It's not Ireland

On Friday, Feb. 26th Randi and I headed out for my Irish homeland.

We had to drive an hour south to Carcassonne, to fly RyanAir out of their small airport. We pulled out of our underground parking garage, the sun was shining bright and it looked like a beautiful day. The first thing Randi said was "it's too bad we aren't staying in France this weekend, the weather report looks like it will be nice here". Looking back, it appears Saint Randi Mae predicted the future.

When we arrived at the small Carcassonne airport the first thing the lady at the counter said was "you know your flight is cancelled, right ?...right ?...hello ?" We were in a state of shock. She shouldda just said "you know you're f*cked, right ?" Apparently, the French Air Traffic Controllers went on strike for just that weekend. The strike 'concept' in France is very different than we know it. They plan strikes. They have annually planned strikes. And I think they really equate to more like scheduled vacation time. This particular weekend strike may have occurred just because of the excellent weather forecast for the weekend...that's a guess.

So our flight got canceled. It seemed the luck of the Irish was bad. We felt like crawlin under a shamrock. I mean...where's me lucky charms ? It was so disappointing at first. But after maybe 20 minutes of phone calls and finding free wireless internet, where we know we can, anywhere in France ("You deserve a break today") at McDonalds, we were able to successfully rebook the entire trip (hotels, car rental, airline) for the following weekend, without any cost to us...things didn't seem so bad. It was really nice out that day (mid 60s and sunny), it was Friday and we had the day off already. So we decided we would just keep driving south and head for the Mediterranean coast.

There were a couple cities we had drove past many times now, on our way to other destinations, that we decided we would take the time to see. The first one being Narbonne. You can see the mammoth Narbonne Cathedral (Cathédrale Saint-Just-et-Saint-Pasteur de Narbonne) from the highway.
We decided to make it our first stop and were not disappointed. As it turned out, we think we may have liked Narbonne more than any other town we visited that weekend. And we think the cathedral makes our Top 10 list of incredible number of cathedrals we've seen over the past year (it has to be on some kind of list). With the wind whistling through the walls and sun coming in and out of the clouds, at times beaming through the tall mountains of stained glass, the presence of God was plausible there. Outside we had a coffee in the main square where the Via Domitia was discovered during construction work there 30 years ago. It was the first Roman road built in Gaul (France), constructed in 118 BC. It was supposedly traveled by Hercules of all people.

From there we went to Beziers. This was a place we wanted to stop at for a while, along with Montsegor, as another part of our Cathar research. A very sad story took place there in the year 1209 when the Catholic holy war against Catharism, called the Albigensian Crusade was authorized by the Pope at the time. The Crusaders massacred the entire city, no one was spared, Catholic or Cathars. Not even when they took refuge in the churches. There is a famous quote from one of the commanders of the crusade. When asked by a Crusader how to tell Catholics from Cathars once they had taken the city, the abbot supposedly replied, "Kill them all, God will know His own". Very evil. The statue there, with the cathedral of Saint Nazaire in the background seems to speak of the event.

Finally we drove down to the coast to a small fortified town on the Mediterranean called Aigues-Mortes. The name in French means "dead waters". If I was in charge of tourism there, I might try to change that. It was really a special little town though, which could almost make the list of the Top 10 most beautiful villages of France but really...who wants "dead waters" on the list. We stayed in the 200 year old hotel named L'Hostellerie des Remparts. It is located inside the old walled city, at the foot of the ramparts. The hotel was a former garrison of knights, with stone walls and old exposed beams. The room looked very sparse, with high, empty walls but it had that romantic castle feel to it. Definitely nicer than the Dead Waters Inn down the road...just kidding. Out of our tall windows we looked right at the Tour de Constance monument there. That night we were worried we may not find a decent place to eat but to our surprise we ended up at the very sheik Restaurant Le Dit Vin. Randi had bouillabaisse and I ate 'the bull'. Everything, including the wine, was very good.

The next morning we drove into the bigger city of Montpellier and walked the inner city for a short time, before we both realized we just wanted to go back to our place and relax. It was nice to get home on Saturday, not do much of anything and have Sunday to take a little walking tour of Toulouse.

Fat Bitch

The other night Randi said she's turnin into a fat bitch. This was because she had a couple small slices of French bread. I'm looking at her from across the table, lathering up my 5th piece with butter and my first comment was "hey, can I blog that comment". To which she said with a depressed look "sure, go ahead" :)

She obviously is not fat at all. She's cute as ever and makes me laugh all the time.

