Home, Sweet Home

The trip from Washington to Carcassonne was uneventful, but oh so long. On the plane, I struck up a conversation with several women from the Richmond area who were part of a group going on a spiritual retreat to study the Cathar and Marian legends.  They were lovely, gutsy women and I am eagerly awaiting news of their adventure.  Does anything open us to others the way travel does?  Imagine if we lived every day that open and welcoming to other people. 

The view from the living room window

It was blowing rain sideways at our stopover, Reykjavik--it was like Brookings during a Pineapple Express!  We were a bit late boarding and taking off, but the air to Paris was clear and smooth, and we were delayed only half an hour.  I had allowed plenty of time between landing and getting the train to Carcassonne, so I didn't stress about the rush hour traffic into Paris.

Gare de Lyon was packed, even at 7:30 in the morning.  All of those people were on the train to Perpignan, I think.  Of course, I was in the very last car, which made for a long walk, with my burden of luggage.  I swear I was a pack mule in some former incarnation, and every so often I'm reminded of what it must have been like. That baggage made for an anxious moment at my train change in Narbonne.  Fortunately, this is France, where people help struggling old ladies.  

Living room looking into the kitchen

An odd thing happened on the train--I was seated across the aisle from a young woman who was a dead ringer for my late sister, Sylvia.  It was the anniversary of her death, which made it even weirder.  Then I remembered that the same thing happened to me the last time I was in Carcassonne; I kept running into people who looked exactly like people I knew back in Brookings and Baltimore.  I swear there are some powerful forces at work here.

Jason met me at the train station, as he promised.  After dropping me at the apartment and handing me the keys. he skipped off to pick up more people, this time at the airport.  He's one busy guy.  And I didn't need him to explain things to me; everything is familiar.  I partially unpacked and got my belongings put in their proper places.  I am on the courtyard side of the building this time, instead of on the street.  So much quieter and cooler.  I like it.

All I need in one compact space

After a mild walk with nothing in mind except to get provisions for the next day's breakfast, I indulged in a nice hot shower, changed into my nightgown and was asleep in my comfortable bed. The rest of the unpacking could wait until the next day, for I have time, wonderful glorious time. 

My nest, and a partially unpacked suitcase