Photos of Vals L'eglise (The Church in Vals)

The Window of Church in the Rock--sorry the photo isn't better, you could see the valley through this opening

We went "over the river and through the woods" to find this church after we left Montsegur.  We took the scenic route through some of the Ariege's back country: farms and the tiniest villages.The Ariege is France's poorest department.

Chris was correct when she said the much of Carcassonne could be used for a WWII movie set---parts of it do have a bombed out look.  That's the way some of these little hamlets felt, sort of knocked down and abandoned. I realized that I knew little about the reach of the war this far south. I do know that this was a hotbed of resistance, with routes into and over the Pyrenees.  It's another topic for me to learn about while I am here. 

Abandoned? 

We talked about the phenomenon of the French selling off these old places (to Brits, mainly) and coming to the realization that they were selling off their heritage.  The outsiders were renovating the places, true, but often don't live in them full time.  So the local pub, or the butcher or the laundry doesn't get the steady income that year-round residents provide, and are forced to close their businesses. Jason tells us that the same sort of thing is happening in the UK, only it's wealthy Brits buying second homes that's causing the problem.

Renovated

 There is absolutely no way for young people to earn a living or raise a family, so they all migrate to larger cities. In this region they mostly go to Toulouse. 

Narrow streets

My heart was pounding away in recognition as we went through this countryside.  Maybe it's the latitude, I haven't checked, but I could have been back in Frederick County, Maryland, where I grew up. Everything looked so familiar. Cornfields, oak trees, cows (although I didn't recognize the breed, I knew that they weren't Holsteins) brought back scenes from childhood.  I didn't care that we'd gone in a circle, I so enjoyed that sense of the familiar. Then we attempted to get to the church and found ourselves trying to pick our way around a closed road.  That tactic resulted in us pulling into someone's driveway. The little town of Rieucros has the narrowest streets ever!  Jason was amazing at negotiating the turns and intersections.

L'eglise semi-rupestre

Eventually, we made our way to Vals, where this church is located.  None of us knew much about it other than it was old and atypical. Well, that is putting it mildly.  It's been continually occupied by humans for thousands of years.  The church is part rock, part man-made. Semi-rupestre.... poudingue Half puddingstone-I think that means some kind of conglomerate rock. It is the site of old Roman ruins and old Roman frescoes were found in the church under layer after layer of whitewash.

Different colors of stone

You can see spots,where, I suppose in  more prosperous times, they enlarged the building--the stone is a different color.  Does anyone know what he little sort of semi-circular "niches" are? What was their purpose? One would need a ladder to reach them.

This greets you as you enter the front door

 I found nothing cheerful about the church. It was stern, and Bob remarked that Puritans had had a hand in it somewhere....austere. I don't think the God in there is happy.  But it was probably safe.  Who knows what (or who) lurked outside the rock walls, just waiting for a chance to wreak havoc.  Spartan.  Severe.  The interior walls on the lowest level dripped water.  Dark.  That's one thing that I keep noticing about these places--the cathedrals and these old churches..they are so dark. Now, granted, it is the time of year when the light doesn't last long and there can be stretches of days that we never see the sun, so things are going to be darker than they would be in June. But windows were expensive and a structural weakness, I am betting. It was above all, a place of safety.

The natural "window" from the outside

From the inside

Plain windows, minimal light

The lights in the church are on a timer, and can (and did) turn off while visitors are inside. Not such a good thing to have happen if you are trying to negotiate the old stone or wooden steps.  Yet, it is a good idea to have them on a timer; why waste electricity?  It's expensive.  I think about the expertise needed to bring electricity basically to the inside of a rock...and what it would have been like before that, with torches and candles.  

There were some stained glass windows, but I was drawn to the plain ones.

The Roman Catholic church still holds services in this church on a regular basis. The benches are hard wooden planks; it must be numbingly cold.  I think you must have been really devout or really afraid if you attended here regularly. I also did a little vocalizing; the acoustics aren't THAT great. So why continue to use this spot?  Because it's there, I guess.  Tradition is powerful. 

Light from the heart of the church

Old frescoes on the ceiling

This door possibly led to the tower, but was un-openable in spite of Bob's best efforts. The steps are narrow and steep, and with my big feet in their clodhopper shoes, dangerous. Especially when the lights went dark.

