Lunch in Limoux

Flowering plum--brilliant against the stones

I NEVER tire of this view of the Aude

I know it might sound petty but I have been a little down in the dumps this week.  The only thing to which I can attribute it is that all this learning has taken a toll on my spirit.  Not very much is easy, and yes, I know it was my choice to make such a radical change in my life.  Most of the time, I feel pretty sunny, but certainly I can be allowed one or two moments of frustration.

Happy surprise--market day in Limoux, but where is the produce?

Today, I took myself off to Limoux for lunch.  It was more of an excuse to take the 1 Euro train ride through the countryside, and with each new sighting of spring, I could feel my spirits lifting, lifting, lifting.  I took some photos from the train window, so please bear in mind that the quality isn't always the best, but I would like to share some of the pictures of the surrounding environs of the Carcassonne area and the Aude.  

I just finished reading a history of Limoux that I really enjoyed.  So much Roman influence is  apparent and there are spots now that I really would like to visit.  I am fascinated by the Roman feats of engineering, especially having watched local workmen tear up Rue Verdun, replace the utility lines and repave the streets.  And they used heavy equipment.  

Street?   No problem, just build across it

This gargoyle looks scared rather than scary

Limoux's bubbly white wine predates Champagne, but they didn't do as hot a job marketing as did the vintners up north.  But the Cremat de Limoux  tickles my nose in the same way.

The Aude was swift and clear, I watched several ducks simply ride the current downstream.  I still quake to see the high water marks from historic floods.

If I didn't love Carcassonne so much, I could be very happy as a Limouxine.  (At least as long as the 1 Euro regional train is available)  Limoux is sort of like the Arcata of the Aude--those of you who are familiar with that enclave of hippiedom on the northern California coast will know what I am talking about--but it's cleaner and safer.  It's very definitely socialist in its local governance, nothing gets in the way of their Carnaval tradition, and nothing is safe from ridicule during Carnaval.  There is a lively music scene, maybe even more so than in Carcassonne, although I don't have enough information to state that definitively.  I know that there's a very busy visual arts community as well.  It's a nice place to live, I suspect.  Certainly it's a nice place to come for lunch.

The Musee du Piano is still closed, the gardens that I visited in late September will open in two weeks.  Tourist season is getting underway in Limoux.  The Brass Festival takes place at the end of April, and there are several upcoming art exhibits to view.  I am looking forward to spending more time in the Limoux and the Haute Vallee area.

Musee du Piano--still closed

For those who are interested in lunch--I had a glass of rose, which I now prefer to just about any other wine.  I have learned that the best is nearly grey, and I would not have understood that until I saw and tasted it.  There was a composed salad of fresh tomatoes, radishes, cucumbers, hard-boiled egg and, oh dear, 4 anchovy strips.  I had asked them to omit the onions, so I got anchovies instead.  To my credit, I did try a forkful.  I still believe they are an acquired taste.  This was followed by an entrecote (sort of like a very thin rib-eye steak) with pepper sauce, a pile of delicious French fries--they actually tasted like potatoes and not cooking oil.  There was a basket of chewy, crusty baguette.  I confess to having a piece and wanting more, but I refrained.  I declined dessert (my, but aren't I virtuous?) and I finished with a cafe--a little tiny cup of espresso.What a treat! 

Beckoned through the archway

Such a big lunch warranted a long walk to aid in the digestion, so I set off.  About a block from the Place de la Republique, I smelled the most wonderful odor--and I began to follow my nose.  I recognized it as wisteria; the fragrance got stronger as I approached the Sous Prefectire which borders the river.  I walked beneath an archway to discover the source of the perfume--a gnarled, old-vine wisteria framing the doorway of one of the houses overlooking the quai along the river.  It took my breath away.  After spending some time trying to get some "arty" photos, I walked along the Aude for a bit  until it was time to head to the train station and home. 

The source of the perfume

Arty? wisteria

Arch of Pont Vieux echoed in the arches of the tree branches

No, I can't claim to have the same spectacular scenery as Boardman State Park between Brookings and Gold Beach, but this scenery here moves me equally.  I only wish I had a way to convey the smells and tastes of the day.  It was just the cure for my little case of the blues.  

I NEVER ever tire of this view

Les Dames de #34

Some cupcake offerings

Today Sophie organized an outing for the women of #34 Rue du Pont Vieux to a local tea shop, Merry Cakes.   The place is warm and cozy and stuffed to the gills with frilly, "girlie" decor: chintz, gingham, and cupcakes!

Sophie and her hot chocolate

Carol'a selection--strawberry, I think

We had a nice visit, low key and soothing.  Tea was the order of the day for some of us; others indulged in coffee or a hugely decadent chocolat chaud.   We spoke of travel, our working lives and our great good fortune at living in Carcassonne.

Susan laughs, probably at a remark of Debbie's

Sometimes it's nice to put a face to names.  Here are some of the women of #34. 

