Carcassonne Chapter: juillet 2016

mardi 26 juillet 2016

Montsegur Mementos

Pink and grey

Blurred by the rain

Thunderstorms greeted us in the parking lot at the foot of the pog in Montsegur. It wasn't a violent storm, like I have seen here in Carcassonne with lightning flashing and the air cracking before the thunderclap, but where there is thunder, there is lightning, and we didn't want to risk being a rod so high in the hills Therefore, a climb to the top of the ruins was not possible. However, I enjoyed the gentle rain and the overcast light offered good photo opportunities. I was able to find my tall pussy willow tree again, and the markings for the St. Jacques de Compostelle pilgrimage walk showed up brilliantly in the rain.

Path markers in the town "square"

Put up the "convertible top"

I have just learned about these markers--a pair of parallel lines, one white over one red, that mark the trail that leads to the pilgrimage site on the Atlantic Ocean side of northern Spain, in St. Jacques de Compostelle. Often there will be an accompanying scallop shell to mark the path. Now that I have learned about them, I see them everywhere. Here in Carcassonne, they are all along the Aude, and on Boulevard Barbes, where the Arab market is held on Saturday mornings. I did not realize that I would find them in Montsegur as well.

What a classy truck

Some other sights of the day included a restored vintage truck. Its bright yellow paint job made it a beacon among the grey water-slick stones of the day. There was a gathering of "kit" cars in the parking lot. These cars are made for sunny days; the drivers had to ad-lib a top to keep out the rain. Beautiful ferns sprouted from the rock crevices near the communal spring and water basin. In addition to the pilgrimage way signs, many homes flew Occitan flags or had the Occitan symbols on their front entrances.

Hollyhocks and the Occitan flag

Connection to the outside world

A lone pay telephone booth provides a link to the "outside world." I was happy to see that La Patate Qui Fume (The Smoking Potato) is still open for business. The village of Montsegur, although remote, looks prosperous--well-kept houses, lots of renovation projects underway, beautifully tended flower beds. Perhaps the summer-only residents have arrived.

Still open for business

dimanche 24 juillet 2016

Splendid Silence

Rainy day view of Montsegur

If I could show only one "tourist attraction" to guests who come to visit, without question, it would be Montsegur. It's a combination of the work of human hands and the work of the Divine; the place engulfs me with awe and I feel a sense of reverence.

Signs to the village of Montsegur

Looking northwest

Most of all I love the silence. Others must feel the same power, because when visitors get out of their cars and gaze up at the remote and lonely ruins, all idle chatter stops. When people do converse, they do so in whispers. I can hear the wind soughing through the trees and if I am lucky enough to be there at the noon hour, the sounds of the church bells ringing fills the valley like an incoming tide.

Signs for the St Jacques de Compostelle pilgrimage walk (red and white markings)

Today, the main sound at Montsegur was gentle rain and occasional thunder. Sadly, the conditions weren't really safe to climb to the top. People do get struck by lightning, and the top of the pog may is certainly the highest point in the area! But I was okay with that. I simply love being in the presence of the hill, of the ruins, of the spirit there.

vendredi 15 juillet 2016

The Tour de France

Waiting for the start

There have been a lot of experiences crammed into the past few days. We walked just up the block on Wednesday to watch the Tour de France. Place Gambetta was busy--vendors were doing a brisk business in souvenirs and there was an arch set up to welcome all those connected with the Tour. Betty was outside and got to see the parade while I was inside making muffins.

One of the team cars loaded with bikes

What I loved most was being able to put down what I was doing, go half a block, watch the start of the race, which lasted maybe 10 seconds, and then come home and finish my chores. I feel so lucky that I didn't have to make a huge effort to see this spectacle; it felt like a part of my life. Maybe it's age, or that I have been to lots of carnivals, but I felt no desire to go out and buy cotton candy and trinkets.

There was a "village" around the corner where one could mingle with the riders, their trainers and sponsors, but you needed a pass to get in. I am not so connected, but my friend John scored a pass. He had a great time rubbing shoulders with Mr. Froome and his teammates.

"Pace" and the start

Blur #1

Blur #2

Blur #3

The last guy

The actual race was over in a blink! What stunned me was how quiet it was. I could see how easily an accident could have happened--I sometimes lose my bearings when I have the camera at my eye and it would have been disastrous had I stepped one more pace nearer the riders. They were THAT close and THAT fast. Thankfully an international incident was avoided. My photos were all blurred; obviously I have more to learn. But I was there, I was a part of it all, and it was a part of me.