La Maison Francaise

Ever wonder what a medieval house in a French village is like?  Read on.  The house that we are renting for 3 weeks in Montlaur, France, is a delightful, medieval row house of sorts, located right in the village.  I don't think that "row house" is a term used for these dwellings but they are, in fact, built altogether, attached on every side, except the street side, to another dwelling.  This arrangement saved space and offered protection within the village in the days of warring factions.  New houses in France are usually built on a plot of land with a small lawn - the way that we are familiar with.  But these old, old houses are oozing with charm that the new ones just don't have.  Of course, they come with lots of problems, I'm sure, and require imagination to transform them into comfortable living spaces for modern living.  The most intriguing ones have been modernized without sacrificing the antique ambiance.  It seems that foreigners, perhaps romantic foreigners, are especially drawn to them.  Guess I'm one of them!

"Our" house here in Montlaur has lots of nods to its ancient past, and the New Zealand owners have filled it with antiques and with paintings, etc. that speak of its location here in the Corbiere hills south of Carcassonne.  The walls of the house are amazingly thick, approximately 30 inches.  Each room has a large French window.  The house consists of three stories, each with two rooms and a central corridor between the two.  I can't help but wonder what the original lay-out was.  It can change drastically over the centuries.  

The central corridor.  Straw hats and shopping bag are ready for an outing.  Livingroom is to the left, and kitchen is to the right.

Now, there is a livingroom (salon, en francais) and an eat-in kitchen on the first floor.  Both rooms have fireplaces, and all the rooms have huge, rough hewn black ceiling beams that support the building.  Because the streets are very narrow, when the windows are open and we're sitting at the kitchen table, passersby often feel obliged to say "bonjour" to us.  A couple of days ago, our neighbor passed a freshly picked head of lettuce through the window!  Another neighbor lent us a book through the window.  No need to bother with the formality of ringing the doorbell and coming inside.

Desk in front of the living room window where we like to sit to write or use the computer.

                                    Bruce tucking into his daily croissant next to the kitchen window.    

The old red clay tiles on the stairway leading to the second and third levels are worn smooth from thousands (millions ?) of footsteps. The passageway is narrow and curves its way upward.

The second level is taken up by one large bedroom and a second smaller one, along with the bathroom -  obviously a new addition since the old days.  All of the rooms on these first two levels have reasonably high ceilings, though some of the doorways are lower and require caution for tall folks like Bruce.  Like colonial houses in Maine, there are no closets in the bedrooms.  The large bedroom has a huge armoire as a substitute. It and the large dresser and bed must have been brought in through the window, as it's hard to believe that they could ever have fit up through the stairway.

                                      The smaller bedroom that has great light all day.

                                The big bedroom looking down on the really narrow street.

The stairs continue on up to one low-ceilinged room on the third floor.  It's a cozy spot and has been made more cheerful with the addition of a skylight in the ceiling, as well as the glass door leading to an outdoor terrace.  There had been a second room up there, too, presumably, but the roof and much of the walls of that room have been removed to make the terrace.  It's a sun sink that gets very hot and bright during the day.  Usually, it's very sheltered, as the walls are chest high. Great for growing lavender and drying laundry.  But when the fierce winds blow, they threaten to unleash the laundry and send it whipping through the village.  One evening Bruce and I tried to eat supper there but had to give up when our lettuce kept blowing off the plates!   On a calm, late evening, however, when the sun is down but the sky is still pale and light, it's a lovely place to sit with a glass of wine and listen to the sounds of the town - the church bells, the doves cooing, the occasional human voice echoing off the stone walls of the houses.  

                                                           Rooftop terrace

We have only one more day in this sweet house.  After that, we'll be doing some exploring in the Pyrenees Mountains and then making our way to Bordeaux in time for Quatorze Juillet, French Independence Day.  It's been a wonderful spot to relax and enjoy cooking and reading and feeling settled for a bit.  

It is all about the food!

(You've been waiting for it.  Well, here it is: a post written by Bruce!)

It is all about the food!

