Sunflower Capitol of the World and Copper Pots

The Chateau at Saissac

The lake that feeds the Canal Midi

Copper pot in the museum. Not the pattern that is made by careful pounding with a padded hammer.
This is the man who has made copper pots here his whole life and was featured in the video

He shows us his technique with the hammer.

Vol tries here hand at . She was actually pretty good.

Sunflower Capitol of the World

Wednesday Vol and I planned to go for a drive to Durfort, a little village that has been making copper pots since medieval times and then to stop by a reservoir in the mountains which is the source of the Canal Midi and supposedly has crystal clear water.

I picked Vol up and 8:30 am and we programmed Durfort into the TomTom and headed west. The first part of the drive was very nice, not much traffic, and took us through many attractive villages on and off the canal. We passed through Carcassone (the actual modern town) and could see the Medieval Castle/town pretty closely although we didn’t stop.

We kept heading west and before long we were in a very different landscape – very rural – and suddenly in every direction there were fields of sunflowers as far as the eye could see. Van Gogh would have been thrilled. It was such a pretty sight with all of the flowers turned to face the sun directly. Certainly these flowers must be used to supply sunflower seeds (and their products) on the world market. There is no way anyone could possibly market this many flowers just to see pretty sunflowers in vases.

As we drove through these foothills the crops being grown changed to wheat and corn. Vol said, “I predict that we will soon come upon cows.” Miraculously just around the corner was a herd of spotted cows.

It did seem like we had been driving quite a distance and had not yet come upon any of the towns that we knew were located by Durfort. Finally we saw a sign for Durfort but it pointed to something that looked only slightly more improved than a cow path. The other very confusing thing was that this road forked and signs pointed in both directions “Durfort.” After going back to the main road and trying to find an alternate road to Durfort to no avail, we went back to the “cow path” and headed up one of the paths. Before too long we came to the end of the road which was a small square and one medium size house with a sign saying Durfort. Not a sign of the copper museum, shops or anything. This was obviously not the Durfort we were looking for.

On the map and TomTom we located a town we knew was very close to our Durfort and headed northweast. Even though this drive had been a mistake in the search for our Durfort we were very happy to have found the Sunflower Capitol of the World.

An hour later we arrived at the town near Durfort and there was a sign saying “Durfort”. We stopped and had lunch and discovered on closer inspection of TomTom that there were two Durforts – the copper one is Durfort Tarn.

Durfort is a very small village in a little river valley. There are several shops selling copper items and then a number of others selling various knick knacks and tourist stuff. We went into the Copper Museum (that is Cuivre Musee). It was just two rooms. Two older men were working there. They collected our entrance fee (3 Euros?) and escorted into the second room. In both rooms were copper bowls, pots, other items setting about and many pictures on the wall. The second room was set up with chairs for a small audience and a TV monitor. One of the men started telling us about the museum and copper pot making in French of course. I could get about every tenth word. Vol tried to fill me in as much as she could without interrupting the speaker. Then they turned on the video. It was a documentary showing how they have made copper pots through the centuries here in Durfort. The main copper worker being shown in the video was one of these two men.

It was very, very impressive relative to how much strength, skill, talent, attention to detail went into the making of a single pot. Also the setting in which all the work is done is incredibly hot – probably at least 120 F. Metal pieces after being forged are pounded by a huge stone cylinder driven by water from the nearby river. The seated worker turns the copper piece with his hands (oh my gosh watch your fingers) and by his feet (watch those toes). After the copper piece is made thinner and rounder in this process it is then pounded by hand with a hammer-type instrument. This is a long process and actually they put 4 pots into each other and do all for at the same time. Afterwards the single pots are given much more shape by more, and more pounding. The upper edge is rolled over a rounds wire and pounded into place as the lip of the pot. Eventually the outer side of the pot in pounded into a beautiful pattern of round shapes (characteristic of these pots) - see the picture above - and sometimes they are even given hand done patterns inside. Some of the pots (like bread basket shapes) are cut into shapes and then folded and sautered together. Finally the pot are dipped in chemicals and miraculously they change color into the beautiful copper color. They are then rinsed in the stream (yikes – the EPA would not be happy).

The visit to the museum was a great experience. We had certainly gained an appreciation as to the time, effort, and skill that goes into making one of these pots. The prices in shops outside seemed now much more reasonable.

We then drove a short distance up the mountain to a beautiful reservoir lake which is the source of the water for the Canal Midi. The blue water was beautiful against the forest. There were lots of people enjoying sunbathing, swimming, and boating. There were even dogs on the beach, the first place I’ve been that's allowed them.

The drive home was pretty uneventful. We did stop in Saissac to see the ruin of a Chateau. The little town was pristine and quiet. To get to the Chateau it was a long walk down hill (obviously followed by a long walk up hill). I got one so-so picture. The entrance fee to the Chateau was 7 euros and since I didn’t have any change and the amount seemed pretty high just to get a better photo, I skipped it – so did Vol.

We drove the rest of the way home following Madame TomTom’s directions – through little town alleys, farmer’s paths in vineyards, bumpy sideroads. But she got us there in good time and I enjoy driving on these kind of routes. When we got back to Vol’s she gave me the ultimate compliment, “You drive like a French person.” Thanks Vol. It was a fun day.

Sunday - Final Day of the Feria

The band for the bullfights

Local Matador with the anxious wife






Apprentice bullfighter

Local Torreodor

Professional? Most looked the part.