 

Neatly tended and peaceful

We went outside into the attached cemetery.  I must say that it was the most beautiful cemetery I have ever been in, and that includes Pere LaChaise and Arlington National. Although it didn't seem that we had gained that much altitude, there was a wonderful view over the valley.  Oak trees bordered the edge. It was peaceful and caught the light just so, even this late in the year. Not a bad place for old bones to rest, I think.

Final view of the valley below

In the cemetery

From an earlier time....

...and earlier people

Random Photos of Carcassonne

For no good reason other than they struck my fancy.

Apartment for rent!!!

These are some of the apartment buildings that border the Place Gambetta, right around the corner, which is now the home to the big silver Christmas tree.

 

The tan/brown building in the far back is a school.

 I love the fact that nobody has bothered the tree--no vandalism, nobody stealing the blue ornaments or the bottom branches.

Oh dear!  Santa?!

This caught my eye.  This building is at the foot of our street and those of you who know me know that I have some smart ass, tasteless comment about Santa.  I will keep it to myself on this page, for now.







I wanted to see what the water level was doing after the downpour stopped. My "wicker man" is now rejoicing once again instead of calling for help. The grass and dirt look pretty scoured, though.

Out of the water, finally

Aude, looking west

The Aude was still running high at this point (I took these on Sunday, the 24th of November) The little cement footbridge is still under water.

Caprices de Betty

I happened on a candy shop today on my way to the post office to mail a letter back to Brookings.  I was charmed by the title--Caprices de Betty. My friend Betty can be described in many terms, but capricious would not be one of them.

Colorful treats--marzipan for the season. 

Montsegur

Pyrenees.

One of the many reasons why I chose Carcassonne as the place to stay and learn to speak French was the story of the Cathars. I am inexorably drawn to lost settlements, lost civilizations, lost causes.  The Cathar story encompass all three of those.  I am reading a book about Montsegur and the Cathar enigma.  It's in French, so sometimes it's slow going, but I can't seem to put it down. (There's much more written in French than in English about the subject, for obvious reasons.)

Montsegur

Here's the Cliff Notes version of the story:   The Cathars were a religious sect that the Catholic Church deemed as heretics.  The power of the Church in 1200 was beyond most of our comprehension today.  It had the final word on everything, and if you didn't fall into line with what it wanted, the church authorities threatened you first with excommunication, which was scary enough to keep most people in line.  The really hard cases, like some of the Cathars, weren't afraid of being thrown out of the Church, since they didn't subscribe to it in the first place.  So more drastic measures were called for.  Enter the Albigensian Crusade and then later, the Inquisition.  The Church, went about killing off the Cathars and giving their lands and property to the political powers (namely the King of France) whose troops helped with the slaughter.

The Cathars built these amazing fortresses on the hillsides in this region of France. As they were chased out of the cities, they retreated to these citadels, which, one by one, fell.  The very last one to go was Montsegur. 

When the Church and its political allies finally breached Montsegur, they offered the Cathars a chance to recant their heresy and become obedient Catholics once again. 200 of them refused, and so, in one great big pyre, they were burned alive at the base of the peak.  And that was that!  End of that little Cathar problem.  

Cold.  Lonely.  Defiant.  Unbowed.

At our first view of Montsegur, we let out an collective involuntary gasp. The sun had broken through the icy clouds and was shining directly on the fortress.  All around it, the neighboring summits were still in shadows.  It couldn't have been better scripted if it had been in a movie.  I felt the way I feel when I see the big mountains of the Cascades--Hood, St. Helen and even McLoughlin--unable to tear my eyes away.

 This was as far as we dared go up the icy road.

I struggle to find words to describe the feelings I had and the words to describe the human characteristics I ascribe to the citadel.  Lonely.  Defiant. Proud. Isolated. I am sure that more accomplished writers than I will ever be can come to a suitable description.  I can't seem to separate what it is today from what it was and what happened there 800 years ago.  My photos do not in any way do it justice, but maybe someone who reads this can find the words that remain beyond my reach.

The film crew's vehicles, 

I can't tell you how it felt to be standing on that ground.  We did not go up to the fortress; it was cold and the road was icy. We went as far as we dared.  At our first stopping point, some people there were making a film. The man who told me about it had one of the kindest faces and smiles I have ever seen. He was so earnest, and told me that this film would portray the reconcilliation between the Cathars and the Catholics. He seemed genuinely happy and somehow at peace. The shot was of someone walking up the snow-covered road swinging a censer. I didn't quite get it, but my ignorance of religious symbolism is profound. I wanted to ask him if he was Cathar.  Who was doing the reconciling? All the Cathars are gone.  But I have taken the position that I am but a guest in this country and I do know how to mind my manners and not pick a fight.

