Winding Down

The trees at Gambetta are putting forth leaves.

I have not blogged in a long time--I have been plagued with computer issues and with Internet connection issues.  I will try to get this posted today, but I am making no promises.  I don't want my last entry to be about the origins of  "bad."  Carcassonne has been so much more than that.  It has changed my life.

Some members of the congregation this morning

Today feels as though spring has really and truly arrived.  I went to church this morning and played the keyboard, actually pretty well, for me.  I love this congregation.  It's small, but oh, I feel such love when I am there.  I am sure it has its problems, like all groups do, but I have not been privy to them and they don't seem to spill over and color the act of worshiping together.  I have grown very attached to them and I think they are also fond of me.  I do know this morning that having the music added to the service and I played some very simple hymn softly before service started and it just set things off on the right foot.  I didn't tell them good-bye, but rather, "See you later."  

Our congregation after services this morning

Place Carnot market yesterday

Yesterday I also tried to enjoy the sun. We had such a difficult week--I have not seen the likes of that kind of rain since I arrived here.  So the sunshine yesterday was welcomed by everyone. The Arab market was packed, and so was Place Carnot.  The French/Spanish strawberry wars are on, and the local asparagus is coming in full and delicious. I try to buy local and organic whenever possible.  After a long winter of leeks and carrots (don't get me wrong, I do love them), I am happy to see spring vegetables and fruits.  I will miss the tomatoes ripened in the heat of the summer, but that's the way it goes.

I think I am departing Carcassonne at about the right time. I have noticed more and more tourists in town, and have actually stopped to help several of them who have gotten turned around.  Lots of people ask me for directions and I can almost always help them.  It's a good feeling.  But I love this city too much to see it clogged with tourists, even though I am one, and even though I know the huge economic impact that they have on the lives of people here.  But some of the behavior--ooh la la....God spare me from school groups!  

Michel this morning, waiting on his customers

I am taking hundreds of photos, even of things that I have photographed before. My rationale is that I have never seen this place or that object in the light of this particular moment.  I am terrified that I will forget. 

Marie's sister at the tabac

I am holding in my heart the things I have learned during this time. I am not quite ready to share them. I may not be the same person who came here, frazzled, in October. I don't know if we really change or if we are so buffeted by the winds of circumstances that we harden our hearts and hide our authentic selves.  I have one or two regrets about this adventure, but every night, and I mean every night, before I close my eyes, I send grateful thoughts to the Divine.

The goofy platane trees are putting forth leaves.

"Mal"

Spring is creeping in

 

Just a heads up--my photos today have nothing to do with the text.

Something is flowering along the Aude

 One of the things I have noticed about the Carcassonnaises-- they love to form groups, associations, clubs, and then get together and talk.  Some of these meetings involve food, but a surprising number of their gatherings do not; it's the talking that draws them in. I went to one such discussion last night.  The subject was, "Bad-What are its Origins?"  

 Now for many people this would be like watching the proverbial paint dry.  And in a foreign language no less.  But I do find the subject interesting, and listening to these people speak also helps to improve my French. 

The format was simple: the first person gave a position. The second person spoke from the exact opposite position.  Then the members of the audience got their turns to weigh in. This was sponsored by the Protestant Church here in Carcassonne, and while there were the expected arguments about God, there was also the position taken by someone that there is no God.  The only "rule" was that people had to be respectful.

And you know what?  They were.  Nobody interrupted anyone else. Nobody got ugly or insulting. There were widely divergent points of view expressed. Members of the audience came prepared to and did quote Augustin, Aristotle and Voltaire.  Some came with prepared texts to read.  Some just responded to points made by prior speakers. Some, like me, sat quietly and listened and thought.

Does anyone know what this is?  Poke? 

My French is still inadequate for me to get up and speak.  But I was able to understand almost everything that was said, as long as the speakers used the microphones. I don't understand what I can't hear.  But I came away chewing upon a great deal of food for thought.  And I felt a little uplifted from the normal slog of everyday news, and badly dubbed cop shows.  I am glad I attended and would do so again.

