Hi, friends,
More than half
over, and I'm mourning the endings of our little vacation. We've
had a very active series of days and experiences: the weather turned
mild and sunny for a time, and we took the opportunity to visit
the regional park of the Haute Languedoc, targeting the cliffside
villages. It is difficult to convey the experience of turning a
corner on a mountain road and seeing an entire village pasted onto
the cliffs opposite. The town in question is Rocquebrun. It turns
out that the dolomite towers of the region to the north protect
the area from the northern winds, providing shelter to the almost
vertical slopes of the southern-oriented hillsides. The result is
a "micro-climate" that makes it a perfectly ideal area
for the growing of cacti and succulents. We cruised into the village
to find the little Auberge de St. Hubert almost ready to serve lunch,
which we had in the patio sun, then we started the long climb up
to the enormous gardens, nested hundreds of feet above the main
town, and arranged in hundreds of individual beds alongside stone
stairways and walkways with a view down onto the turn and wide am
of the river Orb. We had planned to visit another nearby hilltop
town, Olargues, also on the Orb river, but the slow lunch, long
climb, and warm sun had turned us to jelly, and we decided to head
back to Marseillan, instead. Anyway, recommendation: Rocquebrun,
especially if you like exotic plants and beautiful river views.
Actually, I find myself smiling at the efforts and lengths that
people go to in order to have a satisfying travel "experience".
I think it was Roland Barthes who wrote about the "Protestant"
mythic armature of the classic German travel guides--the Baedekers--the
first travel guides in the world in the modern sense of the phrase.
His perception was that a higher number of "stars" was
always reserved for "views" that had to be "earned"
by strenuous efforts of climbing---and that sudden, effortless,
found pleasures were somehow morally deficient, thereby resurrecting
the old theological argument between those who believed salvation
was earned by strenuous works on God's behalf, and those who believed
that all salvation is bestowed by grace, since all have sinned and
no one deserves God's gifts in any case. Whatever the reasons, views
from above over a landscape DO seem to satisfy some need in human
beings, just as does the urge to walk right to the water's edge
and stare out over its expanse, whether a matter of a few yards,
or thousands of miles.
Some of these themes have come together in our recent experiences
here: if the Rocquebrun "Jardins Méditerranéens"
required sweat and sore muscles, our views in Le Cap d'Agde last
week required no more than finishing wonderful seafood salads lunch
on El Pescador restaurant's tiled patio, then letting the GPS unit
direct us to the parking lot of "La Grande Conque" beach---a
beach of stunning black sand from a volcanic eruption just offshore,
that formed a dramatic range of cliffs above the sea, and furnished
the curving bay beach with its glittering black and dark gray sands.
Our panoramic view of the entire beach required no effort at all,
though the urge to go see the sand and water up close did require
that we descend a long stairway to have our walk, and then, of course,
a steep climb back up. So we finally "earned" the experience
after all. Le Cap d'Agde is a little peninsula into the Mediterranean,
with a hill at its end, and is a very short drive away from our
local beach (Marseillan Plage). Where Marseillan Plage is a funky
little area with tons and tons of trailer park camping spots and
a bit of amusement park atmosphere, Le Cap d'Agde is much closer
to the ideal of the classic Côtes d'Azures beach resort, with
upscale condos, a vast marina full of expensive boats, and amenities
for the wealthier clientele who visit there in July and August.
It is also home to a rather famous nudist beach, which we did not
visit.
We devoted another day to one of the two larger cities in our area---Montpellier,
which is the regional capital of Languedoc. The goal was the Musée
Fabre, which was hosting a large show of the paintings of the German
Expressionist, Emile Nolde--but we also wanted to visit the Galerie
Photo, a large photographic exhibition space connected to the museum.
The current show features photographers from Spain, whose work was
hung in a large series of adjacent galleries on two floors. Two
or three of the featured photographers do wonderful work, and Fran
came away inspired to get back to her work here immediately. She
has been continuing to photograph her still lifes throughout the
month, expanding the ideas to include elements to give depth, and
local connection, and even using printed and written language as
part of the compositions. We have also both been taking huge numbers
of standard travel photos and snapshots, and I'm hoping to gather
many of them into a website on our return.
