Climb Every Mountain

 There's a strange upside-down mountain in the Aude of France and today we climbed it. 

Earl at the peak 

Pic de Bugarach is about 45 minutes away. It's lore is probably bigger than the mountain though. It's called upside down because the lower layers are younger than the higher ones. Some legends say there is a space ship inside the mountain. In 2012, as the Mayan predictions of the end of the world circulated, people gathered at Bugarach where they thought they would be safe from destruction because the aliens would take them to another planet. About 10,000 people gathered there on December 21, 2012. But the world didn’t end and they stayed on earth. 

We had no such expectations as we started our hike today. Our friends Alain and Isa led the expedition. Alain had climbed Bugarach before. He’s French so typically underplayed how difficult it would be. 

When we started, all fresh and hopeful

Alain said the first part was difficult but then it was easy. About an hour and a half, he said. Then when we arrived he said the first hour was difficult. Gulp! 

The walk was uphill as you’d expect on a mountain. There were some tricky bits, but as we rounded a corner, the wind began to blow ferociously and I climbed with my hands up a rocky wall. 

Isa and Earl looking like they're at the end of the world, maybe walking to Mordor

The part that nearly did me in

I felt like a kids’ picture of a stick person on the side of a mountain. I sat down halfway up and took off my hat then pulled on my sweater. Before I turned around and started up again. Holding onto the rocks as I climbed against the relentless wind. Half way up, I stopped and took off my hat so it didn't blow away. I also put on my jacket. As I turned around to start climbing again, a water bottle fell from my backpack but I wasn't about to scramble down to get it. I would retrieve it on the way back. 

Looking a bit bedraggled at the top of the mountain

I have never felt a fear of heights while climbing before, but I think the wind added to my fear because it was so strong. 

We enjoyed Isa's stories as we climbed and we made fun of a man behind us who was carrying his fluffy white dog while scrambling over rocks. We saw a few vultures.

At the peak, we ate our sandwiches and some trail mix before heading down again. 

I had been dreading the downhill, wondering how I would get down that rock face. I anticipated sliding on my butt for much of the trek. 

Alain and Isa were not put off by the strong winds at the peak

A gap between ridges

High and rocky

But the hike down was fairly quick and I was halfway down before Earl stopped to pick up my water bottle and I looked behind me. I was walking down the rock face, no problem. 

Kirkus Review Mention

 Searching for some news articles I had written, I googled myself and came across a Kirkus Review article that featured my book Paris Runaway. Not the initial review, which was flattering, but an article call "The Last Time They Saw Paris" by David Rapp in March 2018.

Hmmm. What could I have been doing in March 2018 that I didn't notice? Oh, I know. I moved to France and was trying to sort out my new life. 

The article is very flattering. Here's the link in case you want to take a look. 

But I'll let you see the first two paragraphs here: 

The city of Paris has long captivated American writers. F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway, and James Baldwin set key works there, and the City of Light’s rich history, gorgeous structures, and stunning artworks remain sources of fascination for authors in all genres. Here are a few eclectic works that Kirkus Indie has reviewed that take full advantage of the French capital’s many charms:

Beginning with -- moi!

 Paulita Kincer’s Paris Runaway (2016), 50-year-old American Sadie Ford finds out that her 17-year-old daughter has gone to Paris with the intention of losing her virginity to a French foreign-exchange student named Luc Rollande, so she hops on a plane to stop her. Along the way, she meets Luc’s attractive father, with whom sparks soon fly. Kirkus’ reviewer calls this novel an “enjoyable romp,” noting that “through [Sadie’s] wanderings, readers get a first-rate tour of the city, complete with the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes that make it unique.”

Oh la la! I can almost pretend I'm in the same league with Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Baldwin. 

I do think that Paris Runaway is a fun read with a lot of French scenery, wine and foods. If you haven't read it yet, here's the link to Amazon.com and another link to the book on Amazon.co.uk.

Here's the original Kirkus Review of Paris Runaway and the link. 
 

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. 

Joys and Sorrows

 This week has been full of joys and sorrows. This week alone could mimic a lifetime of ups and downs. 

