France Days 14-17: Where Carcassonne is a Proper Castle, but the Mary and Baby Jesus Statues Definitely Are Not, and We Say Goodbye to France.

 

This trip's theme has somehow come to revolve around statuary, in particular the bizarre/interesting/ridiculous depictions of the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus. You'll recall the Bill Murray Baby Jesus man-child from the Greek Monastery.
After cruising the canal for two delightful days, stopping at tiny villages, and generally enjoying the laziness of it all, we arrived in Carcassonne, a beautiful town with an incredible castle that dominates the skyline. Perhaps you have heard of the game, which I tried to master some time ago, but it turns out it is easier to be 53, travel to Europe, rent a canal boat, go through 33 locks and get yourself to the actual Carcassonne castle and then start deciding whether you should move there and become a farmer or a pillager or a knight etc. than it is to ever win the game.

I should probably have played this child's version instead. Anyway my point is that while it's known for the 3.2kms of double ramparts and protections, and the 52 towers, it also turns out Carcassonne is a hotbed of hilarious Mary/Baby Jesus statues. 

Take this one, for example:

Mary looks to be about 14 first of all, and like she's just seen, oh I don't know, a man with wings flying around or maybe a ghost, and then there's the baby Jesus, who looks like the love child of Beeker the Muppet and Rex Murphy. 

The site of the castle has held some sort of fortification since Roman times in 122 BCE, holding off various marauders and the like. The best story concerns Madame Carcas, la chatelaine of the castle (in charge) who, in 1249 while the castle was under yet another siege, decided to take their last remaining pig, kill it, and stuff it with the last of their grain, and chuck it over the walls at the feet of their enemy. It was a gutsy move, designed to make them think the castle had food to waste, and could outlast any lengthy siege the marauders might be considering. It worked, and the pillagers buggered off. Weirdly, while we were cruising in the canal just after leaving, we saw a huge bloated pig carcass floating in the canal. It smelled horrible, but certainly added to the authenticity of our visit...

The castle really is stunning - we loved exploring the ramparts and towers and walking through La Cite, even if it was extremely crowded. While we have mostly had Europe to ourselves for the past couple of weeks, it turns out this is where all the people are. 

But back to the statues...

Let me get a little closer:

This sculpture was created by an Italian at some point in the 1600s. 

And modified and perfected in the 1980s.

And then there's this one. 

He's wondering if his mum knows she has a hole in her chest.

Also, I feel like Nute Gunray from Star Wars: The Phantom Menace was also involved somehow:

Anyway, we were sad to leave Carcassonne, but happy to continue our journey on to Bram, where we said goodbye to our boat.

Then we were off to Toulouse, where we said goodbye to Uncle Pete, and then to Paris by train, where it was raining chats et chiens.

And this isn't even a black and white photo.

After getting completely soaked, and then trapped in terrible Paris traffic, we almost missed our Eurostar to London and only made it by taking out several small children and old ladies in the Gare du Nord. Sorry!

None of that mattered however as my secret plan to bring Zoe to London to surprise Kent went off flawlessly when she 'bumped into' him at St. Pancras Station:

Yes that first picture makes me cry too!

Stay tuned for more from London, including the inevitable cake.

Europe Days 10-13: Featuring a Giant Honeycomb and Many Many Locks.

You may be getting tired of hearing me talk about my breakfast but isn't that what the internet is for? I must just mention the breakfast buffet at our hotel in Barcelona- I could probably still be there now and not have tried everything. From the Chef's omelette and crepe station to the huge bowls of Paella, to the cheese boards, and the dessert table, and everything in between, it was the most ridiculous/amazing thing ever. Just to give you an idea, this entire honeycomb was just sitting there, waiting for whoever wanted it to scoop out big chunks, or just let the honey drizzle into your tea or bowl of muesli or whatever.

We may have stayed there a bit too long as we did have to rush a little bit to catch our train to Narbonne. 

I'm happy to report that our Noon in Narbonne meeting time to rendezvous with my Uncle Pete was a success and we spent a lovely afternoon there lazing around in a Cafe and visiting the ancient  Cathedral.