The Easter Sunday grand village festival to Spring was entirely
rained out, but Easter Monday brought perfect weather, and so we
staked out a good parade spot a bit before 3:00 pm, and watched
as most of the 3,000 people in this town gradually filled up the
town squares and main routes to celebrate the end of winter. The
parade was not surprising in the French context---several very drum-oriented
marching bands, trumpets and sousaphones competing with the larger
number of drummers. There were paper-maché floats (8 of them--carrying
dragons, monsters, beauty queens, and, for some reason, one devoted
to American Indians!), a full-size truck-built "locomotive"
that belched smoke and train sound-effects, pulling a pullman car
filled with people in 1920s fashions waving their handkerchiefs
from the windows, two or three contingents of "dancing girls"
in skimpy outfits doing some version of carnival samba, and in another
case, some version of belly-dancing (never mind that some of the
"girls" were approaching 60 and barely managing to tuck
their tummies and thighs into the costumes chosen.) People threw
confetti, blew horns, clapped, and a good time was had by all, I
think.
Next a word
about driving in France. As I mentioned in my first "report",
we have the use of a GPS system that gives us ongoing driving instructions
for even the tiniest one-lane road in French farm-country. Since
"2001"'s onboard computer was named "Hal", we
decided that the sweet feminine voice of our "guide" should
be named "Halle". Halle is almost infallible, and has
made all the difference in our peace of mind for this trip compared
to all other driving trips in other countries. For once no need
to stop every few hundred yards to consult maps and try to match
up the map with the newly constructed roundabout we are entering.
If new construction puzzles Halle, we just drive a few yards onward
until she intones "Recalculating, recalculating!" and
then gives us new instructions, often involving driving up narrow
alleyways almost grazing buildings on both sides until she has got
us back on the intended route. We cannot help thinking of "her"
as a person, and I find myself thinking irrational things---wandering
if she's upset that we made a wrong turn, or why she keeps repeating
an instruction to turn left, when she could easily "see"
that I already have my left blinker on! Anyway, this little Garmin
unit, about cellphone size, is henceforth an absolutely necessary
part of any travel. I cannot say how many times Fran and I have
been utterly lost in some quartier of Paris, and that particular
adventure will not be happening again. What Halle cannot do is change
the driving habits of the French. I never drive anywhere without
there being a person driving about 20 feet off my back bumper, and
making me feel their impatience. It is usually a 20-something-year-old
male, but I am learning that it can also be grandmothers on the
way to market or guys in business suits. It's just the accepted
way to drive---to be ready to pass at any opportunity and to profit
from the "draft" of the leading car. Each time I have
to learn again to ignore what's happening behind me. I drive at
or just below speed limit, and to hell with the rest, often finding
that even if I slow down enormously, the person will prefer to drive
right on my back bumper, rather than pass. Sometimes I have to just
pull off, and let the person go by, but that person is then always
replaced by a new designated tailgater. Puzzling.
And finally, a food and wine report: One of the best things about
travel (in France, especially) is the variety of new foods to try.
We've had razor clams (7" long and shaped like a straight razor),
bulots (sea snails), "brique" (a crepe folded around a
chunk of very highly spiced, minty, chopped meat in some sort of
north African style), lots of delicious little grilled sardines
that Fran grills in our oven (don't think of the canned fish--these
are tasty, oily small fish that have great texture and taste, and
go great with mashed or roasted potatoes), a strange chocolate-rice-pudding,
mussels gratinées that Fran made again in our oven, leek
cooked almost to mush, then chilled as served as crudité
along with celery-root cut like pasta and dressed with good French
mayonaise, a wonderful dessert made with fromage blanc and crème
de marron--very sweet and sour at once, stuffed mussels, whole grilled
dorades, cuttlefish, squid salad, and so on and on. We've drunk
a large amount of local wine (languedoc), and especially like the
merlot noir, picpoul de pinet white, fougères roseé,
but not the much praised muscat sec wine, which might be
good for cooking, but is not to our taste for drinking. I read this
morning that while the American population drinks an average of
9 liters of wine per year per person, the French drink 54 liters,
and the Italians, 46. We are doing our damndest to put America back
in the game, but unfortunately right now we are adding to the French
statistics, rather than those of the US. Of course it really helps
that nothing we drink here costs more than $4.00 per bottle, usually
much much less. Our lunch wines are excellent and usually cost about
$6 for a half liter in any restaurant. Civilization. The only real
issue about lunches is that it is a LOT cheaper to order the 3-course
"menu" than single dishes of meat or fish, so in spite
of our resolutions, we end up getting a large salad or fish appetizer
of some sort, almost enough for lunch by itself, and then the main
dish with vegetables, etc., and then dessert, and then coffee. Today
I had a big platter of cold salads of various kinds, veal in white
wine mushroom sauce, brussel sprouts, green beans, some white vegetable,
then dessert and coffee, and the bill for both of us was around
$30.
OK, again I've gone on too long, so I'll stop.
Happily, and with best wishes to all for your month,
Darrell