Triumphant Torreodor

Roger with the cooking pot.

Lunch cooking. If you look closely you will see hoofs.

This was a great day – the final day of the Feria which had been a 3-day event although I only went to part of Day 1 and didn't go to Day 2. I went with Suzette and Roger and we met lots of their friends there. The location was at the school just down the street from us so we just walked there.

As we entered the event location we stopped to look at what was cooking on the open fire – several large pots that obviously beef shins and hoofs simmering in red wine. Fortunately I’m from Southern California where one of my favorite Mexican foods is Menudo made with cow hoofs so I wasn’t daunted.

The first event of the day was the highlight – the actual bullfights. These are south of France bullfights and the bull isn’t killed or stabbed with darts as is done in Spain. Of course it isn’t for everyone but I did find it interesting on a lot of levels. We sat in the stands with Suzette & Roger’s friends who were very enthusiastic – lots of clapping, cheers, singing, and many olé’s. A band played music during the entire event – mostly songs from “Carmen” e.g., Toreador, Toreador.

There several toreodors/matadors – I say that not in the usual sense of what most of us think of when we hear matador. What I usually think of is the Spanish, slim, very handsome young man who seems much like a ballet dancer. Those at the Abeilhan Feria were not this stereotype. There were 3, or if you count the young apparent apprentice, there were four. One was a more traditional one – slim and dressed in costume. Then there were two, one older than the other, wearing white shirts from the local bullfighting club. Both of these were on the heavy side (one with a pronounced middle-aged belly). Then there was a young-20s male very slim and in no particular costume – looked like he had just graduated from the Toro Piscine event. The portable ring has two places on the inside with places for the matadors to take cover when needed. Because two of these guys were pretty big this shelter space was limited.

The first bull was released and the more professional matador took him on. He uses the cape like a Spanish matador with a sword appearing weapon inside of it. Unlike the Spanish matador though, he uses it to give structure to the cape. He got the bull to take passes at him and, although many of the passes looked great, on several occasions he dropped the cape and ran from the bull. The others would come out as soon as this started to happen and try to distract the bull. After about 10 minutes the door to the ramp to the bull truck opened and the bull was happy to run into it.

The next performance was by the oldest, fattest, local matador. His bull entered and he did a face off with him. The matador made a very menacing facial expression that reminded me of the New Zealand Maori warrior. As the bull charged this matador actually was quite graceful and performed well. At one point however, he got into trouble and the bull attacked him from the rear. Fortunately these bulls have the protector balls on their horns and so the matador was not gored. He regained confidence and continued with his performance.

The third matador was also much better than I had expected based upon his stature. His bull had probably the most aggressive of the bunch and it was pretty frightening to watch. Suzette pointed out to me that this matador’s wife was standing by the official’s stand with her several children but had her back turned so that she wasn’t watching. She was obviously scared to death and I felt bad for her – victim of her husband’s matchismo. In the end he did very well and received a standing ovation, and lots of carnations, from the crowd.

Another bull was released into the ring and he was bigger and much more aggressive than the other 3. No one took him on and he went back to the truck.

A much smaller bull was released and the “apprentice” took a couple minor passes with him holding the cape in both hands and without the sword inside. Then they released a “petite bull for the children” and few of the more accomplished Toro Piscine graduates ran around with it.

At the conclusion all the matadors and the bull’s handlers took their bows in the ring and the crowd enthusiastically cheered. Everyone seemed to find the bullfight to be a huge success. And then we had lunch……

Lunch was a lot of fun. It required a reservation. We were seated at tables. The conversation for me of course was a bit difficult but usually I had some idea about what they were talking about. The crowd was really the local people – I didn’t see any ex-pats there that I recognized. Language was a mix of French and Spanish. As you could see from the Feria – the culture here is a real mix of Catalan, Spanish, and French. Everyone was very friendly to me even though I was the only one at the table not from this area (other than a German man who was with a woman from Beziers and he spoke many languages). Lunch consisted of melon with sweet wine inside of the hollow, prosciutto, Carmargue bull/potato stew (which was actually delicious), and dessert of a packaged ice cream one. There was of course plenty of local wine included.

Then we took a couple of hour break – went home to rest etc. and then we all returned at 7 pm. We just “hung out” and later ate really good mussels and frites. The mussels were cooked over an open fire and sauced with tomatoes and sausage. They were great.

Afterwards a pretty good band played and everybody danced. It was a very, very, fun and interesting day.

Sete on Saturday

Water jousting in Sete

Sete canal


Saturday, July 24
The weather remained fairly cool so I didn’t feel much like going to the beach. Instead I took Angel along and drove to Sete. It is on the water east of Cap d’ Adge below the huge lagoon that they use to farm oysters and all the glorious mussels that abound here. The drive was a pretty one (aren’t they all?) through vineyards and some nice small towns.

The town (city) of Sete is on both sides of a large canal and the water in the canal is actually crystal clear unlike others I’ve seen. It was Saturday afternoon and the water jousting was in full swing with spectator stands on both sides of the canal. Since I had already seen the port in Sallelle with Vol I wasn’t surprised to see it in Sete. It was fun though to watch it again. Sete is the water jousting center so there was a large crowd and many, many jousters. There was also a brass band that played during intermissions and it included all ages from geriatric two very energetic 8 year-olds, a trumpeter and a drummer.

