Eugenia Keegan

A week of family vacation is a true rest.  “Enjoyed” fully it restores not just the body but some core sense of being that only comes with family history. I put enjoyed in quotes because of the chiaroscuro that comes with the pain/pleasure of looking inward.  Family interactions demand family “bare your soul” kinds of evolution and inevitably there is some catharsis.  For me it is one of those things that I love and hate.  I always prosper from the experience, but it painfully peals away another leaf of insulation.

I had one final weekend before the last week of work and then home.  With no prior obligations to burden my thinking I pulled out the map to find some new territory.  I thought that I had read that Mirepoix was the capital of copper pots and with fantasies of one day having a kitchen of my own in France I headed out on Saturday morning with a destination.

As I was driving along my designated route I saw a sign for Limoux.  I had wanted to see that town as well; home of Blanquette de Limoux one of the world’s most delightful quaffs…and at full throttle, an up on two wheels left turn had me on a detour.

The town was incredibly vibrant.  I arrived around 11:00 on a picture perfect Saturday morning in the springtime.  Puffy clouds, razor sharp sunshine, a light breeze bordering on warm…you get the idea.  There was a market in the middle of town which came as no surprise but the streets seemed to be teaming with people.  Every weekend in May and June includes some kind of fête or celebration, often to wine, and people seem to truly enjoy the excuse to be out and about…and chatting!

After a short walk about town I was back on the road returning to my original destination, Mirepoix.  Coming out of Limoux I picked up the D620 and found myself driving through yet another spectacular valley in France.  I thought often about stopping to photograph the area but the spectacular nature of the hillsides would have been lost with my technology and ability.  What interests me is how what appear to be remote valleys have obvious “tree farms” up and down the hillsides.  If this is what it appears to be, managed forests inside natural habitats my compliments to the French.  There were no raped patches in among the wooded areas.  I can’t say whether or not it works economically, but it sure works ecologically.  A tear drop drive.

From the valley I hit farm land that was wide and open.  Agriculture shifted from tree farms to animal farms as this area allowed for fields of open grazing.  The landscape was incredibly picturesque.

Entering the town of Peyrefittes-du-Razès

First Town of the Valley

Moo

Food for Moo

Maison for Moo

Another Moo Another Town

Mirepoix is a bit of a surprise for someone that does not realize what “medieval city” means in France.  Even I, at 5’ 2” would be banging my head on ceilings and overhangs in this town.  It was an amazing site to see as the reality of time and change (especially marked by size) are visually in front of one.  Our ability to feed ourselves and prosper physically is abundantly (all puns intended) clear.

Food in an American tourist town is to be avoided at all costs.  The opposite is often true in France (and other old world cities as well).  I ended up in a lovely spot but with an odd premise.  The restaurant had a serious patisserie and then this add on lunch place. The menu was somewhat eclectic with only nominal hommage to the usual entrecôte et frites.  I ended up with a pasta with tandoori chicken and it was one of the best meals I have had in ages.  Delicate pâte, sweet chicken, lightly coated in a cream sauce exuding spices of turmeric, coriander, cumin, ginger, and Garam Masala.  Weird…medieval town, exotic food.   Yum!

Mirepoix Cathedral

The Scene from Lunch

Medieval Homes

New Commerce, Old Venue

From Mirepoix (oh, not sure about the pots but I saw no evidence of them!) I headed to Foix.  I missed the turn completely as the town of Foix was not along this new and improved road. My error took me through a long tunnel as I overshot the town.  Really amazing the way the Europeans tunnel through rock. Why does it seem different?  I flipped my way back along the side/town roads that twisted and turned, but mostly followed the tunnel.  I wanted to stay in Foix that night so made that the next objective.  During my round about method of returning to the city I noticed a small lake just north of town.   There I found a delightful hotel with an overlook to the lake, a perfect spot for the night.

The town of Foix turned out to be charming.  The sun does not set until late and there is time each evening for a long “sunset”.  I found mine in town and then lakeside.

"Street Sign" for Local School, Foix

Foix, Cared for by Their Castle

Sunset on My Lake

Final Sunset Swim with the Ducks

Family vacations were not a part of my childhood and in fact, vacations were not much a part of my early life.  I feel a sadness about this and accordingly, they are now an annual fixture in planning.  And let me be clear,  I am making up for lost vacations now….and have no plans to stop.

Last spring when I made my pilgrimage to France, it included a short week in Italy with my brother, his Italian wife Cinzia, and their daughter, now nine, Giulia.  When I emailed Paul that I would be returning to France in spring, but sadly as this was now solely business I would not have the time to pop over to Italy, he took matters squarely in hand and volunteered his family to come to France.  We quickly settled on Lanquedoc and he proceeded to find for us what turned out to be a simply fabulous gîte.  If you are heading in that direction check out Domaine de Curé just outside of Carcassone.

