Soldes

Some stores have great huge signs

I am deeply entombed in spreadsheets, and for health reasons, I had to get up and go for a little walk. Otherwise, things freeze up and I have difficulty moving.  I took care of "routine"  things--garbage, recycling, post office, newspaper.  I knew that it was the first day of the winter "Soldes" season....the SALE season, but hadn't given much thought to what that would look like here in Carcassonne.

Some just post a sign on the door

In France, commerce is regulated more tightly than it is in the US.  I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.  I think the French care very much about the origin of their merchandise.  Yes, you will find plenty made in China here, and produce imported from Spain (which actually isn't very far away) and goods fabricated in emerging countries. But it is a source of pride that things are made here, especially locally.  Look at the way they control the appellation of their wines--bubbly-happy light wine can't be called Champagne unless it's from the Champagne soil.  And believe me, they care VERY much about what food goes on their tables. 

This bare window wishes us a Happy sale season

One of the things regulated is the sale season. There are two--one at the end of winter and one in July, at the end of the summer fashion season. There were clips on the French news last night about the opening of the season, especially at the big department stores selling luxury items in Paris. These are highly anticipated events. I don't think people stand in line at 3 A.M. like they do in some places I won't mention, nor do they trample one another to death, like they have done in those same unmentionable places, but bargain shoppers do attend, especially early on the first day. 

Other stores place a very discreet sign in their front windows

I hadn't given it much thought, as I am not much of a shopper, nor do I need a single thing.  But I was interested in the transformation of the shop windows.  Many of the normally clothed mannequins are now nude and presumably cold behind "Soldes" signs.  As I stretched my legs, I noticed that some stores, like jewelry stores, seem to be exempt and are not advertising anything on sale.  Mostly the sales pertain to apparel--clothing, shoes, handbags....

One of my favorite places--products from the Carcassonne region.  I wonder if the cassoulet casseroles are on sale....

I did wander in and out of some of the stores. People were relaxed, there were extra sales clerks to answer questions and help with selections.  It was pleasant. It almost made me want to buy something.  Almost.

Working

I have been working---spreadsheets upon spreadsheets.  And having computer issues.  Isn't technology just something?  When it works properly, it's amazing.  Unfortunately, I have come to rely on it more than I am proud to admit.

 

In the meantime, life in my wonderful city goes on. It's softly raining, so it's not a bad time to be indoors, occupied with numbers and columns and Excel spreadsheet cells.   But, the piper needs paying, and if I keep myself on the straight and narrow, I can play over the weekend. 

Au Revoir, La Magie de Noel

Dismantling the wheel

This morning I was out of the house a little earlier than usual--off to the post office to fetch a package.  I stepped outside the front door to encounter a parked "cherry picker" truck with two city workers busy taking down the Christmas overhead street lights. 

"Undecorating" the street

   As I continued up the street, Michel Rabat was overseeing someone ( I think it might be his son) taking the holiday decorations out of his store windows.  And at Place Gambetta, the huge Ferris wheel was already in pieces, the seats neatly stowed and the wheel itself partially dismantled. 

Not a job for me

There was increased traffic on the streets.  The festooned Christmas trees have disappeared from Rue Verdun and shop windows are starting to advertise the "soldes"  SALE-- season.  Children returned to school, vacation is over, and it's back to work. 

Until next year.....

I will never forget my Christmas in Carcassonne. I don't feel sad that it's over; I feel grateful that I got to experience it. It was indeed Magic!

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. 

I love the decoration just under the roof line.

Dame Carcas of the legend....

Part of the outer wall--Nature would like to take back her property

Lunch Special

I treated myself to lunch out today.  It was nothing special, just the formule 12.50 Euros around the corner  at Le Dome Brasserie. For me, eating what the chef has made especially for the day is always a treat. Today it was cheese souffle (the waitress assured me it was good, and she was so right) for the entree and pork in a mustard cream sauce for the main course...and a little glass of white wine, because someone here in France cautioned me against eating baked cheese without a little wine to wash it down.  "Never water," she advised.  For dessert, I chose some pistachio ice cream, which was NOT green, by the way, but WAS delicious. My lunch was superb, and I have no desire to have food for the rest of the day.

My lunch companion

The Dome starts early and works hard.  However, it does NOT serve dinner, closing up shop at 17:00.  I haven't seen many tourists in there, but that might be because it's off season.  Almost everyone I have seen there has been a local and is known to the staff and most of the rest of the patrons.  Today there was a man in there with his dog.  He was loud and boisterous (the man, not the dog) and I got the impression that he is one of the local "characters."  In a very loud voice, he was bestowing upon us all his views about the Merovingiens. 

