International Crossroads

From Bar 98'a Facebook Page

It was Irish music night at Bar 98 this evening.  I went, but my dulcimer stayed home.  I need a few more sessions that are NOT public before I will feel comfortable playing with the group at the 98.  Now that my ear is better attuned, I realize that they are not perfect--far from it--but I am not yet ready.  However, the crowd either doesn't know the difference or is too polite to say anything or is just happy to be out, tapping their toes to upbeat music

The  thing about Didier and Bar 98 is that he is eclectic and therefore his establishment's atmosphere attracts eclectic and interesting people.  Tonight I sat with a couple in their late 60's from the UK.  Roger and Jean.  Jean has to go back to the UK tomorrow and Roger is headed off on a train to Monaco to watch "the race."  As in Monaco Grand Prix. Australians Richard and Veronica are in their late 50's or early 60's and in France for 4 months.  We're meeting again on Friday; they have fallen under Carcassonne's spell and are considering finding a place here for 6 months.  I met another couple whose names I didn't get.  The man, a native Carcassonnais, spent several years in Arizona as a tour guide and she is from Flagstaff.  Another guy walked in; Seattle is his hometown.  A classic old Frenchman dispensed wisdom from a stool at the bar.  His wife, scarcely tall enough to see over the bar, came to fetch him--twice.  They looked to be in their late 70's.   Almost all of us came to hear a group of French people playing traditional Irish music. And everyone one there has a story.

People think I am Canadian and in my late 40's.  It's the strawberry blonde hair and I'll just let them keep laboring under that impression.

Didier was too busy with a packed house to play with the group, I am happy to report.  I recognized some people I have seen there before, playing chess or reading the paper or having a glass of wine with a friend.  The old French guy proclaimed loudly, upon learning that I was from the States, that he LOVES America. The Englishman taught me pastis with lemonade--NOT the French way, but a nice alternative.  

I "clicked" with several of the people I met there.  Some are passing through, some are here for longer terms and some of us live here.  It is interesting to me that a place many, many people have never heard of is actually quite the crossroads for people on their journeys from all walks of life.  I count myself lucky to be among them.

"Perfumed" Garden

Yellow ans red poppies wave to me

Yesterday gave us spectacular weather.  I think there was not a cloud in the sky over all of France.  After the cold of the weekend and the wind of the past three days, it was like being handed a glimpse of Paradise.  The gardens that I had visited in the fall during Heritage Days have reopened for the season; my camera and my legs were clamoring for an outing, so off we went.

Very last of the fruit tree blossoms

Truly the icing on the weather cake of the day was the view of the Pyrenees.  I am consistently awed by them and yesterday their snow-draped peaks gleamed in the bright sunshine.  I never get tired of looking at them.

Part of the cactus garden--ouch!

The gardens open at 1:00 in the afternoon, and the train arrives at the Limoux-Flassian station at about 1, so I didn't waste any time. It's only a short walk; a pleasure on so nice a day.  I was the first and for some time, the only visitor to the gardens.  They are a little hidden away and not exactly on the beaten down by tourists' feet path.  I know people who've lived here in Carcassonne for decades who have never even heard of these gardens, much less visited them.

I could smell this wisteria at every spot in the garden

I missed the flowering of the fruit trees.  They've progressed beyond the blossom stage and are now leafed out.  I found some bearded iris:  white, yellow and purple, although they were past their prime.  The name, "Garden of Perfumed Plants" is well deserved, especially at this time of year.  The air was full of wisteria, lilac and some other flowers that are unfamiliar to me.  The peonies are just budding and should be flowering in about 2 weeks.  Some roses are already in bloom, others will follow in the weeks to come. 

A stand of yellow bearded iris

The last of the white iris

This garden is particularly interesting to me.  Not only do they have flowers, but also a vegetable garden, and a section of plants of the Middle Ages, some with recipes. (There was a recipe attributed to Hildegarde von Bingen.  I knew she composed music, but apparently she could cook as well.)

T

The Pear of the Middle Ages

Hildegarde's recipe--who knew she could cook,too?

They have a section of conifers and another of grasses, a tropical garden, a desert garden.  There is a small "pond" complete with water lilies, carp and dozens of frogs.  Shaggy little donkeys graze and two sturdy looking geese act as watchdogs.   I didn't remember the scarecrow, but when I saw him, it came back to me....of course, being French, he wears a suit and tie.  But I think he got a new head?  Blockhead?

As good as watchdogs

Even the fish are colorful

I spent some time by the water garden, which was teeming with carp and frogs.  I managed to get a photo of one very brave guy who did not make an escape as I approached. 

Can you spot him?  Very powerful legs

I thought of Monet and his fascination with water lilies.  Even though these weren't in bloom quite yet, they were still mesmerizing.

