A Castle on Every Mountain

 Yesterday evening, I was texting with our son Spencer. He was getting a tire fixed on his day off. He asked how my day was. 

I hiked with some friends, I told him and sent a picture. 

The view from atop Rennes le Chateau

"Is there a castle on top of every hill there?" he asked. 

Well, yes, practically. Or parts of old castles.

Monday was a scorcher here in the south of France, but we had planned a hike from Couiza to Rennes le Chateau. In addition to the hike, we had a mission from Grace, who is using Rennes le Chateau as a case study for her masters thesis. And we had invited our husbands and a few other friends to join us for lunch at the top as well.

We started off about 9:30 in the morning. We thought the hike would take two hours but we had reached Rennes le Chateau by about 10:45. We were sweaty, but the views were worth it. 

Melissa, Sue and I started from Sue's house in Couiza

The flowers were in bloom and the rolling hills and far off mountains looked great from up high.

Walking up to the chateau gave us a new vantage point. 

Some stone stairs at the end

Grace had asked us to search for pentagrams in Rennes le Chateau as part of her masters thesis. She's researching how some tourist places use the occult to draw in visitors. We treated it like a treasure hunt, searching the old buildings, examining the church.

We took a break to have a drink in one of the nearby cafes, sitting under the shade of the trees. I ordered a menthe a l'eau, water with mint syrup added to it. Cool and refreshing. My British friends ordered hot mint tea. I don't get it. My face was still dripping with sweat and I couldn't picture drinking hot tea, but apparently the Brits do. They were delighted with their mint tea. 

Grace texted that her professor suggested we look at the church pews for pentagrams, so we returned to the church. And inside, we found our friends Theresa and Jim who were meeting us for lunch, and Theresa was joining in on the pentagram search. The pews were obviously fairly new and plain wood. No signs of pentagrams.

Melissa had noticed a "storage shed" earlier that had some pews in it so she and Sue went to search there. 

The church is beautiful and quirky. 

No pentagrams, but lots of stars above the altar

This is a picture of the devil holding up the holy water. It's behind glass now because someone destroyed it a few years ago. So I've included an old picture so you can see what it looks like. 

The view all around Rennes le Chateau is beautiful

View again. 

Of course, there's more to Rennes le Chateau than the view. There's a mystery that draws visitors and researchers like Grace. Here's a link to a previous post I wrote about Rennes le Chateau in 2017 on our first visit there. 

After searching the church, the gardens, the tower and the surrounding village for pentagrams without success, we walked to the restaurant where we were meeting the rest of our group. France still has a limit on six people dining together, even outside, so our group of 10 was broken into two tables. We sat men at one table, women at the other, but someday we'll all be able to sit together again. 

The food was good, view beautiful, company outstanding and even the accompanying dogs were well behaved. 

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. 

Power

 This morning, as I rounded the top of a path and stood on the Col du Portel, a winding road that leads through a mountain pass, a rush of wind swept down tugging my hat brim so that the hat leapt backward, hanging on by my ponytail, and the rain began to fall in earnest. And I may have risen my arms in the air, twisting my hands like an Indian God or Goddess in praise and celebration of the power I felt standing there on top of a mountain along the road. 

Sheep, including a caramel-colored lamp hiding on the other side of its mother

It's been months since I've had successful runs. I fell at the end of July, and although I worked back to walking and hiking, my knee continued to hurt when I attempted runs. Then another injury in November set me back, and I determined to have an MRI to see if I'd done real damage to my knee. 

Meanwhile, though I was left to take walks and to endure lockdown, longing for the day that I could finish my exercise in 45 minutes, eating up the road with my quick stride. Sure, I may not be a fast runner, but running is always faster than walking.

After an MRI and an appointment with a knee specialist, he assured me that I could run again after physical therapy to "retrain" my muscles. I registered with the local physical therapist, who is apparently so booked up that I remain on his waiting list. 

If the doctor says I just need some muscle retraining, that assured me that I wasn't going to injure anything further if I started running. 

It's been slow though. Running and walking. Watching out for the pain in my knee. Noticing that my knee is better but my lungs are a long way from running again. 

Saturday, I managed a 3.5 mile run without walking or gasping for air. 

These look like tiny wild roses in bloom, but, if my detective work is correct, may be flowering quince

I wanted to go for a walk or run this morning, but the weather forecast was foreboding -- high winds, rain. It wasn't raining a bit before 8 and I asked Earl where I could go that I wouldn't be in danger of flying tree limbs. 

