A Month of Vertical Challenges and Visitors

June 3, 2008

June dawned for us at 2,200 m, surrounded by mountains covered with snow, tucked up in a refuge at the edge of a frozen lake....

Setting Out; Chocolate Stop

Yesterday we put the walking boots and shorts on and drove over the Col d’Agnes (where we saw the bike race last month) to Vicdessos in the next valley. We parked the car at 1,200 m, set of with a few daypacks filled with lunch and pyjamas, and started up the path towards the Refuge du Pinet. It was a challenging hike, relentlessly steep, through birch forest, along rocky ridges, over several snow-melt brooks and eventually through drifts of snow. The kids went straight up without complaining, even Felix.

Emile alone on a mountain; Another chocolate stop

Emile managed to let his backpack tumble over the edge of a little cliff, which caused everyone a great deal of angst. It fell in a difficult to access position, but that wasn’t the worrying aspect of the situation – more troubling was the fact that it contained our precious supply of Cherry Ripes (courtesy of the ever-thoughtful Elle), and they were spread all over the rocks. As agile as he is, Emile collected them all with our encouragement from above.

The Refuge de Pinet and the view from its balcony

We didn’t expect there to be much snow at the top, but how wrong we were. The last few hundred metres were covered in thick snow and it was cold, cold, cold. The other arrivals at the refuge (friends of the guardian) were a group of five who were equipped with poles, ski jackets and pants, helmets, crampons, the whole kit. They were serious mountaineers who planned to conquer the 3,000m Montcalm the next day. I think they thought we were lunatics arriving in shorts, with four kids in runners, the youngest being six years old!

Patrick, the guardian; Emile, the coat-carrier

Our guardian, Patrick, was celebrating his birthday that night so we fell on good times and had a great meal of confit de canard accompanied by kir for an aperitif, wine with dinner and champagne with dessert. Not your usual mountain refuge fare. The sleeping quarters were basic but comfortable: two rows of bunks with six mattresses in each. If you didn’t come with friends I’m sure you’d leave with some because there was nothing separating one mattress from the next. The wind howled all night providing oodles of atmosphere, and I went to sleep imagining I was living in another era – perhaps as an explorer, or a member of the French resistance fleeing the Nazis over the Pyrenees to Spain during the war, one of Charlemagne’s soldiers returning to France in the 10th century after subduing Spain, or maybe even one of the perfecti, the Cathars who fortified themselves in these mountains and withstood papal troops for months before being burned alive as heretics.

So steep we needed a rope...

The next day I was still a woman of the 21st century with the incredible good fortune to be in a spectacular place with her husband and four children. As Sister Maria sings, “somewhere in my youth, or childhood, I must have done something good”. Speaking of Sister Maria, if you bring to mind the “Doe a deer, a female deer” mountain scene from the Sound of Music, that’s a little what our experience here was like, except instead of seven children singing and eating apples, we provide four children eating Cherry Ripes.

The trip down was harder than the trip up as is often the case, and the next day Ludo, Mahalia and I could barely walk down the stairs. The last time I was aware of my quadriceps to this degree was after running in the City to Surf with insufficient preparation. Emile, Agnes and Felix seemed not to suffer at all.

We had a day of rest yesterday so why not hop on the bike today and climb another mountain? We left the kids at school struggling with French grammar and set off to the Col de Saraille, at 950m this was attainable for me. Despite it drizzling most of the way it was a beautiful ride up through Anilac and Cominac, well-known for their stone granges with stepped pediments, and with magnificent views across the valley and over the snow-capped mountains to Spain. I managed to reach the col without stopping once which was a milestone in my cycling history. On the way down to the restaurant in Erce we passed two women on a trek with a donkey. We had seen them 3 days before at the Col d’Agnes. It sure is a slow mode of transport.

June 5

Col de Catchaudegue (900m) this afternoon. Yes! Drizzling again.