But by far, my favorite spot is by the aviary.  The couple who owns this garden rescues birds that for whatever reasons people have abandoned.  Parrots, cockatoos, cockatiels, chickens, ducks....all co-exist seemingly peacefully in domed, screened enclosures with room to fly. perch, and nest. 

Green parrots were best building

A glimpse through the chicken wire fence

Some of the smaller birds had been hand fed as youngsters and will come to the mesh looking for a hand out.  They look happy and healthy, chattering and singing, visiting and being thoroughly social.  The guidebook says to allow an hour for the visit; I spent an hour just at the bird dome.  

Looking up (or down as the case may be)

Birds as colorful as the flowers

There are benches everywhere for sitting and reflecting.  Picnic tables invite families (and the occasional single writer), either to full sun or quiet shade.  Guided tours with the owner can be arranged, but I prefer to come alone, with just my camera, some cheese and an apple, my notebook and plenty of time to commune with the plants, the frogs and the birds.   

Who called this meeting?

Mr. French Scarecrow wears a suit

Early roses are blooming

Later in the afternoon, a busload of German senior citizens arrived and I took that as my cue to head back to the train station.  Somehow I think I will be spending lots of time in this little bit of garden.  

Last year's pod on a lily pad

I took so many photos and some actually turned out well.  But I lack the skills to weave them into the narrative, so I simply posted them.  Maybe they can convey in some small way, the beauty and diversity of this jewel of a spot near Limoux.

Spiky leaves contrast with round lily pads

Long-needled conifer

 

 

 

May Day and Muget

White coral bells upon a slender stalk

First, I have learned that it's pronounced "moo-gay," and it's made an appearance in both the open-air markets and supermarkets alike.  There was even an article about it in La Depeche, talking about possible shortages of it due to wet weather.

Lily of the valley by my garden walk

Lily-of-the-valley.  Such an old-fashioned flower, one I adore.  One slim stalk is perfuming the whole room.  I remember them growing sort of wild on the property of my childhood, but I haven't seen them in the States in decades.  

They are a symbol of good luck on May 1, and are exchanged between friends and colleagues here in France.  Apparently sometime in the 1500's King Charles of France received one as a good fortune token and the custom has continued ever since.  

O don't you wish that you could hear them ring?

The 1st of May is not exactly a "national holiday here in France; it is however a day where NOBODY works.  Everything is closed tomorrow, and I do mean everything:  restaurants; the big stores out in the commercial zones; little shops that may normally be open on Sunday mornings. The Sunday supplement to the newspaper came out in today's edition.   Most things are already closed on Sundays, which I love.  A few things. like a handful of bakeries and butcher shops, Monoprix and Carrefour, the two "supermarkets" are open until noon.  But Sundays are reserved for family time here, not necessarily for church-going.  It's like the US before the repeal of "blue laws."  

That will happen only when the faeries sing

So, unlike Labor Day in the US, which is supposed to be a day off work, but in reality forces retail and fast food workers to serve a public that seemingly cannot stop consuming, May 1, "Labor Day" here in France, gives everyone a day off. 

Lilacs from today's market

I guess the only person working tomorrow is me--I have to play for the church service.  

Karmic Chickens are Roosting

Some of the Irish gang

For a large chunk of my journey on the planet, I have pushed people, singers mostly, to do things far outside their comfort zones.  I wanted them to demand the very best of themselves, because I honestly believe the greatest reward comes from the greatest effort.  In particular, I think of ORCA and some of the magnificent moments we shared when we'd mastered a particularly difficult piece (remember la ma ragashu?) Getting there was a sometimes painful process as people, including me, were stretched.  I hope it wasn't too much like being on the rack of the Inquisiton.

Joined by an accordion player

Now I am operating far, far outside my own comfort zone, culturally, linguistically and especially musically.  I am not used to being the "slowest" student in the class, but that is precisely where I find myself every Wednesday night at the Irish music workshop. Frankly, I don't like it much, but it is what it is. 

Guy's protege--she's been very supportive

What a learning experience! Now I am the one being pushed, urged, scolded.  To be fair to myself, I am really just learning the dulcimer.  I did buy it a couple of years ago, but it languished in the closet while I tended to the business of life and I directed my learning energies to the piano(That process is still ongoing, as well)  For all intents and purposes, I am at the beginning of the beginner level.  

When he's playing, Guy looks like a softie!

Having said that, I go every Wednesday evening for my weekly dose of humiliation to play with these people who've not only mastered their instruments, (fiddle, flute, penny whistle, guitar, bagpipes, bodhran) but are also well on their way to mastering an entire repertoire of Irish jigs, reels, hornpipes and the occasional waltz.  (Guy, the leader, is not a fan of ballads or anything with words, much to my disadvantage)  The net result is that I am at a significant deficit when it comes to making music and I am NOT accustomed to this position.