After some kerfuffle with catching a cab (thank goodness my Uncle speaks French) we made it to Argens-Minervois and picked up our canal boat. 

I guess I didn't really get it when they said it was a tiny town without any facilities- the place is miniscule and, like a lot of small French towns, feels a bit deserted. Fortunately I had ordered groceries ahead of time for the boat as there isn't even a grocery store.

Also, other than speaking and driving, the French don't really do anything quickly. So there was a bit of standing around while we got organized, and then an extremely long orientation.

Me after the hours long orientation....

We opted to stay in the harbour for the night as we were all a bit exhausted and the wind was gusting. Other than the Locaboat base, the only place open was a very cute open air restaurant, La Guinguette, just a short walk from the harbour. A couple of months ago when I was planning this trip, I had read that it was imperative to make reservations at any of the restaurants along the canal so I had gone through the painful process of trying to make one at La Guinguette. I gave up after a while but suspected that maybe I had actually made a reservation. When we finally got to the restaurant it was much later than I had planned so I figured I was out of luck but the server just said:"do you have a reservation??" And we said yes and the name and he muttered something and pointed to an empty table for three like he'd been waiting hours for us, which he had. So it all somehow worked out. The food was delicious. 

The next morning after breakfast we left the harbour and navigated our first lock, which Kent described accurately as a melee. The instructions during the orientation seemed simple enough but in practice, we all three of us completely forgot what to do and several other people had to come to our rescue. Ropes were flying, swear words too, and the lock keeper was yelling. 

We somehow made it through and out the other side, several feet lower and a bit worse for wear.

After that it was smooth sailing for the rest of the day as there were no more locks on that section of the canal. It was lovely and peaceful to glide through fields of grapevines, stopping at little deserted villages.

As the sun set, we moored for the night just outside the small village of Roubia, made ourselves dinner and then crashed. The bed is more of a coffin than anything but that's ok when you sleep the sleep of the dead.

The next day we had what seemed like several hundred locks ahead of us. For those of you not familiar, the locks raise or lower your boat along the canal (depending on which direction you go) by locking you into a compartment in the canal, then either filling it to raise you up to the next level, or draining it to lower you down. As you can imagine, there's a lot going on and it's a bit chaotic. Some of the locks are giant too.

This lock was a triple so we had to do this three times in a row.

Fortunately we were traveling in a pack with the other two boats, and there weren't any boats going the other way, so the lock keeper didn't need to wait. They don't like to just do one boat at a time, it seems. The lock keeper, or éclusier, lives on site, usually in a super cute little house, and sometimes even has a little c or things for sale, like fresh eggs or local honey.

You'll have to take my word for it as I'm often too busy holding ropes to take photos. Although I did see this guy, Garcon, standing in judgement over our locking skills:

Ok buddy. 

This entire region is given over to wine production and often the little towns are dominated by a winemaking cooperative.

We stopped at one winery built in the 1860s still in use today. I was not prepared for how bad the smell was- something between a large pile of manure and a compost bin that has been out in the sun for too long.

There was a museum of ancient wine making equipment there which was interesting, if you like that sort of thing, and some tasting at the end.

They were also selling all sorts of local produce including giant almonds that were twice the size of the ones we get at home, jams, pasta, olives and of course wine, and also this odd product:

I'm just not sure if we want body lotion made from donkey milk. Do we? 

The funny thing about canal cruising is that you can only ever go a maximum of 8km/hr, and most times it's an average of about 5km/hr. Cruising after dark is not allowed.  So in a day, you might get 14kms if you "hammer it" as Kent says. In the whole week, I think we might go 80kms total. 

I could get used to this slower way of life.

Greece Days 8-9: Next Time, Albania, Next Time! Also, there are Dead Hedgehogs, and We Leave Greece.

The sun was shining when we woke up on Wednesday morning for our last full day here in Aristi. 