On Wednesday, we learned that Earl's older brother, Art, had died. We learned  less than a week before that he was sick but they weren't sure what was going on. "You may want to come home," his wife Shelley texted Earl. Then he was out of the hospital. Then back in. Tuesday night they texted. They had a diagnosis - histoplasmosis, a fungal disease that comes from bird or bat droppings. At least they could treat him. 

A family photo from 2006, Art giving his daughter Amy rabbit ears. 

The next morning, we got the call that he had died in the hospital that night. The fungus takes a toll on the heart and his had been weakened by a heart attack in his 40s. We were shocked to lose him and felt helpless, unable to hug his wife or daughter or son. 

At Grace's wedding. Art is in the pink shirt. 

Since I've known him, Art has been a fairly quiet, no-nonsense guy. He says it like it is. He had a lifelong love of Harley Davidson motorcycles and a core group of friends in the U.S. and Canada, which is where he met his wife. Earl has long admired his stoic brother for standing up for his principals. Art worked as an electrician and always did the job right, helping out friends and family when we needed it. He raised two amazing kids who both have advanced degrees. We're stunned that he's gone.

Another sorrow, that pales in comparison, is the loss of our cat Louis. We last saw him Sunday morning. I was preparing to teach so I let him out the balcony doors. He does a kind of parcours to jump from the wall to the post, back to a lower wall and onto the sidewalk. He gets wet cat food every morning and evening, and never misses a meal, so I expected he would be in the garden whenever Earl ventured down and opened the door. Louis's an outdoor cat, but continues to spend a lot of time indoors, coming and going at will. 

Louis came home with scratches on his nose one day. 

After I finished teaching, we got ready to go to the market in Esperaza, and I asked Earl if he'd fed Louis. He said no that Louis hadn't come back. That's not like Louis, so I started to worry. He always come back for food. 

We had dinner with friends Sunday evening and after dinner we went walking around Quillan in search of Louis. We called and clucked. We showed pictures of Louis to French people who shrugged mostly. 

Louis on the perch that Earl created for him. 

I posted on Facebook in Quillan. I paid to have his picture shared on Pet Alert in our region of France. We put up posters around town. The baker's wife took down the poster in the window that warned people to wear masks and replaced it with the poster of missing Louis. 

My friend Sue checked with the vets around town and farther. 

Louis is neutered and chipped. If anyone finds him, they have our phone number. He isn't a rare breed, so I doubt anyone has stolen him. 

Everyone has been incredibly helpful, telling us they might have seen Louis here or there. We always go in search of Louis. We looked in trash cans; we walked the train tracks. We call him when walking in the mountains far from home in hopes of finding him. 

Last night, we were at a town festival when our friend Enzo said he'd seen a cat that looked just like Louis near another friend's house above town. We drove in the dark to the area and called for Louis. Earl walked up the hill; I walked down the hill. A cat came trotting around the corner toward me in the dark. His face was white with gray, just like Louis, but he was long-haired instead of short haired. He came to me and let me pet him. But he wasn't Louis. 

People say don't give up hope. They tell me stories of cats that disappeared and came back a week later, a month later. 

It seems silly to be so sad about a cat, but when it rains, I picture him somewhere outside afraid, maybe hurt, unable to come home. Because I'm sure if he could come home, he would. 

Come home, Louis! 

But this week has been full of joy as well. On Tuesday, we picked up Tucker and his friend Nathan at the Perpignan train station. 

Earl, Tucker and Nathan all wore white shirts on Tuesday. 

They've instantly become part of the Quillan social fabric, watching the semi-finals of the Euro soccer tournament, singing songs with the English and swimming in the pools of young Belgian women with vacation homes here. 

Watching the Italy-Spain game at the Glacier. 

We aren't doing a lot of sightseeing, but as long as they're happy, we're happy. 

Then yesterday Grace, Jack and three of their friends arrived, flying from Dublin to Carcassonne. We needed two cars to pick them all up, and luckily my friend Derrick volunteered to chauffeur some of them back to Quillan. It's so great to have Grace and Jack back in France. I hope it feels like home to them. 

And for us we're thrilled to get to meet some of the friends they've made in Dublin this year during the year of grad school.

