Toulouse is known as La Ville Rose due to its preponderance of pink brick buildings. No doubt we had become “pink blind” since we had already savoured the ambience of other pink cities such as Albi.

But Toulouse is the grand daddy of pink cities – the fifth largest in France, according to Wikipedia, and one of the fastest growing – possibly due to the aerospace industry (the home of Airbus.)

We spent three days exploring the sights - the Capitole, the local mairie administrative buildings, the Saint-Sernin Basilica, the largest Romanesque cathedral in Europe, and a number of excellent museums – Musee des Augustins,   Hotel d’Assezat (Bemberg Foundation), Musée Départemental de la Résistance et de la Déportation, and Musée des Antiques de Toulouse or Musée Saint-Raymond.

One of the highlights of Toulouse was my birthday dinner at a small restaurant called  Rose BonBon  (http://www.lerosebonbon.com/- referring perhaps to itself as the “Candy of Toulouse.” Tucked in a small Impasse not far from our hotel, we had a very spectacular meal and my first taste of foie gras (a “delicacy of despair” I later learned.  Alas, it will be the first and last time I will experience it.)

Toulouse was a lovely end to our months in southwestern France. 

Our stay at the gite is over and we are in Toulouse for a few days, then onto Munich, to visit our friends Hilde and Erik.

It has been an amazing, wonderful five weeks.  Although the weather disappointed us in Mazamet (grey, morning fog & cool), we always managed to drive up the valley or over the Montagne Noir to see a few hours of sunlight.

What has surprised us the most about France?

The French are very friendly and always helpful, despite our limited vocabulary and egregious Canadian “anglais” accent.  Smiles and laughter always greeted us.  People made an extra effort to explain things to us if we didn’t, at first, understand.

Food is very, very important in France.  Bread, cheese, meat, wine plus a pastry or two (and let’s NOT forget the chocolate….) - the shops and supermarkets are bursting with an amazing selection.  Personally, I think any country that has one entire supermarket aisle just for the display of chocolate has their priorities in the right place. 

Of course, wine takes at least two or three aisles.  And dairy products!!!! Who knew that there could be so many yogurts, dairy desserts, soft cheeses, hard cheeses, grated cheeses, packaged cheeses, sheep cheeses, cow cheeses, goat cheeses – and of course, that does not include the cheeses available at the “deli counter.”

But to counter the  importance placed on food and health (every village has numerous pharmacies and perfumeries and cosmetic boutiques), the majority of French people seem to smoke cigarettes. It is quite shocking.

Stats Canada says that British Columbia has the lowest percentage of smokers in Canada (about 15%) , so that may be why we are so aware of the high percentage of people here, including middle-aged women, who smoke.  According to some news resources, http://www.thestar.com/News/article/171276, only 25% of the French smoke, but we find that difficult to believe. Everyone, everywhere (on the street, in cafes, in restaurants) smokes – so much so that our clothes reek of smoke.

Interestingly, Rick Steves in his Paris guide, states that the reason French women are thin is because they walk alot, eat a lot of protein, and smoke.   I think he is probably correct.

Cigarettes are expensive here – they cost about 5€ a package ($7C) and most are American brands.  There is a large warning on the package about the impact on health but it does not seem to have affected the French public – to date.  According to French statistics, some 65,000 French people die each year from smoking-related illness or effects of second-hand smoke.

France hopes to ban smoking in restaurants and cafes effective February 2008.  It will be interesting to see if the government is able to effect successfully what will be a huge cultural change.

Another amazing fact about France is that, like Chile, most shops close at noon and reopen around 2:30 or 3:00 in the afternoon, and then close around 7pm. Most (if not all) shops and restaurants are closed on Sundays and many museums are closed on Mondays.  It means having to stock up with essentials (like wine and chocolate) on Saturday or suffer the consequences!

Finally, strikes are a way of life here in France.  In a magazine we picked up (like Maclean`s) there was a joke worthy of relating.  Three Frenchman are found alone in the Libyan desert and within three weeks, they are on strike against one another.  Because of the recent train strike, we opted to drive directly to Toulouse from Mazamet and fly from Toulouse to Munich. It seems that things should be returning to normal this week but one can never be sure. 

For the past five weeks, we have watched the greens and golden oranges of October turn to mid-November browns. Now, the bare branches on the forests and trees of southern France surround us so it is au revoir to Mazamet and Languedoc-Roussillon.

As we motored along a small road toward Montpellier, winding our way through the valleys along the river’s edge, we discovered our Southern France ”medieval-village” saturation point. 

“What does the guidebook say about this medieval village with the stunningly beautiful fortified wall?” asks Bill.