Today Francoise and Roger arrived for a week, and tonight we invited our neighbour in for a drink to celebrate her birthday. Our birthday present was the only one she received. She has no family and has had a hard life (orphaned during the war, Vietnam vet husband who was prone to violence). She doesn’t have an easy personality, so even though she has many wonderful qualities, after 30 years in the village she has a hard time being accepted, and has few friends here. She so values the few friends she has that any display of generosity towards her is returned 10 fold. Her gifts of home-made jam and heirloom roses from her garden are legendary in this house, so I expect we’ll have a few pots of jam soon. She runs a shop in the village that showcases the products of craftspeople in the region.

June 9

Two days ago I was awakened at 6am to the sound of clunking sheep bells as a flock of brebis, encouraged by their shepherd, made their way through the village on their way up the valley. I couldn’t shepherd Ludo out of bed to see this spectacle but I’ll try again next time a flock comes through. For June is the month of the transhumance in Ariege. This is the mass movement of herds of cows, goats, sheep and horses from their winter lodging in the valleys to the high pastures in the mountains. The transhumance has taken on a bit of celebratory aspect in the last decade or so to maintain a tradition that is slowing dying, because few young farmers want to spend months in the summer shepherding their stock in the isolation of the high Pyrenees. The celebrations accompanying the transhumance seems to be getting bigger every year in the valleys of Ariege, and include feasts, dancing and fetes in villages along their route. Agri-tourists wanting to experience this disappearing culture also join the annual pilgrimage at different points along the trek, camping with the herds and flocks at night.

Francoise; Music from Bethmale

Yesterday was the transhumance through the valley of Bethmale, over the Col de la Core (remember my cycling goal?) We piled everyone in the car and endured the long and winding road and more than a few stops for car sick family members, to join in the celebrations at Castillon and Bethmale. First stop was the vide grenier (‘attic emptying’ - street stalls selling all manner of old things) at Castillon before we continued up the valley, past the Bethmale lake, along a rutted road, until we reached a point where we could go no further by car. We donned our wet weather gear (we’re still waiting for summer) and walking boots and set off on the last few kilometres to find the beasts.

Transhumance in the mountains

After half an hour or so we rounded a corner and before us was a magnificent vista, another cirque, a tableau of fir forests, waterfalls, steep mountain pastures and in the middle of it all, the incongruous forms of blue and white striped tents, a melange of farm creatures and several hundred keen walkers who had climbed the mountain with the shepherds! It was really an amazing sight. To see an area that is usually so lonely and isolated, peopled and busy was very strange. The villagers of Bethmale were dressed in their very distinctive costumes, playing the folk music of the region, and a feast was provided for those who had the foresight to order a week earlier (that didn’t include us). It was a wonderfully festive atmosphere created by those who love these mountains.

Costumes from Bethmale

The costume worn by the people of Bethmale features strange wooden clogs with long curved points and a carved heart at the toe. The legend surrounding these clogs goes back to the last millennium when the Moors invaded Western Europe from Spain, through the Pyrenees and up as far north as Poitiers in the Loire Valley. The young men of Bethmale fled into the mountains and during their exile they fashioned all manner of weapons to rid their valley of the invaders, including the sharp points of their clogs. When they heard that the Moors had been defeated at a battle on the Mediteranean coast, they crept down under cover of darkness to wreak vengeance on the enemy. One young man emerged from the battle with the heart of his fiancée’s Moorish lover skewered to his lethal clog. Whether it’s true or not, it’s a great story isn’t it?

June 13

Dad and Cheryl arrived today in Toulouse by train, late because of yet another strike. It’s been 30 years since I spent more than a lunch or dinner with them, so I’m really looking forward to this whole week. It was very strange to see them in this very French environment! We had a great time, with a lot of hilarity over several games of 500, and Dad’s forays into the village shops.

