A Weekend in Spain

 We journeyed to Roses, Spain along the Mediterranean for a three-day weekend. (That sounds so posh, doesn't it? Just running off to Spain for the weekend.)

A sunrise picture on my run

The trip started as a comedy of errors. We planned to leave around 8:45 a.m. Derrick, Earl and I have all had our vaccinations so we didn't need a Covid test to get back into France after the weekend. Kris, who turned 36 on Friday, hadn't had his vaccinations yet, so he needed a test. However, when he got to the lab at 8 a.m., the lab wasn't starting Covid tests until 9:30. We settled in our garden (we live near the lab) for coffee and tea, and some birthday chocolates for Kris. He  had been scheduled last minute to get his first Covid vaccine (which the British call a jab, and the French call a pique) between 9-9:30. Since the office is south of us, the schedule was perfect to get a Covid test then drive south for the vaccine and continue on to Spain. They considered driving down for the vaccine, then back to Quillan for the test. I contacted our always helpful doctor Cat Harrison and she said Kris could arrive later, so we didn't have to drive back and forth.

I went with Kris to get his Covid test. It's an awful birthday present and he dreaded it so much, but he only needed me to help him fill out his paperwork. Then we were off, stopping in Axat for his vaccine. He came out several minutes later with blood all over the arm of his shirt. None of us could figure out why he bled so much. 

But we put it behind us and drove toward Spain. It's only two hours away from our home in Quillan. We skirted past the big Pyrenees mountains that still have a smidgen of snow on them and crossed into Spain. No one stopped us or asked to see our Covid vaccine proof. 

Our first stop in Roses, along the Mediterranean, was for lunch. We had reservations for 1:30 and were a bit late once we parked and checked into the hotel. Derrick had surprised Kris with some old friends of his father's. Nicole and Dave used to have a place in Roses and Kris remembered vacations there with his father, who died this past year. So when we showed up for lunch, Dave and Nicole were waiting. 

The lunch was a harbinger of the weekend to come, because most of it was spent sitting at a table eating. 

My iPhone put together a video of my pictures, and you can see that food figures prominently. 

We probably spent six hours a day at meals - three hours at lunch, three hours at dinner. 

I did have a swim in the sea, and even though it was the end of June, the water was cold and took my breath when I first dived in. 

We had a brief swim in the pool as well. 

And one of the highlights for me was an early morning run along the shorefront to the jetty and then I returned to the hotel along the beach. 

On the Saturday of our visit, Spain allowed people to take off masks when they are outside. So that was nice, to be able to ramble along the streets without a mask. 

Friends Jo and Matthew traveled to Spain on Saturday and we went to dinner with them that evening before returning to the hotel for some music and dancing. We loved watching the older ladies dancing by themselves or in pairs to the DJ's music. 

We returned home via Cadaqués, which is a village along the Med that looks similar to Greek villages with whitewashed buildings and blue shutters. It's a very quaint place where we enjoyed another lunch, maybe only two hours. 

The bougainvillea growing on the buildings was amazing. 

Although officers were standing along the toll booths, they didn't stop our car and ask for our proof of vaccine. So Kris' covid test went unchecked. He was negative, anyway. 
Having breathed in plenty of sea air, we returned to Quillan. 

Isolation and Socialization

We’re not very good at isolation. 

We had every intent to isolate 10 days. Then a friend said the rules say 7 days, but they’re a suggestion. 

We let our friends know we’d be happy to see them in the garden if they felt safe. 

But the weather was rainy and chilly that first day so Lou and Steve brought us dinner, and Derrick and Kris joined us, all of them with their dogs, so 4 dogs and our surly cat roaming around. We ate and played board games until 9 pm when I put away the wine and kicked everyone out. I figured I’d done well to stay awake that long. 

Quillan is preparing for the Tour de France to visit.

On Monday, our friends Sue and Steve came for drinks. Drinks turned into dinner before they raced home to beat the 9 p.m. curfew. 