Debbie--I couldn't get her to face me

Carol

Sophie

Susan

 

 

 

Domestic Tranquility

Tidy and domestic

I have made a resolution to spend less time on the computer.  I know it's my own fault, but I find that it can eat up hours that I think might be better spent reading or writing or doing just about anything else.  And honestly, I don't think I can bear one more over-the-top Donald Trump antic posted to my news feed.

Chicken vegetable soup

After resolving to do this, I have had two wonderful days in my house.  The weather has not been really conducive for hiking or being outside for hours on end.  Mondays are sleepy and shuttered as it is, so there's no real incentive to go "window licking."  I have made soup, done some spring cleaning, done a bit of writing and generally accomplished some chores. I have enjoyed fruitful practice sessions on both the piano and the dulcimer. 

My clothes dryer (Nice enough to open the windows)

 I get why men want wives--someone to keep the house calm and running well makes for a happy disposition.  

No question where out food originates!

Today I went back to the beauty school and had a new student practice her coloring skills.  I am happy with the results and especially happy with the price.  I figure that nothing really can go wrong, as an instructor always casts a discerning eye over their work.  So now, when I sit in with the Irish group, I can be an Irish redhead.

My "Christmas" cactus has decided to thrive

Score!!

SCORE!!! My bundt pan and a muffin tin

What a successful day, after an interesting week.  I finally, after scouring stores for six months, found a bundt pan.  And I bought it so fast it nearly burned the cash register.  The guy there was so helpful and told me that if I needed any other specialized bakeware to come in and we would look at the catalog together.  

Small joys--books, bakeware, plants

And when I looked up from my purchase and through the glass windows of the front door, I saw a book sale going on in Halles Prosper Montagner, so I hurried myself in there and got a couple of juvenile fiction books--some sort of medieval quest series. Used book sales are the same in Carcassonne as they are in Brookings and attract quite a crowd here.  Remember, this is a city that three local daily papers and at least 4 independent bookstores.  These people still read.  For the price, I bought all three in the series. I figure that will help improve my reading comprehension---hard enough to be interesting, but not so developed a vocabulary that I have to look up every second word.  That gets depressing and frustrating.  I also scored about a dozen or more English language books from a new friend earlier this week.  She belongs to a book club--they pay 50 cents a book that they "borrow," and at the end of the year, the money goes to a local charity.

My Christmas cactus has decided to stay and thrive

And I have been craving a Morning Glory muffin.  I have the ingredients to make them, after going round Robin's barn to find grated coconut and almond flour, so I think the merchants on the block are getting Morning Glory muffins tomorrow morning.  But I had first to find some muffin tins.  I have never used silicone before, but it is almost all you can find here, so I will try it.  I found a tin with reinforced edges so it doesn't collapse like so many of the silicone baking pans when you put it on the oven rack.

My indoor garden

My jade plant is due a bigger pot

My jade plant is thriving, my Christmas cactus is going to bloom, I will have muffins tomorrow morning and I managed to play a Bach piece I have been wrestling with for months at 85% of the correct speed with no mistakes--repeatedly. I saw some wonderful kindness today on the bus. This all balances out the sneaky Windows update to Windows 10 that I specifically said, "Not now," to.  Talk about angry!  But on the whole, it's very very good here.  Flamenco ballet this evening, Saturday market tomorrow (hopefully I can stay upright).  Many of the Spanish tourists clogging the street have gone home, city workers have cleared the Canal towpath out to the Pont Rouge zone, so a nice walk is on tap.  I smile almost all the time. 

Un Cafe Creme

I am getting into the habit of enjoying a coffee out once in a while; the cheapskate in me balks at 2.50 for a cup of coffee, when I can have pots and pots at home for that price, but then I remind myself that it's the seat and the ambience that costs.  And on a sweet-air day like today, it is a bargain.  I seat myself in a wicker chair in front of the briocherie facing Place Carnot and take out my notebook and order a large coffee with cream.

Two German women, one old, one young (mother/daughter?) chat non-stop at the table to my left. The serrated edges of their language unnerve me.  We are all enjoying the sun, which although a little weak today, hints at coming strength.  I watch the people going by, some purposefully, as if on a mission, others bewildered and clutching the Office of Tourism's free maps.  Some saunter by, in a stride expressly designed to turn heads. The cusp of the season brings all manner of dress: shirtsleeves, coats and scarves, boots and sandals.  An elderly woman accustomed to better times walks by wearing a full-length fur. 

An older gentleman seats himself at the table next to me, and orders a glass of rose.  Carefully he removes his cap, folds it and places it on the table.  His wine arrives and he counts out the necessary 3 Euros with movements contained and stiff. His hands are shaky and he must steady his wineglass with both hands.   He is wearing black wing-tip oxfords but no socks. 

A coffee machine churns and whirs behind me.  We are not as jaded here as Parisians; we crane our necks and look up at the drone of a small plane overhead.  Pigeons bob between tables on the never-ending search for pastry crumbs gone astray.  I sit downwind of a smoker and wrestle with the temptation of a habit I left behind me 37 years ago. 