One of our fun discoveries during our sojourn in Spain was the quality and variety of the food.   We had spent only a brief time in Spain in 2006, but during this current trip, we have had a chance to learn more about the great food traditions of this country.  It helped enormously to have Andrea, our helpful guide to all things Spanish and a fellow foodie, introduce us to Spain's cuisine.  She met us at the airport and whisked us immediately to an open air market for a little nosh of stuffed olives and white wine.   This was followed by more eating at a small tapas place that gave us a real introduction to the variety of food on offer.   We had 4-5 dishes, including egg and potato tortilla, fried squid, chorizo, bean and tomato dip, a cheese plate, and more olives.  All of this at 11 PM, which is customary in Spain but way past my bedtime and at the far end of my tolerance range.

                                          The olive bar at the San Miguel Mercado

                                       Raw oysters on offer at the San Miguel Mercado

Tapas: tender calamari, Manchego cheese, cheese croquettes, chorizo (at top), potato tortilla.

At her apartment, Andrea taught us how to make the lovely egg and potato tortilla, supplied us with some cheese, and provided two bottles of red Spanish wines as a way to continue our lesson in Iberian cuisine.   She also made a lovely paella of fresh seafood and took us to an Argentinian resto late one evening, where we sampled a variety of empanadas – meat or veggie stuffed turnovers – accompanied by wine, of course. 

                                                  Andrea's delicious seafood paella

                                                     Argentinian empanadas

We took a couple of day trips to Toledo and Segovia where Andrea introduced us to marzipan, for which Toledo is famous, and a traditional Segovian pork dish which consisted, essentially, of the back quarter of a baby pig.   It didn’t look or sound that appealing, but it was quite delicious with crispy skin and tender – fall-off-the-bone – meat.  We had several other dishes – roast vegetables tapas and a plate of large butter beans cooked in tomato and garlic – lovely.  While we were with Andrea, we also tried roast bull’s tail, sausages, Serrano ham, and gazpacho.

                                                                   Roast pig leg

                                           Creamy, smooth gazpacho served in a glass

We were duly impressed with the food culture of Spain that seems as robust and varied as we’ve known in France.   This impression was reinforced when we traveled to Barcelona, where the food is different, with more emphasis on seafood.   This is our new favorite city and rivals Paris for its grand boulevards, wide sidewalks, and café culture.   Of course, we were there in June when eating outside was pleasant, and we took full advantage of the situation.  We ate outside at every opportunity, which was easy since it stayed light until 10 P.M. – which is when most people have their evening meal.  It seems strange in the telling but, after a few days in Spain, we adjusted to this schedule.   Usually, we didn’t have breakfast until 9 or 10am, ate our mid-day meal around 2:30pm, and dinner at 10pm – very odd for us New Englanders.

                                                   Coffee at an outdoors cafe

We loved the fresh fruit available in the numerous outdoor markets – especially the apricots and cherries which were just coming into season.   We bought wine, olives, cheese, bread and fruit to supplement our main meals.   We were surprised to find that the Spanish, like the French, have a reverence for good bread, and we were able to buy fresh croissants, rolls, and baguettes at the bakeries located on every block.  We just touched the surface of Spanish food during our stay there, but it a subject that is worth further exploration and sampling.  It seems strange that we should know so little about this cuisine. But we realized that there are few Spanish immigrants to the USA, at least in our area, thus few Spanish restaurants, so that there isn’t the same tradition of familiarity that we have with foods from other countries.   We’ll have to experiment more with Spanish food with our cooking group when we return.

                                  Barcelona mangoes, oranges, watermelon, and cherries

                                                Bare Barcelona bunny bottoms!

Summer Days in the South of France

Bruce and I are now settled for 3 weeks in the village of Montlaur, not far from Lagrasse, where we spent 6 months in 2006.  It's in the Corbiere hills, in the Languedoc area of France, just north of the Pyrenees.  We had wanted to spend some time unpacked and a bit settled in a place where we could cook our own food and spread out.  The added bonus is that we have old friends here, who introduce us to their friends, so there's rather a ready-made community, which is lovely.

