June 5, Arles and Nîmes

Cities on the agenda, today. Arles and Nimes, where we'll be having dinner with a friend of Roger's from his blog.

Smooth driving, this morning. The GPS sends us on a highway that runs along the sea (GOOD GPS, GOOD GPS). The weather is nice and mild. Today, the Mediterranean sports its regulation blue. The highway goes through Marseille. Really, with most walls and slate roofs being pretty much the same colour, a sense of harmony and beauty emanates from the cit, downtown and over the surrounding hills.

We reach Arles after an easy drive. The historical heritage of the city is very much a part of its everyday life. My imagination is on fire as we walk around the Roman amphitheater. maybe 2000 years old, standing near streets brimming with shops as well as offices. Work is being done at the site to bring it back to the way it originally stood in the most authentic way, with period building materials and procedures. For the last couple of years, sports events have been staged in the central arena again, events similar to those that took place initially, like bullfights.





From a small square near the Notre-Dame de La Major chapel, Arles' rooftops.






Coaches bring in closely herded flocks, schoolchildren, tourists from all over the world. We're fleeing.

We'd heard about Abbey of Montmajour, a Benedictine abbey whose construction began in the tenth century. As we visit, we pretty much have the Abbey to ourselves and there's a strong feeling of serene, timeless power. I loved it.














As seen from the cloister walk.

Back to Arles where we found ourselves a bit peckish and had sandwiches sitting on a park bench near a pétanque field. Fifteen men were playing "pétangk" - in the South, the -an, in-, -on, -un vowels are sounded almost exactly like in English, -ang, -ing, -ong, -ung, thus "petangk".

In the afternoon, we drpve to Roger's blog friend, who'd given us us her address but warned us that we would never find the place.

We did find it but that's because she found us first. She was on her way back from picking up her son from school and he noticed the red license plate that identifies us as tourists.

It was an extremely enjoyable evening, punctuated by giggles as well as serious talks. Roger had his first taste of Ricard and liked it (it's an anise strong aperitif drink, like Pernod, very popular in the South). So strong that Roger had to switch to water after that. We had a lazy meal on the terrace of their very attractive house, built in a relatively newer development near Nimes.

As we drove back, we were amazed to realize that French highways, even those toll roads with a 130 km/h speed limit, have no lighting. Surprising, to say the least.

June 5 around Marseille, on the waterfront

Aude told us how we go visit the "calanque" of Niolon, not far from here. A "calanque" is a natural formation particular to the Marseille area, with rocky hills surrounding small inlets.

The trail follows a railroad, with gaps. Here's a bridge. How old is it? It's definitely not recent but trains still use it. There are two series of rails, actually and a train went by just now.





Well, here we go again. BlogPress refuses to display my landscape photos.

Another small culvert, a pedestrian one this time.




The trail is really difficult. Here, I climbed on all fours going up and just plain sat on my backside going down.



It's beautiful but ultimately a bit dull. Back we go. We try a couple other trails. A nice little breeze picks up and the sea is playing hide and seek.

Yeah, well I want to see the sea.

What's this, then ? Those are my feet and this is a very modest dream coming true. These are my feet wading in the Mediterranean Sea, in a tiny cove where in the summer, I expect that people pile up like sardines but, today, the beach is almost deserted.

Ok, now I hear the call ... well, that call. And there's a bar serving ices just up the beach.

Oh, jeez. The restroom's door latch is broken. I try my best to get it open. Not a chance. I bang on the door. Somebody comes, giving instructions that I can't hear. I ask for my husband. Finally, they had to unscrew the lock, which they did using a knife. This will be funny tomorrow, I'm sure. Maybe.

We ordered mussels and fries, look at my serving.

June 4 driving to Gignac-la-Nerthe, near Marseille

We leave the Aude Department to go at Aude’s. Ha-ha. Aude is Rachel’s stepsister, and Rachel is our son Jean-François’ companion.

It was raining heavily as we left Montreal. Sixty kilometres down, the sky cleared. Right now, it's still gray and overcast, but no longer raining.

We’re looking at a three or four hour drive today. A little over three, says the GPS. A little under four, says the iPad. Strange. We'll see.

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The GPS has the knack of sending us on small roads where you have to drive very carefully, keeping to the middle of the road to avoid the constant sheer drops, while moving carefully to the side when meeting a car coming at you. As the speed limit of such roads is 90 kilometers per hour, the Garmin algorithm, which was, I believe, designed by a hermit who never went out of his cell, figures that going this way is faster. Or shorter. Whatever.

Note: I would say we are not entirely happy with our new Garmin GPS. Since the beginning of the trip, there were only a few places where it was really off, such as a newly built roundabout not being shown. But it’s slow to get back its bearings when we take a wrong turn. Also, it will often stop indicating ETA and current driving speed, though at that time it does keep providing correct driving directions. Most importantly, Garmin should consider adding additional settings, such as maximal easiness, maximizing freeways or minimizing freeways. Maps’ search algorithm on the iPad usually traces easier routes without unnecessary loop, so it's doable. And the onboard GPS we have pn the CSX at home has an "easy" setting which would prove very useful around here.