I suggested that Jo might want to drop by for a glass of blanquette on Tuesday after I finished teaching, and then invited her husband Matthew to join us for dinner as well, so they both arrived and we grilled chicken on the grill and talked late into the evening, including a bit of poetry recitation (thank you, Matthew.)

On Wednesday, the bars and restaurants opened outside in France for the first time since October. Did I have a choice but to meet Derrick early at a café where we had a café crème on the terrace overlooking the river Aude. 

The flowers grow out from the bridge each spring. 

I'd already asked the belly dancing group, which meets outside on the tennis courts, if they would feel safe having me there since we dance outside. Everyone was fine with it. Meanwhile, the husbands of the belly dancers were gathering for a drink at an outdoor bar and asked Earl to come along. 

When we finished learning some Bollywood moves, my friends urged me to join the husbands for a drink too. So, I did, drinking a monaco, beer, lemonade and grenadine, glowing a beautiful red. 

I returned home to work on taxes where my frustration grew, as you can see from my previous post. 

On Thursday, I met Derrick for a coffee again and then a drink later that day, all outside. We talked about dinner, and agree to combine our meals -- I had pork in the crock pot and he made potato salad. We made an attempt at playing Password, but my brain apparently is not over jet lag. Earl and Kris did quite well, so maybe it isn't jet lag. 

After I finished teaching on Friday, we hosted my friend Linda from Frenchless in France and a friend. It's always fun to catch up with friends from far away. 

Friday was fish and chips night. The van parks in Quillan near a local bar, the PMU. The PMU provides the drinks while the van doles out fish and chips which we must order ahead of time. We hadn't seen our American friends Jim and Theresa yet, so were happy to meet with them and walk over to fish and chips. Some red wine, some greasy chips and breaded fish. Earl and I share one order and that is plenty.  

Saturday, technically seven days after we arrived, is another market day, that meant more coffee alongside the river, plus coffee from the van that kept us in take away coffee throughout the lockdown since last October. And finally, our first real meal out in France since October 30th. We returned to Les Platanes, the restaurant we last ate at. 

The nine of us sat at two tables, a limit of six adults is in place even for outdoor tables. I ordered duck and fries, something I haven't eaten since October. We were all so happy to be out for the evening, although we remained aware of the 9 p.m. curfew. The duck was a bit overdone, but the wine flowed and I enjoyed ordering a café gourmande, a mix of desserts and tiny cup of espresso. 

Earl finished his dessert and looked my way. I loaded up the remaining cake, ice cream and chantilly (whipped cream) and sent it his way. 

It was in the midst of this week that Earl began asking when we would have a day off - and day without anything scheduled. Like a race horse in mid-stride, it took me a minute to remember that maybe he didn't feel the urge to catch up with everyone like I did. 

But we'd already committed to an afternoon at Sue and Steve's on Sunday, an afternoon that ended shortly before curfew with way too much cheese and nibbles. 

And on Monday, we planned an outing. We ended up going to the sea in the morning since the weather forecast warned of higher winds in the afternoon. The water was cold, so I satisfied my sea urge by walking in the sand. Earl and Kris went in and they report the water was breathtaking, not in a good way. 

The sparkly sea. 

After being told all the restaurants along the beach were full, it was a bank holiday, which meant no one was at work and many people were at the beach, we drove into Beziers. We'd enjoyed a stop in Bezier four years earlier when searching for a place to live. 

We found a restaurant with outdoor seating. I tried duck again and was much more pleased by the thick magret de canard cooked rare and juicy. I shared only a bit with Derrick and with his dogs, eating the whole thing. 

Yum. Hand cut fries, duck and salad. 

We finished the meal and went walking along the park that stretches through the center of the city, Plateau des poètes. A lovely walk in the sun admiring all the poets who were born in the area. The fountains are impressive. 

