First Glimpse of the CIte

Yesterday afternoon I finally went "down" my street in the direction of the old bridge.  It's been closed to traffic and is now for pedestrians only.  Just his side of the bridge is a little chapel, the Chapelle Notre Dame de la Sante, built sometime in the 1500's and scarcely bigger than a shed--maybe a little smaller than the Capella in Brookings. Nobody was inside, but the door was open.  I was immediately impressed by the color of the wood of the benches and the tiny chairs. Thousands of hands and knees and backsides have polished the wood to a honey colored patina. I couldn't help myself, I sat down in the front row and began to sing.  Golly, I sounded GOOD....but I think that was because of the acoustics, not because of the source of the sound.  When I turned around there were people standing in the doorway.  I refused to be embarrassed, because I could do nothing else but sing in that spot. It made me feel somehow at peace to hear that sound and I am tempted to go there everyday and vocalize, since it's only a minute from my front door. It gave me hope that my voice, which I have so abused, might be able to function once again.   

 A stop along the journey.  We all have our own to travel.

I learned that this chapel was and still is, one of the points for the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostella in Spain.  Actually, there is an Australian couple living downstairs who just completed that walk. It's no mean feat, winding through the Pyrenees. It's like the Appalachian or Pacific Crest Trails,  I think.  I still can't get used to the fact that this is just down the street, and I can go there anytime I wish.

 I lit a candle for so many requests.

I continued on to the old bridge.  It crosses the Aude River and is somehow noteworthy in that the arches are not all the same width.  (I guess they are supposed to be?)  It must take constant maintenance, because spots of it do seem to be crumbling.  I read that it used to be made of wood, and had watch towers.  Really, it's a wonder we (humankind) survived to this day--it feels like all we have ever done is fight--either trying to take away someone's property or keep someone from taking our property.  

 Keep out!

And from the old bridge, I got my first glimpse of the medieval city of Carcassonne, just above the tree line.  Even today, I found it quite forbidding.  I don't know what I expected---Disneyland, maybe?  I got the feeling of keep out, rather than the feeling of welcome.  It's massive.  I tried to imagine myself as someone living in the 1300's and seeing this for the first time.  It would have made me think twice about trying to get in, especially if they wanted to keep me out! 

Legend has it that the town/fortress was being besieged. That was the only way to gain entrance--to starve the enemy into submission.  Dame Carcas found the last pig inside the walls and fattened it on the remaining grain.  She then threw it over the walls as if to say, "We can and will outlast you."  It worked; the invaders left and the bells of the church inside the walls rang out.  Reportedly an aide to the commander said, "Carcas, te sonne." (Carcas is ringing for you) and thus arose the name, Carcassonne.  Let's have a round of appreciation for gutsy women the world over!  

The local officials are celebrating this feat sometime soon, I just read. However, this time the pig is made of chocolate, and I don't think they are going to throw it over the wall.

Somehow, this seems jarring to me--the medieval ramparts and a parking lot.

Once I crossed the bridge, I spent some time in the park along the river.  It was far too late to attempt the trek up to the fortress. I will do that later this week. There is a big medieval festival there on the 19th and 20th, after the Fete des Vendages, which is here in the Bastide this weekend. It's obvious that the main tourist season is over; already galleries and restaurants had closed on the other side of the river. There was a forlorn air about the place, which surprised me. I enjoyed the park, though.  It's impressive how much energy is spent on keeping the place looking pristine and picture-book perfect.  Tourists don't like to see fallen leaves in the gravel, apparently.

 Brilliant dahlias in the park 

 I would bet that there was a mill here at some point in the distant past.

I was also charmed by this wire sculpture.  Is he waving or is he calling for help?  The new bridge, Pont Neuf, is in the background, and it carries vehicular traffic across the Aude. Carcassonne is much more spread out than I'd first realized.  One day, maybe next week, I am going to hop on a bus just to see where it goes. A good friend said to me 40 years ago, "How can you get lost when you don't care where you are going?"  And she was so right.

If you look closely, you can see his heart.