Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

Raf and I loved this sign, next to a huge well in the middle of Carcassonne. I guess they don't want Americans to throw stuff into the well. S'il vous plait, indeed.

I took this picture (hard to see, hard to read) to remind me of the amazing dinner I had last night here at the Chateau de Floure. Because we've had such good meals there -- and we're lazy -- we haven't left the chateau to investigate nearby restaurants. We figure it'd be more hassle than it's worth; this way, we can see the girls in the room as we finish up our meals AND the food is incredible.

Anyway, last night I had the cassoulet, a rustic French stew with pork and duck parts simmered in a bean and vegetable casserole. It was not something I'd normally order, but I've read a lot about cassoulet so I figured I should try it and I was not at all disappointed. It reminded me of rustic Italian cooking, in which you could tell that it was a little of this, a little of that, whatever might be left in the pantry just simmered up until it's tender and comforting. Again, we had a bottle of wine from this region (Minerve) and also a plate of pate. Raf and I are enjoying the gastronomic pleasures of our stay at the Chateau, but it's clear that we cannot live like this. I may have actually put on 10 pounds in the two days we've been here.

So the last sign is my puffy eyes (from all the wine) and puffy belly (bread/cheese/wine/chocolate/butter... basically everything that the French do so well). As much as I like it here, I am also looking forward to going back to the land of coconut water, salads with lemon juice and wacko hour-long cardio workout classes...

Meet Me at the Cemetery Gates

I always loved the Smiths' song "Meet Me at the Cemetery Gates," and the lyrics hounded me as Emme and Marlowe and I walked around this pretty little graveyard directly outside the fortress walls of Carcassonne. I had been hoping for some ancient headstones, and these were "only" from the late 1800's and early 1900's (through modern times), but I was somewhat enchanted by the blithely colorful ceramic flower arrangements on many of the graves -- so much classier than the silk flowers that fade in the sunlight.

So we go inside and we gravely read the stones

All those people

All those lives

Where are they now?

With their loves and hates and passions just like mine

They were born and then they lived and then they died

Seems so unfair

And I want to cry.

Carcasonne, the Medieval Walled City

Considered to be Europe's ultimate walled fortress city, Carcassonne is also a tourist mecca because it is a living, breathing playground for history buffs. There's a castle, a moat, a drawbridge, and you can kind of just wander around at will. Kids run through the grounds (once you get past the mall-like corridors of shops and cafes, which I actually thought were fairly reasonable in price) and you can pay a little extra to tour the castle and walk along the upper ramparts, but we decided just to run crazy and take our own little tour.

Known as La Cite, Carcassonne is at least 1200 years old - you read that right, a thousand years older than our dear America! It's so old that even the "New City" (outside the walls of the fortress and down the hill) dates from 13th century. It's so old, it was defeated during The Crusades. I read that people have occupied the area since Neolithic times, and the Romans built the first wall, upon wich the bigger medieval wall was constructed (and then the "new" wall was built in the 1300s). Charlemagne and his troops besieged La Cite for several years as well.

Although we had fun wandering this Shrek-like world, we are an American family that is now craving pizza and TV and air conditioning, so I was not at all surprised when Raf

asked me, "Are we Carca-done?" I said yes, and he nodded gratefully, saying, "I'll be happy when we're Carca-gone." Yes, we were there way too Carca-long. In Barcelona, we saw an old guy's Carca-dong. In France, not ordering a pate starter is Carca-wrong.

And, our favorite ode is Carcassonne is borrowed from a cheesy 80s tune:
Carca-Khan
Carca-Khan
Carca-Khan, let me rock you, it's all I wanna do.