Carcassonne Adventure: Look Up

I was struck by just how green was the grass. This looks north-northwest.

When I woke up this morning, early, to catch the train to Limoux, it was pouring rain. I smiled, turned over and nestled down into my covers. I didn't really want to be tromping around in a junk market in the rain. That's my story, anyway.

However, here in Carcassonne, it turned out to be a glorious, sun-drenched day. I feel like I can't waste one single second of an opportunity to be outside, so I hiked myself up to the Cite. (It's part of my new regime of brisker walking.) Along the way, I had the most marvelous encounter with a woman and her son--they are from Columbia--South America, not South Carolina. They were taking photos of one another and I offered to take one of them together. We got to chatting and it turns out that she is looking to rent a one bedroom apartment for 6 months starting later in 2014. She'd been looking at the home of a friend to rent, but didn't really like the location--she'd need a car. I told her that I knew just the place for her, and that she could even bring her dog. Pretty soon, Jason won't have room for ME! We exchanged e-mail addresses, and hugs--and Maria told me that I now had a friend from Columbia and she now had a friend from Oregon, currently living in Carcassonne. What a lovely way to start my visit to the Cite.

I noticed this window today, for the first time.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Cite, and I suspect that many Carcassonnaises do as well. It's crammed with over-priced restaurants, at least one of which offers food of barely mediocre quality. You might ask how I know this... The shops sell kitschy medieval themed merchandise made in China, or are such exclusive boutiques that I can't afford to breathe the air.

Looking up the narrow cobbled street. Can you hear the footsteps of the pilgrims?

Worn steps to the parapet

Singing? Singing? Shouting a warning?

But today, I decided to stop bitching about the Cite for what it is and look for its beauty. I realized that one way to do this was to look up! If you get above the over-merchandized store-fronts, and look up, you will see points of fascination to inspire and pique your curiosity.

This gargoyle on the roof of Saint Nazaire. I got there just in time to hear the last great vibrating chords of the postlude.