A moody sky over the fountain

And finally, today, Earl got his wish. A day without dinner plans. I met my friend Isa for coffee in the square this morning.

Cappuccino with chantilly

 And I might have gone to meet some other friends for a drink after they signed papers on a new house. But other than that, an evening for two stretches in front of us. 

As my British friends might say, We're rubbish at isolating. Luckily, we were vaccinated and tested so felt safe that we weren't spreading Covid. 

The End of My Rope

 This is the closest I've come to throwing in the towel and leaving France behind. 

Everyone is healthy. No crises. It's my own personal Achilles heel that drives me to the edge, tempting me to put it all behind me and return to the States. 

Taxes. French taxes are  currently the bane of my existence, but only for about 12 more hours because they are due today. 

These horses aren't bothered by taxes. 

I realize I'm being unreasonable. I put off doing US taxes, but I got them done while we were visiting friends and family during our five week trip. And on Monday, May 17, the official tax day in the U.S. this year because of COVID, the government promptly removed the $5,400 we still owed in taxes. 

I didn't worry about French taxes, which I thought were due in June. Then I saw that they are actually due on May 26th. I'd better get moving. But since we don't have a tax number, we have to file a paper copy. The paper copy is due on May 20th. That's today!

I joined a Facebook group that helps English speakers figure out taxes, but truthfully, they could be speaking French or Bulgarian. The helpful files are called things like F2041E or IMPOTS deduction for pensions alimentaires. 

Earl and I jumped in our car and went to the tax office half an hour away. We were outside a few minutes later slightly stunned. The man was the most helpful federal worker I've ever run into in France or the US. He gave me two forms and a phone appointment, saying his colleague will call me Thursday at 3:30. 

My hopeful feelings died bit by bit as I struggled to understand where to put the numbers in the two forms I'm working on. I just get so agitated, either because it's about taxes, or money or budgeting, or my own inadequacies. Whatever it is -- I hate it. 

I went for a run this morning, hoping I'll be able to calm the beast within. Derrick is coming over to look at it with me, but really just to offer moral support. 

Whatever happens, I'll have a chance to ask a few questions this afternoon when the tax worker calls -- preparing for a telephone conversation in French, another stressor. 

I'll turn it in and see what the French government thinks. Then I'll start preparing for next year. Maybe we'll pay someone to do our taxes in France. 

Homeward Bound

Five weeks slides past in the blink of an eye. 

We go from a longed-for stay with those we love in the States, to the comfort of a familiar bed and a bright kitchen, along with the sharp claws of one méchant cat. 

When we decided to live in France, we always promised ourselves we could return to the States if anyone needed us, but we hadn’t anticipated a worldwide pandemic. 

So 14 months after our last visit, we could return to this crew 

Mother's Day brunch

Tucker, Kaitlin and Spencer celebrating Mother’s Day with me at an outdoor brunch. 

We started in Florida, isolating for a few weeks to make sure we didn’t catch COVID from any of the 20 people on our flight across the Atlantic. We loved having time to hang out with Mom and Dad, plus frolic in the pool. 
I got to see so many people I love, including both my brothers.

Me and Craig

Craig traveled from Texas to visit Mom for Mother’s Day and we arrived that evening in time to share some memories. 

Kevin's birthday

My younger brother Kevin celebrated a birthday and I got to join him. 
We stayed with our friends Deb and Greg and, of course, got to attend a Blue Jackets hockey game. We had a suite to watch the game so were separate from other fan, but it seemed so close to normal. 

Blue Jackets game

A separate suite

Gathering with their family and Dave’s (our dentist and friend) family too. 

Open restaurants

We ate outdoors at restaurants from the very first night in Ohio, as the boys reminded us to eat pizza with our hands rather than with a knife and fork. We got to stay at Spence and Kaitlin’s apartment; everyone is so grown up. 

Fat Cat

Their cat Mrs Potts never took to us. 