Olive tree in the Jardin du Calvaire.  Here and there a black olive on the ground among the stones.

Pleasures and Joys

Galen at Place Gambetta, in front of the art museum

Sharing Carcassonne with friends gives me great pleasure.  My friend Galen Brooks arrived on Sunday from Washington, DC after some minor travel glitches that he weathered beautifully. He is settling in, I think, and getting used to a new address and pace of life.  We explored a tiny bit of the Bastide yesterday, just enough to get him oriented and show him which boulangerie to use for his bread purchases. We walked for a few yards along the Canal du Midi--it was such a beautiful day.

Along the Canal du Midi

This morning, we went to the Tuesday morning market and while I came home and cooked and had lunch at home, he is out exploring. I am proud of his spirit.

 

I have to share this with someone--the headline from one of the outlying villages section of the newspaper read, "Tequila Enlivens Tea Dance."  I guess so!  

The band that led us through the streets

I am still trying to process the things I witnessed during Carnaval.  I think that I just don't know enough to evaluate what I saw.  I suspect that some of those dances, rituals, whatever, go back centuries, and maybe even have their roots in pagan cultures. It certainly gave me plenty to think about.

Today a number of happy things happened to me during my marketing.  First, I got recognized by someone I know on the street.  I cannot begin to describe the way that makes me feel...to have made myself a place in a foreign culture and language.  Secondly, I had great conversations with several of the vendors at the market--the man selling vanilla beans and the man with the organic farm (he extended an invitation to visit) who sold Galen some Incan potatoes. While telling us how to prepare them as chips, I mentioned putting salt on them and he promptly told me that salt wasn't good for my health!  Okay, then. 

But the best thing of all was that Michel, my butcher, offered to sharpen my knives for me.  Oh my God, it was almost as good as if he had asked me to dance!  He knows the way to a woman's heart, that's for sure.

A little chocolate/hazelnut birthday cake for Galen on the day he arrived

Lunch at Chez Felix at Place Carnot. 

Carnaval

Horns opened the festivities

There are some definite disadvantages to living and trying to sleep within earshot of the Dome and the Carnaval festivities.  Oh to be young again.....sigh.

Color and movement

So I find myself at 1:40 in the morning awake and unable to get back to sleep, even with the soothing rhythmic pounding of the drums a barely a block away.  So, I thought maybe I could make up for missed time.  I have had some technical issues which started out as intermittent and then got worse.  I think I may have to have a new laptop when I get back home.  I actually looked at one here, but the keyboard is French and that will never do for an old gal who long ago learned to touch type.  My issues still don't seem completely resolved, but let's hope all will be well until I get back to tech support.

This guy led the singing and chanting

Enough about that....today was Carcassonne's Carnaval.  And as the paper advertised, watch out!  I have never been to a Carnaval before, growing up in Protestant-land.  We surely didn't celebrate it in Thurmont.  I don't know what I expected, but I am still processing what I witnessed.

Part bird, part cave person, totally disguised

The confetti flew

I found confetti even in my shoes when I got home.  

A touch of the pagan?

It was colorful, full of movement, interesting costumes and vaguely disturbing.  I will let the photos speak for themselves.

Candies in the chamber pots

I wondered about all of the balloon-bosoms.  Then I read in the paper that the "theme" was the ambiguity of gender.  That explained a lot.

These characters were most intriguing.

 More antics from the bird beaks.

Creepiest float I have ever seen

There is a cremation at the end of the parade through the streets.  I honestly didn't feel like staying for it, but here's what I think happened.  Mr. Carnaval is accused of various crimes against the populace, is tried, convicted and gets torched. I think this float is burned up.

Notice the senorita

This was the back of the float--full of greenery, and dolls....

Great use of dryer vents

Old friends

A young Mozart?

These guys accompanied the creepy float.

