The Last Day in March

I’m not sure if I need to add many words to the pictures from today, but an adventure always needs a little explanation. 

My friend Jules and I set off to explore a castle, Château de Quéribus, about an hour from home. The website said it was open, but when we got there, a man in a black leather jacket with an unleashed dog stood reading the sign, obviously disappointed. “C’est fermé,” he said. It’s closed. 

The view from below, outside the closed gates

We watched other people pull up and leave, equally crestfallen. We walked to an overlook and spent a few minutes. Then I heard a sound of women talking, echoing off the rock of the mountain and spotted two young women trodding along the path high above us. “Look, Jules. They’re in.”

We walked down to the closed gate again. A path led under some wooden barriers around the gate. We climbed under and found ourselves climbing up the steep path. 

We considered ourselves fortunate to get this far

I expected to come up against a barrier at each bend, but we reached the overlook and sighed, enjoying the view. 

The view from the castle

Then I climbed the wooden stairs, expecting the doors of the castle to be closed. Nope. Open.

We explored all of it from the cathedral

The soaring ceilings in the cathedral

to the dungeon, where I cracked my head as we were climbing the stairs, but no blood. 

The dungeon at least had windows, but my phone added light to the stairs as I took this picture

What a glorious day to look over the countryside. 

Can you spot me in the window? 

And if the day had ended there with some surreptitious castle viewing and beautiful weather, it might have been enough

Out the castle window

but we headed to the Mediterranean, of course. In the past week, I've taken more trips to the coast than I did all of last year. I've yet to regret it.

We went to Canet-en-Roussillon beach. A wander along the sidewalk led us to a pizza shop that was open. We ordered a pizza and crossed the street to set up our beach towels next to a wall that would block the wind (of course there was wind). 

We ate pizza with ham and black olives and then just soaked up the delightful sun for a bit, until antsy-ness got the best of us and we packed up our belongings.

The expanse of sand before the sea was huge. It took forever just to walk out to the water, which is still cold, by the way. 

The frothy waves

Me

Kite surfer

In these times of a pandemic, we never know when we might be locked down again. But here in France, we know because the President gave a speech this evening and said starting Saturday will be a four-week confinement. We especially don't regret an outing knowing that we'll be unable to travel more than 10 kilometers from home in the coming month.

And the day ended perfectly when Earl texted me and alerted me that our doctor had a vaccine for him today, and she might be able to eek out enough for me as well. 

Jules and I met him at the doctor's office on the way home and she was able to give both Earl and me our vaccines. What a relief to be partially protected, about 85% she said after a few weeks. Jules gets hers next week. 

So we're ready for the next lock down after some lovely explorations and adventures. 

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. 

In Search of the Sun

The weather forecast called for rain in our hometown in Quillan France. Since I just recently added a second day off each week, I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting at home watching the rain fall. 

Instead, I searched the weather app and saw that the rain was avoiding the area east of us. We planned to visit the city Narbonne and a vineyard nearby, along with our friend Derrick.

The Cathedral St. Just et Saint Pasteur

Inside the Cathedral, a beam of light from a stained-glass window illuminated me.
I did not ascend or have any visions, however. Perhaps it was just International Women's Day. 

The church had some amazing gargoyles. Many of them weren't in the sun so didn't photograph well. 

Narbonne has a canal running through it and a number of restaurants were open for "to-go" food. We ordered and carried our food to a wall along the canal. A number of young people were eating their lunch along the canal too. It was nice to have a meal out because the restaurants in France have been closed since October 30th. 

A cool bridge with houses on it in the background. 

After Narbonne, we went on a bit of a wild goose chase to find a winery that we have enjoyed some bottles of red from. Gerard Bertrand. The winery has a red called Tautavel, which is a town south of here, and we went to do some tasting. 

This golden orange wine is new for them. It can replace a rosé, but didn't
impress me too much. I'm not much of a  rosé fan. 

We did a degustation, a wine tasting. The young man who was in charge of it was from Belfast, Ireland, but had majored in French in college. We tasted seven wines as he explained each one. Pinot noir, syrah, grenache. We bought four bottles, but agreed that the Tautavel wine we have found in grocery stores for 5 or 6 euros, which isn't available at the winery, was actually better. Luckily, my friend Derrick purchased a case of those yesterday and he was willing to share. 

Afterward, we headed to the beach -- Narbonne Plage. 

The wind and curly hair, say no more. 

The sun shone on us for awhile

We bought some crepes from a stand, and unfortunately, when I went to sit on the wall at the beach, mine flew into the sand. I didn't need a crepe anyway. 

Earl with his coffee and crepe that did not blow away. Crème de marron - chestnut, ick. 