Lovely evenings with friends around a fire, sharing stories. 

Fireside stories

Impressive creations

That is some studio, Sheila. Amazing stained glass creations are sure to come. And the beans and rice you served were delish. 

Friends and friends

Met my running friends for coffee where we talked about running and also gathered outdoors with my writing friends! I'm sensing a theme. No writing or running was accomplished during these gatherings. 

We visited with beautiful babies like Henry 

All smiles

And Elizabeth

That is one of the things we really miss in France, getting to visit with little ones. There's a café owner in Quillan with a little girl, maybe six, who will occasionally join us for a card game, but it's harder to make connections with kids than it is with French adults. 

A dental implant curtailed my activities at the end of our time in Ohio, but I healed enough to eat some home cooked meals with Mom and Dad - a Kentucky-style big breakfast. 

Who tires of Mom's homecooking? No one

Blue skies

We did a bit of work around Mom and Dad’s, but mostly we were pampered, feeling the love of a long-awaited visit. 

On Saturday night, we caught a flight in Miami and flew to Barcelona. It wasn't without its challenges. We stood in line at American Airlines for two hours before a hassled worker led us by the hand through security to catch our plane on time. 

The airport was mayhem, but the flight was over an hour early. 

Our friend Derrick came to fetch us in Barcelona. Luckily, he couldn't sleep so drove to Barcelona early.

We stopped in the Spanish town of Roses along the Mediterranean for the sea breeze and a nice lunch. 

Roses

Derrick had to get a covid test to come pick us up, so we rewarded him with a restaurant lunch. 

Restaurants in France are still closed through Wednesday. 

So nice to be home again after five weeks of shared experiences with our family and friends. 

A Miracle Day

Fourteen months. That’s how long it has been since I’ve seen my parents. 

And it has been a harrowing year to live across the ocean, knowing that a pandemic was attacking and killing thousands of people in my parents’ age group.

That’s why it seems like a miracle that today, I got to hug them again. 

Reunited

I know, I know. It isn’t safe to travel now. The odds of getting out of locked-down France, into Spain and onto a flight to Florida seemed low. But my parents have both had their vaccinations and Earl and I have had our first shot, which the doctor said should give us about 85% coverage. It was a risk we needed to take. 

France locked down nearly a week ago. We got our negative Covid test results Thursday morning and our friends Jack and Jules drove us an hour to the train station in Perpignan. 

There we caught a train to Barcelona, which takes about an hour and a half. There were about 5 people in our train car. Spain is more open than France, but people are all wearing masks and staying distant. 

We took a walk from our hotel Thursday evening, finding a Starbucks (the one decadence I miss from the States) and sitting near La Sagrada Familia, the Gaudi designed cathedral that is still unfinished, to drink our coffee. 

No crowds taking pictures this time in Barcelona

We got take out from a Turkish restaurant and carried it back to our hotel room. In Spain, restaurants are allowed to serve people until 5 pm. Then they can offer take out dining from 5-10. Their curfew is at 10, which makes France’s 7 pm curfew seem pitiful. 

We had a breakfast buffet at the hotel. It felt weird to eat inside a restaurant. There was only one other person in the big room. The buffet had hand sanitizer and plastic gloves at both ends to limit the spread of virus. 

Only one other person was eating breakfast

A taxi picked us up at the hotel and we walked into a very empty-feeling airport. There was no one in line in front of us so we quickly checked in. I hadn’t been allowed to check-in online because the first question American Airlines asked was whether we had visited South Africa, Brazil, China, Europe, etc, recently. Since we were flying out of Spain, you can guess the answer to that question. Answering yes meant we couldn’t check in online. 

There were many helpful people at the airport. I always feel guilty saying “no hablo espagnol” and being satisfied with “hola” and “gracias.”

Our plane looks so small from here. 

