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. 

A Walk in the Woods

This curfew is making me feel constrained. Of course, that’s the point, keeping people confined from 6 pm to 6 am. Just this past weekend, the curfew got pushed back to 7 pm. I’m grateful for the extra hour, but I feel antsy. 

Since I was a little kid, I’ve sprung out of bed in the morning, afraid I might miss something happening in the world. 

The view of our town from very high above

I hate being trapped inside when something could be going on in the world. Truthfully, it's not; the world is very quiet right now in our part of France, but I can't shake the feeling.

I have proclaimed a few times that we should spend every minute of the day outside since we aren't allowed to wander during curfew.

So on Sunday, after a morning at the market with a coffee to-go and a pastry, then three hours working, I headed out on a walk. I wasn't sure where I would go, just exploring. 

I started on a normal path up to Ginoles, stopping to feed some carrots to the two donkeys that graze there. The sun came out in the afternoon, but the wind was biting, so I wore a hat and a couple of layers. A lot of the time, I tied my jacket around my waist, but when I was hiking downhill, I got cool and felt glad for the jacket.

I pushed on the steep path up to Ginoles and did a bit of bushwhacking to arrive at the street above the church. Then I kept going.

A few times, I have followed the road to the Col, but this time, I followed the path, going down and up again rather than winding around. 

I reached the Col du Portel by path; not a bad route

A look back where I had come from

Then, instead of running or walking down the twisting road, I continued to follow the hiking path through tall pine trees. 

I crossed a bridge

I had to shimmy through some prickly plants where the path narrowed. 

And finally, I couldn't find the path anymore so I had to follow the road. 

The sign welcomes people to Quillan, but I appreciated the view of the faraway mountain between the peaks.

A few hours later, I arrived safely home, a bit worn out, but not regretting the hours I spent walking through the woods before I shut myself indoors for curfew again. 

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. 

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. 

Birthday Extravaganza

I should point out that our area of France hasn’t seen cases of Covid for quite awhile, according to a doctor friend. That’s why we feel fairly free to spend time together. We still limit gatherings and try to meet outside. 

Birthday hats on the beach

 If I were in the States for my birthday, back in my old life, I probably would have gone to work for the day. My work friends on Facebook might have said "Happy birthday." Perhaps my husband would have come home early from work and we would have walked to a nearby restaurant for a drink and delicious cheesy biscuits before going home to celebrate with my adult children. That would have been the hoopla surrounding my birthday. Nothing to complain about, really. 

But now, I live in France and I control my work schedule. I took the entire day off work. 

I got up and went for a run. 

Post run pic for my running friends

I walked to the bakery and bought too many pastries so we could have brunch with Jules and Jack at our place. 

Just a representative sample

In the afternoon, I went hiking with Jo and Tina at the green labyrinth in Nebias. 

You can see where it gets its name

Everything covered with moss feels mystical.

I'd been there before, but only hiked one section. This time, through a bit of exploring, I learned there are two other sections and we ended up hiking for about three hours. 

At one point, we sat on giant rocks and drank hot chocolate with amaretto, thanks to Jo. 

We also had a brief conversation with a Frenchman who was cutting pine branches in the forest. He started making a lot of excuses for his actions and then decided he was a bit of a shaman who could heal any of our ails. 

He instructed both Tina and Jo to swing their arms back and forth, to bend down and touch their toes, to count to 20 in French while he walked in a circle. He claimed to heal stiffness that they didn’t have. 

Strange Frenchman whose directions apparently needed to be followed.

The green labyrinth is supposed to be a place of mystery so we named the man “the gnome” and accepted it as part of the magic of the labyrinth. 

When we returned home, we had some blanquette (a sparkling wine made in the region) and millefeuille. Lou and Steve came by with a bottle of wine as a gift and joined us for a drink. Everyone left to get home before curfew, just as our dinner guests arrived. 

Sue and Steve spent the night so they didn’t have to worry about getting home before the 6 pm curfew. Derrick and Kris joined us with their dogs. They’re allowed to walk their dogs after curfew so can stay late, closer to a realistic dinner time.

I got to speak with all of my kids and my parents, so that helped make the day special, too. 