He recommended the road to Ginoles, not too many trees along that road. True, but it was uphill the whole way. 

I decided to give it a try. I started running outside my house and was able to continue running until about 1.2 miles, or two kilometers. Considering that it was all uphill, I felt quite proud. I walked on the steep parts and then ran in  between. I took a straight path, leaving the road behind to have a chance to run before I walked, out of breath, up the steep path to Ginoles. 

An almond tree in bloom and an unsettled sky

As I continued up past Ginoles, I saw a car snake around the "Col" the mountain pass above. Why not? I set out toward the ridge looming above me. Again, there were a few running parts, but more sharp uphill parts. 

Olive trees

I continued on, listening to music and singing along at the top of my voice, as much as my labored breathing would allow before I reached the winding road. 

The view of faraway Quillan

The only option was to go downhill, sticking close to the side of the road facing traffic and the few cars that passed. 

I saw one car that revved its engine and wanted to pass the car in front of it, trying to twist around the curves like a commercial, and I let out a laugh. "Your car might go fast, but you aren't out conquering it by foot!" I thought. 

So I wound back into town and kept running past our house until my app indicated that I'd passed five miles. 

The feeling of accomplishment and power has lasted all day, feeling the ferocity of the rain and wind and lifting my arms in victory over them -- this time. 

A Near-Perfect Morning

 One thing that I have tried to learn from the time of enforced lockdown the past year is to enjoy the moment where I am.

I may not be with my parents or my kids or my friends from home, but I have some marvelous friends here in Quillan and I live in a place that is beautiful.

This morning, when I woke up and went to the bathroom, I realized that we had a rare snow in Quillan. Even though Earl was still asleep, I threw open the shutters so we could see the snow fall and cover the cars, streets and mountains. In spite of the lovely white stuff, the temperature was barely below freezing, -1 in Celcius, 30.2 in Fahrenheit. 

It wasn't long until we were out of bed and having a lovely walk through the snow and up a nearby mountain (with a gentle slope because of my injured knee). 

Snow on the palm trees too. 

Usually when we climb the mountain, there's a beautiful view of the surrounding peaks, but today the sky was gray, blocking the view and promising more snow. 

I made a snow angel.

The snow was good for packing, but Earl knows better than to pelt me with snowballs. I'm sure he wished that our sons were around for a good snowball fight. 

Snowball threats

An arch of snow-covered trees

The snow was more prevalent up the mountain and heavy enough to cover the branches. Only a few walkers and dogs had been up the path before us. 

We came upon our favorite donkey and Earl felt super guilty about not bringing him a carrot as he stood in the falling snow.

He found some dry grass and offered it to the donkey. 

When we returned home, we noticed that the snow was much more melted, but it continued to fall.

I made myself a mocha and a crumpet (Thanks, Derrick for supplying them) with apricot jam for breakfast. Work was looming, but I stayed a minute more at the table enjoying breakfast and time with Earl before I jumped in the shower to start teaching. 

And I'll take a minute to remind myself, no matter what or who I am missing today, this has been a near-perfect morning.

Compare and Contrast

On Facebook, a memory popped up showing a set of pictures from 4 years ago. The temperature was 14 degrees Fahrenheit (-10 Celsius), we had snow and our house’s big front window shown with Christmas lights. 

I had been scrolling through Facebook while I lay in bed in the dark with the shutters closed. I hadn't been walking or running lately after another knee injury. So I got out of bed in France and determined to take a walk and some pictures to contrast life then and now. 

Today

Baa bass black sheep

I chose a flat path that I could walk and as I rounded a corner, I heard the tinkling bells of sheep and a baa. I knew where they lived and walked around to the backyard to see two of them standing on an old concrete well. 

That’s something I never saw on my runs in Ohio.

Mountains and a river

I continued my walk and the faint pinks of sunrise still shone over the mountains. 

A closer look at that river, the Aude. 

The river continues to rush to its destination in spite of COVID-19 and confinement and curfews. 

The path not taken

This path looks so welcoming but it leads up a mountain and the path is unsteady with lots of stones, not good for my knee, so I resisted. 

Berries

The orange and yellow berries reminded me of a photo I took 4 years ago, but the berries in Ohio were covered with snow. 

4 years ago

Here's my montage from four years ago. 