I savored my second-to-last breakfast here and may have actually had two breakfasts. I really can't say enough good things about the mini croissant-nutella-strawberry jam  combination. After you have swirled your mini croissant in the nutella-jam, then you must spoon the remaining chocolatey- jammy goodness into your jar of full-fat plain Greek yogurt, swirl it all around, and then enjoy. If you want, you can also add honey to the mix but the Nutella is, in my opinion, superior.

This brings me to an important question: why do we not have chocolate flavored yogurt? Kent is insisting that chocolate yogurt is a dime-a-dozen at home but I'm not convinced. I see I have a new mission ahead of me.

Just a reminder in case you missed this the first time around.

Anyway after breakfast our big plan was to try and visit Albania for the day. It's about a 45 minute drive to the border from Aristi and we made good time.

For us Gen Xers, having grown up during the cold War, Albania was always the pinnacle of mystery. No one could ever go there, and you never met an Albanian as long as you lived as they were not allowed to leave and no one could go in. The only thing I ever knew about Albania was that they had a King, Zog, for a while before WW2, and then he was deposed and a horrible dictator, Hoxha, moved in who ruled with an iron hand for the next 40 years or something like that until the fall of the USSR in the 90s. 

And so we were pretty excited to finally get a chance to see the country. Unfortunately, our rental car company had other ideas, and we were turned back at the border for not having the right insurance by a border guard eating a very large and messy sandwich. 

So this is as far into Albania as we made it:

I tried pleading with the Gods but they are obviously busy elsewhere.

Me: Hey sorry to bother you but just wondering if you could pull some strings and get us in to Albania just for the day?

Gods (looking at maps and making notes): You're joking, right?

Me: Well...

Gods: No.

Me: OK sorry to bother you.

Gods (busy texting and making calls): Yes you should be. Have you watched the news?

Me: Right. I'll just go find a beach then.

Gods *shakes head*: Must be nice. Have a swim for us.

Me:

Gods:

After cursing various other entities for a short period of time and experiencing various stages of disappointment, we regrouped and decided to find a beach instead.  Next time, Albania, next time. 

Me after we couldn't get into Albania.

The coast was a bit of a drive but fortunately there's always something interesting to see around here so a couple of hours flashed by and we found ourselves gazing at the blue waters of the Ionion Sea, with the coast of Albania stretching off to the north, and Corfu in the distance.

We stopped at the little town of Plataria first for a beach nap. Kent of course went straight in to the water, declaring it "warmer than Hornby will ever be", while I fumed on the beach after realizing my bathing suit was in the hotel room still. I waded in the water anyway, then crashed on the beach for a nap. 

After a bite to eat at a local restaurant, we were back in the car and on our way to Syvota, a charming little boating/ beach community in the next bay over.

The water was clear, the sailboats gorgeous, and the ice cream delicious.

We didn't want to leave and could quite happily have spent a few days here boating around to the offshore islands and exploring all the little coves and harbours. Next time.

One of the things we have noticed on our travels is that at any point, some sort of animal, dead or alive, will be on the road whether it's a dog or ten dogs, a cat or five, flocks of goats or sheep, feral donkeys, cows, even  hedgehogs. 

These guys were hanging around just outside Aristi as we left town.

We also saw lots of signs warning of wild boars, deer and bears on the roads but didn't see any.

Of the above list, the hedgehogs fared the worst. Given the fact that the wild dogs here just lay around in the middle of the road in packs, I thought we would see more dead dogs but they have figured out how to move at the last second. The hedgehogs, not so much. 

This may not be the right time to announce that I was victorious in our ongoing game of Dead Hedgehog, aka Deadgehog for short, in which the first person to spot a dead hedgehog on the road gains a point, similar to Dead Badger which I have played before in the UK. By the end of all the driving, a winner is declared and that was me, by a wide margin of my 4 deadgehogs to Kent's 1. Poor little guys.

Back at the hotel we set about trying to stuff everything back into our suitcase and backpack in preparation for an early departure the next morning.

We did linger over our last breakfast before getting in the car for the three and a half hour drive back across Greece to Thessaloniki for our 2:30pm flight to Barcelona, via Stuttgart. 