Sete is actually pretty new for a town in these parts. Not sure of the exact building of it but probably in the early 1700s. The harbor is a real working one and smells like a fishing center, which it is. Saturday afternoon seemed busy with lots of activities going on. I saw lots of peopl e going to a wedding. The park was active with children in the play area. There lots of people shopping at stores which didn't look very remarkable.

Samedi, July 24

Today the weather remains cool. This is a godsend as the air conditioning unit in my bedroom is not working. A repairman came yesterday, diagnosed the problem, and hopefully the problem will be fixed in a few days.

I got up early and went to the Farmer’s Market in Pezenas. It is an excellent market – everything you could possibly want and lots that you probably don’t want. I had to restrain myself since this week I am here on my own. I did buy some marinated fresh anchovies and octopus which I’ll have for dinner (I’ve been dreaming of them since MaryAnn and I went last week and bought some but never got a chance to eat them due to our Collouire adventure).

Suzette and Roger (my neighbors) had invited me for “appertifs” at noon. We had a nice visit. A friend came to join Roger later at the Feria today. Roger had obviously already been to the event this morning and purchased some “jambon” from Corsica – I saw the stand that was selling it last night. We sampled it and I thought it was very good but Roger said he thought it was just average and it was very expensive. Suzette, Roger, and Roger’s friend spoke in French and I was pretty lost in the conversation. At one point after they had been talked enthusiastically about something for about 5 minutes and Suzette asked me what I had understood. Unfortunately the only thing I had gotten was “huit heure” which means 8:00 am or pm.

Another interesting piece of information I learned from the conversation was that for 20 years Suzette had a shop (wines, tastings, not sure what else) in the “Naturiste” center in Cap D’Agde. This is the largest nudist colony in the world. She said that she was clothed there but the customers weren’t. She said it was great in 1980 but got bad later – too much sex. I learn something interesting about people every day.

A bullfight?

Toro Piscine - see all the young men/boys taunting the bull.

Here is who they are trying to impress.

Rumba Catalane - Gipsy Vent des Suds

July 23, Abeilhan


Tonight is the start of the Feria here in Abeilhan. I read up on these events on the web today. This is a frequent summer event in the south of France (Languedoc) village. The main event is the Toro Piscine. I was puzzled by this title on the ads for the event since that would mean bull swimming pool. The bulls are from the Camargue (and the event idea is based there) The Camargue bulls are smaller than their Spanish cousins. The best thing of all – the bulls don’t get hurt. They apparently are well–loved and cared for by their owners and spend most of their time grazing on the Camargue and doing you know what with the lady cows.

Although I am going to the finale event on Sunday with Suzette and Roger but I went down tonight to check it out.

A small portable ring is put up. A kid's-type portable swimming pool full of water is placed in the center. A bull is released into the ring. Young men/boys (and Sharon tells me last year girls did it too) climb into the ring and tease the bull enticing him to chase them. They chase the bull around, he chases them, and very often the kids and/or the bull fall into the swimming pool. The bull has rubber tips on his horns but this is obviously still pretty dangerous.

The Toro Piscine was quite a spectacle. It was young men, my guess 16 – 25 y/o running around teasing the bull. There were quite a few different bulls – each one spent about 15 minutes in the ring. The bulls were pretty impressive – snorting, kicking up the sand, charging at break neck speed. The young men were mostly pretty agile. They would entice the bull to chase them and then run for the side of the ring, grab one of the bars, around jump to safety. Later I saw a few of them limping but they looked pretty good in the ring. Every so often one of the young men would jump into the swimming pool and “hide out” for awhile. I didn’t exactly “get” what that was about. On and off the bull would get pretty pissed off at the swimming pool and lift it in the air with its horns or run through it.

Note: I’ve heard some of the ex-pats here talk about these French bullfighting events as being animal cruelty. From what I’ve seen I’m not sure that is exactly justified. The bulls like to charge, snort, and kick up sand – I think that is what they do with each other left to their own devices. They don’t get killed which sure is a lot better than what happens to them in Spain. Certainly the Spanish Corrida is more sophisticated and has a lot more “theater”. But here you have a bunch of yahoo kids showing how brave and agile they are and a bull seems used to this activity and the end of its day gets a good meal and a nice place to sleep. It’s hard to be too outraged by this.

There was excellent music during breaks from the toro piscine. I know you’ve all heard of the “Gipsy Kings” group that plays concerts in the USA. Well I’ve been to those concerts and I love them. However, their music style is indigenous to the Camargue and there are many groups that sound very much like them. The are French Camargue gipsies and have a very specific musical style. Anyway, the group tonight was really good and sounded about as good as the gipsy kings except there were only two guys playing guitar and singing and one guy on an electric keyboard. But nevermind, it was awesome music. The crowd at first was much more interested in drinking and eating but by the end of the musical entertainment a large contingent was dancing, the ones that were good at it were obviously very influenced by flamenco.

I just hung out, tapped my foot to the music, and took some pictures. When I left I noticed that in the empty bull ring the local 7 – 12 year olds were practicing their leaps onto the fence of the bull enclosure. In a couple of years they will be in the ring. One of them I recognized - Suzette's grandson. The bulls were apparently resting up in their truck/corral for tomorrow’s event.