The day after they arrived the transhumance passed through Seix, and the village celebrated with lunches, dinners, dances, markets and the Vache Landaise. The Vache Landaise is a little like bullfighting without the violence. A small arena was set up in the meadow next to the rugby field and all the villagers filled the stands to watch the spectacle. There were semi professional toreadors who took to the arena to do battle with the young bulls. One of them was incredible, doing aerial somersaults over the bull as it charged him. After those who knew what they were doing left the ring, those who hadn’t a clue were allowed to test their reflexes. Even kids over 12 were allowed in. Emile stretched the truth a little, and proved to be the most audacious of them all, narrowly missing the bull many times and always relaunching himself in front of those little horns. He had a ball (but fortunately not a bull).

Carcassonne

Dad is a bit of a history buff, so we thought a trip to Carcassonne was in order. This time we managed to visit the castle. It has a long and fascinating history, beginning as a fortified Roman village, becoming the stronghold of the Cathars under Trencaval, who was besieged and ultimately beaten by Simon de Montfort’s papal army in the 13th century. Most of the population was allowed to leave unharmed with the clothes on their backs, and they established the modern city of Carcassonne across the river. Fortified Carcassonne was subsequently used by the French monarchs for a few more centuries as a southern bastion before falling into near ruin in the 19th century when it was used as a great source of building stone for the new town. An architect of the 19th century whose name escapes me undertook extensive studies and drafting of the ruined fortress and initiated a restoration campaign in the 20th century that lasted for some 50 years. Consequently the fortified city is in an amazing state of preservation today. What incredible foresight the government had to commit to such an undertaking.

We saw Carcassonne in January in the dead of winter, and again now in June. I have also seen it in August. I loved it in January, thought it was OK in June, and hated it in August – a direct function of the number of tourists present.

Mahalia at full canter; Dad shovelling horse poo

Another highlight of Dad and Cheryl’s week here was the Grotte de Niaux. These caves are in the same valley as the one we travelled through to climb to the mountain refuge, near the town of Tarascon. The Grotte de Niaux are famed for their prehistoric cave paintings, ranging in age from 14,000 to 12,000 years ago. They also have graffiti on the walls from the 17th century. We had to walk in complete darkness, carrying one torch per couple, along slippery rock pitted with holes, for nearly a kilometre. In true French style there was no warning of the slippery slope, of the head banging opportunities, or of the puddles, but fortunately Ludo warned the group of the latter by stepping into one early on, ankle deep.

We reached a domed chamber at the end of the cave, the guide took all our torches, and using a special light that wouldn’t damage the paintings, she showed us the most extraordinary art work; depictions of bison, cave lions, horses and symbolic markings in ochre and black charcoal. In art history we are taught that perspective was ‘discovered’ in the Renaissance, but these drawings were perfect in their proportions and perspective.

Dad challenging Emile; Cheryl, Ludo and Dad

Their last night here we spent at the Hotel de la Poste, one of our favourite local restaurants. It has a wonderful wood-panelled dining room with a huge stone fireplace and candles, and is very welcoming in winter. However, it’s summer now, so we ate in the huge garden surrounded by roses and lilies and clematis, and Ludo introduced Dad and Cheryl to the pleasures of foie gras, magret de canard and orange soufflé.

June 20

Kim arrived today, and how good it is to see her again. We dropped Dad and Cheryl at the airport in Toulouse, 1.5 hours from our house, and went straight to the railway station to meet Kim. Wasting no time, we took Kim shopping in the beautiful city of Toulouse. The buildings there, built almost entirely of rosy red bricks, nestle between the mighty Garonne and the Canal du Midi, both of which are lined with majestic plane trees that provide welcome shade in the hot southern summers. It’s a wonderful city for cycling, through narrow winding streets and along the waterways. It has a rich past and has been an important player in the history of France. Now it’s a big aerospace centre – this is where the Airbus planes are assembled.

