We Go Sightseeing

Good weather has returned to southwest France: sunny, highs in the high single digits and low teens. All is well.

I'm writing this on Tuesday morning, the fourth full day of Caitlin's stay. You have to understand that Caitlin, the professional researcher, doesn't bother to research places she visits with her parents. She knows - or thinks she knows - we'll research them six ways from Sunday. So on Saturday, when asked what she'd like to do, she was at a loss, but finally said, "I want to see a castle." This was always what Caitlin wanted to do in Europe. It's how we kept her jolly: take her to a castle.

Tarascon Castle

I came up with two possibilities: Tarascon or Carcassonne. Tarascon, with its brooding castle on the Rhône, is a place we had visited with Caitlin when she was three. I have pictures of her as a cute-as-a-button bleach blonde toddler at the castle. I was interested to see if it would tweak any dim memories for her. (No. Mostly what she remembers of that trip are the toys we bought her, and her discovery of Orangina.) Carcassonne is definitely on the agenda, but for a first excursion, we decided on Tarascon.

By now, I had downloaded the TomTom maps for the GPS, so off we tootled in our little Fiat 500, confidant in being able to find our way home. The drive to Tarascon, 20 clicks or so the other side of Nîmes, was quick and easy on the autoroute, but cost another €3+ in tolls. The highway tolls here are trop cher, like everything else. Karen read something recently that ranked Euro countries by cost of living. France came second to the UK. Spain was way down the list. (Buenos dias, España. See you in 2016!)

Tarascon Castle

The castle at Tarascon, built by the Dukes of Anjou in the early 1400s and later used as a prison, is as impressive as I remembered, looming massively over the town and the river. We piled out of the car and walked around it, but it was bitterly cold still at this point, a chill Mistral whistling in our ears. We considered going into the castle, but none of us had much enthusiasm left for sightseeing. Bad weather will do that. Plus, it would have cost over $30. Too bad. I remember really enjoying this castle, especially reading the 200-year-old graffiti left by British prisoners of war during the Napoleonic era.

Tarascon Castle

We crossed the river to Beaucaire, which also has the ruins of a castle, and an atmospheric medieval town centre. The place was shut up tight, though. The only businesses open were Halal grocery stores - the neighbourhood appears to be heavily populated by immigrants. We walked up to the castle and around it. The Mistral had let up a bit and the sun was out. We made one last half-hearted attempt to find a place to eat in Beaucaire and then decided to cut our losses and head for home.

This time we would steer clear of the toll roads. We gave Miss TomTom the afternoon off and Karen navigated using nothing but a 2003 Michelin road atlas. True! Trouble is, if you don't drive the autoroutes here, it takes hours longer to get anywhere. The French have embraced the roundabout, a feature we think of as distinctively British, with gusto. Every kilometer or so, you have to slow down for another one and try and figure out which exit to take and how to avoid side-swiping other motorists. It took us over an hour and a half to get home. We turned Miss TomTom on before entering Montpellier and she guided us back to the apartment, no problem.

Karen and I have been watching Fargo on Netflix (our Netflix account works on the French service, which, surprisingly, has more English content than French.) So that's what we did that night and the two since. Caitlin had already seen the series but loved it so much, she was happy to see it again.

Montpellier, Ecusson

Sunday was a day for exploring Montpellier. We spent almost two hours wandering in the medieval centre, the Ecusson - so called because, on a map, the area is shaped like an heraldic escutcheon. The place is riddled with little artisanal shops and boutiques, a shopper's paradise, but also very evocative of...je ne sais quoi, something, olde worlde. The weather was fine, sun shining, the Mistral becalmed, and people were out strolling. It was pleasant just to get lost in the maze of narrow, twisting streets.

Montpellier, Ecusson: Wrecked Bike by Salvador Dali

We ended up at a restaurant for lunch near Les Halles Castellane market. It was quite a new place, with a young crew, possibly the owners, managing it. The food was excellent and very reasonably priced, unlike quite a few of the places in this neighbourhood. Its name - Iles et Thé une Fois - is untranslatable (at least by me), but the food is très bon.

Place de la Comédie

In the afternoon, we visited the Musée Fabre, the major art museum in town, founded by a local artist, François-Xavier Fabre, in 1825. The place was closed for renovations when we came here eight years ago. It's open now, and very impressive, with beautifully renovated rooms in one of the 19th century hôtels particuliers (town mansions), and a large permanent collection that runs to second-tier old masters, with some modern stuff, including by local artists. The best of it, for me, were the two very nice Reubens, a whole room devoted to Courbet and a lovely painted portrait by Sonia Delaunay, a not-so-well-known early 20th century French painter and fabric artist.

Pieter Paul Reubens

Sonia Delaunay

Monday was a work day for Caitlin. She had a telephone interview, for a job at the National Trust (editing their website), in the late afternoon. She wanted to go for a walk in the morning to distract herself and then spend the afternoon preparing for the interview. So that's what we did. We walked up to the Place Royal du Peyrou, a 17th century promenade with a pretty, recently restored faux-Greek temple. Very French, very formal, patterned after Parisian parks, with espaliered plane trees, statues, fountains, gas lights. People were walking, jogging, exercising their dogs. (Looks like a good place for me to run.)

Place Royal du Peyrou

The cathedral, Cathédrale Saint-Pierre de Montpellier, is not far away, so we walked there too. It seems massive because it's surrounded, at very close quarters, by residential buildings and it's at the bottom of a hill. The conical towers at the front rise up like rocket silos. The outside architecture is impressive and unusual, but inside it's just another gothic cathedral. We meandered around in the old town, mostly through university areas. At one point, we could hear music issuing from behind closed doors and windows - a marimba, a clarinet - and then a little further on, saw the entrance to a school of music, dance and dramatic arts. And then we took Caitlin home to work.

Cathédrale Saint-Pierre de Montpellier

Ecusson

In the late afternoon, Karen and I vacated so she could do her interview in private. We wandered down to Antigone, through Place de la Comédie, which was bustling with activity and people in a way we hadn't seen it before. We went  all the way to the river, and then back to  Comédie for a little marketing at a very crowded Monoprix.

Antigone, River Lez

Epilogue: Caitlin thinks the interview went well. Fingers crossed.