But my birthday didn’t end that day. The next day we joined  Theresa and Jim and traveled to l’aqueduc d’Ansignan, an old Roman aqueduct. 

A bat on the ceiling, I think

Amazing 3rd century construction

Theresa and Jim had made some paper boats to race in the aqueduct but there was no water in it. So we had to turn to the river Agly. 

Some of the paper boats stayed afloat longer than others

After our exploits, we drove through Estagel, stopping at the kebab shop for take-away gyros. We sat down on the sidewalk eating, enjoying a meal out the only way we have been able to since October 29, 2020. 

Then we headed to the beach. The temperature dropped close to the Mediterranean and the wind picked up. 

We visited a historic settlement of fishermen huts along the lake across the road from the Med. The huts were made of reeds, but the wind was brutal so we didn't pause long.

Then we crossed the street and watched the kite surfers jump and flip the windy waves. 

Kite surfing

We found a sheltered place in Canet-en-Roussillon and enjoyed some pastries that Jim and Theresa had brought along, wearing birthday hats and blowing streamers. 

And my birthday extravaganza came to an end. I can't imagine trying to top it next year. 

Beauty in the Midst of Unsettling Times

Quarantine can be a scary time. The slightest tickle in the throat and we're convinced we're coming down with the virus.
One way I have been coping with the quarantine is running most mornings.

Forsythia blooming with the wispy clouds over the mountains

It's a bit of a debate here with some people raging on Facebook that no one should be out.
I have a hard time justifying why I can't go for a solitary run. I usually pass one or two people on the other side of the road, but I'm not spreading the virus to them and they aren't spreading it to me.
In crowded cities, I know this is more of a problem, so I count my blessings that I live in a small town and not many people get out early in the mornings to go for walks or runs.
Apparently, President Macron has now declared that people need to stay within 1 kilometer of their homes and can only go out for an hour, but if I make a big circuit around my house, staying within a kilometer, I can still run 5 or 6 kilometers.

I rounded a corner and saw dark clouds looming and the sun shine peering beneath

Yes, the run gives off endorphins, but the beauty, the stubborn beauty of nature, reminds me that the seasons continue even in the midst of a virus, even in the midst of a quarantine.

I climbed on a rock to get this picture of the bridge into our town. You can see that there are no cars on it. 

The mountains, the clouds, the blue sky give me respite in this time of turmoil. And it reminds me to be thankful for the air in my lungs and the strength of my legs.
Stay safe and be on the lookout for the beauty around you.

My Morning at the Market

Saturday morning is one of the market days in Quillan and although I’ve been home for nearly two weeks, I hadn’t had a chance to shop at the market, being preoccupied with work.

This morning, Earl was working on the house, so I ventured out alone. Here’s my haul this morning. 

This should get us through the weekend.

My first stop was the butcher

We're having friends for dinner tomorrow so I bought 4 entrecote

Next the fruit and vegetable stand

Pears, clementines, carrots and courgettes (zucchini)

The woman at the vegetable stand often gives us free herbs or a lemon as we check out. That lemon in the corner by the pears was a freebie. This pile of fruit and vegetables cost me 4.80 euros. So much cheaper than what I would pay in the grocery in the States. 

From the cheese stall. 

Next I picked up a small Camembert cheese, brebis or sheep's milk cheese.
I had to stop at the bakery, of course. They didn't have my favorite pastry, chausson framboise, a raspberry turnover, so I got a muffin instead. The French pronounce it "mufeen." This is a red fruit muffin. I got Earl a Jesuite, one of his favorite treats which has a licorice flavor. Not something I like. The baker is going on his required vacation for two weeks (congé) starting Monday, so we need to stock up on our favorites. 

Quiche for lunch, pastries for breakfast

Finally, I went to the coffee truck, where the young Frenchman who runs it is celebrating a year in business. He makes me a white mocha even though it is no longer on the menu.

My carry out cup

The truck has become quite popular, even with the French who don't walk around with coffee to go. He is opening a second truck this spring.
I returned home to eat my quiche and begin teaching again. When I finish teaching around 2, I'll join other townspeople in a clean up along the river where flooding left trash.
I figure if I'm going to enjoy the views, I better help take care of the place.
Hope you all have a relaxing weekend.