Referring to the Rough Guide, Lynda replies, “Cathedral was built in 1254, partially destroyed by the Crusaders; bridge and defensive walls still intact; some original timbers still in place in covered medieval market place at the centre beside the 16th century fountain…”

“Want to stop?”

“If you want to.”

There is a silence – it’s the ” ho-hum, yawn, just another medieval village” pause.

“OK, let’s keep going.”

At the beginning of our trip, we stopped at almost every village “of interest” but now, with further afield destinations in mind, we have become more discriminating.

Two medieval villages, however, we particularly enjoyed were Minerve and Mirepoix. Sadly, both are known as major sites of Cathar massacres.

Minerve is a tiny fortified village built on a small island in the middle of a very deep gorge of the River Cesse. 

In 1210, about 120 Cathars fleeing from Simon de Montfort, took refuge in the town. When it was finally taken by the Catholic crusaders, rather than surrender their beliefs, the Cathars committed mass suicide by jumping into the fires built by the crusaders.  It’s all about “location, location, location” for this amazing village. It is breathtakingly beautiful.

Mirepoix is located in rolling-hills farm country. 

Built in 1290 as a stronghold for a nobleman of the Levis family,  broad-arched, colourful timber-framed houses line the perimeter of the village square.  The 14th century Maison des Consuls, originally a courthouse, prison and town council chambers, is now a hotel. 

 

Over 100 wooden heads or faces are carved into the end of each of the supporting beams.

The baroque cathedral of St Maurice (started in the 14th century and consecrated in 1509) looms up in the centre of the Place beside the wrought iron market hall.

 

 All the shop windows had beautiful displays of local products – including Mirepoix foie gras and cans of cassoulet.

On our daily excursions, we aim to get back to our gite in Mazamet before nightfall so we find ourselves on the road in the late afternoon. The southern sun is truly golden against the dramatic ultramarine blue of the Languedoc-Roussillon sky. 

 

 Overlooking the Tarn.

I was interested in visiting Albi because of Toulouse-Lautrec, who was born here on November 24, 1864.   A museum featuring many of his early drawings and paintings are housed in the former archbishop’s palace, the Palais de la Berbie, which was built during the 13th century.  It was a museum I did not want to miss during our stay in Southern France.  

The city of Albi, a university town and prefecture of Tarn, is now one of our favourite French cities.  Bill described it as a “mini-Paris.” No doubt, sitting on a sunny Saturday afternoon at an outdoor cafe, eating an excellent French lunch and sipping “vin rouge” added to the experience – but the city has a prosperous, artistic/cultural atmosphere filled with fascinating cathedrals, museums and wonderful shops.

We parked our little Renault Clio underground parking lot below the Covered Market (much like the Granville Market but with stalls where you can try local wines!!)  where classical music plays through the speakers and each parking space is numbered and painted with great care and detail. 

The Toulouse Lautrec museum was an impressive site and the formal maze garden behind the palace overlooking the Tarn River added to the ambience.

But the city’s most impressive site is the red-bricked Cathedrale of Sainte Cecile, which dominates the old city’s centre. It is a massive building, constructed from 1282 to 1480,  built in the wake of the Albigensian heresy of the Cathars and the brutal crusade brought against it.

 Cathedrale

If you haven’t read Kate Mosse’s Labyrinth (available at your local public library), this crusade, lead by Simon de Montfort (think Atilla the Hun and Hitler as this guy’s “nicer and kinder” compatriots of cruelty) , involved the burning of 400 Cathares. In the aftermath of the bloodshed, the cathedral’s presence was intended to bear testimony to the Catholic faith, and its fortress-like exterior likely reflects this. It is one of the most visited cathedrals in France.

Inside the cathedral, the vault and walls were painted in 1512 and the endless, intricate, stone work and sculptures were completed around the Great Choir in 1485. The Last Judgement was painted at the end of the 15th century. 

 Stonework

We can understand why this is one of the most visited cathedrals in France.  The years of human artistic endeavour displayed in this one edifice is simply mind-boggling.

But there is an irony about the city of Albi that I haven’t quite figured out. On one hand, it celebrates the very short life (37 years) of one of France’s “best known” modern artists in a massive Palais.  Right next door, the Cathedral houses thousands upon thousands of hours of intricate, complicated artwork completed over centuries by hands and eyes no less talented than Lautrec’s, yet not one individual artist is recognized. 

What’s it all about? Not too sure, but we do know that Albi is about art and religion and culture and it is an amazingly vibrant, sophisticated city. 

 Chocolatier

The leaves of the Montagne Noir forests are fading to a golden brown, the bright yellows and marmalade oranges that we saw when we first arrived have almost disappeared. 

The sunsets  echo the colours of the forests below. 

Perhaps most lovely of all is the late afternoon sunlight that falls on the statues and rooftops in the medieval villages.