Last night was marginally better.  I have been practicing fiendishly, and I was actually able to play two of the four pieces I know without errors, with the group.  That is a major breakthrough for me.

Which flute to play?  He also has bagpipes

Not only have I learned more about the dulcimer and Irish music, I have learned some things about myself.  Now that I am the one being pushed, it's been interesting to see my response.  I haven't given up; if anything I am more determined than ever.  I have learned that while I may never have Guy's facility and mastery (after all, he's been playing for 50 years and I don't have that long left to live!!), I can still participate on a level that will be rewarding to me and not painful for the others. It's okay that I won't be the "leader" here.  

Beer, wine, tea and music!

Last night I was thinking that it's a shame that these Irish musicians don't have a place to play for dancing.  I started thinking of possible places to have a dance, a ceilidh, if you will.  (Although that's Scottish and Guy only plays Irish music.)  Maybe I could organize it?  At that point I stopped short, realizing that part of the reason I love it here is that I DON'T have to be the one to organize things.  

Old habits die hard, I guess.

Hands making music

This Morning's Market--A Score and A Splurge

Fruits or flowers?  Maybe both?

The Saturday market this morning was not as crowded as it was last week. There didn't seem to be as many British tourists.  Perhaps I was a little early or the weather was a factor.  I think there might also be something going on up at La Cite--some re-enactments at the Chateau.  I may walk up after lunch to check it out.  Whatever the cause, the market was a real joy.

The green of the asparagus mirrors the fresh green of the trees

Asparagus sorted by size.  (The waiter in the backgound at Bar Felix is Herve)

It is definitely asperges season....several booths were selling nothing but the green pencils.  I never knew there were so many varieties and that they are graded, apparently according to size.  The price has most definitely come down.  I was able to score two boites (bunches)  for a Euro a piece; at that price I have no reservations about making soup.  I won't grind up the more expensive spears; I eat them whole.  This stand also had a special on little melons, scarcely larger than a softball--3 for 2 Euros.  I had to try them.

There were also artichokes, some nearly as big as those red rubber balls we used to bounce in elementary school.  Some were scarcely bigger than unopened roses.  Artichokes have been available at the market all winter, but now they are quite plentiful.

Artichokes from small to gigantic

The market is awash in color and growing plants. The lady in the red hat and I had quite the conversation

But the biggest change I see in the market is the availability of plants--herbs, flowers, vegetables are overflowing the tables and the shelves.  The gardeners are in heaven and I am so sad that I don't have an "outside" where I could plant some basil, a pot of strawberries or a tomato plant. 

My windowsill "garden"  Jade plant, Christmas cactus and the newest addition, a gardenia

I have a windowsill "garden" that is thriving right now, but the plants are all indoor plants and do not need direct sun.  That fact does not stop me from lingering at the plant stands, wishing, wishing....

  

This morning I struck up a conversation with two other patrons.  One of them, an elderly gentleman with a definite twinkle in his eye, joined me at the flowering cactus table--and we marveled over the delicate blossoms on such fierce-looking plants.  "Ah nature," was his parting comment.  Further down the table, I encountered a lady in a jaunty red hat who traded me the French names for the flowers for their English counterparts.  When the market is really crowded, these kinds of exchanges are more difficult with so many people jockeying for passage through or to pay for their selections. 

General Sikorsky clematis?

I meandered over to my favorite vendors...tasted some honey with sunflower oil--superb, and I am not a great lover of honey.  My favorite organic vendors were doing a brisk trade in eggs and squash.  The girl is the one who introduced me to white beets.  Today she is a bit under the weather--perhaps she's caught a little cold.

On the way to one of my favorite vendors

But the splurge of the day came at the florist's....pivoines....peonies!  White, pink, and a coral that I have never seen before.  They are my favorite of all flowers and I splurged on a ready made bouquet.  I spent 5 Euros on my food and 7 on the flowers, and am thrilled to have done so.  I inhaled their fragrance and was transported immediately to the front yard of the place where I grew up.  Grandma had a lined of peony bushes ( I grew up pronouncing the word as pee-OH-nee)  I could hardly get enough of their perfume.  The florist told me that they have a relatively short window of availability, so I will be sure to look for them for about the next month.  

My Score and My Splurge

And after that, well--at this past Thursday market, I bought a gardenia plant with three buds, and I am positive one will perfume my apartment all by itself. 

Take the "L" Train (to Limoux)

Just photos, taken from the train window on today's ride to Limoux and back.

Naturalized bearded iris along the tracks

Vineyards stretch endlessly

In pencil striaght rows

More volunteer iris

Fields and hills

Far distant village

Yellow flowers all along the route