Tuesday in Pezenas

A pretty house in Pezenas

Pony ride

Pezenas Candy Store


Tuesday, July 20 – Home for the day and July 21 MaryAnn leaves

After spending the previous day driving all day and part of the night, we decided to stay near home for the day. We ended up spending most of it in Pezenas and it is really delightful. The medieval city is really charming, if a bit “cutsey” with its many shops and galleries – but most are high quality. The medieval architecture is beautiful with many buildings in excellent condition.

We visited several museums, shopped quite a bit, and sat in an outdoor café and watched the world go by. In the late afternoon, three gypsy men brought in three ponies which were available for kid’s to ride at 4 euros. Rather nostalgic. We came home and fixed a nice dinner of ratatouille and gazpacho.

MaryAnn left for Paris Wednesday morning. I drove her to Beziers to catch her train. We had such a good time together – I am really going to miss her. She is good company and a willing adventurer. I also enjoyed getting to know her so much better. We had fun sharing some “secrets”. Last night we were having such a fun time that the neighbor whose open windows face ours behind our dining room/living room told us to be quiet as we were keeping her awake. We certainly didn’t think we were being loud – just laughing a lot. Guess she’ll be happy that I’m alone for the next couple of weeks – watch out when Tony Wernert gets here.

July 19 - Visit to the Prehistoric Cave

Monday, July 19 – Visit to the Prehistoric Cave

On Monday we headed to Pesche Merle, a cave with prehistoric cave paintings from 25,000 years ago. I visited it about 10 years ago and wanted to see if it was as wonderful as I remembered. Well the answer was yes and no.

First of all the drive was way too long to try to do as a day trip. The TomTom said it was three hours but it turned out to be four, even though I made only one tiny mistake on the way and stopped for a quick refueling. We were supposed to be there at 1:00 but got there at 2:00. We drove on the peage (paid freeway) going there and so didn’t get to see anything very exciting other than Carcassone from a distance.

We were hustled into a waiting room for our tour. We knew that the tour would be in French and that English booklets were provided. They would only give us one to share – which was also a little annoying. Then our tour guide (a middle-aged man with a bit of a paunch) started the introduction. He was quite emotional but we had no idea of what he was saying. Then he opened the door to the cave and we entered down about 30 stairs and then a long hallway. The cave was truly beautiful with stalagtites and stalagmites, and eerie shapes everywhere. Then we saw the first paintings. The paintings are in black charcoal and red ochre. They are mostly animals (bison, bear, deer) but also there are human hands and a couple human shapes. They are not like the hieroglyphic type of drawings you usually see by primitive people – instead they are much more realistic and even show animals in motion poses. As we would approach a cave painting the guide would call us in close and he would then highlight various features with his laser pointer and go on and on in French saying stuff we couldn’t understand other than “head” “back” etc. We became aware that a member of the group reeked strongly of alcohol and probably cigarettes. I’m sure I was looking somewhat bewildered (due to the fact that I couldn’t understand anything) the guide motioned me over to him to give me more personal information. I was then very much aware that the alcohol odor was coming from no other than from our guide, who also was getting overly physically familiar with me – it is very hard to tell someone to “knock it off” when you don’t speak their language. Therefore, I spent the rest of the tour trying to avoid the guide but this was rather impossible. At the end of the tour he followed me out of the museum to “show me a tree in the parking lot” – I am not making this up. It was truly bizarre.

We then had to face the prospect of a four-hour drive home. Not pretty. Just as we left the cave area we came upon a potter’s studio and shop and it was the best we’ve seen anywhere. Both of us bought a bowl.

We took a more scenic drive home and it was much better. The only real mistake we made was stopping in Cahors for lunch – the food was bad in the place we chose and the town did not seem to have anything interesting to see. The best part of the drive home was getting on the peage towards the end of the drive – a very new freeway that is rather a work of design/art and includes the most beautiful bridge I’ve ever seen. I couldn't take a picture of it since it was dark and I was driving but I will try to find it on the web.
Here it is: http://www.leviaducdemillau.com/english/index.html

Pictures of the Sallelles d'Aude Day

A jouster goes into the water

Here come the jousters.

Vol and Greg on their porch. Hosts extraordinaire!!

Sunday - With Vol and Greg - What a great day.

Sunday, July 18th, What a day in Salleles d’Aude

This was a magical day. Vol Ranger is a woman I’ve worked with some in California in Emergency Medical Services. She was the EMS Director for Santa Cruz County for a time and then has been working as a consultant in Disaster Planning over the last few years. I’ve known her but only on a limited professional basis. Another colleague, Diane Akers, told me that Vol had a home in France and why didn’t I see if she was anywhere near me and if she would be around while I was here. The good news was yes, and yes.

Vol, and her partner Greg, invited MaryAnn and me to come to their place for the day. Their house is in Sallelles d’Aude about one hour west and south of here. This particular day was the day of the town’s annual flea market, boat jousting event and concert. We arrived at just after 11 am. Vol and Greg greeted us warmly and we immediately felt we’d known them forever. Their house is old, big, and right on the canal. The canal has locks and boats, some pretty big, travel on it. The flea market was right in front of their house. The walkway in front of their home is shaded with the big trees that line the canal. Their house also has a really huge garage because it once was a winery. The caverns that stored the wine inside the garage walls are still there. Vol comes over several times a year for extended periods while Greg is only able to come for a month annually. They are very at home here and speak very good French (at least it sure sounded good to me). They served us a delightful lunch of melon, jambon, cheese, and (of course) local rose.