Our hosts were Jean-Noël (American/Japanese born in Geneva) and his wife Agathe, who is French.  They found each other in Japan and after very successful careers decided to exchange the fashion and fame of Tokyo for a bucolic setting in the French countryside.  There are three units and with everyone respecting others’ privacy it was a delightful week with a blend of many social encounters.  We of course were the most rambunctious party (rowdy Americans, vocal Italians and a hot wired nine year old) as our neighbors were German (one couple in their late 20’s, early 30’s, and the other in their 50’s) with no kids.  One couple was returning for their second year and another for their 3^rd year.

Our week included a trip on the Canal Midi, the cité of Minerve, the castle at Lastours, lots of swimming, eating, and just being.  Giulia ran a series of snail races and repeatedly beat me at hangman. When we were not engaged in sporting events or intellectual sparing,  we watched Disney movies in multiple languages, and giggled a lot.  (Truly, the chipmunks in Italian are a riot!).

I arrived at 6:10, they arrived at 6:18, picture taken at 6:30!

After 10 1/2 Hours in the Car.....a Just Reward!

Locks Closing, Canal Midi

A French Fieldtrip: Biking Along the Canal Midi

Leaving Carcassonne

Brother Paul Relaxing....Playing his Daughter's Nintendo

Looking Out

Kids at Play

Managing the Snail Races

I noticed after publishing photos that I do not have any of Cinzia.  Giulia had a new super camera and was the official family photographer and only on occasion did I remember to grab my camera.  I will try to rectify this.  It would take only a flash to see that Giulia’s quiet beauty comes from her mother.  Her strong will and determination???

I received an email from a dear friend with whom I have travelled to France on more than one occasion (including last spring).  Her French is very good, but she too is a bit timid launching into the language. However having said that, we ALWAYS called upon and counted on Dana whenever we needed something really important (like reservations at a three star restaurant or a famous wine estate).   She never let us down.

In her email she asked, “So, how’s your French?  Let me put it right out there that without any qualification:  My cellar French is exceptional!  As those words hardly work elsewhere, what happens outside the cellar?  What I have learned more than anything else is a level of confidence that allows me to openly bastardize this beautiful language without much shame.  I am over being timid.  In fact, recently when asked to repeat my order to a somewhat intoxicated hanger on at a small bar in Béziers I answered in French, “Just for you sir I will repeat myself very slowly.  This might help you (gesture here) understand”. My glass of wine and sandwich arrived promptly.

This is my last post from France for this trip.  My plane leaves in a couple of hours.  A post script from stateside is forthcoming.  Á tout á l’heure!

Béziers turned out to be a very interesting city.  As Malcolm said it is indeed a working city.  There are not really any tourist destinations, however a city of this age has plenty of interesting historical sites.  The city itself is busy, sometimes loud, a bit dirty, and always on the move.  There is a large ethnic mix which keeps the tradition evolving.  The cuisine certainly mirrors this.  I suppose my only real complaint is the overwhelming amount of dog pooh.  Truly, it a site to behold.  The sweepers come through three days a week.  They are followed by a large “hotsy” that then washes off the brushes.  I wanted to do a post that was only pictures of the offending goo.  Although some people would think it funny and perhaps artsy (think the Brooklyn Art Museum exhibition Sensation), others (think my mother) would consider it in very poor taste.  Suffice to say, the mothers won out.

Tourist town or no, I found some lovely sites.

My Neighborhood

Next Street Over

Local Afternoon Hangout

Allées Paul Riquet, The Center of All Life

Pierre-Paul Riquet, Founder Canal du Midi

Looks Like They Moved!

Friday Market

Lunch!

Choice of 'Shrooms

Local Fish Stand

Amusement Along the Allée

Local Harvest Celebration

Fountain Along the Allée

Local Inhabitant

No wine related trip to the Languedoc is complete without a visit to Mas de Daumas Gassac.  This now famed property was stumbled upon by Véronique and Aimé Guibert in 1970 while house hunting. A visit from Professor Enjalbert  in 1971 and his pronouncement that this property could create a Grand Cru launched the planting of Cabernet Sauvignon the following year.   Renowned Bordeaux consultant Emile Peynaud began advising in year one of vinification and by 1982 Gault et Millau proclaimed Mas Daumas Gassac the Château Lafite of the Languedoc.  What is amazing here is how the brand is the feature and not the appellation.  The wines are bottled as Vin de Pays de l’Herault and yet command some of the highest prices enjoyed by any wine from the Languedoc. The owners have never looked back.

Vineyards of Aniane

Local Dirt

Another Look

Daumas Gassac Estate Vineyard

The Two Local Great Estates

First Stop

Main Attraction....Exceptional!

Welcome

Ancient Forklift

Local Flora