The pictures from my Ohio life made me feel homesick.

My life in France is very much changed from that Ohio life. 

But the sun still decorates the sky every morning. And even though the air feels a bit cold when I go out in the morning, the temperature is in the mid-40s Fahrenheit, about 8 Celcius, which is a far cry from 14 (-10). So I may long for those days, but I probably wouldn't get out of bed and go for a run like I did on that morning four years ago. 

In every new life, you gain some things and lose some things. My goal is to be able to see the beauty of whatever life I'm in. 

Four Weeks of Confinement - So Far

I imagine that life in France isn't that different from life in the States right now. 

I go out for walks or to the grocery store. 

I huddle around the coffee truck during the twice weekly market, "accidentally" running into friends as we surreptitiously lower our masks and sip café crème in the crisp fall air. 

France has been under quarantine since October 30th. Here, it's called confinement -- con-feen-mahn. 

Our area of France, the Aude department, has had low numbers of the virus throughout, but we're surrounded by cities that have high numbers and full hospitals.

What does confinement mean? It means that every time I leave the house, I fill out a form that says why I am going out. Americans might scoff at this idea, but it does make you think twice about why you're going out and where. You also have to "certify" that you are telling the truth when you generate the form. 

So why can I go out? For 1 hour a day within 1 kilometer, I can go for a walk or exercise. I'm also allowed to go shopping -- only for essential things. The big groceries have blocked off sales of socks and underwear and books and candles -- anything the government deems non-essential, because it isn't fair to the small shops which sell those things that have had to close. Of course, people just order them from Amazon, so they've really made more business for Amazon. 

Today's package from Amazon should have a stuffed panda bear in it for Louis Catorze, our overgrown kitten, to attack

My morning walk today, frost on the ground and the sun moving toward the mountains

Today as I started my walk, I imagined sitting at the café in the main square and sipping coffee with friends. What a luxury that is. First, to gather with friends most mornings just to chat. Second, to have the time to linger over coffee and maybe a second one. To cross the square to the bakery and bring back a pain au raisin or a croissant abricot and break it apart, scattering the crumbs onto the sidewalk then shooing away the pigeons that eye the crumbs. How many mornings have I spent savoring coffee with friends?  The pocket of my trench coat still holds three little chocolate squares that come with our morning coffees - just in case of emergency. 

Another morning walk, this one along the river on flat ground. 

The last confinement, Grace and Jack were here with us. We were very careful because several people in our town had Coronavirus. We were keeping each other safe. 

This time, we aren't as careful. We see people a couple at a time, maybe coffee in our kitchen or a glass of wine in their salon. If the weather's nice, of course, we stay outside, to limit exposure even more. 

People have rebelled against this lockdown more so than the spring. 

"The numbers haven't come down," one friend lamented when we met at the grocery store to talk and shop while wearing masks. 

"But it hasn't been two weeks yet," I pointed out. It takes two weeks for the virus to stop spreading. And sure enough, on the following Friday, the numbers began to creep down. 

We had an 8-week lockdown in the spring and we had a pretty normal summer. The quarantine was worth it for the lives it saved and the feeling of normalcy throughout the summer. People in the States have been in a perpetual quarantine since March if they're being careful. 

Our area may not have needed to lockdown based on the cases, but if the whole country doesn't quarantine, the virus continues to spread and grow. 

In our "normal" summer, we skipped meals with the entire town, but we did enjoy concerts and dancing. We drank outside in bars. 

We visited castles with Grace and Jack, along with Jim and Theresa.

Stone built on stone

We traveled to Nice and Aix en Provence,

A glorious fountain

I went on a hike with my friend Claudine

 and Earl went on a hike in Spain. 

Along El Camino de Santiago

So if this lockdown of four weeks or six weeks helps us have a "normal" Christmas. Then I'm willing to stay in my house and go our for gorgeous walks, watching the fall days pass. 

And I'll also be counting my blessings. 

Another day, another view of the mountains

Wandering Around in My Head

Fall is creeping down from the mountains into town. Here are a few shots:

The leaves are changing in front of the church tower

Everyone knows you should paint your shutters to match the fall leaves on the tree. 