The roads here are virtually empty of traffic, and in places, the limit is 130km/h. Distances fly by at this speed, especially when the road goes right through the  mountains with the help of 54 tunnels (yes, I counted them). Why can we not have tunnels at home? The Malahat, for instance, would be no different than many of the kms long tunnels that go directly through huge mountains here. So much safer and efficient.

But I can't even imagine the process involved in that discussion... 

Anyway, I wss sorry to say goodbye to Greece but happy for the amazing times, and that we made it to the airport with time to spare. I am of the opinion that you can never get to the airport too early, an opinion Kent does not share. Anyway we made it and checked in with Eurowings for our flight to Stuttgart and then on to Barcelona. 

An unexpected choice of Lego available at a Relay in Stuttgart.

There was a little kid repeatedly asking his mum what it was. Bit disappointing when you're hoping for a Star Wars set and this is all they have.

Eurowings is Lufthansa's budget airline and it seems that they code share with any number of budget small airlines in Europe so you never know who you're going to be flying with. This was especially true on the second leg which was on a plane that they hadn't bothered to paint yet so it really was a mystery. The flight attendants muttered something about Avian Express, I think, which made it sound like the thing was going to be pulled by a flock of birds which may have been the case as it was one of the bumpiest flights I've been on in a long time so we didn't even have a chance to pay 5€ for a cup of warm water.

We were a slightly sorry lot upon arrival in Barcelona, where it was 24° and raining. After a quick train ride to Barcelona Sants train station, we stumbled around through the heavy crowds trying to find the entrance to our hotel, which was above the station and, I might add, has a very cool space theme complete with a robot delivering stuff around the hotel and an R2D2.

The woman behind the counter at the hotel must have felt sorry for us as she gave us an upgrade to a huge suite with two bathrooms, separate rooms, two huge tvs, remote control blinds, and a very fancy WC with all sorts of 'features'. The room even came with its own shoe shiner which I, in my diminished state, could not figure out how to use.

We had big plans to go wander around Barcelona but it was 9pm and raining and Kent had already been a trooper all day and needed to rest and so we ordered grilled sandwiches and French fries that came with little jars and bottles of ketchup and mayonnaise and mustard and olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and a salad, and lounged around our suite watching the news on BBC. The situation in Israel and Gaza seems a lot closer here. So heartbreaking.

As I write this, the sun is coming up and Barcelona is bustling.

There's lots to see here but we are boarding a fast train to Narbonne, France, in a couple of hours so it will have to wait. We will have hit four countries in 24 hours, including driving across one of them, by Friday morning so sometimes the need to rest wins out over the need to see a cool old Cathedral.

Another time, as I like to say.

On Friday we start Part 2 of this trip, which is a week in a canal  boat in Southern France with my Uncle Pete, with whom we are meant to rendezvous today at Noon in Narbonne- sounds like the title to an exciting drama. 

Stay tuned to find out if we actually find him at the station, and make it to the tiny village or Argens to get our canal boat.

Thanks for traveling along with us:)

Greece Days 5-7: Where the Villages are Perfect and Tiny, and the Monasteries Old and Crumbly, and There are Caves.

 

The region we are visiting, known as Zagori, comprises 46 villages, all connected by trail or road, and all part of a designated UNESCO World Heritage site. They really are ridiculously picturesque, with their casual I-woke-up-like-this slightly ruined, rustic-chic thing going on. We had big plans to drive to this beach or that landmark while here but this area has so much to offer we've been more inclined to drive 10km instead of 100km, and hang out with the locals in their cute little cafes.

And so on Sunday we packed up the tin can (rental car) and drove out from Aristi (our village) and up the winding road across the valley from us to the villages of Megalo and Mikro Papingo. 

Watching cars drive down this road in the evening when it is getting dark is like watching
a Wes Anderson movie.