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Fortunately we were driving on freeways because the weather got really bad. Periods of heavy rain, lightning, thunder, we were treated to the full panoply of special effects.
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And now, the Mediterranean has just appeared on our right. It is not as blue as it is on postcards or puzzles because the weather is not the same as it is on postcards or puzzles. The blue Mediterranean is in fact a steel gray. Still, it's there.

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We arrive at Aude’s, who left the key under the doormat. We get the luggage in, eat a bite, and away we go. Roger wanted to see the harbor, we did not make it, tomorrow is also a day. And he wanted to see a chapel (he has become stunningly pious) and he saw it.

We wanted to go there. The route indicated by the iPad brings us to a gate. The site is protected, no car allowed. We’ll walk.





We walk for about one kilometre, the last half being uphill and rocky but we do get there. Roger takes his pictures, while I take to filmmaking.

Crossing over to the other side of the trees:

It was swarming with slugs, I didn’t much like it. When you have to watch where to put your hand on the guardrail because there are slugs climbing up the rail ... yuck ... Returning to the car, we hear thunder. Go, go, GO. We’re hungry.

A really interesting evening with Aude. Yes, she agrees with Roger on the drivers (she says, a couple of times every day, I’m like, will you look at that idiot!) One week from now, she’ll get her degree in special education, but she has three orals in the next few days. She describes her work with children who are institutionalized for their own protection. We also talk about economic conditions in France. Aude notes that France will shortly stop being able to maintain its unemployment insurance system, which allows for two full years of full or partial support, including lots of special subsidies. She suggests we take the train to visit Marseille if we go tomorrow. I second the motion. We’ll see.

June 3 Carcassonne and around

Well now, will it be said that Carcassonne hell-bent drivers will stop Quebec's best and brightest? No, siree.

After discussing this with Delphine, our hostess, Roger finds a route that leads us without mishap in the city. Let’s go.






We are feeling very reckless this morning: we each go our own way. For half an hour. I ferret through the streets’ tourist traps, I like that. He goes looking for nice, unspoiled views. We agree to meet again at the car in 40 minutes.

Touristic or not, Carcassonne is impressive. I cropped part of the tower out of my picture because too much sky makes the picture go dark. The iPad’s camera, it is universally acknowledged, could stand a little tweaking. Make that lots of tweaking. It’s OK, it’s good enough for blogging, and I can wait for iPad 3, he he.






Well now, how is it I wasn't told about this?






Round each corner, a different view of the castle..






From the battlements, the city panorama is unbelievable..






A very small chocolate sin, an orange truffle. Then it's bye bye Carcassonne. We did meet again promptly at the car.

View from freeway A61.

We arrive in Fanjeaux, a small town set on a rocky peak.

I guess it's true: you shouldn't believe everything you read on the Web. The XIIIth century church is on the bleak side, and so seems to be the whole village. The sign is very stern reminder of some municipal regulation. If people don't comply, the service will no longer be offered.






Old times, new times. Old times: a not very impressive monument memorializing the dead fighters of the first World War. There's one in every town or village. The smaller the village, the more exact the memory. Forty-0eight men died for their country in Fanjeaux. Joseph Thomas, Achille Uthèza, Gauderic Calmet… Seven Joseph, six Louis, eleven Jean…







New times. A modernisitc fountain, in a peaceful little park, where we stop for a restful moment.








We go out for one last short drive in the evening. We end up in Bram, a little hungry. No, no restaurant is open before 19:30. Especially since it is the Ascension “bridge”.

You probably know that in France, when there is a mid-week legal holiday, the leave is extended into the weekend, it's called a “pont” (bridge). This Thursday was Ascension Day, which is still a legal holiday in France. Absolutely. In France, l’État laic (the secular state). Most specialty shops are closed and grocery stores, on previous days, had signs saying they would be closed on Thursday, or would close at 12:00 noon.

We go back to the B&B, we’ll have an early start tomorrow as we drive to Marseille.

As I wrote in a previous blog, we stayed at Domaine de la petite tour. You reach that B&B by a small road that overlooks the valley, a road like many other roads in France, not for the faint-of-heart: extremely narrow roads, with almost no shoulders, let alone no protective railing to keep you from plummeting in the valley or way, way below (if French roads were all built with protective railings the way we’re used to in North America at the slightest bend in the road, there wouldn’t be any steel left in France). I put the link to their site because it would not be possible for me to take pictures of everything.

http://www.domainedelapetitetour.com/Accueil.html

Roger had several interesting conversations with Luc, the owner, who’s an artist. His daughter, Delphine, handles the operation of the B&B and is extremely kindness. The development of the property is not finished, they only started two years ago, but what they’ve done so far is first-rate.