We checked out the flea market (MaryAnn eventually bought a purse for 4 euros (she just can’t help herself). We strolled along the canal and watched the boats pass through the locks – very interesting. We also visited a museum of textile crafts which was very interesting. Beautiful things and there was a visiting exhibit from Australia.

Then came the highlight of the day – boat jousting. This is a sport that has been popular for hundreds of years in this area. Two row boats (big ones) compete with each other. The boats have a long beam extending from their rear. On it sit several team members and then the jouster is at the end of the beam. The two boats approach each other while a piper and drummer on each boat play the same tune. As the two jousts confront each other they push their opponent on his shield with a long pole with the objective, of course, of dumping one’s opponent into the river. The loser swims to shore and then they do this over and over again while the crowd cheers them on. The event ends with novices from on shore trying their hands at the jousting. A lot of people got very wet.

After the event, we went back to Vol and Greg’s. We listened to the village church chime 7 pm and play a fancy tune as we watched from the deck on the top floor of their house. The swifts (birds), same kind we have here, were very busy flying about and catching insects.

Vol served a delicious roast chicken dinner with a really good veggie dish of zucchini with tomato confit and goat cheese, and the freshest lettuce salad you could imagine.

We left before the final event, a concert, due to the long drive home. It was a magical day and we loved spending time with Vol and Greg. It is so wonderful to find out that someone you’ve known very superficially in the professional sense is someone you’d really like on a more personal level. Thanks so much Vol & Greg.

Saturday, July 17 A drive to Collouire

Collouire beach scene.

The geriatric chorus.

We started off the day by going to the Farmer’s Market in Pezenas. It was great. Everything you need and very fresh and delicious. They even had vats of olive tampenade – black and green, fresh marinated anchovies and octopus, roasted chickens and rabbits. It was pretty crowded and I was sorry I’d taken Angel who got stepped on several times and became completely neurotic.

Afterwards we decided to drive to Collouire – a town on the Med near the border with Spain. I’ve been there many times but I wanted to show it to MaryAnn. The first problem we encountered was a traffic jam on our way back from Pezenaz. I mistakingly got on the new freeway that is under construction and ends abruptly dumping all the traffic into a traffic circle in a little town - Valros. With the weekend traffic this meant that we were going at a snail’s pace for an hour just trying to get home to Abeilhan.
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Even though we’d lost valuable time we decided to go ahead with our plan to drive to Collouire. Unfortunately we hit another similar traffic snarl around Narbonne. We got to Collouire and even got a good parking place – unheard of in the summer. The place does not disappoint – it is a gem. We enjoyed the spectacular scenery and walked around the town.



A “senior” chorus of local folks was giving a concert. They were much more enthusiastic than they were talented. Another odd thing was that there were French military (looked like French “green berets”) hanging out all over town. I will try to find out if there is a base nearby. It looked strange.

We wanted to have dinner in Collouire but it was 5:30 pm and no one was serving food till 7 pm. It was a 2 hour drive back to Abeilhan so we ended up driving back to Adge and having dinner on one of the dinner “barges”. All of the barges have “hawkers” trying to entice you into their place. Since they all looked about the same we picked maybe number 5. The good news was that it was cheap, the bad news was that it was cheap. Dinner cost 14 euros each and with a small carafe of wine for each at 4 euros. Unfortunately was probably worth about 5 euros. The main course – seafood pasta – was lukewarm and had a few overcooked mussels and one “over the hill” shrimp as the seafood ingredient.

Friday July 16

Shopping street in Adge - complete with boxes labeled "from China".

Friday, July 16th – Abeilhan

So good to be back home. I picked up the two dogs, Jake and Molly, the day we got back. They were very happy to see me (and to see Angel too) they’ve gotten to be buddies.

We spent Friday “putzing” around the house in the morning and then went into Adge to check it out. I’d been to the beach there but never to the town. It is a very nice town on the bank of the Herault River. The old central part looks like most of the large village towns. Very medieval and lots of shops selling souvenirs. While we were passing by the many shops advertizing local things (many of which obviously come from China and India) we noticed a storage space with its garage door open and there were packing boxes clearly labeled from China to Marseilles!

We visited the local museum which depicts old time Adge living. It was very interesting but the place was like an oven and the higher up you went the hotter it got. It was definitely like a steam bath. Afterwards we walked along the water where there are about 10 restaurant barges. Some local kids were swimming in the river – jumping off one of the closed restaurants.

Then we headed to the beach late in the day. The beach was very crowded with the usual folks but I think a lot of people come after work so it was even more crowded than usual. Ah but the water, the water, to swim…….. Delightful.

Back to the Countryside

Jeudi (Thursday) July 15

Our train from Paris was at 11:20 am – a very civilized hour. We have really adapted to the Paris lifestyle. Sleep late, a café at 10 am, lunch around 1 pm, dinner 10 pm, to bed at midnight. We had plenty of time for café at our favorite nearby coffee place, Café Cubana. Got a cab to Gare Lyon. One slight complication was getting Angel on the train. On the way down to Beziers and back to Paris there had been no problem. However, this time they insisted that she must board the train in “a bag” or I would have to pay full (human) fare for her. Normally I would have had her traveling kennel suitcase but I had left it Abeilhan trying to “lighten my load”. As a result MaryAnn and I bought some makeup at a shop at the train station and then asked them for a giant size plastic bag. That was fine but Angel was not to happy to be put in a plastic bag (smart dog). The train ride was just fine and we got to Abeilhan before 4 pm.

