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.

A Magical Labyrinth

Within a 15-minute drive of our house weaves a path through mossy rocks and trees shrouded in greenery.  It's called the Labyrinth Vert, or Green Labyrinth.

It felt like something from the dinosaur ages

There doesn't seem a lot there that is man made, as large boulders line the paths and trees look to be upholstered in green fabric.

The path through was clear, though. 

We lost track of the magical sights.

This tree had several trunks weaving together. 

We walked through the labyrinth then back, rather than making the loop after someone had told us the rest of the walk wasn't that interesting. It was just about 2 1/2 miles but we spent nearly an hour and a half meandering through the rocks and trees, stopping for photos and stories shared.

Why can I never look the right place for a selfie? Anyway, here's our group

Jim offering wisdom from his perch

The walk from the car to the beginning of the labyrinth took us past these historical sights, including an old windmill that was used as a lookout by the Germans during World War II, along with another now decrepit building that the Germans used.
Apparently, this was a good place to watch for anyone sneaking in or out of the pass below.

As you can see, another clear day in this part of France.

The walk amongst the trees wasn't too warm and other than occasionally clambering up and down some rocks, the hike wasn't too challenging.
We ended the hike with a home picnic at our friends' house.
I don't think we'll ever be able to see all of the interesting sights near our new home in France. I wonder if that's true no matter where you live if you just take the time to go exploring.

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.

Blue Skies in the South of France

Finalement!
After nine weeks of quarantine followed by a week of rain, today dawned with a fierce blue sky and balmy temperatures.
Our daughter Grace and her husband Jack arrived three days before quarantine and we were already social distancing, so they have not seen much of France.
On Saturday, I dragged Grace along with me to pick up the chairs we purchased in Carcassonne. The rain had passed and we drove up to "La cité" which is the castle that hovers above the city.
And, of course, Jack felt like he had missed out. So today, we returned to let Jack experience the castle.

Although the ramparts aren't open, the rest of the castle and the shops within are. 

Very few people were wandering around the castle, so we got to enjoy feeling like we were back in Medieval times.

What's up with this sculpture? It's breasts are way off. 

Grace and Jack wander ahead of us through the city gates. 

We ventured inside the basilica and lit a candle for the world. 

The doors to the church are giant, as you can see from a comparison of me to the door.
 Notice the homemade mask I'm wearing

Grace and Jack removed their masks for this picture. 

We had some ice cream and sat on a concrete step to eat it, offering bites to a mottled cat who refused both bites of raspberry sorbet and hazelnut. A little sparrow, however, gratefully accepted bits of my ice cream cone.
The shops that are open are being very careful, insisting on hand sanitizer and plastic gloves for anyone entering.
We purchased an iron bell with an Occitan cross on it that Earl installed next to our front door when we got home.
And we also bought a few castle-related gifts for our nephews. We are trying to support local businesses, even if it isn't much.
Afterward we drove down to the "modern" city of Carcassonne and walked around. We got take out from a kebab restaurant and ate it in the Square Gambetta, until Grace accidentally gave food to pigeons and we had to abandon our park bench. Not really, but we did give her a hard time about the gathering, until a little boy on a scooter zoomed by, scattering the pigeons.
We have discovered that the simplest outings are exhausting these days.
I think it's going to take some time to get used to going out again. 

Dreaming of France -- The Other South of France

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.
There's something exhilarating about the purchase of the airline tickets to France and the confirmation of hotel reservations.
It puts a zip in my step as I imagine that day in May when I'll be learning abut the southwestern region of France, the area where I hope to move during 2017.
The area we are thinking about stretches along the Mediterranean, from Marseille over to the Pyrenees Mountains of Spain. It has been called Languedoc- Roussillon, but the new name of the region is l'Occitanie.

Sete is a town along the Mediterranean that really is just a spit of land between the Mediterranean and another large body of water. Love these colorful boats.

 Here's a photo of the fortifications at Beziers, another city near the Mediterranean. It looks so similar to Avignon with the pale stone fortress.

The Canal du Midi also runs through region, passing near Carcassone. I couldn't find a good photo of Carcasson, so I'll just have to take one myself when we're over there.

And who knows, we might end up buying a house that has a view of the Pyrenees. It may be hard to choose between the sea and the mountains.
Hopefully, we'll love this region as much as we enjoy Provence, because the prices for houses in this area are much less expensive than in Provence.
The photos included here come from Pixabay, which shares pictures free.