What a lovely day out exploring France. 

Sightseeing in Southern France

I'm feeling a pressing need to get out and show the sights to Grace and Jack since they've been housebound for nine weeks in France.
On our latest outing, they may have wished they were back in their snug bedroom.

In the morning, we took a hike with our friends Jim and Theresa. Jack didn't come along because his knee is out of commission, but Grace joined us.
We were going to hike through an old railroad tunnel that runs under a mountain.

The old railroad tunnel. 

We had some flashlights (thanks, Derrick) and the lights from our phones. At first, the tunnel had a few side exits that let in light. Then as we went farther, the dark became denser. Water dripped from the roof, splashing onto our heads or shirts.

The five of us venturing into the tunnel. 

According to my phone, we had gone about 1.5 kilometers into the tunnel, arriving at the some arches that overlooked the river, when Grace's claustrophobia kicked in. She could not go any farther!
Grace and I told the others to go on and we would walk back to the car.
So their beams of light disappeared and we were alone in the tunnel.
We started walking back toward the beginning of the tunnel. The light faded, the black closed in.
Gone were the lights of Earl and Jim bopping ahead of us as Grace, Theresa and I followed. Now, it was just the two of us.
And as we moved into the blackness, Grace made a break for it back to the arches along the tunnel, the overlooks, gulping in the fresh air.
"We'll just wait for the others to come back," I suggested. So we stood there, watching the river run far below.
After about 15 minutes, we wondered if the others might exit the tunnel on the far side and find another way to return to the car. That would leave us standing in the tunnel forever.
I tried to text Earl and unbeknownst to me, he tried to text me, but our signals were not going through. Obviously, since we were under a mountain.
As the wait stretched to 20 minutes, Grace and I decided we'd have to brave it alone. I suggested we sing a song as we walked, but we couldn't think of any songs we both knew all the words to.
Finally, I came up with the childhood song "This is the song that doesn't end..." We held hands and stepped into the darkness.
As we walked, we looked back and suddenly saw three faint lights moving toward us.
"Here they come!" Grace called.
And we waited for their return before walking out all together.
What a relief!
I can't imagine how exhausted Grace must be from the angst of claustrophobia.
We returned home to muffins and iced tea with Jim and Theresa before dragging Grace and Jack out for an afternoon adventure.  

We wove up mountains and down again on a circuitous route to Gorge de Galamus.
I'd visited there before with friends (Thanks, Kris and Derrick) but we had come in from the south. They assured me the view had more impact coming from the north, which led me to the winding roads.
The problem was, that both Grace and Jack get carsick. This was not the right route for them.
But eventually, an hour later, we arrived at the stream that carved the gorge. We waded a bit then drove on to see the gorge.

The gorge with the snow-capped Pyrenees in the background

View of L'hermitage from the other side of the gorge. It wasn't open on the day we were there. 

Jack, slowly recovering from his carsickness. 

Grace and Jack in front of the gorge

Me in front of the gorge, clutching my dress so it doesn't fly up, I guess. 

We drove home from the south. The drive was a straight shot on a nicely paved road. No mountains, no twists, no turns.
Well, another lesson learned.
They both collapsed into bed when we got home, recovering from their day of French adventure.

Dreaming of France -- Roses

Thank you for joining this weekly meme. Grab a copy of the photo above and link back to An Accidental Blog. Share with the rest of us your passion for France. Did you read a good book set in France? See a movie? Take a photo in France? Have an adventure? Eat a fabulous meal or even just a pastry? Or if you're in France now, go ahead and lord it over the rest of us. We can take it.

When Earl and I were traveling in May, we drove through a charming town that was wreathed in roses.
We stopped and took some pictures in Camon, France.

 A sign as we drove into town let us know that it celebrated a rose festival, and we soon saw why.

 Nearly every building had a waterfall of roses cascading along its front wall.
I didn't know anything about Camon, but when I looked it up, I learned that it is known as Little Carcassone, which is a famous walled city that we also visited. Apparently Camon first began in 923, growing up around an abbey. It was destroyed by a flood in 1289 and then rebuilt.

 But the things that caught our eyes were the roses. This used to be a big wine growing area, and the roses were planted as an early warning sign. If the roses began to show disease, then the vintners could try to protect the vines, according to Francethisway.com.

The area doesn't have a lot of vineyards anymore, but the roses remain, like a woman adorned in her finest jewels, they drape the city.
Next time we drive through, we're definitely stopping to explore a bit more.
And how long will it be until we are in Camon, France again. Maybe not as long as you think.
Thanks so much for playing along with Dreaming of France. Please leave your link below and visit each other's blogs to share your love for France.