It was good to be “home” in my little village. I love Paris but I was ready to be back to the country life.

Bastille Day Wednesday July 14

Above are the fireworks. At left - here we are taking refuge in a cafe while it rained and rained. The streets were rivers. It apparently rained so hard that several Metro stations had to close.

This was the day we were waiting for. Bastille Day!!! I knew something was not quite right at 8:00 am when I went out to walk Angel. It was raining – not hard, but it was raining. Oh well it’s just a light rain.

We had decided to skip the big military parade at Arc du Triumph and go to museums in the Marai. As we walked to get coffee we heard big jets overhead. This was the air show part of the parade. There were quite a few passes overhead of big plans and “Blue Angel” type jets. Then it started to rain – still lightly but no doubt dampening the spirits of the spectators at the actual parade. After coffee we walked to the History Museum in the Marai – closed. We tried the Jewish Museum – closed. Just when we were about to figure out what we were going to do the sky got really, really dark. It was obvious about to rain really hard. We ducked into a corner café/bar. I told MaryAnn I would try to find a shop that sold umbrellas – as we were in the middle of a major shopping area in the Marai. I checked all the stores that were open (many were closed for the holiday). I was directed by one shop to try one down the street = the clerk was sure that store had umbrellas. The good news – it did have them, I could see them in the window. The bad news – it was closed.

Just as I gave up on the umbrella idea and head back to the café where MaryAnn was waiting the skies opened and here came the rain. This time it wasn’t raining lightly – it was a deluge of gigantic proportions. I ran down the sidewalk ducking for cover under awnings. It was useless – I got absolutely drenched. I got to the café and was literally dripping wet. The rain, thunder, and lightning continued for three hours and we, and about 20 other people, were refugees in the café watching the river flow down the street.

The rain finally let up and we got back to the hotel. We dried out and rested. We planned to eat on Ile St. Louis and then watch the fireworks from the bridge on the Seine. We, of course, decided to start out with a glass of wine near the Bastille. This time we tried a different sidewalk café. We found a vacant table, sat down, looked to our left and there, again, even at the different café – were our Montreal friends. Mr. Blue & White striped shirt was there, in his same shirt, but now without any pigeon poop. This time one of the things we discussed was “Six Feet Under” – the female Montreal person claimed this was her favorite TV show of all time, and that it had made her decide that “some” Americans were intelligent. We, once again, bid our Canadian buddies a fond farewell but this time knowing it really was the last time as we were leaving the next day.

We had a “so-so” dinner on Ile St. Louis and then went to the bridge to await the Bastille Day fireworks. They didn’t start until almost 11 pm as it only then gets really dark. The fireworks were pretty hard to see as we were further away than we thought. It was still fun anyway. The pictures won’t be very impressive but we enjoyed them.

We headed back to the hotel and were very sorry for the Paris part of our visit to end.

Paris Tuesday Pictures

Our Canadian buddies. We sure enjoyed our early evening conversations.

Above right - Monet's garden. On the left the Water Garden which is just like his paintings of it.

Paris Mardi (Tuesday) July 13

This is the day we had decided to devote to a trip to Giverny, Monet’s house and garden north of Paris just over the Ile de France/Normandy border. John and I had visited it twice and I remember how lovely it was. MaryAnn had never been there. When John & I went, once we took the train and once we drove there in our rental car. This time MaryAnn & I decided to take a tour on a bus as this would be very easy. The tour was scheduled to leave at 1:45 pm and it said that it would take 5 hours. This seemed pretty short to me as the drive was pretty long as I recalled but the tour was recommended in one of our travel books. The tour office was across from the Tulleries garden where the Orangerie Museum is located so we decided to go to that museum in the morning as it has many of Monet’s waterlily paintings.

We walked through the Marai and headed for tour office to pick up our tickets for the tour. The block that the ticket office was in was very crowded with tourists. A gypsy woman carrying a small sleeping child approached me showing me a piece of paper writing on it in English. She said, “Do you speak English?” I was familiar with this type of routine – the woman wants you to concentrate on reading the paper to her while she is busily picking your pocket or purse. I said, “Get away from me” and warned MaryAnn. As the day went on (like later when we were waiting to board the bus) I saw the gypsy plying her trade with numerous unsuspecting tourists. Several times I let the intended victim know what was going on. I also noticed a number of “invalid/handicapped” gypsies begging in the same area. This is the only place in Paris I saw this type of activity.

When we got to the Orangarie we learned that it is closed on Tuesdays!! Very disappointing. Oh well. We walked through the Tulleries which is a beautiful park. At one end/side of it there are a number of rides for children and a huge ferris wheel for all ages. We decided to go on the ferris wheel. Of course both MaryAnn are haunted by childhood fears of being on ferris wheels and having a mean friend start rocking the chair when you are stopped at the top. While the view was awesome and the ride very smooth and professionally run, we were both very quiet during the ride and very ready to get off of it.

We walked through one of the nearby hotels – there are some very fancy ones in this area. Outside of this hotel were a number of limos waiting for a party and numerous African males who were obviously bodyguards. Inside the hotel were about 15 Africans (perhaps an African nation president going for a visit with Sarkosy?).