Yesterday at the Esperaza market, after enjoying coffee with Jim and Theresa, Earl and I meandered toward the parking lot. A youngish woman stopped in front of me tilted her head forward and said something about "lunettes," which means glasses. She was looking down, so I looked down, wondering if she had dropped a screw to the glasses on the street below. I started to help her search when she stopped me and pointed to the glasses propped on her head. The glasses had gotten tangled in her hair. For a minute, I stood in the middle of the market  helping her free the sunglasses from her hair. It's happened to me before, so I understood the need. Sunglasses freed, we moved on toward the car. "That was weird," Earl said. "Yeah." But maybe I have a pleasant, I can help you look on my face.

This morning, I woke up early thinking of the time change. The clocks get turned back next Saturday in Europe. They don't turn back until the following Saturday in the U.S. Why should I care? Well, my schedule for teaching at VIPKids is in Eastern Time, so although the time may say 6 a.m Eastern, which would be noon for me, now the time will be 11 a.m. for at least one week. 

My schedule is in US Eastern Time, so I'm always converting it in my head. 

For week days, it doesn't matter so much, but on Saturday and Sunday I usually teach a few classes from 7-9 a.m. I was trying to figure out if I had scheduled it at 7 a.m. or 6 a.m. Translating time from France to the U.S., which is 6 hours different, can be challenging, and then I throw in Chinese time, which is 6 hours before us. My mind cannot think linearly about this. I just about get it figured out when I'm thrown into confusion again. 

The past few weeks have been unseasonably cold and rainy here in Quillan, but this week, we're having more days in the 60s and 70s, (16-22 celcius) so I'm not missing the opportunity to get out and enjoy it. I had a bad reaction to seeing myself this morning in my running clothes. I didn't want to go running. I know it's ridiculous to feel like I'm too fat to go running. Shouldn't that be a reason to go running? So I took off my jacket, put on a long sweater and went for a walk in the mountains. It's beautiful there. 

Sometimes it isn't the mountains, it's the clouds between the mountains

More clouds filling in the gaps as I crested the top of this hill. 

I hope you're finding beauty wherever you are today, rainy or clear, warm or cold. 

Wandering on Two Wheels

So many days, I'm delighted to view the scenery around me here in southwestern France.

Today, Earl and I took a bike ride.

My bike has been out of commission for a few weeks while we waited on a new part, but the part arrived and I was safely ensconced on a seat that did not sink as I rode it.

A flat road with the mountains in the background. 

We rode to Couiza, three towns over, and stopped for a coffee before heading back to Quillan. 
I ordered a cappuccino which comes with whipped cream, a rarity in our part of France. 

Earl trying to steal my whipped cream

Earl had ordered my coffee while I walked to the bakery across the road to get pastries. When the waitress came out, she asked who got the cappuccino. 

"Moi, bien sur!" I said. 

And she replied, "Mais bien sur, une gourmande!" 

Yes, the reason I wanted a cappuccino is because I'm a gourmet, not just because I'm addicted to sweetness. 

The day was glorious and the 14-mile (26 kilometre) ride was just about right, although we need to work up to longer rides. I'm still having knee pain after my fall last month, so I'll have to increase my distance riding if I can't run. 
This is one of the buildings we pass on our ride. 

Vine-covered building

I love watching the leaves change color as the nights get chilly. 

Every town we ride through has an old church with a spire jutting into the sky. 

Church tower in Couiza

I took a picture of the church tower in Couiza on a different, less sunny day, juxtaposed with the palm trees, which just seems weird in our part of the world, but there are palm trees all over this area. 

In Esperaza, we can see the church tower rising above the river

 I hope your days are filled with sunshine and beauty whether your sitting, walking or riding your bike. 

Moody Mountains

Our town is surrounded by mountains. They look like gentle hills in some places (unless you try to climb them) and they appear to be craggy mountains in another direction.

The sun on rocky mountain crags

So many times, my run is interrupted by the need to halt and take a picture. I wonder if other people think I'm a tourist. Maybe I still am.

Low-lying clouds

I went for a walk with Grace one afternoon and she asked the clouds if they were tired, resting on the mountains so.

This is a view I often take as I run across a bridge. 

The same view on a sunnier day

And here's a snapshot of the bridge where I stop to take the picture. 

A sunrise through the mountains

Every morning, when I leave the house to run or walk, I'm always startled by the beauty. Around every corner might be another beautiful vista that makes me slow to a walk and snap a picture.
I'll be perusing my pictures the next few days as we have rain, including a flood warning for tomorrow morning, but I hope I'll be out running again, searching for landscapes that move me, even if they are mountains.