Carcassonne Rhythms

The flower beds have been cleaned and turned for planting

One of the greatest advantages of spending time in a place rather than visiting multiple sites in the same time period is that I have gotten a sense of the rhythms.  Just as some of the great Impressionists visited the same place at different times to capture different moods and light, I have been able to view the same spots over and over again and see the rhythm of their breath.  

Maybe not such a good spot for a nest

The Aude, which last week was still enraged, is calmer now, less opaque and less swift.  Bits of ground that had been inundated are coming out of the water.  Wicker man's arm has not yet been repaired--it may take the advice and skill of the artist who created him to undertake that job.  The flower beds in the park have been emptied and the soil turned, awaiting spring planting.  The trees at the boules court have been cropped short.  

Pruning accomplished.  I am in the lower right hand corner.

No good photos of the Cite today--the light was not right. But I am terrified that I will forget, so I am taking pictures every single time I go out, even if I have photographed it before.  The light and time is different today, so it's new to me, really.  I have learned that--it is one of the greatest lessons of this adventure.  

Just across the Pont Neuf and worlds away from everything

I found the prison.  Even without the sign over the porte, I would have known what it is.  It's no "Slammer by the Sea," that's for sure.  

 

This garden wintered nicely

 

The sun was warm today, and there was no wind, so I probably didn't need my scarf.  I am grateful that the sun is shining and there is no rain falling from the sky. But, I didn't smell that drift of warming soil that hints of spring's arrival.  It's close, but not here yet.

Now this is what I call a mural.  What's real and what tricks the eye?

Choices, choices!!

My Caprice, indeed!

I just read another article in the paper about an upcoming weekend activity here in the Bastide.  A local activities group is teaming up with students of the local beauty school for "Operation  Sortez Votre Art Contre l'Isolement"-- loosely translated as get out your art against isolation.  They are having two days of gatherings, music, art, the students will be offering their services to retirees, there's a bagged meal....I quote one of the participants. "The idea is to mix art, with an exhibit of paintings by Arlette Mouton, with beauty care, with music, with a range of people and generations....our wish is that people who are isolated and those who want to mingle can find one another." 

Now how cool is this?  Thursday, Friday and Saturday .  They are going to make a video, have poetry readings, singing, writing sessions in which they hope that people who are alone can form some bonds with other people. I plan to attend at least part of one of the days.  

The Aude is still running high.  The footbridge across is still covered and has snagged a tree trunk,

In addition, there's a free lecture about the Albigensian crusade, the "tactile concert," Mozart's Marriage of Figaro and a round table talk about the economy and unemployment organized by Christians in the Rural World.  I am interested in ALL of it....How could anyone be bored?

Workers getting the flower beds prepared for spring planting. Love the flat top trees.

Bouleversee--Upside Down

 

Have been a little "out of it" for the past several days.  Feeling somewhat better today. Carnaval is coming--I bought my mask.  

Then I went out to buy my paper, and Marie was completely out of La Depeche, the paper I read every day.  My addiction.  I had to "settle" for L'Independant.  Marie thought I could look upon it as a new adventure, and she is right, of course.  But I still feel turned upside down.  Je suis bouleversee.

 

My normal working spot. 

Today is spectacular-warm and full sun. It rained hard last night, and everything today is scrubbed clean.  I spent some time doing my housework this morning.  Laundry, soup making, sweeping and dusting and the kitchen is immaculate.  This afternoon I am going out to find a bench, soak up some Vitamin D, and do some writing.  Then I have a spreadsheet to work on.

I am so ready for spring, and it hasn't even been a bad winter.

Carnaval in Limoux has been going on for several weeks now.  The paper had pictures of last weekend's costumes-- the women dressed up as items found in crepes--there was a whipped cream can, another woman dressed as a bottle of Grand Marnier.  I am saving my trip there for when company arrives, so I can share the experience.  

But now--the outside is calling. The sink is clean and the lunch dishes can wait. The sunshine can't.

