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