amazing historical sights to see in France.
As we were driving back home through a small village, I had one of those moments where I was reminded of a different small village and good times we had spent there. I just thrill to the idea that this is where I live now.
Will it grow old or be outweighed by the amount I miss my sons and parents back home? It is harder with travel limited and knowing that I can't see my family if I want to.
Today's adventure took us to a former Cathar castle down near Perpignan. You can find a link to the website in English here.

Here's the castle atop the mountain as we drove toward it. 

But the first time it's mentioned in history is 1020. It was the last stronghold of the Cathars in 1255 before King Louis IX, St. Louis, took it over and made it a fortress for France along the border of Spain.

Looking for a room with a view?

Well, I can vouch that the view into Spain is fabulous. You can see the Pyrenees, down to the Mediterranean from here. But the wind climbing up to the mountain would have been enough to turn me around. Perhaps the soldiers were made of sterner stuff. (Obviously!) The views were amazing.

Selfie with the view behind us. 

It's nice to be out and about, showing Grace and Jack some of the sights in our part of France.

Plenty of air inside the castle. 

Goofy selfie -- just us standing out as Americans

Something divine inside the cathedral

 Although Grace had visited France several times before, she hadn't been to this part of southern France. And Jack's arrival is his first time on mainland Europe.

The soaring vaulted ceiling of the chapel

People are sometimes surprised to hear us speaking our accented French. They expect to only see French people in France because of the confinement, like the woman who sold us the tickets to the chateau on Wednesday.
She asked our nationality and I told her American, but that we lived in Quillan.

Wind-blown but enjoying the sunny day

We could see for miles and miles and miles and... 

We followed the chateau visit with a picnic in Cucugnan in the shadow of an old moulin, with a stop at the bakery underneath the windmill for some cookies for dessert.
More adventures to come!