Camels at Carnot

Just a little to the left of center, you can see the camels' humps peeking out of their overcoats

I was nearly finished my marketing this morning--there wasn't much, I wanted some fresh eggs and some spinach--when I heard quite a commotion.  I looked up to see camels, wearing splendid red overcoats parading by.  Then there came an elephant and the whole menagerie was accompanied by ring-masters wearing the traditional red coats. The mini parade caused quite a stir. The circus is in town.  I tried to get some photos, but camels and elephants walk faster than I do.

Marie and I talked at some length when I stopped in for my daily lesson, er, newspaper. Neither of us are very fond of circuses and the jury is still out on zoos and aquariums. 

Carnaval is coming.  It's already begun in Limoux.  I stopped at the mask store--yes, there is such a thing as a mask store--and made my selection.  I needed something that would still allow my progressive lenses!!! The proprietor and I shared several good laughs on the joys of aging.  I have never been to Carnaval before, and I am sure that this one is on a more human scale than the big ones--Rio, New Orleans. That suits me just fine. There will be a parade, then festivities with refreshments at the Dome, around the corner: confetti;  judging; a masked ball; dancing; food; and revelry. Intrigue, romance--oh wait, that's in a movie somewhere.  There is a cremation--I don't know exactly what it is they will burn, since all of these Carnaval customs are new to me. But I expect to find out.  I hope it's not a heretic!

Desolee

Can spring be far behind?

I ran a few errands this morning--I don't want to ever run out of coffee, filters, or that universal staple, papier toilette.  On the way back, I stopped at the fruitier for some clementines and I also bought a tomate noir (black tomato).  Then I made my normal stop at the tabac for the newspaper. When I talked with Marie about it, her first statement was, "It's not the season for black tomatoes."  How different is that mindset from ours in the US, where we think we should be able to eat anything we want regardless of the time of year?  (Or whether it tastes good or is even good for us?)  I felt a little embarrassed by my willingness to eat out of season to satisfy my curiosity. I explained to her that I have never seen a black tomato before.  She told me her father grows them in his garden, and they'll be ready in August.  This one came from Spain.

Then I made a stop at my butcher's, where I ran into my upstairs neighbor.  I don't know that Michel will get rich due to our business, but 34 Rue du Pont Vieux does shop there--a lot. For me it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he is about the cutest man on the planet!!!  They were very busy--I guess it pays to be the best at what one does, and Michel is the best.  I bought two very thin slices of country ham to try.  I talked with the butcher, after first apologizing (desolee)  for my bad French, about the tourists making him tired.  He protested valiantly.  The people here have never been short-tempered or impatient with me.  I marvel at their ability to deal with us. Then we negotiated the tricky waters of how many slices and how thick to cut them.  I would like the sunlight to shine through. He came through like a champ. 

Mostly I begin all my conversations with, "Desolee,"--  sorry-- and that seems to pave the way. People love to help, if they have the time. And here in the grand sud, there always seems to be time.  I don't know how it is in the summer. I have heard from many people that the Cite, at least is just awful.  

A Frenchman and his beret caught my eye

Believe it or not, I have my bedroom window cracked open a little.  I think spring might be on the way--the daffodils at the florist this morning were awfully tempting. 

Talking Politics

We love our Cite and our city!

Yesterday, during the meeting I had with Michel Jas, the sometime pastor of the Protestant church in Carcassonne, we touched on the topic of politics.  Interesting, then, that I would be going to a political rally that same evening.  I have never felt any great urge, at least not since the late 60's and early 70's, to get out and be politically active, but I was curious as to what a political rally would be like here in France.

Jean Claude Perez is a member of the socialist party.  60 years ago, telling the world that I attended a socialist candidate's rally could have landed me in hot water with Congress.  Who knows; it might still.  I don't care.  I wanted to hear what he had to say. I think the problems faced by municipal governments today are fairly universal and I wondered if he had any new viewpoint.