I do know that I MUST go back there, in the spring--after I have had some time to process the power of this place.

Mirepoix

The houses are half-timbered and sort of on stilts.

Today Jason took Bob and Chris and me to Mirepoix for the Monday market. We had a stroke of good luck in that it wasn't raining and it seemed warmer than it had been over the weekend.  We got an early start so as to allow plenty of time to peruse the wares in the market and explore the medieval town.  

Mirepoix is colorful, and the market is centered around the square which backs up on to the church grounds.

The central square with the church standing guard

Jason happened upon some friends who told us that that market was a little smaller today than it normally is, but it still looked plenty lively to me. The very first vendor we encountered was selling dishes, and that is always a dangerous place for me to be.  But, I am heading up to Paris this week, so I saved my centimes for that trip.  I have enough dishes here, really.  Unless I find a bowl or two at Galleries Lafayette....

Change the dress, take out the vehicles and step back in time.

Mirepoix is an old bastide town built around a cathedral.  As we walked along the lanes of stalls and covered booths, I got this strong sense of continuity;  for hundreds of years, merchants and vendors have been setting up booths to provide goods to the community.  The methods of getting the buyers and sellers to the spot have changed, but I'll bet that a time traveler from 1513 would recognize most of the fruits and vegetables, and some of the wares.  Knives are knives....and the basic shape of jewelry hasn't changed all that much.  There was something anchoring about being there.  I felt about it the same way I feel about singing the music of the ages-like I have joined a great long line of people doing the same thing--being connected by the same experience. 

Our ancestors would recognize this, don't you think?

I bought some apples--I was unfamiliar with the variety. Little, gnarled and anything but uniform, they are the antithesis of the perfectly colored, perfectly formed tasteless fruit of the supermarket.  I asked the lady if they were for eating or for cooking--for une tarte--and she told me in no uncertain terms that they were for eating and don't try to cook with them.  

I remember the big galvanized milk cans

I also bought a little piece of cheese from the vendor who promised cheese from the Pyrenees.  I told her that I was completely ignorant about cheese, but she was very patient.  She knew the English words for sheep, goat and cow, but little else.  Nonetheless, we managed a delightful conversation and I made my purchase.  I had a little of it with one of my apples for dinner.  Delicious.

Dried fruits and nuts haven't changed much in centuries

The proprietress here was very helpful.

I got a slice of the cheese at the far right end of her display.

Our lunch destination

Jason knew of a little auberge where we could have lunch.  It looked closed, but he had called ahead to make sure that it was indeed open.  Although this area is filled with tourists in the summer, it looked pretty deserted in this off-season. 

We had the three course lunch.  Delicious.  Chris and I had the pea soup and Jason and Bob had the onion tart with a slice of cheese.  The soup was delicious, with truffle oil, I think and something in there gave the finish a bit of heat.  I think the  idea of offering a limited selection of well prepared food at a fixed price is so smart. 

The onion tarte

Pea Soup with Smoked Bacon

Jason had the fish entree and the rest of us had the roast pork.

Jason's fish.  Note the arrangement of the potatoes....presentation is very important

Roast pork, vegetables and potatoes...oh yum

All plates were wiped clean. They thoughtfully provide baskets of baguettes just for that purpose, I think. 

Once again, it was good company, and interesting conversation provided by thoughtful companions that really made this lunch extra special.  Yes, the food was wonderful, but it is the lunch experience that I most enjoyed.

Chris photographing Bob's poire. 

For dessert, Bob chose the special of the day--a pear poached in Armagnac with some creme Anglaise (I think) and the rest of our merry band had apple tarte with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.  It was not like apple pie a la mode in the US, believe me.  We took photographs of our meal, obviously, and I didn't even care that they thought we were tourists. We ARE tourists, but I don't think we are typical tourists.

Apple tarte

After we finished our lunch we took off for Montsegur.  I can write about Mirepoix now, and about our delicious lunch, but I am still processing my Montsegur experience.  It affected me very profoundly, and I am still examining my reaction.  I will give you a little preview--but I will save the words for later. 

Snow in the Pyrenees on the way to Montsegur