Last Sunday we drove to a nearby village for a gathering of farmers selling locally produced cheese, wine,  escargots, and bread.  Our friends from our time in this area in 2006, Barbara and Allan, had alerted us to this event even before we arrived in Montlaur.  We had it written in ink on the calendar.  It turned out to be a quintessential French countryside happening, complete with tables set up under grapevine arbors and cyprus trees.  We sat in a small island of English speakers among a sea of French bon vivants.  I met a woman from Scotland, younger than I, I'm sure, but retired from the BBC in Edinburgh. and her husband, a Scottish violin maker, who own a summer home in Montlaur.  They were ordinary, friendly folks, great company for a summer afternoon.  Near them sat Anne Marie, a French widow who was married to a Brit, now returned to her family's hometown. Next down the row were Helen and Peter, an out-going Australian couple who had befriended us at an impromptu outdoor musical evening in Montlaur.   Bruce and I chatted with Allan and caught up on news since we last saw him and Barbara in 2008.

                                             The cellier where the wine was being sold

The merry-making was set up behind "a chateau", a wine-producing operation in the middle of fields bursting with neat orderly rows of grape vines, overlooked by dry rocky mountains.   A cool, dirt-floor "cellier" offered a nice selection of the chateau's wine, and outside tables were loaded with other delicacies, including  frites (French fries) and raw pieces of magret (duck breast) which they would grill for you.  As I looked around at the people socializing at tables, I couldn't help but feel that we were part of a Monet painting, all dappled light with friends in straw hats, eating and drinking together in the warm summer air.

The day before, Bruce and I had taken out the bikes at our rental house.  We rode out of town along a one-lane road lined with plane trees.  I shall never tire of that classic scene, the tree trunks a soft motley gray and brown, standing slightly bowed but in perfect symmetry!  At the tiny hamlet of Requy, we had turned onto a track that was paved at first and then just a rocky lane.  It led us out into the sunny open vineyards, past a busy "chateau" with workers tending the vines and up, up, up to a sun-drenched stretch where we could look down into the beautiful pastoral valley, partitioned into hay fields, and wheat fields, and lots of vine fields.   A steady breeze kept us from getting too hot.  Wild flowers along the roadsides grabbed my attention.  Then down onto a stretch along a busier highway - the least fun part of the excursion.  We arrived back in our little village for a beer at the only brasserie in town.  

                           Bruce is pedaling along the plane tree lined road to Requy

Later in the afternoon we drove over to Lagrasse to visit our British friends, John and Mary, now in their 80's and still among the most interesting and fun folks we know.  We were treated to tea and a tour of Mary's (Mary Fernandez Morris) artwork.  You can google her and see some of her pieces yourself.  Mary and infamous dog, Theo, who jumps over electric fences in order to run amok in the village, walked us back to our car.  

                     Mary and John Morris and dog Theo in front of their home in Lagrasse

From there we returned to Montlaur for an evening "fete de St. Jean", an annual June celebration in Roman Catholic cultures.  Earlier in the day, we had seen the townspeople setting up for it in the plaza, and the party was in full swing when we arrived.   Heaping platters of mussels and frites and glasses of wine were being served at long tables, along with a lively helping of local music.  As Helen said, ""The French take their music very seriously!"  I think by that she means not "serious" but always a staple part of public gatherings - and great fun!  I couldn't help but think of the Quebecois and Acadians in Canada and their similar joie de vivre.  We especially enjoyed a troupe of guys playing brass instruments, dressed in black top hats and mismatched tux's, weaving their way among the audience, doing physical antics along with their amazing music.  Their obvious delight was infectious.  Bruce can't stop talking about it.  We toddled back to 2, Rue Petite Cantonne, at 11pm, having had a wonderful day.  

                              Lively, local musicians at Fete de St. Jean in Montlaur

Yesterday we drove up to the Canal du Midi, where Bruce and I had spent a week boating with Jon and Deb four years ago.  An incredible engineering feat of many centuries ago, it is a truly magical place now, quiet and peaceful, bordered by vineyards and small towns, with the occasional canal boat slowly plying the waters.  We hope to rent bikes one day soon and take a ride along the path beside the canal, perhaps with a picnic.  