The Giverny tour was not as wonderful as I had hoped, no fault of Giverny. The tour was conducted by a “nazi” guide. She spent lots of time giving us many, many instructions as to how long we had once we would arrive at Giverny, how to stay with her when we entered, where to take pictures, etc. etc. She also talked for the entire 1 ½ hour drive giving us Monet history (which of course I already knew vastly more since John and I studied Monet over the years). The bus started making a high screeching noise and the driver stopped the bus and got out to inspect it. We were stopped for about 15 minutes during which time the Guide continued her nonstop Monet lesson and never did tell us what was wrong with the bus. When we finally arrived at Giverny it was beautiful (as always) but we were very rushed and could have used at least one more hour there.

When we got back to Paris we headed for a glass of wine at our favorite sidewalk café by the Bastille. We sat down at an empty table and then noticed that our 4 Montreal friends were sitting directly in front of us. We greeted each other like long lost buddies. One of the male Montreal persons was were a very spiffy blue and white striped shirt. While we were talking a pigeon flying over took a very large dump which landed right on the sleeve of his shirt. Yikes. For the second time we said a fond farewell to them and wished them a Bon Journey.

For dinner we went to a small restaurant near our hotel. Our server was a delightful young woman who explained that her “day job” was that she had her own business which had clients who had Provencal businesses – she is an expert with a Master’s degree in French Regions with Provence here specialty (she was from St. Tropez. The dinner was a prix fixe at 18 euros – an excellent value especially because it was delicious. It was also a set dinner – you got a mushroom tarte, roast lamb with veggies, and one of the best desserts of the whole trip – a cherry custard tart. We need to remember this place – Café Musee.

Monday Pictures July 12

Above left - this is how many Parisians get to work.

Above right - Place du Voges

Left - Sully Mansion. Very elegant. The owner probably lost his head during the revolution.

Monday July 12

Day 3 Lundi July 12
Because the weather forecast for the day was scattered thunderstorms we decided to spend most the day at Pompidou Center. Neither MaryAnn nor I had ever been to its collection of modern art. I’ve always been put off by the Center’s architecture which looks like some kind of horrific child’s toy. It is about 10 stories tall with the floors reached through escalators that go through clear plastic tunnels. The modern art collection is actually spectacular and traces art from post-impressionists, through cubism, to very abstract modern art. My favorites were the many Matisse, Modigliani, and Picasso’s.

There was also a very interesting special exhibit titled “Dreamland” with the theme on amusement parks starting with early World’s Fairs up through Las Vegas and Dubai. Quite interesting. One of the most eye-catching parts showed some of the showgirls of the World’s Fairs and it was quite obvious that a lot of this could actually be categorized as pornography.


In walking back to our hotel in the Marai we went through the old Jewish quarter. It is apparently much smaller than it once was but still seems vibrant. There were quite a few bookstores with books in Hebrew, Jewish delis, etc. Quite a few people walking past us wore Hasidic clothing and hair styles.

We tried to visit the Jewish Museum but got there too late in the day.

On our way back to the hotel we stopped at the same sidewalk café for a glass of wine – this is becoming our routine! And there were the same Montreal foursome that we’d met the day before. We joined them and had a fun time sharing our adventures from the day. Of the four, one speaks very good English. A second one thinks he doesn’t speak that well in English but we think he does. The other man and woman speak very little English. Of course MaryAnn and I, despite taking Level 1 and Level 2 French at Alliance Francaise in San Francisco aren’t very good. We can count, know the days of the week, can order at a restaurant but we are truly limited if you actually want to have a conversation. Despite this, using our limited vocabularies, lots of sign language, we had really had fun. They said they were staying in Paris for their whole trip here. We then bid them farewell sure that this would be the last time we’d see them. Not so however, we saw them everyday – at the same place – the corner café at the end of the day.

For dinner we walked to Place du Voges where we had seen a number of interesting looking restaurants. The setting is really beautiful – my picture won’t do it justice. There is a beautiful park in the middle surrounded with identical buildings that are unique in their architecture.

Unfortunately the restaurant we selected had, without a doubt, the worst service I’ve encountered on this trip. When our waiter came to take our order, he literally looked straight up at the ceiling when we told him what we wanted. We had to ask him for his attention numerous times. When the food came it was sort of thrown at us. Very strange. The people at the next table got up and left before their food came. The other odd thing was that the food was actually excellent. It was a very strange place.

Montmartre pictures

upper left - man emerging from a wall in Montmartre. Upper right - Sacra Coer cathedral.

Lower left - Place du Voges. Lower right - this is how Angel spent her day on Saturday at the hotel.

Lundi - July 12th

We decided that our major activity of the day would be visiting Montmartre. It has always been one of my favorite places. I like trying to imagine what it was like when the artists, writers, and other whacky bohemians made this their neighborhood. This is hard to do these days as there are hordes of tourists (much worse in the summer I learned on this visit). Of course I am a tourist too but I’d like to think I not one of “those” tourists with their video cameras, Bermuda shorts, getting the portrait done by a sidewalk artist, etc.

We took Angel with us on this excursion. She was really well behaved but it complicate things generally. Each time I come to Paris it always takes a few times before I feel “oriented” on the Metro. We had to transfer several times to get to our desired location even though the distance traveled from the Marais to Montramarte wasn’t far. We also made a couple of mistakes – getting on the right Metro line but in the wrong direction. The time spent on the Metro this day took a chunk of time out of our day.