In actuality it seems the 'fat bitch' in nearing extinction here in France. You almost don't ever see a woman you would call 'fat'. That said, the 'skinny bitch' is alive and thriving here. It's none of my business but they are everywhere, prancing around town, in their high heels and stockings.

DISCLAIMER: I have official spousal permission for this blog entry

Dordogne

On Saturday, Feb. 20th Randi and I drove north to the Dordogne region.

We came to Dordogne to see the charm of one of the most visited towns in France in Sarlat. We knew about their renowned market on Saturdays and we made it there by 11am to see this massive market, that covered most of the town. Randi immediately stopped at the first booth, to look at jewelery. Then the next booth to look at clothing. The the 3rd booth to look at soap!! We only had what looked like 10,000 more booths to go and I got a little spooked by this and yelled to Ran, from half a block away, "come on!". I was sorry for that 'American in a hurry' outburst. She picked it up nicely though and we walked most of the town as tourists. We saw the Cathedrale St-Sacerdos there, of course and we entered Étienne de La Boétie's house in Sarlat. He was a writer known for his essays against tyranny. He became one of the earliest advocates of civil disobedience and nonviolent resistance, outlining methods that Gandhi practiced almost 400 years later. His house had a wonderfully ornate exterior, with carving around the windows and doorway. They said that back in his day there was no door on the first floor, as it was common to have an arched doorway that left the first floor open to livestock and anyone I guess. Just the second floor living quarters were secured and closed. I started thinking how cool it would be to maybe start a trend in Edina of maybe having an open courtyard for a first floor. And redo the exterior with a rough plaster look. Maybe have a fake doorway appear to be bricked over. Have torches hanging off the outside of the house and have a bunch of wild chickens runnin around the yard. I suppose I'd have some splainin to do down at City Hall.


The Dordogne region historically has been situated at the boundaries of influence of the monarchies of France and England. For centuries it would oscillate between the two dynasties. It has been part of France now since the end of the Hundred Years War. But it seems the Brits still aren't ready to completely give it up, as it's said that Dordogne has become one of the favorite destinations of British immigration to France, (more than 20,000 in 2006). We visited two castles, out of the 1500 in the region. One was held by the French and the other, across the river, by the English. The French castle, Château de Beynac had more flair of course. We really enjoyed the views from top and the feel of the place itself. It focused on the daily life there.
We really liked the kitchen area and the how it catered to men who would arrive wearing 50 pounds of armor..."before eating you'll need to hang up your bow, put your shield on the wall and stick your sword into a slot at the end of the table...and wash your hands for God's sake." The castle the English occupied was across the river, the Château de Castelnaud. The focus there was medieval warfare. It was interesting seeing some of the authentic weapons, including the longbow and siege machines but we didn't like the layout of the place. It was a maze that we had to backtrack on the way we came in, to get back out. This was because at the time it started to rain hard and we wanted to avoid getting drenched walking the ramparts. I think my favorite part of the place was seeing the longbows of the 14th century, after recently reading a great book titled 'Azincourt' by Bernard Cornwell.

That night we stayed in Domme at the Hôtel L'Esplanade, which turned out to be a charming old hotel in a great location. Their rate was reasonable at 80 euros a night, when comparing to other hotels in the area. I woke up early the following morning and got an incredible view from our window, of the sun rising, with fog covering most of the valley floor. If I just had one of these fancy cameras like Jackson or my brother, Mike has (still in the box, in his closet)...man!, I couldda got a cool shot.

We visited La Roque-Gageac that Sunday morning. It is a small town built up against a cliff overlooking the Dordogne River, described as the jewel of architecture. We had hoped to climb the stairs that lead to the ancient cave homes built into the side of the mountain but it was closed. The town is designated as one of Les Plus Beaux Villages de France ("The most beautiful villages of France") but while it was beautiful, we felt it should be designated as Les villages les plus inhabités de la France ("The most uninhabited villages of France"). There was not one little bistro open for a coffee even. What the fa!! I could go around France on a Sunday and make a killing, setting up a small booth selling shots of expresso, some cheese, Ricard and begets of bread...kind of a life-saving French oasis.