                                    Large "hotel" canal boat on the Canal du Midi

Our days here in Montlaur are tolled out for us by the church bells which ring every hour, then three dongs at the half hour.  Such an ancient tradition.  It's comforting during the day but disturbs the sleep at night.  Windows need to be closed at bedtime - unfortuately.  But that serves to muffle the sound tremendously.  

                               Village church that rings the hour out over the roofs of Montlaur

Our French neighbors are warm and sweet.  Conversation is limited to greetings but the sense is that they are glad to have visitors, even temporary English-speaking ones, who help to keep the village populated and the traditions alive.   

Our rental house is a story unto itself, which I'll write about next time.   

Beautiful Barcelona

Bruce and I were in Barcelona for 4 1/2 days.   What a fantastic city!  Rivals Paris in beauty -  and the weather is probably better!  The amazing architecture, the history, the ambiance, the food, the sea, the warm weather, the cleanliness, the feeling of safety, the liberal politics - it all combined to make for an absolutely delightful destination.  We love to explore a new city on foot and this city is so walk-able, with broad sidewalks, well-labeled streets, and beauty that just doesn't quit.  There was an outdoors culture, with tables on every street corner, great for people watching, and others in hidden, quiet little plazas where you could get a coffee and just muse.  Lots of theaters.  Lots of outdoor sports.  The city had its origins as a Roman town, and vestiges of the Roman presence can still be seen, as well as all the other eras since then.  There must have been an enormous building spree around 1890 - 1910, as there are so many grand, ornate buildings from that time period.

                                  Pleasant sidewalk eating on a beautiful sunny day.

                           The waterfront, a lovely place to relax or skateboard or sail.

Our accommodation in Barcelona was interesting.  Because Europe is so expensive, Bruce came up with a slightly funky but, as it turns out, delightful arrangement.  We stayed in an urban B&B in someone's apartment.  This young couple, he Argentinian and she Dutch, have an apartment with a couple of spare rooms that they are using to run a B&B.  Actually, I would call it a "B":  no breakfast unless you pay extra, which is fine. It gives you an option.  The building was one of the elegant old ones on the main drag, Gran Via, with an antique elevator which slowly climbed to the 5th floor apartment.  Our room was clean and cheerful and definitely had a woman's touch in decorating - and it had wifi, an essential for us these days!  There was only one shared bathroom for the guests, as well as Luis and Melanie,  but it worked out fine.  (Kinda like the farmhouse in Devon.)  Luis was very helpful with suggestions for the city.

                            Bruce, ready to enter our antique elevator, to lift us 5 floors.

                           Our pretty room in Luis and Melanie's "Si Si Claro" B&B

We spent our days exploring the city, going one evening to the beach, where I dipped my toes in the Mediterranean, another evening to a sports bar to watch Spain play Ireland (successfully), another day on a guided walking tour of the oldest area of the city.  After a few days to get our bearings, Bruce and I went our separate ways one morning and met for lunch at a favorite little sidewalk cafe, run by a Chinese family but serving Spanish food.  I was eager to see the Gaudi buildings, and he was eager to not be "herded" anywhere.  I happily zoomed around for 3 hours non-stop, guidebook in hand, tracking down addresses, viewing the most remarkable architectural creations.  What a playful and creative genius Gaudi was!  He was not the only "modernisme/art nouveau" architect, but he is the most famous and the most outlandish.  One of his apartment complexes is on the UNESCO Heritage List.   (I just learned that Spain has the 2nd most sites on the list, after Italy.)  I had a peek into the interior courtyard of La Pedrera apartment building.  It rose up in undulating shapes with purple sparkly surfaces.  It made you smile just to see it.

(here & below:)

Gaudi's La Pedrera apartment building, a UNESCO Heritage Site

Gaudi's Casa Batllo with its beautiful mosaic facade and amazing scaled roof & tower.