Felix and Agnes in the School Show

This afternoon was the end of year school concert. Emile somehow managed to get the most challenging part and had to memorise lines and lines of the French play. He acquitted himself with aplomb. There was some doubt as to whether he would be up to going to high school in September with the rest of his class, but so far has he progressed at school that there are no concerns now. He’s transformed in the last few months, becoming a self-assured, gutsy 11 year-old who surprises us every day (more later!) Agnes shone on the stage as always, and we couldn’t pick Felix’s accent, so integrated has he become.

Their school reports were all amazing (although Felix’s behaviour attracted a few comments) and Mahalia earned honors. Ludo has spent a lot of time helping the kids with their homework and this has contributed a lot to their achievements. In a way these results vindicate our decision to come here, even though the start was very difficult for everyone. The kids have well and truly integrated into the life of the village, they all have good friends, they know their Papa’s culture and his language, and Felix (alone of the four) now even speaks to Ludo in French.

June 23

Secoa and St. Jean de Luz

This weekend we took Kim to St. Jean de Luz, near the Spanish border on the Atlantic coast. Ludo spent a lot of time here as a child so it has many memories for him. It has transformed over the years from a fishing port into a chic tourist destination to the point where you can’t see the sand for the bodies in July and August. It still has a lot of charm, though, and the end of June was a good time to visit. French people really know how to celebrate and on Saturday night, to celebrate the day of St. Jean, there was the bataille de confetti and the toro de fuego. The kids love the bataille de confetti, which allows them to throw bags of confetti over everyone all night. It’s lots of fun, and two days afterward I’m still finding confetti in pockets, shoes and other interesting places! At midnight someone dons the papier mache head of a bull (the toro) covered in live firecrackers and fireworks and he runs all over the main square with hundreds of children shrieking behind. The first time I went to this festival I thought it was going to be a real bull, and spent a lot of time wondering how they would keep everyone safe with a firecracker laden bull on the loose. I still haven’t lived that down.

Why can't we have this much fun after a wedding?

June 21 is also the annual fete de la musique, when all over France in every little village and town and city, anyone who can play an instrument or sing takes to the streets to make music. Consequently not only did we throw confetti with reckless abandon, we could dance with abandon too.

and more confetti

On the way home we visited the Chateau of Pau, birthplace of Henri IV, he who slept in a turtle shell as an infant, changed religious conviction six times and had 74 women in his love life, 54 of them verified.

Fete de la Musique

June 24

Almost made it!!!! Tonight I went as far as kilometre 9, altitude1,100 m, on the road to the Col de la Core. I had to stop because I could only see 50 m in front of me through the heavy mist. It was hard, hard, hard, work. I’m feeling very proud of myself and I’m sure I’ll be able to make it to the top soon. Yippee!

June 28

Love is in the air, and although Mahalia is very private about her private life Emile is out there and has his first real girlfriend, Yael, who admires his skateboarding skills and his exotic antecedence. He also had his first real date last night, at the cinema with Yael and her Mum. Consequently we were minus Emile when we went to Aulus les Bains for pizza and mini-golf. Now pizza and mini-golf doesn’t normally bring to mind places of great beauty, but picture this. A little stone shepherd’s hut with a large stone fireplace, situated in the middle of flower filled fields, at the edge of a tiny spa town full of 19th century, shuttered hotels, surrounded by mountains dotted with enormous waterfalls and forests. I love this place.

We’ve been travelling through Aulus a lot recently on the way to some beautiful walks. One rainy day we took Kim on a challenging walk up to the lake of Garbet, the source of the river that runs through Aulus. It was a difficult walk in any conditions, but in the rain it was particularly challenging. We slipped and sloshed our way through thick mist up to the cirque du Garbet, half way to the top, but decided to leave Ludo to finish it alone when we couldn’t find a way across the swollen river. He disappeared in the mist and the torrent, his boots over his shoulders. Just before heading back through the forest, we turned around to find that the cloud had temporarily lifted, revealing a majestic cirque rising sheer from a circular mountain meadow threaded with the river and its rivulets. It was breathtaking.