When we got on the plane, we realized how fortunate we were to find a flight going abroad at all. This flight from Barcelona to Miami had only 29 passengers on a flight that could take more than 200. Thanks, American Airlines for not canceling. 

The flight attendants offered us our choice of seats (not in business or first class, obviously). 

Fellow passengers were few and far between

We had snacks and lunch and little cups of ice cream with a plastic spoon. 

In case you've forgotten what an airplane meal looks like.
Noodles and sauce, salad, cheese, bread and chocolate cake for dessert. 

If only it had a wooden spoon. 

I finished reading a book and watched a French movie about a woman hiking with a donkey, hilarity ensues. 

We landed in Miami because it seemed a better option than hanging out in airports and transferring to another plane. Instead, we reserved a car to drive the three hours to Mom and Dad’s. 

We return the car to a nearby town Saturday morning and then we’ll quarantine at Mom and Dad’s for 10 days. And if all goes well, we should get to see those well-loved sons of ours in Ohio, one of whom we haven’t seen in 14 months either. 

My heart is full at the miracle of it all. 

A Two-Hour Drive to Albi

 Continuing to make the most of my days off work, we traveled to Albi, France on Monday.

I didn't know much about it, but Earl swears it was on our original list of possible cities to live in. It seems a bit north to have made the list, and we didn't actually visit it, so if it did make the list, it sank to the bottom to be forgotten by me. 

Instead, we focused on the Aude and the Gard regions of Occitanie, closer to the Mediterranean. And we ended up living in the Aude, so named for the river that runs through our town. Albi is in Occitanie, but north of Toulouse and in the Tarn region, so named for the river that runs through it. 

These days, we just itch for any place to provide some variety during the time of Covid. Our friends Sue and Steve drove because they were taking along their adorable puppy Elwing.

I read from a tourism site as we drove (yes, I'm that obnoxious person in the car). Albi, the Albigensian Crusade was named for the town, has the largest brick cathedral in the world. And we were struck by all the brick as we pulled into town, searching for the best place to park and explore. 

View of the brick Cathedral

As soon as we entered the square, of course, we were impressed by the brick cathedral, St. Cecilia built from 1282-1480. The men were quick to point out where the color of the bricks changed as the cathedral was constructed. I pointed out the plainness of the brick compared to the gothic entryway. Lots of gingerbread or bric a brac or gewgaws. Whatever you want to call it.

A close-up of the stone entryway with its climbing details. 

You can see the clash between the brick and the stone entryway. 

The city is also famous for its timbered buildings. So many old houses leaning precariously but holding onto the timbers from hundreds of years ago. 

Timbered buildings and a brick arcade

Our first stop, of course, was for take out coffee. Something we only get in Quillan on market day. Then we wandered the city. There's a section with some expensive shopping. 

Sue and Steve posing with the Albi sign, the cathedral behind them

We found some quaint squares where people live in houses getting close to 1000 years old. 

Steven insists the tiny house at the side was the smallest ever. I say it probably connected to a bigger part of a house. He pointed out it has its own house number. 

The morning was chilly, but the sun came out in the afternoon

We had a choice of several places for lunch. We were debating crepes or Chinese and in the end chose Chinese. They're even giving out bamboo utensils at French restaurants these days. Something that would have been unheard of before. 

Chinese noodles to go. We're always in search of take out food. 

I had egg noodles, chicken, broccoli and mushrooms with teriyaki sauce. If you haven't eaten out for five months, you can understand how important these meals are. We found a bench in a square overlooking a fountain and enjoyed the food. Earl and I shared an Orangina. The sun had come out. 

We thought we would head to the car, but I had checked the doors of the cathedral and it was supposed to be open from 2-5 p.m. (that's 14h to 17h). I thought we'd just have a peek inside. Living in France, you sometimes get a bit blasé about churches, seen one, seem 'em all, but, WOW. 

The cathedral was amazing on the inside. 