Last night our friends Lou and Steve bravely invited all 9 of us to their house for dinner. We made quite a train walking up there carrying wine, more wine, hamburgers and chicken to barbecue, pasta salad and cake. When you bring 9 people for dinner, you have to divide and conquer. 

Our crew without Steve and Lou

After a delicious dinner and much wine, we played a game called Hammerschlagen, which has become a tradition at Steve and Lou's house. It has to do with hitting a nail with one blow each turn and the first person plus the last person to drive their nails into the tree stump lose. It's definitely a dangerous game.

Nathan, in a sweatshirt borrowed from our friend Kris, takes aim. 

Grace takes aim as Tucker watches. 

After dinner, we wandered down to the town square for some music. We didn't stay long because Grace and her friends were tired from getting to the airport at 4 a.m., and then our friend Enzo said he might have seen Louis so we set off to search for him. 

Somehow, we ended up with a picture on the town Facebook page anyway. 

And Saturday, the Tour de France is ending in Quillan. We're all excited to see the caravan, the riders and enjoy the festivities. 

My heart is filled with joy to have two of my kids in town, just getting to hang out with them. But I'm sad for Earl and Art's wife Shelley and his two kids. And, of course, we're sad not to have Louis here to share in the family time.  

House Update

 In less than a week, we will have nine people staying in our little house in the south of France. Yep, it's going to be close quarters, but we're trying to make sure everything is as comfortable as possible. The only guest from outside France we've had come to stay with us was Tucker who arrived in October 2019 when the house was still a construction area. And Grace and Jack who stayed for five months last year during Covid as we continued to work on the house. 

Now, most of the rooms are not just livable, but comfortable. 

The kitchen has been our favorite room since it was initially finished. We gather here with guests most of the time, the scene of much delicious food and camaraderie. One thing that changes in the kitchen is the artwork as it gets updated based on items we find in France or in the States. 

Our homey kitchen

From the other corner, looking into the living room, with Louis Catorze featured in the center

The living room is getting more comfortable with two leather couches, a bookshelf, and the television attached to the wall now. 

View from beyond the stair case. Louis again!

Our downstairs half bath, that's what we call a bathroom that has a toilet and sink, but no shower or bathtub, is completed. There's no getting around the electrical box in there, but it looks 100 percent better than it did now that it has shiny gray and white tiles on the floor, a corner sink and a niche for decorative items. 

Don't put on too much weight to fit in this toilet!

The tiny sink and the table with hand towels. The electrical box in the way. 

The bedrooms and guest bathroom have been finished for quite awhile, but they both were missing artwork. As we moved art around in the kitchen, we relegated some items to the upstairs bedrooms. We also found some French-type art in the Troc in Carcassonne. One painting reminded me of the book Madeline "In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines...”

The guest bedroom ready for our guests, now with artwork. 

The guest bathroom from the vantage point of the shower!

Looking the opposite direction. That's not Louis rolled up by the shower, that's a rug. 

Our bedroom with French doors that lead to the office

The office where I teach and the French doors that lead out to the terrace. 

The terrace is perfect for breakfast for two. 

With the artwork hung in the bedrooms, Earl spent a few days cleaning the room at the end of the house that we call the cozy room. It ended up with a lot of the construction debris, myriad paint cans, tools, copper pipe, frames for dry wall and one unused radiator. He emptied it out and we plan to put a curtain over the fireplace so the things we're storing inside won't be so obvious.  

The cozy room has a futon, but it also houses our washer, dryer and water heater. 

So two bedrooms and a futon, that's 2, 4, 6 places to sleep, a double mattress on the floor in the office, there's 8 and someone can sleep on the infinitely comfortable couch in the living room. 

The stays only overlap by three nights as Tucker and a friend arrive July 6 and leave July 11. Grace, Jack and friends arrive July 8 and leave in shifts in the coming weeks. But they'll all be here for the Tour de France as it ends in Quillan on July 10. 

I try not to picture people uncomfortable sleeping on mattresses on the floor, but instead think of us gathered in the garden around the table with raucous conversation as we introduce our kids and their friends to our life in France. 

The garden

The gladiolas are blooming in coral, orange, purple and white. 

The wisteria has begun its second bloom

I must remember to breath and enjoy it all. 

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.