June 30

Yesterday we went underground, and took a boat for a few kilometres in a massive cave system carved by the underground river Labouiche. It was a little spooky, especially when Ludo asked how far the river rose after heavy rain...

Today we took Kim on another hike beyond the Col d’Agnes where we managed to attract the attention of a solid looking bull, become infested with solid-sucking ticks, and to lose Mahalia for one solid hour. I don’t know if Kim (or Mahalia) will ever walk with us again. Kim leaves on Tuesday, a sad day. And now we must prepare ourselves for 2 months of summer holidays ……….

The Merry Month of May

May 1, 2008

On May the first, Labour Day, it’s tradition to give those you love a bunch of muguet (lily of the valley - tiny white flowers like snowdrops that smell beautiful) because they bring good fortune to the receiver. There are little bunches of white flowers everywhere. The berries are very pretty, but fatally poisonous. A paradox.

May 3

Today we went to the end of the Ustou Valley, 30 minutes from Seix, and walked up to the Cirque de Cagateille. A cirque is a big semicircular formation at the end of a valley that is invariably rather majestic. This one rose up to 2,500 m and had 10 or 12 waterfalls dropping from the snow-covered plateau on the top to the valley floor where we walked. We were honoured to have Mahalia with us. We don’t see much of her these days. She’s 14 now, so it’s to be expected, but we miss her! She’s so much an adult now, and bigger than me, which takes some getting used to.

Agnes at the Cirque de Cagateille

After Emile’s recent barbering experience he went for remedial work at the hairdresser and now has short hair with spikes on top. It takes a lot of his time to keep his hair the way he wants it to be. He, too, is growing up and with that comes an increased consciousness of his appearance. He’s also acutely attuned to everyone’s moods, a measure of his natural sensitivity, and is unfortunately having increasingly frequent, very unpleasant migraines.

The blossoms are blowsy and today they were blowing everywhere in the wind.

Tomorrow Emile, Agnes and Felix leave on a 3 day school excursion for Port Leucate on the Mediterranean coast. Even the pre-school children are going! Felix is particularly stressed about the trip, understandably for a 6 year-old.

May 4

Today we said goodbye to Emile and Agnes. Unfortunately, Felix was in tears and rather distraught, and couldn’t tear himself away from home. I guess he’s had more than his share of change this year. On the bright side, I spent the whole day doing things with him alone – an opportunity that never presents itself normally. We rode around the valley, about 7km, stopping at all the parks and churches on the way, then played a few games of Scrabble. There’s a park in Soueix that I love to go to because it has swings that are about 5 m high – like we had when we were kids before all the parks were kindified. It’s great to swing so high.

The village is strangely subdued without all the children. It’s as though the Pied Piper has swept through and enticed them all into the mountains. At the best of times there aren’t many children here relative to the number of adults – each month there are more deaths than births – the valley villages are slowly dying. The more remote ones are already ghost towns, with maybe a weekender or two to bring a bit of life at holiday time. Seix is lucky it has the high school. It keeps it alive. The maternelle here (pre-school) struggles each year to keep two classes going. Next year will probably be the first year they have to drop back to one class.

The School at Carcassonne

As spring advances the number of tourists and weekend visitors increases and the café on the square fills up each afternoon as people catch the last tables still in sunshine to drink their Pernod.

We were cornered by Madame Azam of the biscuiterie tonight. She has written a history of the village that Ludo bought, and wants to update Ludo on new snippets she’s found whenever she sees him. This time she had some interesting information about the Viros branch of Ludo’s family. Apparently it came from a village over the mountains in Spain – the village of Viros. That must be where Mahalia’s dark eyes and olive skin come from…. They certainly aren’t from my anglo roots.