There is no rush.  Read, write, watch the world go by for as long as you like.  My grand creme is reduced to a dollop of foam at the bottom of my cup and my "cookie" goes untouched.  I feel myself in sync with the pace here, my place on the planet. 

Another place to while away the time with a glass of wine

  

Bonne Paques--Happy Easter

Spring is coming!

Just a few observations this Easter Sunday.  After a spectacular day yesterday, I heard it raining in the wee hours of the morning.  It's actually a nice sound, dripping from the curved clay tiles. But now the sun is out, so a walk is definitely in order this afternoon.

One of the arches of the Pont Vieux

There are a lot of tourists in town, mostly Spanish and British.  Restaurants that would normally be closed today are open.  I am not sure if this heralds the beginning of the season, or because it's a holiday and lots of people like to go out for Easter dinner.  I find myself helping people with directions--I have mentioned before that I must give off an air of something,(I would like to think it's kindness)  because tourists are always asking me for help. 

Saw these growing wild along the banks of the Aude

I had a little tumble in the market yesterday.  I don't think anything was seriously injured, except my dignity.  I had that awful "shaken" feeling that comes with a fall, but I walked home and up the stairs with only minor difficulty.  However, my right knee had a knot on it the size of a small orange and was too painful for any words in my vocabulary.  Since I am a typical American in my need for ice, I always have plenty on hand.  It proved very useful yesterday afternoon.    I was wearing jeans, which everyone knows are darned near bullet-proof.  Both knees look like raw hamburger, but I am so happy I didn't tear the jeans; they're my favorite ones.  A fall nowadays leaves me shaken in a way that never happened 60 years ago.  I guess all that milk or all that weight bearing have made my bones very strong.  I ache today, but the shock is worn off and walking actually helps with the stiffness.

One of the light fixtures by the bridge

I told Marie about my fall; she shared with me her own story of taking a tumble right up the street.  It is a small comfort to know I am not the only person to whom this happens.  What bothers me as much as the pain is that I am so embarrassed.  I am twice the size of so many of these people; it's hard enough to blend in.  Something like that only calls unwanted attention to me.  The other thing that made me frustrated was that a perfectly BEAUTIFUL day went unexplored as I could not put on anything to touch the raw skin, and I needed to be near the ice pack.  Oh well, I DID count my blessings that nothing seriously went wrong.

Easter dinner will be a turkey thigh, roasted fresh potatoes (the first in months), broccoli salad, fresh steamed peas, apricot and mushroom dressing and fresh strawberries for dessert. When I bought the turkey from Michel, I didn't recognize it at first; it's so big I thought it was a cut of beef! It makes me wonder just how big was the turkey who donated it.   I am craving ONE slice of coconut cake, but that is not going to happen today.  I am still chasing down the required ingredients.  I promised a slice to the couple at the market from whom I buy eggs.  She asked for the recipe.

Maybe he caught an Easter trout?

Today's paper laments the passing of the Easter egg hunt.  I wondered about that.  I saw that there were some in a couple of villages closer to Toulouse, but I didn't see anything here in Carcassonne.  Oh well, to keep those traditions alive, someone actually has to organize things. It's hard when the torch doesn't get passed.  

Shapes of the river

I hope everyone enjoys the holiday.  Lots of things are closed here on Monday, a bit more than the usual quietude after the weekend.  After all the work for Easter Sunday music this morning, I am ready for a down day.  And a day where my body can just recover from its shock.

La Grande Lessive--Art on a Clothesline

Place Carnot

Today we celebrated the Great Laundry Line of art.  This is actually celebrated annually worldwide and Carcassonne has participated for the last six years.  Such a simple concept has a powerful effect.  In our own way, each of us have the capability to produce art.

At the newly renovated park at the post office

By the fountain at Carnot

Basically any art form is accepted as long as it will fit in a standard sheet protector.  The city puts up lines throughout the public spaces and people pin their creations to these lines: thus the laundry line theme. 

A list of events

Students at the workshops

When I saw this festival in 2014, there were more clotheslines but fewer activities.  This year, I noticed that it was not just school children who contributed, but various groups presented.  There were a couple of civic organizations whose members produced artwork.  There were more activities: lectures, hands-on tables and workshops, and a concert this evening.  On my way home from the market, Alan and Mirhela from the Occitan center were at the Dominican chapel, and Alan was in full form, telling stories in Occitan to enthralled school children sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him.

Laundry blowing in the wind

Not all were "whites" handing on the line

I saw bead art, photography, collages, abstract art, contour drawings, mobiles along with pencil and crayon sketches and studies. 

Contour lines

cut-outs and paste-on

celebration of color

Where are those notes going?

"Mobiles"

This really does look like laundry

What was as impressive as the fact that all of this art was created and encouraged was the fact that people were actually taking time to look at it.  And think. 

Two of my favorites

 

Such is art's power. 

Art needs to be viewed