3 D painting, or maybe trompe l'oeil, meant to fool the eye

Just took my breath away

So, if you get a chance to see the inside of St. Cecilia Cathedrale in Albi, do it. And to think, we nearly left without looking inside. It's also one of the largest painted cathedrals in the world. 

We walked back to the car, glad for our day of exploring  in Albi. 

Even the bridges are brick

Hope you are having adventures where you live too. 

More Covid Adventures

On a 10-degree day (50 Fahrenheit) soaking our feet in thermal waters

 It seems silly, the things that we miss during lockdown. I have friends who have lost their mothers and fathers. Who am I to whine about missing restaurants, bars and cafes? Getting together with friends, stopping for coffee at the end of a walk or meeting for a glass of wine at the bar overlooking the river. 

But that is one thing we've missed. Restaurants and bars have been closed in France since October 30th.

Rain was predicted in Quillan for Monday. We had talked about revisiting the beach from the previous week, since our friend Kris had been working rather than joining us. But high winds were predicted along the Mediterranean all week. We started looking at maps and when we heard about a restaurant that served food at outside picnic tables, we agreed to go, thinking it might feel like eating at a restaurant again.

The restaurant though was at the top of a Col, though, a mountain pass. The weather forecast said sun, but the high temperature predicted was 1 Celsius, 33 Fahrenheit. 

We drove through curving roads, moving higher and higher, expecting to see snow, but much of the snow has melted. Along the way, Kris named a litany of foods he planned to order once we got to the restaurant. "Steak haché and frites, moules, a demi of rouge, and that's just for starters."

When we rounded a corner, we saw a fabulous view of the Pyrénées and the snow we had anticipated. 

In spite of warm weather, the high peaks retain their snow.

The place looked deserted. We were the only car in the lot. We walked around enjoying the view but shivered in the cold. The time had arrived for us to see whether the restaurant was open. 

We walked in, masks in place, and acted like people who hadn't been at a restaurant for five months. The proprietor asked if she could help us and I stumbled over words like "repas" and "dejeuner." Finally, she understood we were there for food and she cautioned that we needed to eat at the tables outside. We agreed and eagerly ordered. Tartiflette for me, potatoes with cheese and ham, a delicious mountain meal. Earl, Kris and Derrick all ordered hamburgers with special sauce and fries. Derrick drank mulled wine while the rest of us had red wine. 

The view from the picnic tables is lovely, but chilly. 

Me and Earl

After our lunch, finished with a coffee and a toilet break (always a worry for me because many toilets are closed due to Covid), we drove across the col to the town of Ax-les-Thermes. We've heard that cities with Ax and Aix were hubs for Romans, like Aix en Provence, but I can't confirm that from my curosry search online. The Romans were there in Ax-les-Thermes, enjoying the thermal waters back in the day. And Ax is related to the Latin word for water.

Nevertheless, the town is now know for its waters and for its skiing. France has banned skiing for the year because of the virus. French people who try to go to nearby countries (Spain, Andorra, Italy) are not allowed to ski either. 

There are hot water fountains in two places in town. 

The temperature warmed up quite a bit from the restaurant to Ax-les-Thermes, registering at about 10 Celsius or 50 Fahrenheit. We quickly pulled off our boots and socks to soak our feet in the warm water. 

Good thing I had a pedicure for my birthday

Kris and Earl enjoy the hottest water

  The water is generally hotter closer to the source it comes out, but it wasn't too hot on the day we were there. 
After some time in the water, which left our feet feeling very soft, we drove up to the ski station. The snow machines are not making snow. Only patches are left. Kids and parents pull up sleds and come down the hills. 

A lonely ski slope

I had packed some hot chocolate with amaretto in a thermos, so we enjoyed it while Kris and Derrick's dogs played in the snow. I even brought along a can of whipped cream, which the Brits call "squirty cream." 

A cup of hot chocolate in the snow and sunshine. 

It was a pretty great adventure.