One afternoon we walked over to the Joan Miro Park, where a giant Miro sculpture, in typical bold primary colors, overlooks one corner of the park.  Instead of the expected grass lawn, the surface of the park was hard sand with palm trees casting interesting shadows and small pools offering the soothing sound of running water - and a children's library!  Inside the library, my eye fell on a book on display by American children's  author, Jeanette Winter, whom I was familiar with.  I was intrigued to find an American author featured on a shelf in Barcelona and picked up the book called The Librarian of Basra.  It is a true story about a librarian who saved thousands of books by hiding them everywhere, as the Iraqi war with America began to rage.  I was touched to find this story, translated into Spanish and offered to the children of Barcelona, emphasizing the love of literature that knows no political boundaries.

                                                     Shadows in the Joan Miro Park.

                                     Towering Joan Miro sculpture in the park named for him.

                                             Child reading inside the Joan Miro Library.

Barcelona is the capital of the Catalan area of Spain.  Catalonia spread up into France, encompassing the southern area where we had lived in 2006.  The Catalan language is the second language, officially, in Barcelona, and everything is written in both Spanish and Catalan.  It seemed to me to be a melange of Spanish and French, as the word for exit, which is salida in Spanish and sortie in French, is sortida in Catalan.  The Catalans are very proud of their culture and language.  It's interesting how many places are trying to hold onto an ancient, now minority, language, as with Gaelic in Scotland and Tamil in southern India -  and Downeast in Maine (?).  Ayuh!

On our last day in Barcelona, before we caught a late afternoon train north to Perpignan, just over the border in France, Bruce and I took the metro to Gaudi's renowned Park Guell, where his imagination had run rampant!  It is an amazing place, with whimsical buildings and all manner of rock and cement overhangs, made to look natural.  It's hard to believe that one man could have orchestrated all of it.

                                     One of Gaudi's whimsical buildings in Park Guell.

                    Some of Gaudi's rock & cement natural look-alikes in Park Guell.

                                        Ooh, I do love lavender - the plant, the color, the scent!

Our few days in sunny Barcelona flew by - with Bruce wondering what it would be like to spend the winter there.  He wonders that about a lot of places.  I guess that even after 10 months of travel, he still has some wanderlust left.

We're now settled into a medieval home in the sleepy southern France town of Montlaur, not too far from the town where we lived for 6 months in 2006.  We'll be here for 3 weeks, taking a break from all the arranging of hotels, trains, rental cars, packing and unpacking, banking in strange places, etc.  Nothing but good wine and cheese, baguettes, fresh salads, lavender blooming on the terrace in the warm sun, and quiet days punctuated by the sound of church bells and birds and excited children just released from school.  Ahhh.   We'll be missing Peggy and Roger's magical solstice party in their garden but will think of you all as the official start of summer begins.  Enjoy!  

Medieval towns

Like so many other friends whom we've stayed with during our big long adventure, Andrea has been eager to share her city and the rest of her beautiful country. (I feel the same way about sharing Maine and all of its fabulous attributes with newcomers.)  Luckily, two amazing medieval cities, both UNESCO Heritage sites, are within striking distance of Madrid:  Toledo and Segovia.  On Thursday, the three of us  took the train to Toledo for a day trip, and on Sunday Andrea drove us to Segovia in her little Hyundai.

                                         Medieval entrance to the city of Toledo

Toledo is about a half hour southwest of Madrid.  For two reasons, we were very lucky that day - the weather was a bit cloudy and cool, which made it perfect for touring, and the city was beautifully decked out in flowers and aromatic herbs on the occasion of its annual celebration of Corpus Christi, a religious holiday.  Toledo is famous for its Jewish, Muslim, and Christian heritage.  Remnants of all three religious traditions can be seen in the architecture and the historic buildings of the city.  The narrow streets and the ancient ambiance are incredibly charming and sweep you up into another time.

                               Building facade decorated for the Corpus Christi holiday

                                       Flags hanging from the buildings in a square

Like most, if not all, strong medieval sites, Toledo is located high up on a hill, which gave it strategic advantage over any attackers.  For many years, the city was renowned for the craftsmanship of its knives and swords, which explains why we saw so many stores selling shiny metal swords - and suits of armor.

