Wandering

The new kiosk at Gambetta

Still recovering from jet lag, I overslept this morning and missed church. Drat!  Oh well, I am not going to beat myself up over it.  I was also too late to get a La Depeche, my paper of choice.  I had to settle for L'Independant. But imagine--we have three daily local newspapers, all of which put out a Sunday edition.  How lucky is that for me, a newspaper addict?

The red rose section 

 

Yesterday and today I just did a little meandering.  I went with my camera to Place Gambetta, which Mayor Larat decided needed to be spruced up.  So he turned it into a rose garden with a reflecting pool, a kiosk, a carousel, plenty of seating and lovely statues scattered throughout.  It's peaceful and invites me to stay a while.  Many of my photos did not turn out, and I found myself slipping back into old habits of taking "snapshots."  I will try to do better.  

The carousel

    

        I had lunch out today; Sunday lunch out is my own little extravagance.  Duck breast, perfectly cooked, with various vegetable accompaniments.  My heretofore favorite local lunch spot is closed now for lunch.  Perhaps after tourist season, it will re-open, as it has always seemed to do quite a bit of local business.  But my second choice was not bad, not bad at all.  My only complaint about the food would be that there was too much of it.  I just can't eat all that food anymore.  The waitress encouraged me to linger, take as long as I needed, to finish.  She was not happy when I insisted that I just could not do it.  I assured her it was delicious, but I am learning to stop eating when I am full, even here in France.  

The reflecting pool and one of the statues

After lunch, I just wandered at a snail's pace through the Bastide.  I like sleepy Sundays here in Carcassonne.  The shops are closed; there's not much traffic and I can step out into the streets if I need to get a better view of the architectural details.  I wonder about these old buildings and the people who once inhabited them.

Looking toward the art museum

Returning home, I ran into two British women tourists as we converged on one of the statues in Gambetta.  It's a bronze of a young woman, seated, making bobbin lace.  I couldn't help myself;  I had to touch her shoulder.  That prompted a remark from one of the women about touching public art installations. I think it's very unfair to put sculpture on display and then post signs saying "Don't Touch."  I would think the artist would be thrilled that his or her work prompted that kind of tactile reaction from its viewers.  There are no "Don't Touch" signs anywhere, and for that I am thankful. 

I love this old building,  How cool would it be to live there?