May 12, 2008

We’ve just returned from 5 days in Montagu en Quercy with Virginie (Ludo’s sister), her daughter Marion and unborn baby, her partner Eric and his 3 children. We all rented an old stone house in the Tarn and Garonne province, near the River Lot. It was beautiful rolling farmland – lots of wheat and sunflowers and corn. It was wonderful to see the wind rolling through the wheat fields and it reminded me of all those years in Narrabri and Moree, though with smaller horizons.

Fun at the Nearby Lake

The kids had a great time together. Everyone had someone of the same age to hang out with, and they all played together a lot, running around the property playing cache-cache (hide and seek), boules, ping pong, Scrabble, cards and chess. They said it was the best trip so far because they didn’t have to visit any monuments!

Ludo is finding the relationships with his family are becoming stronger as the year here goes on. After so many years away it takes a while to re-establish the rapport. That’s one of the main reasons we came here, the other being for the children to become more fluent in the language and culture of their Papa. So on both fronts we seem to be scoring well.

Virginie; Emile

May 13

We’re back to stripping again. Now that the warmer weather is here it’s much more comfortable getting the layers off(!).

Our target this time is on the second floor: in Agnes’ bedroom, deep pink wallpaper that swallows the light, of a geometric pattern circa 1970, with a plaster patch the size of a plate in the top corner and flies breeding behind the mirror, and: kitchen/salon area with lovely, peeling brown and orange wallpaper that boasts both geometric and flower motifs. Comme d’habitude, each time we peel away the paper, the plaster comes along with it, which makes the task more interesting.

The restored cuckoo is driving us cuckoo

I’ve been riding my super fantastic new second hand bike a fair bit lately and hope to do a lot more now that I don’t have to risk losing a few fingers to frostbite. We have a few favourite routes: some along the valleys following the rivers, some climbing up into the mountains. As my legs get used to the climbs I enjoy them a lot more (the climbs that is) and love that sense of conquest when I reach the top.

Last week I set out at 5pm to ride up past Sentenac on the road to the Col de la Core, and turned off to go to La Soumere (we’re at 500m in Seix and La Soumere is at 800m). When I set out the sky was clear and blue, but by the time I reached the turn-off there were clouds as grey as lead, and as heavy – so heavy they emptied themselves on me and my poor bike. I rode for the next half hour, the only crazy on the road, along the ridge and then down the other side of the valley, deafened by thunder and not a little bit scared of the lightning, and of the grip my brakes had on the slender wheels beneath me. I was sure Ludo and the kids would be worried about me, and maybe would come looking for me. When I returned, dripping and very cold, my hands clenched around the brake levers, they were all sitting reading and barely looked up to say hi!

My aim this year (with respect to cycling) is to reach the Col de la Core – at 1,500m that will be a monumental challenge for me. That will be my Tour de France!

May 14, 2008

It’s been interesting reading the French newspapers and seeing what they have to say about the French President, Sarkozy. The call him Sarko which gives you an indication of the respect he commands. The main newspaper here, Le Monde, is aghast at how un-presidential his comportment is. He’s only been in power just over a year (he’s elected for 5 years) and in that time has increased the President’s salary by 200% while calling for everyone else to show constraint, backtracked on just about every (desperately-needed) reform he promised in the face of public opposition, has divorced the wife he wooed a few years ago from another politician, and 3 months later married wife number 3, Carla Bruni, the Italian model, singer and heiress to a great fortune. He’s more famous for his mirrored Ray Bans and wealthy friends than his political savvy. I wonder how Kevin Rudd is faring?

To be fair, he is trying to reform the French economy which is a monumental task. Some groups of people can retire here as early as 41 years old on a full pension so he’s trying to extend the age of retirement, which is meeting implacable resistance. The social security system here is generous to the point where it discourages many people from working. The treasury is in a parlous state. Strong measures are needed from strong politicians.

