34 Rue du Pont Vieux Residents

I was up at dawn this morning.  Although that might sound impressive, it's really not, because it doesn't get light until so late. I was probably up by 7, which is positively slug-a-bed by my previous standards.  It's been a day for housekeeping.  This sized apartment, I can clean no problem. Anything much bigger and I struggle. Stripped the beds, cleaned the bathroom, ran the vacuum and used the carcass of the chicken I bought last weekend to make soup.  Aired out the bedding over the balcony rail and changed the duvet cover, which is easier said than done, believe me.  But now my apartment smells yummy and is clean, to boot.  So when people ask about my "vacation," you can see why I might smile.



This was taken a little after 8 this morning.  Notice that the street lights are still on. 

I met another neighbor as I was returning from taking out the trash and recycling.  Allen, of Allen and Tracy, who live in the apartment directly below me, was coming in at the same time.  They've been here maybe three months already and Allen told me this morning that they have just extended his stay another year...until March 2015. Can you color me jealous?  He and his wife are from Reno, which in relative distances, makes us next-door neighbors.  They retired from the Nevada higher education system and are living the true expat life. They sold their house, gave away or sold all their possessions and came to France with 200 pounds of belongings--2 suitcases a piece.  No car, but they do have a dog.  Originally they wanted to have a home base in Italy, but apparently a steady retirement income is not sufficient for the Italian government, or at least the Italian consulate in LA, to grant them a long term visa. (Apparently the Italians want a big pile of ready cash)  So they decided to make Carcassonne their home base.  The good thing about meeting them is that they've already learned the ropes and can help me with bus routes and discounted train fares.  The bad thing about that is--well, I don't get to have the fun of getting lost. 

As we stood there chatting, Jason, our landlord, passed us on the way out the door to go to the airport to pick up an incoming tenant.  Allen and I were still yakking away when he returned with our new neighbor in tow. She's from New York City--on the southern edge of Central Park in Manhattan.  She claims to be from the US, and may well be a citizen, but her accent gives her away as not a native English speaker.  She also told us that she owns a lodge in Colorado, but wanted something a little different.  Carcassonne in general and 34 rue du Pont Vieux in particular seem like an odd choice for her, but everyone's story is unique. She's here for a year. 

Poor old Jason has a broken nose--the result of splitting wood yesterday. It's a clean break, apparently, but looks pretty painful.  He seems to be taking it in stride, and it didn't stop him from going about his chores today. He stopped in and picked up my sheets and towels to take to the laundry. Apparently an order of nuns runs a laundry service, and for the big and heavy items like these bed linens and towels, it's better to send them out rather than try to do them in the combination washer/dryer here in the apartment.

It feels good to meet some people. Everyone is trying some version of the same dream, I think, so that gives us some common ground.  Although I am perfectly content with my own company, it is nice to  know that there are people around to share coffee with or a glass of wine.  When Bob and Chris return from Paris, we're going out into the country to go sightseeing.  The drawback is that everyone in this building now is an English speaker. That makes an immersion experience more difficult. I don't want to seem standoffish, but I came here to learn to speak French.  I think Allen will be game for practicing, but I can't vouch for the others. I don't want the expat experience; I want the carcassonnaise experience.

About 12 hours later, sunset.