A quick word about the Greek language: It is largely impenetrable, for the most part due to the Cyrillic alphabet which takes some serious work if you want to make any sense of it at all. However, there are a lot of Greek words in English and that helps with recognition and understanding. We have had a few laughs, and by 'we' I mean I have had a few laughs at Kent's expense as he keeps saying "Kalamari" to the hotel staff in the morning instead of "Kalimera" (good morning). They politely smile and say "Kalimera" while I'm doubled over in the background wheezing. He has threatened to start saying "melikalikimaka" which is Hawaiian for Merry Christmas just to really mix things up. Anyway we quickly, using our megalo brains, figured out that Megalo Papingo would be the larger of the two and went there first. The sun was shining and the birds were out and it was gorgeous.

Mikro Papingo was just a lovely. These villages are protected by UNESCO standards and look much how they have looked for centuries. Many of them were occupied by Nazi forces during the occupation of 1941-1945, and, being Nazis, they torched some of the towns before they left, so there are ruins and old structures that have collapsed over time, but it all adds to the character and atmosphere. 

After walking our 9800 steps for the day around the villages, and eating some obligatory homemade spinach pie and Greek salad at a lovely little restaurant, we reluctantly got back in the car. Just outside the village is a series of rockpools carved by the water through the soft limestone over time. When there isn't a drought, like there is right now, the pools fill with crystal clear water but now there was only a small amount of water flowing. Still, it was very cool and we walked up and back through the small canyon.

Everywhere you look here the rock formations are stunning.

Having missed out on a swim at the rockpools, we stopped at the Voidomatis river where the rafting companies put in. Such cute little boats they use here!

The water was outrageous again and Kent jumped in for a quick swirl in the clear blue current.

We had one more stop to make before collapsing at the hotel and that was to visit an ancient abandoned monastery built in and on a giant rock.

It was, like everything here, deserted and we were the only ones there. We ignored some signs in Greek and headed off down a beautiful forest path.

The monastery was built sometime in the 1600's and, like everything here, seemed to serve a purpose of sheltering the locals from the Turks in their various marauding stages.

When we arrived at the door (which has had some modern maintenance), I was a bit disappointed that it was locked.

But then I noticed a path leading around the side of the building and voila, there was the other side of the locked door.  

There's a joke here somewhere about how when one door is locked, another one, or in this case the same door, is also open.

Anyway, the whole place was falling down but still beautiful.

We found a slippery crumbling path around the back and clambered up to the Belfry where the 100s year old bell was still in working order.

The view from the belfry was fantastic but the whole place had a little bit of a creepy Dan Brown meets Picnic at Hanging Rock feel to it. I kept looking around for a monk in a black robe with burning coals for eyes but fortunately didn't see one. Just these folks who seem to have some sort of tiny man-child version of Bill Murray in their midst. 

Actually I read later that these murals were done sometime in the late 1600s so that's pretty impressive. And they are outside and unprotected from the elements.

Back at the hotel we had just enough energy to eat something and then collapse into a coma for the night.

Monday morning arrived with clouds and rain although it was still beautiful.

Kent had to work for most of the day so we didn't go anywhere, except to the spa later for some treatments and then dinner at the hotel. I'm not sure if it's the mountain air or the visits from Mr. J. Lag, but we have been unable to keep our eyes open past about 9:30pm. Not even the dogs keep us awake despite their best efforts. 

Tuesday we woke up to rain and after a bit of work, headed into Ioannina, the local town, for a visit. Zeus was annoyed about something and the thunder was rumbling and lightening bolts flashing but we still had a wander around the town. The Greek Orthodox church dominates here and many of the stores carry religious iconry and art. It's all very stylized and looks much as it has for hundreds of years.

it doesn't seem to matter where you are in Europe, the religious artists always struggle with making baby Jesus look like a baby, rather than a midget. It's a bit disconcerting.

Despite the rain there was lots to see here.

Before driving the 45 mins back to Aristi, we decided to visit a local cave used as refuge by local civilians during the war. It was pretty impressive.

This cross is thought to have been somehow made by human influence as the cave has been used in one form or another for thousands of years.

It  was a 1.1km walk with some very low and tight spots were I tried not to think about the 35 meters of rock over my head.

Me after my walk through the cave.

We drove back home and crashed again in the giant comfy bed, the sound of rain pattering on the terrace outside. Only two days left here!