Before heading home, we decided take the short ride back to Domme to visit their caves there, that was open to tour at 2pm. There are limestone caves everywhere in the area. These were by no means the best-rated in the area but we didn't want to add any extra miles to our trip. On the way back from La Roque to Domme, my GPS, as usual, took us on the road less traveled but because of it, we did get to come across seeing a borie or stone hut, that the area is known to have. We saw it about 20 yards from the road, back into the woods. We parked and walked into a quiet wooded area, to take a few pictures of it. I wasn't sure if it was private property we were walking on and as we got closer we realized it was actually in the middle of a paintball field. There were small barricades setup all around us. We quickly took a few pics and got out there before any guns, of any kind, were fired at us. We did our underground cave tour in Domme with a French guide/kid, who knew English and catered to us by repeating most of his program to us specially. It was somewhat interesting but to me, once you've seen one stalactite drip and eventually join a stalagmite to form a column, what else is there to see? Actually, we did see a group of bats hibernating on the ceiling above us. Randi could barely stand there while the guide stopped us underneath them and explained in French what they were doing. For Randi's sake, I almost interrupted him to say "my wife is about to freak out...please get us out of here!"

I'd like to get back someday for a canoe trip down the Dordogne river. There were many outfitters and advertisements for that summertime adventure there. What are the odds for me to someday get back there for a canoe trip?...probably not good. If anyone is interested, let me know. I have a brochure to show you and it has a coupon for 1 Euro off...think of the savings!

Livin in the USA

We got back in town for a couple weeks. I actually was there from Jan. 20th until Feb. 8th, spending a few days in Chicago and the rest in Minneapolis.

I was able to see some of the perspective, that this French adventure was expected to give us and more.

First would be the difference between 'having family to hold' vs. 'not even having people around us from the same continent as we're from'. It was so nice to be able to hug and see 3 of our 4 children (Josh is in Colorado making snowboarding videos at college) and my brothers and their families in Chicago. One highlight was being able to see Alli's new apartment in Chicago, meeting her new boyfriend and then taking the long drive between Chicago and Minneapolis with her. Getting her undivided attention for 7 hours, seeing her smile and sharing a few laughs, was priceless.

Next would be 'having friends' vs. 'being strangers in a foreign land'. The two times we've returned to the US during this past year we've kind of over scheduled ourselves, just trying to see everybody. It's great to rekindle the friendships and feel as though we were lost but found again. Really great. Our friends are a very unique group of outstanding individuals. You could plan your entire existence around each and every one of them...and they almost all have partners who they've done just that with. But I realized on Saturday, Feb 6th, that I had been in town for 12 days and that was the first time I really felt like I was relaxing at home. When we are here in Toulouse, we are at the apartment almost everyday, unless we are traveling. We probably have less than 20 days of the past year where we were in Toulouse and had plans with work friends here.

Then I had a small epiphany (if I could use that word) half way through our trip at home, involving 'apartment life' vs. 'owning a house'. It happened the night we went to visit Kirsten and Jackson at their new apartment in the Loring Park area of Minneapolis. Before going over there I decided I had enough time to shovel my icy driveway. I walked out of the house and saw my side screen door has suffered damage, the service door on the garage wasn't shutting because of ice buildup, the garage door wasn't going all the way down automatically because of the cold weather, there was a large ice dam on my roof, there was way too much weight of frozen snow on my deck and it was a bitch trying to shovel my icy, neglected driveway. I finished that with just enough time to change my sweaty shirt and hop into JohnE's car. Then seeing how nice, new and orderly their apartment was, all the amenities there and their ease in living there, I started to think about how easy our place in France is. Although I usually attribute the French life being easy because of the location being 5000 miles away from everything else in our life. But that night I realized that it's a lot more than that. I really think I would like to move now someday into something a lot smaller...something with an easier life attached to it. Randi has been saying that to me for a while now and I would always say that I like having my space, my garage, my yard and all my shit. But now I'm starting to feel like maybe I could share all my shit with a group of people.

And finally I noticed the difference of 'backing a sports team with all your heart and soul' vs. 'not having any team to follow on a regular basis'. The anguish of getting so close to a championship, only to have it suddenly taken away because one too many players became interested in huddling and your 40 year old, most valuable player, decides to pull a high school type move. This team, who will remain nameless, may never win the whole thing. I find it ridiculous now that this whole season I thought the road to the Super Bowl may have went through Spain of all places...and that I had my brother-in-law skyping the entire game to me over the Atlantic...and that I planned our return flight around them possibly winning the Super Bowl. I think my mild interest in seeing a rugby game on, in a bar here and being able to indifferently say "gee, that looked like it may have been a good play", is a lot less stressful. But since I'm all about collage pictures right now, here is a homage to the joy throughout the year, that ultimately led to total depression...but I'm not bitter.