I read the paper in between courses.  The big news of the area?  A guy found a truffle in his field.  So what, you might ask?  This particular truffle weighed in at 705 grams. The current price for truffles is 1000 Euros a kilo.  Not a bad find, hmm?  The other big news in France is a proposed change to the divorce laws--no more going before a judge.  France is such a country of contradictions. Most people will tell you they are Catholic, but they really aren't.

My poet and I shared a "moment" late this morning at the mediatheque.  That particular branch is hosting an exhibit about the Flamenco.  I didn't take the time to view it today; I had other things, like writing, to get done. I will be sure to see it next week.  There's an antiques market out in Limoux tomorrow that I would like to browse through. I certainly don't plan on buying anything, but I do love to look. But it will mean getting up early, and that's been difficult lately.  We shall see.  None of this will happen unless I finish working on district work...I have been working on several spreadsheets, getting them ready to submit to the state.  

I saw that Carcassonne is going to celebrate Saint Vincent's later in January--the 25th.  One of the activities is the blessing of the wine.  I certainly do not want to miss THAT.

Community

Pont Vieux--Where is the accordion player?

It has been in the mid to upper 50's today here in Carcassonne.  All of the city, including me, are taking advantage of the nice weather.  After working and running errands I took myself off to the banks of the Aude to soak up the sunshine and watch people. 

There were shiny new bikes, probably gifts from Pere Noel, whizzing by on the graveled path.  One shiny pink one was ridden by a little dark-haired girl under Papa's close supervision. His face was lit from within by his pride in her accomplishment.  Joggers bounced by, and dogs sniffed and leapt and investigated all those who'd been by earlier.  Couples strolled by, arm in arm.  Younger people actually ventured out without coats.  Liberation!  

The quintessential French couple

Ducks line the banks of the Aude

I sat and watched the ducks.   I am glad that the city fathers have left the banks of the Aude wild and natural, rather than bricked up on both sides as is the Seine in Paris.  The ducks enjoyed practicing take-offs and landings followed by noisy splashy baths. 

Before heading to the river, I spent some time in the Grain d'Sel, my library, and realized that I am part of that community.  There is a gentleman who comes there every afternoon, sometimes wearing a suit and tie, but at the very least, wears a suit jacket, sits two seats away from me and reads the paper, while I write.  We have a nodding acquaintance.  My poet is back, after being on vacation and when I asked him today if he'd read any good poetry, he blushed slightly and replied that indeed he had.  Then, first in French and then in English, he said to me, "You are getting better.  Every day you improve."  Can I tell you how my heart took wings at his encouraging words?  I realize that we are a community of people who love words, who love the printed pages and the bliss of being immersed in them.  Our language differences may present some difficulties in becoming connected, but our love of language is a strong enough foundation on which to build our community, a community that includes me.  

This view makes my heart hurt; it's that lovely

As I sat there, watching the ducks and the people, I could hear accordion music wafting over from the Pont Vieux.  I have seen that guy there before. He perches on one of the round seats and plays, without even a cap for people to toss coins into. He doesn't play for money; I think he plays because his heart is too full and he has to play or his heart might burst. I know that feeling.  When I look up and see the view in the photo above, my heart, too, feels like it is going to burst.  The smell of tobacco coming on the breeze, the accordion's longings and this sight, this incredible sight, all combine to bring home the fact...I am in France.  I am part of a community--in France. 

Bonne 2014

Armsful of tulips at the flower shop

I think that I can safely wish everyone a good new year, now that the calendar has turned to the month. My own Saint Sylvestre (that's the Catholic saint's day that corresponds to New Year's Eve) was quiet but enjoyable.  I did hear the new year ring in, but there was a noticeable absence of fireworks and explosions. I guess they don't shoot guns here like they do in Brookings.

"My" flower shop was open, at least for the morning

The streets were unnaturally still this morning--I've never heard them as quiet as they were. I did take myself out for a walk, hoping to find an open tabac  where I could buy my daily newspaper.  My regular spot was closed for the day.  The streets held very few people and almost nothing was open except for the tabac, and the flower shop. One thing that I did observe was that almost all of the people who were out and about were men!  It was quite curious.  When I went into the tabac to get the newspaper, the guys in there looked at me as if I had alit from a spaceship.  I felt like I had alit from a spaceship.  Where were all the women?  I don't know, but you can bet that I am going to ask Marie tomorrow when I go in for the paper.  

Our taxi stand is made of marble, what else?

I think Saint Sylvestre was peaceful here in Carcassonne, unlike in Paris, where I believe they had a rash of car fires.  There weren't any garbage or party left-overs littering the streets here.  I went to the train station to get the newly minted schedules so I can sketch out my trips to Castelnaudary, Quillan, and the coast.  They are calling for snow up in the Alpes and the Pyrenees, but it's supposed to be relatively mild here for the next few days.  It will be nice for poking around in a new town.

Now you have the number, should you need a taxi.

 I spent the day working, writing and editing.  It was a good day and a good start to 2014.  I hope everyone else had the same.