 We have been told that it is not a great season for “cepes”, the Boletus edulis mushroom, a species found world-wide but more common in France because of the oak and chestnut forests.  Bill was thrilled to find a cepe and we had a “mushroom omelette” for breakfast and both have survived to tell the tale.

A bit of a diversion today. We saw this on the local news channel and laughed (or cried, depending on your viewpoint.) What can we say, but the French love their pooches! The machine apparently costs around $30K (French poodle not included.)

 Here’s the link if you can’t see the video below: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgAFC66khpg

This is the tale of two cities – both renovated to their original splendour but each with its own unique ambience.

The old city of Carcassonne, about 22 kilometres south of Mazamet, was added to the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites in 1997.  It’s impressive and swarms of tourists buzz around the site every year – including the day we visited – All Saint’s Day or November 1st.

Much of the old fortress of Carcassonne, however, is mostly mid-19th century Disneyland – the vision of architect Eugène Viollet-le-Duc.  The fortified city dates from 453AD and was ransacked continously throughout the centuries, and by the mid-1800s, was slatted for demolition due to its pathetic (read – in ruins) condition.  There was, however,  a public outcry and the city was saved and rebuilt.  When it was reconstructed, the controversy surrounded its authenticity (which continues to this day. )

Viollet-le-Duc didn’t think it necessary to rebuild according to the historical records, so much of the fortress walls and citadels are his “vision” of what a medieval fortress should look like – and critics eagerly point out that the roofs of the towers would not have been pointed, and that slate would not have been used and that arrow slits were not part of the original fortress.  As we walked around the perimeter of the walled city, we could see the delineation between the “old ruins” and “new construction.” To see 19th century drawings before the renovations, go to: http://www.carcassonne.culture.fr/

The”old city” of Carcassonne was crowded with tourists on All Saint’s Day, and amid the expensive knick-knack shops and cafes on its narrow streets,  it was difficult to know what was authentic and what was 19th century-fantasy .  Nevertheless, the entire site was impressive!

A few days later, we decided to travel to a small town called Revel, about 25 kilometres to the southwest of Mazamet, to see the halles in the middle of the medieval town,  an arched medieval market building with some of the original timbers. 

On the way there, we serendipitously stopped at a small village called Soreze.  It has become one of our favourite places in Southern France so far in our travels! 

The car park, well-maintained and brimming with flowers and trees, was almost empty on the drizzly Saturday when we visited.

Soreze was established in the 8th century because of the nearby Benedictine Abbey, built in the foothills of the Berniquat (Montagne Noirs.)  It was ransacked many times, first by the Normans and then by mercenaries in the mid-1300s.  From 1776 to 1792, it was established as  the home of the Ecoles royales militaires by Louis XVI (where Simon Bolivar, the famous South American liberator was educated.) In the mid-19th century, it became a craftsmen centre and today, it continues that tradition. Art galleries and textile shops are sprinkled among the patisseries and boulangeries.

 The photographs above do not do justice to the ambience of Soreze, where 15th and 16th century homes have been renovated to their original splendour. Throughout the town, historical plaques explain the importance and significance of each site.  It is just a glorious medieval town and was an unexpected treasure.

Revel, by the way, was disappointing compared to Soreve, but a photo of the market is included .

A bientot!

We found a two minute promotional movie on dailymotion.org announcing a soon-to-be-released documentary about the city of Mazamet.  (Sorry, I couldn’t imbed the link.)  

It’s includes a fascinating fact – that Mazamet once supplied 80% of the world’s wool.  I was reading a book left here in the gite entitled “Life’s not all wine and roses: a collection of tales from Southern France” by Bruce Watson and read a fascinating story about the wool industry during and post WWII.

The story goes as follows: A gentleman by the name of Jacques Lombart, who had been captured by the Germans, worked as an auto mechanic in a prison camp in northern France.  He managed to escape and return to Mazamet where he started a business of converting cars to run on wood alcohol rather than gasoline (because of the rationing of gasoline).  But the car business was slow as was the wool industry.  The demand for wool had come to a virtual standstill.  The fellmongers with imported Argentinian wool in stock sold the bales cheaply to get some return on their investment.  Jacques Lombart saw an opportunity and as wool prices decreased, Jacques started to buy.  He mortgaged his house to spend the capital on buying all of the wool that he could afford and store. He rented empty warehouses and piled up thousands of bales of the stuff. 

Then the war ended and the demand for wool resurged.  But the ever prudent Jacques did not immediately sell.  When the prices rose ten times, he began to sell but cautiously as he did not want to flood the market. 

Clever Jacques made his fortune but according to the story, also lost it and made it again in forestry, coffee and peanuts.