May 15

Today there is another day off school – teachers’ strike (another reaction to Sarko’s reforms). Since the two weeks of holidays at the end of April we’ve had Thursday 1st May off for Labour Day, Monday 5-Wednesday 7 school excursion, Thursday 8th off for Victory Day (end of WWII), Monday 12th off for the Pentecost, and now May 16th is a strike day!! That’s one month with just 6 days of school!

May 17

When you’re in a strange land, every little thing can surprise. A trip to the supermarket, driving a car, using the telephone, the plumbing, ads on the TV – its all different. The smells are different. In New York I found the plumbing pretty interesting and sometimes confusing, and using their public phones with their jiggly little square steel buttons oddly frustrating. The French bidet is baffling. I can’t imagine in the dead of winter exposing my most sensitive parts to a jet of water. We have three bidets in this house and the only suitable use I can find for them is to hold extra toilet rolls.

Here the differences are subtle enough; I imagine if we were in Kazakhstan the differences would be enormous. The first time I went to a supermarket here was a revelation. So many dairy products! I never knew there could be so many products you could make with milk. Apart from the obvious butter and yoghurt, there are all these products with different levels of sloppiness: crème fraiche, fromage blanc (nothing like cheese), faisselle, greil………. , not to mention 200 types of cheese. We are addicted to les petits pots de crème en caramel by La Laitiere. We dream about them. …… I often think about a line in the movie “French Kiss” where Meg Ryan says something like “the French have a strange relationship with dairy products”.

May 20

No more renovating. That’s it. The second floor is now bright egg yolk yellow (there were complaints that our efforts on the ground floor lacked colour) and it looks great. Now all the kids have great rooms while we have granny flowery wallpaper and a cracked ceiling. To celebrate the end of this recent effort Ludo and I rode up to Trein d’Ustou in the rain. It’s a good ride, made all the more rewarding by the tiny mountain restaurant in Trein where we stop for lunch. Fresh trout from the river with crispy skin, smothered in flaked almonds, with roast garlic, potatoes, barley and salad. Mmmm. It’s a wonderful thing eating after this ride as you feel you merit the calories, plus it’s downhill all the way home! What could be better?

Fritillaras, and the very elegant French Slugs (I don't think they eat these)

The sides of the road are covered with flowers; red poppies, white Queen Anne’s Lace, massive sprays of yellow broome, unidentified pink things, and the beautiful, violet fritillarias which I’ve only ever seen in books before. The meadows are blanketed with buttercups. The road itself is covered in massive, jet black slugs that are beautiful in their own way. I try not to squish them as I ride past.

May 21

Can you believe there’s yet another teachers’ strike on tomorrow! The fishermen are also on strike, blocking the ports. Sarkozy’s not making many friends.

May 23

Big news! I made it to kilometre 5 on the ascent to the Col de la Core. Now 5 km doesn’t sound like a big deal, I know, but when the gradient is 7% that’s quite an achievement. I think I’ll get there sooner than I thought. If I just stay in first gear….

The Cloister and house of St. Bertrand de Comminges

This effort was at the end of a day of sightseeing for Ludo and I. I’ve worked out that in the six months remaining to us, Ludo and I only have 16 days when we have no visitors and the kids are at school. So we have to make the most of every one. Today we went to St. Bertrand de Comminges, classified as one of the most beautiful villages in France (not sure who does the classifying). For such a little village it had an amazing cathedral and 12th century cloister. It was perched on a rocky outcrop, surrounding by stunning green forests and farmland. There was a church within the cathedral completely carved out of wood.

Tonight Francois arrives. We’ve had to cancel our refuge stay tomorrow night because there is very bad weather expected. We’ll go next week instead.

May 25
It’s been a rainy, grey weekend. Nevertheless we put our walking shoes and rain jackets on and headed to the Col d’Agnes today. A col is the saddle of a mountain, the place where it drops between two peaks. The Col d’Agnes is 1500m high and has spectacular views in all directions. It just so happened that a cycle race was passing through today – the ‘Young Hopes Race of the Isard’ – bad translation but it gives you the idea. Young cyclists (18-24 yo) from all over the world come to compete in this race over several mountains in the area. It’s really tough. There was a team from Australia.