The venue, the Jean-Alaury Theater, was full. I will wager any amount of money that I was the only "tourist" there. The first thing I noticed was that people were fairly well dressed.  Maybe it's that I have just gotten used to the dress code in Brookings--sweatshirts and sneakers.  Yes, there were men in jeans, but they were ironed (the jeans, not the men), and worn with button up shirts and sweaters.  I didn't get the feeling that it was a particularly rich crowd; there's just a different dress code here.  The crowd was really mixed--all ages, except for toddlers, were there, as well as lots of women. What really struck me was how much these people care about their city and the shape of its future.

There wasn't a lot of flash, or bells and whistles.  The program opened with a fairly simple slide show.  Monsieur Perez spoke naturally and with great enthusiasm. He talked about the need to give some relief and encouragement to the small business owners who can create jobs.  He talked about tourism and the advances in the quality of life for most Carcassonnais that the present government has made--updating libraries, fixing streets, opening a new swimming pool, getting health care facilities upgraded, since 2009, when he won the election.  

I was also impressed by his insistence on  consensus building and taking everyone's needs into consideration--and then taking some action. He doesn't just talk something to death and then never does anything.  He grew quite passionate when talking about not tolerating hatred and bigotry. His "team" consists of representatives of nearly every color of the spectrum---female, Muslim, young, blind, handicapped, retired, lawyers, artists.   It looks like he walks the talk.

Mostly I came away wishing my own government--federal, state and local, could take a page from his book.

50 Euros

A bit of whimsey outside the Protestant church

I don't know where to start this.  How about with the "catastrophe" first?  I lost a 50 Euro bank note today.  I have no idea where--obviously at one of the three stops I made:  the tabac, for the paper, the little sandwich shop for lunch,  or at Monoprix, where I fished out 3 Euros in coins for a little purchase.  The lines were so long, however, that I put the merchandise back on the shelf, deciding that it could wait.  Then when I got to the Carte Orange store to re-supply my phone with money, I noticed that my 50 Euros was not there.  Oh dear!  

First of all, it's not France's fault.  I have lost money the same way in the U.S.....I just don't notice things.  The second thing is that I should be more upset.  I am a little; it's not like I  have 50 Euros to lose.  It means no meals out for 2 weeks--and no extras in the food budget.  But I have to confess that my real gut reaction was that I hope whoever found it could really use it and that it brought a ray of light into his or her day.  I hope the person is truly grateful and will in turn, do something unexpectedly nice for someone else.  I know that sounds sickeningly sweet, but honestly, that's how I feel.  Such is the effect that this place has had on me.

Then I went to a meeting I had with Michel, the "pastor" of the Protestant church.  I thought the purpose was to go over the music for Sunday.  It turns out that he isn't even going to be here for the next two Sundays.  The point of the meeting was to simply chat--he mostly wanted to know about me and what in the world I am doing all alone in Carcassonne. He speaks no English, so we conducted the entire conversation in French, stumbles and all. It was WONDERFUL.  We talked about Protestantism in France, we talked about the geography and demographics of the southern Oregon coast, we talked about music, we talked about the Vietnam War, and we talked about how awful the Cite is during the summer,when it's clogged with tourists. We talked for nearly an hour and a half.  All. In. French.

It gave me such confidence that on the walk home, I was able to approach the men who were trimming the plantane trees at Place Gambetta and ask them why they were cutting them so severely....and if it hurt the trees to do so.  I have seen so many of these trees hacked back to just the main trunk.  The man of the hour told me that it was necessary to stop the spread of the blight that's afflicting the plantanes along the Canal du Midi.  He was actually quite nice and patiently answered all my questions. 

It was a beautiful sunny day.  I spent some time outside, writing  and soaking up the rays.  I had a nice lunch, I had a good walk, I had a great meeting, a wonderful interchange with the arborists and I got to exchange pleasantries with my butcher. And it's not finished.  Tonight I am going to a political rally. I know I should be upset, but all of that makes 50 Euros and a little belt tightening look like nothing. 

I am going to his opponent's rally