Short Trip to Prades

My hotel in Prades

This past Saturday, June 23, was the Festival of Saint Jean.  Prades, (pronounced Prahd--no s) a small town at the foot of one of the major peaks of the Pyrenees,  has a particularly interesting way of celebrating this "feast day" that commemorates the birth of Saint John the Baptist, who was, according to legend, Jesus' cousin and born exactly 6 months before Jesus.  I guess normally, saints' days commemorate their deaths...On the eve, or the 23rd, of the actual feast day, fires are lit.  It's not just in Prades, but over much of what was once completely Catholic Europe.  I think the local church big-wigs, 1500 years ago or so, decided to co-opt pagan traditions of lighting fires to celebrate the summer solstice...just as they did with Christmas.  

Outside space at the hotel--great when it's not so warm

In Prades, this feast of Saint Jean is combined with the ancient veneration of Canigou, the massive peak in the Eastern Pyrenees that watches over the region.  The weekend before, a troupe of observers carry the flame, which has been carefully kept below during the dark days of winter, and take it back up to Canigou, where they have built a pyre.  The pyre is lit at midnight on June 22, and from it, torches are lit and the fire is carried back down the mountain to be shared with all of the villages below.  I came to witness this lighting of the bonfires with the sacred fire of Canigou.

My room, windows opened.

First of all I had to get to Prades, which, given the strikes that are destined now to go into their 4th month, is not exactly a piece of cake.  I am pretty easy-going about the strikes, probably because I have a more flexible schedule than do most people.  I booked my tickets on line--Carcassonne to Narbonne to Perpignan to Prades....all smoothly connected.  But when I went to retrieve my tickets from the station, the clerk told me that this was not going to work because I had chosen to travel on a strike day.  (The return trip, on Sunday, was not a strike day and therefore would be no problem).  I needed to be in Perpignan by 1:30 on Saturday to catch the bus to Prades. During a strike, the buses keep running.

Hotel dining room--charming

I asked the clerk about going a day early, but it too, was a strike day.  I was willing to go to Perpignan a day early, get a hotel room and do some exploring.  But according to her--there was NO WAY to get to Perpignan from Carcassonne on Friday, June 22.  What nonsense.  I came home determined to find my own way there.  What frosts me is that the SNCF website will continue to sell tickets for trains that they know damned well won't be running.  Because one leg of the trip--Carcassonne to Narbonne--WAS running, I guess they can get away with it.  The problem always seems to center in Narbonne, a hub for these regional trains.  I KNEW there had to be a way, so I got on the website.

gleaming bathroom

View from bathroom window

And there I found OUIBUS, the bus line run by the train company.  They seem to never be affected by the strikes.  And as luck would have it, there is a bus that runs every day from Carcassonne to Perpignan--and it was only 5 Euros.  I thought I would book the Friday bus, but then realized that it was also running on Saturday, the 23, which meant I did not have to spring for a hotel room.  I can get my money back for the Narbonne to Perpignan leg of the trip--1 Euro--not worth the massive effort it would take to negotiate the bureaucracy to get the refund.  

TV, seating, a table witha cloth!!, fan and a shelf for my things

I caught the bus--it was on time, comfortable, cool (we've begun a little heat wave here) and it arrived early--90 minutes from Carcassonne to Perpignan, for 5 Euros.  You can't drive it for that, because the tolls are more than that.  The bus arrived early enough that I could have taken an earlier bus to Prades had I wanted to do so.  As it happened, I wanted to do a little shopping--I had my eye on something I had seen earlier in a kitchen store--and I wanted lunch in Perpignan.   

It all worked great.  I had an hour's conversation with the clerk (who I think was the owner) of the kitchen shop--we talked about our family histories, we talked about the current state of education in France, we talked about the problems brought into the neighborhoods by the gypsies, we talked about growing gardens.  It was a delightful time and \I felt a real sense of accomplishment that we could talk at length about real things, not just, "How much is this?"

Lace curtains at the window and shutters open from the bottom

I enjoyed every morsel of my lunch and splurged for the dessert of the day--a millefeuille with fresh red fruits.  It was as big as a brick, delicious with fresh raspberries and strawberries and pastry cream and sharply crackly pastry, but far too much for me to eat.  For maybe the first time ever in my life, I did not finish my dessert.  

Then it was on to Prades.  The air conditioning on the bus was not working, so it was a pretty warm ride.  Having done this trip once before, I knew which side of the bus to sit on to be out of the sun.  One of the passengers wanted to argue with the driver about the lack of cooling air, but what was she to do about it?  It was only an hour, and I grew up without air conditioning, so I can cope.  Complaining doesn't help. It is a shame, though that the windows don't open.  

Fan kept me perfectly comfortable the entire night

We arrived in Prades right on time--I disembarked and headed for my hotel, Les Glycines.  Like many small towns in France, there are no street signs on the main arteries, just signs on the little side streets.  I guess they assume everyone knows the name of the main streets.  But it was no problem, I found my way without incident.  The entrance to Les Glycines is not on the main street, you have to go around to the back.  

I don't like to stay in chain hotels--I prefer these little old world independent places to stay.  This place is wonderful.  I approached the check-in desk and wasn't even asked for ID!!  Now that is unusual.  Normally they want to see my Carte de Sejour or my passport, which I almost never carry any more.  She gave me my room key and I went up the beautiful marble staircase to the first landing where there are leather couches, huge bouquets of flowers, little desks at which to work.  From there it was up one more flight of stairs to my room.  I went in to fund a lovely room, a double bed, a fan, a flat screen TV,a little table with a cloth for eating or writing, lace curtains at the window.  I opened it immediately to let in some air--the shutters provided screen from the sun but since they opened from the bottom, allow plenty of air movement.  The bathroom was gleaming spotless--black and white.  The tub was deep and there was a hand-held shower, typical of French bathrooms.  The toilet had shelves over it with plenty of towels, toiletries, a hairdryer.  There was even a bidet.  This would do just fine and was only about 65 Euros!  Amazing.

deep immaculately clean tub

I decided that a nap was in order, since I had gotten up early and was planning ot be out late.  I would save exploring Prades for later, as the sun was waning.