The absolutely gorgeous houses in Mazamet are a testament to the town’s once wealthy status and in the black and white film footage, note the Cafe de Paris that is still here in town with what appears to be the same awning.

 Click on the link here and enjoy:

Bande Annonce Mazamet Story
Uploaded by Doomyx

Castres is about 17 km to the northwest of Mazamet, a bustling medieval town with more tourist appeal than our “home” city here in France.  Almost every brochure or map we have picked up of Castres features a photo of the “textile houses” along the river l’Agout. (see above)

Due to our hectic vacation pace, we find ourselves unable to get anywhere before noon,  so we  sauntered down to the Gare de Mazamet (train station) mid-afternoon on Saturday and purchased tickets for the 30-minute ride to Castres.

For English speakers, we would tend to pronounce Castres as “cass-trays” which of course, would be very wrong and very rude (as that is the word for “castrated.”)  One pronounces Castres as “cast-ruh” with emphasis on the “cast” with a softer guttural and rolling r sound on the “ruh.” (We learned this thanks to our kind hostess Christina who corrected me when I announced our destination for the afternoon.)

The French accent in these parts is very, very different from Paris and we find it often difficult to decipher. Interestingly, as we walk along the streets, we are often asked for directions, so we apparently look like a typical French couple.  The only thing we are missing is a “petite chien.”

Castres’ history is fascinating.  Wikipedia says:

“The name of the town comes from Latin castrum, and means “fortified place”. Castres grew up round the Benedictine abbey of Saint Benoît, which is believed to have been founded in AD 647, possibly on the site of an old Roman fort (castrum). Castres became an important stop on the international pilgrimage routes to Santiago de Compostela in Spain because its abbey-church, built in the 9th century, was keeping the relics of Saint Vincent, the renowned martyr of Spain. It was a place of some importance as early as the 12th century, and ranked as the second town of the Albigeois behind Albi. 

During the Albigensian Crusade it surrendered of its own accord to Simon de Montfort, and thus entered into the kingdom of France in 1229. In 1356, the town of Castres was raised to a countship by King John II of France. However, the town greatly suffered from the Black Plague in 1347-1348, then from the Black Prince of England and the Free Companies (bands of lawless mercenaries) who laid waste the country during the Hundred Years’ War. Consequently, by the late 14th century Castres entered a period of sharp decline. In 1375, there were only 4,000 inhabitants left in town, only half the figure from a century before.”

One of the wonderful things about the old town of Castres is that it is geographically  small – meaning that the walking distance between historical sites is minimal.  We managed to take in the “history walk of ten sites” and still have plenty of time to stop for a coffee and beer (guess which one of us had which) at a wonderful cafe in the main square. 

We return to Castres on Tuesday to pick up our rental car and from there – we hit the highway and explore the Land of the Cathars and the Montagnes Noirs.
 

It was a vertical climb but the view was well worth it.  Hautpoul is a medieval ruin/village about 3 kilometres south of Mazamet. It sits upon a ridge of the Montagne Noir (Black Mountains) and from everything we had read about it, the view would be well worth the effort. We packed a picnic lunch and headed along the narrow road that follows the Arnette River up through the valley toward the direction of Carcassonne.
The history of Hautpoul is wrapped up in Cathar legend and medieval myths.  One website described its roots as follows: In the year 413, Ataulphe I, king of the Visigoths, founded Hautpoul. This castle underwent the same destiny as many other castles in the area, it was destroyed by Cathar hunter Simon de Montfort during the crusades against the Cathars. The ones who survived, settled in the plains near the gorge of the Arnette (establishing what is now Mazamet.)

Many legends tell about the treasure of the Visigoths. The Romans, who sacked Jerusalem, took with them many treasures back to Rome, after which the Visigoths, many centuries later, sacked Rome and took their treasure to the Languedoc.

After climbing through the narrow streets, among houses piled one on top of the other – including a medieval costume shop, a bar/cafe (closed unfortunately) and wood artisan studio, we made our way to the pinnacle where a statue of Mary overlooks the valley below.

We sat and ate our picnic lunch (pain du campagne, cheese, tomatoes and lettuce) sitting on the leeward side of the statue as the wind was brisk.  From the view atop Hautpoul, clear blue skies made it possible to see the house to which our little gite is attached, as well as most of Mazamet.  A map attached to a stand overlooking the valley illustrates where the city of Albi is located some 53 kilometres away.

Hautpoul is the centre for an annual Medieval Fete in August – no doubt all of the members of the Society of Creative Anachronism flood to the area to partake in the festivities.

On our return to Mazamet, we took a walking path back to the road, just part of a 15 km circuit, and reduced at least a kilometre off of the steep downhill route.

Hope the photos attached give you a sense of the height and delight of Hautpoul.