Since it IS all about the food, on our upward trek, Andrea (who is a "foodie", just like us), stopped to introduce us to one of Toledo's culinary treats, tiny marzipan pastries filled with almond paste.  Yum! For lunch, we settled in to one of Andrea's favorite outdoor cafes and ordered a platter of food that is typical of Toledo, mostly meat, including braised bull's tail!

                                                    A sampling of typical Toledo foods

Our day was spent following our knowledgable guide's lead for the most important places to visit in the city. Andrea began referring to us as "Dona Leenda" and "Don Bruno", introducing us to "our" palaces and special sites. These included the amazingly huge Cathedral, including the cloisters (usually my favorite part of a cathedral);  two ancient Jewish synagogues; another lovely Catholic church, and an old house, renovated back to the time of the artist, El Greco, who came from Greece to live in Toledo in the 16th century.  We saw a collection of El Greco's portraits of Christ's disciples, each with unique and emotional facial expressions.

One of the ancient synagogues, now called Sinagoga Santa Maria la Blanca, was built at the end of the 11th century and was the principal synagogue in the city at that time.   Its name is owed to the fact that, three hundred years later, it was converted to a Catholic sanctuary.  The simple white arches, topped with ceramic pine cones, are stunning.

                               Looking up at Sinagoga Santa Maria la Blanca, Toledo

The church known as St. John of the Kings Monastery was a special church for Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand.  It has a lovely two-story inside courtyard-type garden, the cloister, where the monks prayed.  Inside the sanctuary is a memorial to 36 priests who were killed in the Spanish civil war in 1936.

                  Looking down into the enclosed garden of St. John of the Kings Monastery

Incredibly, we spent about 7 hours touring Toledo, at a relaxed pace. Andrea's leadership was invaluable.  We left at the end of the day with a profound sense of history.

Segovia is about an hour's drive northwest of Madrid.  The first sight to greet us was the towering Roman aqueduct, dating back to the first century and built without cement or mortar!  It is so simple in design and yet dramatic in size and purpose.  It's hard to conceive that it's been standing for nearly 2000 years!

                                           Roman aqueduct in Segovia

Segovia was a bustling place on this Sunday, with many kids dressed in first communion outfits - white dresses for girls and suits for little boys - as well as a fair taking place, with lots of artisanal foods being sold in tents along the streets.  Andrea went on a buying spree, selecting sheep's cheese, pates, chorizo, Serrano ham slices, and crusty bread for our last feast that evening at her apartment.  We toured a bit, winding our way up the hill, past artists and interesting buildings, but soon decided that dinner was in order.  On a sunny plaza outside the beautiful huge cathedral, we shared a selection of foods typical of Segovia and Aragon: crispy roast leg of baby pig, a selection of roast vegetables, and huge white beans in a light tomato sauce - with wine, of course.  We certainly ate well under Andrea's guidance!

                                                   Artist en plein aire in Segovia

                                          Andrea selecting some delicacies from a vendor

                                                Textured designs on the walls of Segovia

                        Little girls in first communion dresses playing in the plaza

Our two destinations of note in Segovia were the beautiful, grand Catedral, of course, and the castle. Otherwise, we just roamed and absorbed the medieval atmosphere of narrow winding streets, windows with iron grill work, and the lovely textured designs of the walls, which are typical.  Being a senior citizen in Spain has its advantages, and Don Bruno and I were pleased to find that admission to the castle was half price for us - and a very reasonable fee.   We explored this fairy tale setting and really enjoyed learning more about Isabella and Ferdinand's home.

                                                     Isn't this a lovely cathedral?

                                                     Fairy tale castle of Segovia

As the day wound down, we noticed that the streets of Segovia had suddenly become deserted.  Everyone was at home - or in a bar - watching Spain play Italy in the quarter finals of the football Euro 2012 championship.  Although we could understand little of what was being said, we listened with interest and amusement to the radio as we sped back to Madrid.  In torrents of agitated emotion, the announcer yelled bombastically, trilling his R's in elongated, deep-throated descriptions of each play.  We all laughed at the intensity of sports in this very emotional nation.  The game ended in a tie.

Dona Leenda and Don Bruno are now in Barcelona, an absolutely fantastico city!