It was a hot day and since I couldn’t take Angel into Sacra Coeur or the Montmartre Museum Angel and I waited in the shade. The top of Montmartre on the square where there are restaurants, touristy trinket stores and such there was actually a delightful street entertainer. She was an Edith Piaf clone with a hand cranked music box. She sang and whistled Piaf-type songs and was really very good. We grabbed an outside table in the shade at one of the restaurants. I ordered a chicken salad expecting nice lettuce and grilled chicken. What I got was wilted iceberg lettuce, unripe tomatoes, and four slices of chicken luncheon meat at the bargain price of 12 Euros. This was the first, and hopefully the last, bad meal of my trip.

After “lunch” we walked up and down the little streets of Montmartre and fantasized what a delightful place this would be to live. We saw the usual “quaint” Montmartre sights – the last standing windmill, the “Lapin Agile”, the sculpture of the man emerging from a concrete wall, etc.

Before getting back the Metro we stopped at a sidewalk café. A young Asian couple came by. Angel was very delighted to meet their young male apricot-colored mini-poodle. The two dogs played together and a couple of other passing dogs also joined in. We started talking with the couple and enjoyed them so much that they joined us for about an hour. They are from Japan and are now living in Sweden. He is a physician – an interventional radiologist. He said that in Japan, although they have all the modern technology for radiology they are not doing much with it except diagnosis. He wants to use it for treatment which he is able to do in Sweden. As an example he described using it for treating dissecting aortic aneurysms. I had fun talking with him about some of the interventions we have been doing at comprehensive stroke centers (like Stanford). Besides ddiscussing medicine we had great fun talking with them about their families, life in Japan, life in Sweden (though they have only been there for two months), their honeymoon in Hawaii (how he broke an American’s window with a golf ball and subsequently made a lasting friendship with the American and visited him in Marin last year). We said goodbye and wished them success and happy full lives. These kind of impromptu conversations with the people you meet by chance is what I think makes travel the most interesting.

On the way home we stopped at a sidewalk café on Bastille Place for a glass of vin. We started a conversation with four Canadians from Montreal – 3 men and 1 woman. They became our fast friends. We ended up seeing them every afternoon/evening that we were in Paris. I will write more about them later.


For dinner we walked just a few blocks from our hotel to a restaurant that specializes in cold shellfish. We had been walking by frequently and seeing all the beautiful items (heads-on shrimp, oysters, lobster) displayed on ice on the sidewalk at the side of the restaurant, and the fact that it was very hot outside (even in the evening) made us decide this was the place for dinner. We hah d a platter of shellfish for two and it was wonderful – very fresh, very cold, and very plentiful. Fortunately we weren’t planning on going anywhere but home as by the end of our meal (we couldn’t finish all of it) having peeled shrimp, removed lobsters and crabs from their shells, etc. we probably smelled pretty bad.

Day 3 Lundi July 12
Because the weather forecast for the day was scattered thunderstorms we decided to spend most the day at Pompidou Center. Neither MaryAnn nor I had ever been to its collection of modern art. I’ve always been put off by the Center’s architecture which looks like some kind of horrific child’s toy. It is about 10 stories tall with the floors reached through escalators that go through clear plastic tunnels. The modern art collection is actually spectacular and traces art from post-impressionists, through cubism, to very abstract modern art. My favorites were the many Matisse, Modigliani, and Picasso’s.

There was also a very interesting special exhibit titled “Dreamland” with the theme on amusement parks starting with early World’s Fairs up through Las Vegas and Dubai. Quite interesting. One of the most eye-catching parts showed some of the showgirls of the World’s Fairs and it was quite obvious that a lot of this could actually be categorized as pornography.

In walking back to our hotel in the Marai we went through the old Jewish quarter. It is apparently much smaller than it once was but still seems vibrant. There were quite a few bookstores with books in Hebrew, Jewish delis, etc. Quite a few people walking past us wore Hasidic clothing and hair styles.

We tried to visit the Jewish Museum but got there too late in the day.

On our way back to the hotel we stopped at the same sidewalk café for a glass of wine – this is becoming our routine! And there were the same Montreal foursome that we’d met the day before. We joined them and had a fun time sharing our adventures from the day. Of the four, one speaks very good English. A second one thinks he doesn’t speak that well in English but we think he does. The other man and woman speak very little English. Of course MaryAnn and I, despite taking Level 1 and Level 2 French at Alliance Francaise in San Francisco aren’t very good. We can count, know the days of the week, can order at a restaurant but we are truly limited if you actually want to have a conversation. Despite this, using our limited vocabularies, lots of sign language, we had really had fun. They said they were staying in Paris for their whole trip here. We then bid them farewell sure that this would be the last time we’d see them. Not so however, we saw them everyday – at the same place – the corner café at the end of the day.

For dinner we walked to Place du Voges where we had seen a number of interesting looking restaurants. The setting is really beautiful – my picture won’t do it justice. There is a beautiful park in the middle surrounded with identical buildings that are unique in their architecture.

Unfortunately the restaurant we selected had, without a doubt, the worst service I’ve encountered on this trip. When our waiter came to take our order, he literally looked straight up at the ceiling when we told him what we wanted. We had to ask him for his attention numerous times. When the food came it was sort of thrown at us. Very strange. The people at the next table got up and left before their food came. The other odd thing was that the food was actually excellent. It was a very strange place.

Montmartre Pics

A


On the left I share my terrible chicken luncheon meet salad with Angel.

At the top Angel meets a friend in Montmartre.

Above left - a famous sculpture of a man emerging from a wall.