Ludo and Francois; Almost there ...

We stood at a point where we could see the cyclists struggling up one side, and then without stopping they grabbed bottles of rehydrating fluid, put on jackets for the cold trip down the other side, and launched themselves headlong on the 10km, constantly winding and very steep descent. On some stretches the gradient was 11%. They were yet to do two more cols before finishing this day’s racing in St. Girons. They would be going through Seix after tackling the Col de Latrape and before doing the Col de la Core, so when the last cyclist had passed through we raced back to Seix to cheer them on again. As we arrived the leaders were already coming through. How fast are they??? In a car we were only about 20 minutes faster than they were, and they had climbed another mountain in between!

And down the other side (Col D'Agnes); Then on through Seix

Tomorrow I go to Paris with Francois to have my driving licence application approved. It was stolen in Rome with my wallet.

May 29

Like Cole Porter, I love Paris in the springtime! To be in Paris when all the trees are in full leaf, the flowers are in full bloom, and to have no family commitments is a wonderful thing. I’d forgotten what a wonderful, beautiful city it is. I stayed at Francois’s tiny apartment in the 7th arrondissement which is a fabulous area of Paris – right near the Eiffel Tower and a 15 minute walk from the Latin Quarter. It’s also a few blocks from the Australian Embassy.

Dinner with Roger, Francoise and Francois; Along the Seine

I went straight from the airport to the Marche aux Puces in the north of Paris to fossick around for some old lace and other antiquities. I’d always wanted to go there and had a great time wandering through the tiny alleys, filled with amazing oddities. From there I made my way in the rain to Francoise’s (Ludo's Mum) apartment, which is between the Gare du Nord and Montmartre. We had an aperitif together and then met Francois in the Latin Quarter for dinner. From the restaurant we were able to walk back to Francois' place through some of the most beautiful parts of Paris in that twilight that in May bathes everything in a gentle glow. In every great city there are gems to discover, tucked away in unexpected places. This time the gem I discovered was La Pagode, a cinema in a beautiful pagoda, an architectural marvel surrounded by a Japanese garden.

Sartorial Statues; Chagall

The next day I went to the concrete bunker that is Australia’s foothold in Paris and, for $50, had a consular official stamp the back of my licence photo. The business side of the trip done, I then spent two days visiting the Louvre (always magnificent) and the Musee d’Art Moderne (not impressive), and walking, walking, walking all over the city through the Marais, the Latin Quarter, the Isle St. Louis and along the mighty Seine.

Picasso's Apartment (he has the light on); the wall on which he painted Guernica

One of the best moments of the trip was accompanying Francois to a piano concert in a venue where he will be playing next week. The venue was formerly Picasso’s studio and apartment – the place where he painted the tormented Guernica. It was also the apartment of a film director (whose name escapes me), and the home of Balzac, where he wrote Le Chef-d’œuvre Inconnu. Culture fairly oozed from the walls. It was a loft apartment now owned by an arts foundation; an intimate space that holds little more than a hundred, by invitation only. We were there to see the 24 year-old Jean Dube play. He first performed in public at the age of 4, and accompanied the Radio France Orchestra at teh age of 9. He played Chopin, Liszt and Sibelius, but also a piece by a contemporary Finnish composer who was in the audience. Needless to say, he was amazing, and to see such a pianist at close range was a real privilege.

Picasso's View of Paris; Juhani Komulainen and Jean Dube

We’ve had some great trips to Paris with the children, but they are always accompanied by the stress of making sure no one gets lost, and dealing with the invariable complaints of too much walking and too much sightseeing. It was liberating to walk around alone, free to go wherever I pleased! Ludo will have his turn in September when he heads to the capital for a family baptism.

Our next adventure is to walk to a mountain refuge. But that will be in June’s blog….