June 2, an encounter of the best kind

We're walking in the village of Camon. An old lady is standing by her front door, keeping a light hold on a steel post. Prettily dressed, with a knit top matching her skirt, wearing slippers. She starts talking with Roger. She had heard something like the noise of someone walking with a cane (Roger was using his tripod as a walking stick), she wondered is somebody had hot hurt and might be needing help, so she came out to check. She is merry and in perfect command of her mind. Roger says that she reminds him of his mother, who’s ninety-seven years old. She laughs gaily. Ninety-seven? I’ll have you know I’m ninety-eight.

She wondered is somebody had hot hurt and might be needing help, so she came out to check. She is ninety-eight years old.

I would have loved to take her picture for this travel log. I didn’t dare to ask.

June 2 in the Pyrénées countryside

It was bound to happen, anyway, after all, in 28 days. It’s now. The weather is overcast and cold. Temperature is currently 55°, with a hiogh forecast of 70° with heavy rain in the afternoon.

Plus, Roger is completely disgusted and wants nothing to to do with Carcassonne and especially with downtown traffic where most of his sites-to-see are located. He discussed this with Delphine’s father, Luc, who comes from Belgium, who says simply: bad driving is the problem of France.

I brought a book on the most beautiful villages in France, there are two not far from the B&B. We leave for Camon.

Short stop in Hounoux for a church. It is a tiny village and apparently not very rich.










Still, there are houses with tired fronts but whose door hardware is first quality, freshly painted shutters. In front of one of those is parked a car with UK license registration. Roger wonders about the owner's popularity among the villagers.

I’m standing by a church (what else) waiting for Roger, when the church bell sounds the hour, ten o’clock, twice. (ah, here he comes) On several occasions during the past week, I heard the full volley of the Angelus, as I heard it when I was a girl. (For young people: three slow rings, a silence, then repeat two more times, then a long peal)

After twists and turns - too bad for the Pech de Mu, probably reachable only by foot - we get to Camon. The photographer seems quite satisfied, he clicks and clicks. The panel with an exclamation point in front of the stairs announces a fairly unique risk: leaning trees.






On a street corner, a rosebush with an ID plate: Lolita Lempicka (I looked it up, she was a French renowned fashion designer).





There's another one. Pierre de Ronsard.




I don't know who's taken on rosebush identification with those elegant plates, I think it's cute and nice. Not far from the stronghold abbey and its a restaurant where, we're told, you have to book months in advance - fine then, see if we're going -will youy just look at this:





That's the way it always is in the Midi-Pyrénées region. We're either at the top or at the foot but it's hills and mountains everywhere.

Life goes on, right? This old ruin is being struck down. The scale-like thing barely seen in the background, holds demolition equipment










Nothing new under the sun. The sign says: For yellow bags exclusively. I don't know what yellow bags are for but apparently, I'm not the only clueless one.





We're now walking under a steady and annoying downpour. Back to the B&B

A little later, we try going for a walk but, of course, the rain starts again, bad enough to send me back to the B&B because of having to keep my implant's processor from getting too wet. Still, I can show you how spectacular the view from Domaine de la petite tour.

June 1, driving to Carcassonne

Just as we were packing the car this morning, I noticed this behind the peony bushes:





I learned that the poultry is guineafowl. O-kay.

To get to Montreal, we decided to make our lives easier and we opt for a, somewhat longer route along highways. It's nice and cool. The wind is coldish and very strong.

We made it very early to the Domaine de la petite tour (Small Tower Estate), our B&B for hree nights, and our room was not ready. We toured the place, a kitchen, dining room and living room are available to us. Dishes and utensils are supplied too.

The Domaine is an old farm, a large property owners have not finished renovating. There are fifty-four pieces, says one of the owners, the host’s father. The view is absolutely spectacular, that's why they chose the site. They are thinking of adding an orchard and already have vines, besides operating the B&B. everything they put in so far is first rate: re-plastering the facade, tiles in the main entrance, rooms and bathrooms, etc.

Oh-oh, what about my internet access... I check, my fears were groundless. It will be fine.

Today, it’s Intermarché (a large chain food store) gastronomy. Ready-to-eat salads, sandwiches, cream desserts, rosé and sparkling water. Plain but good eating to get our stomachs and our tummies back on track. We are allowed to use the kitchen with dishwasher, stove, microwave and fridge. Not that I intend to start cooking when travelling but it’ll be nice to be able to warm up a few things.

In the afternoon, we leave for Carcassonne. I set the GPS to lead us to the castle.

Disappointment. The weather is still too cold, still windy, the sky is very gray and there seems to be scores of drivers who feel they’re training for some hunt-to-kill car contest. I set foot on a pedestrian crossing, a charming driver rushes at me and makes rude signs as I pass. To crown it, it starts to rain as we head, on foot, towards the bridge. Enough is enough. Back to the room. Resting a bit will be good.