Carcassonne

In our last post, Talia described our recent trip to Barcelona. It ends with us boarding a train bound for Carcassonne, a town in the southeast of France. (It's roughly halfway between Toulouse and Montpellier, if you know where they are. If not, just imagine a line due south from Paris but stop about 65km from the Spansh border. Or just look it up on a map.) What adventures would await us there?

Something Talia didn't mention about Barcelona is how cheap everything was! It's a major city, but the prices in supermarkets and restaurants compared very favourably to Paris. I suppose the real lesson from this is that it is expensive in Paris, and we've just got used to it...

Anyway, the train ride to Carcassonne was lovely. It was just as the sun was setting, and we had great views of the Pyrenées and the Mediterranean. It was around Maëlys's bedtime, so she was a little grumpy, but we were all still able to enjoy most of the trip.

Water, hills, as viewed from the train from Barcelona.

The only thing that marked our entering France was that the automated announcements switched from Spanish, French, and English to just French. This was strangely comforting, in a way. While Talia is pretty competent in Spanish, I am very weak, and being in Barcelona - while enjoyable - it was very clear that I was in a foreign country.

By contrast, coming to Carcassonne, a place we've never been before, was very much like "coming home". The train station was basically like every other provincial French train station. We made our way to our accommodation (an AirBnB), and spoke only French with the host. We knew all the quirks of the French apartment and the French appliances. That it was all so familiar was surprising, as to a large degree France is still a foreign country to us. But it helped us to realize how much of a home it's become.

The next morning was Sunday, and I ventured out to one of the supermarkets to pick up supplies. (Being "at home" means realizing that not many supermarkets will be open on Sunday, and knowing that those which are are probably only open for the morning.) The town was dead quiet. It was a real contrast from Barcelona, full of people and wide thoroughfares with cars and mopeds. Here, I wandered down some cobbled streets, passing only a couple of people. The other people in the supermarket were tourists too.

One of the main entrances to the walled city.

Carcassonne is most famous for its medieval city. This dates back to Roman times, with fortifications being added over the centuries, to defend against threats from outside (those barbaric Spaniards!) and inside (those dangerous commoners!). After falling into some disrepair, a lot of it was rebuilt in the 1800s in an attempt to restore it to its former glory. As it turns out, a lot of the "restorations" were actually just people imagining what they thought a medieval castle should look like, rather than historically accurate rebuilding, but that seems to be part of the appeal. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Another entrance!

A view over the rooftops. Yes, those are houses - people actually live here.

A view from the ramparts down to the town and countryside below.

A view of the southern end of the city.

As you can probably tell from the pictures, we had cracking weather. It was about 25C (77F) and sunny, with clear skies. Great weather for a holiday!

A window in the Basilica of Saint Nazaire, inside the old city.

You may also be familiar with Carcassonne as the name of a board game. The game, inspired by the real city, involves building cities and roads between them in rural medieval France. We saw it for sale in one of the tourist shops, which I thought was quite appropriate.

The aptly-named "old bridge" over the river Aude.

Naturally, each region of France has its own culinary delicacies. Carcassonne is famous for cassoulet, which is a type of stew consisting of white beans, pork sausage, and duck meat, all cooked in lard for hours. Talia had some for lunch, and didn't need any more food for the day.

When in Rome...

After our trip to the old city, we meandered our way back to our accommodation, which was in the newer part of town. Because there isn't really too much to do in Carcassonne, there was none of the usual "tourist-pressure" I feel of having to go and see everything and maximize the amount of experiences enjoyed. Instead, it was extremely pleasant to have a leisurely time. The next day, we enjoyed a relaxed morning before taking a little boat trip along the canal. In the early evening, we took a local train to neighbouring Narbonne, before boarding the high-speed train bound for Paris. Again, the train ride was excellent. For the first portion, the track mostly hugs the Mediterranean coast, providing excellent views. Then, turning left, it's northward to Paris, through the French countryside. We got home at about 11pm; a sleeping baby and tired parents.

Carcassonne was a lovely break. Of course, it's definitely a tourist town, but that doesn't really detract from the beauty of it. (And we live in Paris anyway, so being around tourists is just part of life...) If we had the time, it would have been great to rent a car and just explore the region, stay for a week or so. The pace of holidaying in rural places is quite different from that of Barcelona, and I'm glad that we managed to fit both of them into this trip. I'm also glad that we did it in this order - the quiet timidity of Carcassonne and the comforting familiarity of France was an excellent sequel to Barcelona. The other way round wouldn't have paced itself quite as well. Roll on our next holiday adventure!

Giverny, the home of Claude Monet

Spring is in full swing here and we are trying to make the most of the two and a half months we have left in France. Although we're eager for our Hawaiian adventure to begin, there is so much of France left to see and experience. Having a baby made us put some trips and activities on hold, but we're back in the game now. So yesterday we took a trip with two of our good friends to the tiny village of Giverny.


Giverny was the home of Claude Monet, the renowned late-nineteenth and early-twentieth-century Impressionist painter. The village of Giverny is in the southeast of the Normandy region of France, and Monet moved to a house there in 1883 at the age of forty-three. By this time, he was already well into developing his new Impressionist style, a disparaging term coined by an art critic in 1874 after an exhibition of his and other similar artists' work. Monet was attempting to artistically document the French landscape using a method of painting that conveyed his impressions and perceptions of the scenery, rather than striving for realism. Much of his progress in exploring this new style occurred at his home in Giverny.


Monet designed and created elaborate gardens on the land surrounding his house. As he sold more paintings and his wealth increased, he was also able to add a water lily pond, the one that would figure so prominently in his later works. His house and the gardens and pond are open to the public, so we spent the afternoon exploring where he created his masterpieces and enjoying the idyllic landscape. Unbeknownst to us when we planned our trip, mid-April is an ideal time to visit as the gardens are dazzlingly in bloom. The vibrant gardens showcased blossoming trees, leafy plants, vines snaking across trellises, and row after row of fragrant flowers, with particularly magnificent tulips of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The water lily pond as well was encircled by bamboo trees, flowering bushes, and a wide variety of other plants, though there were no actual water lilies at this time of year. It exuded peace and tranquility. It was not difficult to imagine Monet being constantly inspired to paint his surroundings.


After visiting the house and gardens, we strolled down the main street of Giverny, taking photos of the picturesque old homes, many of which peek out through a dense layer of bright purple wisteria. There are a couple of cafés and galleries, as well as the Museum of Impressionism, where we had lunch but didn't have time to otherwise visit. At the other end of the village is the twelfth-century church and the cemetery where Monet and some of his family members are buried. And that's about the extent of the town of Giverny. It's tiny and beautiful and even with plenty of tourists it still feels like a charming and refreshing getaway from the rush of Paris.


For any parents of young children among our readers who might consider a trip to Giverny, it should be noted that it works fairly well to bring a stroller/push chair/poussette, though it can't be taken into Monet's house as there are many stairs, and there are also stairs leading to the water lily pond, so it's good to have help carrying it up and down. We alternated the stroller with our baby carrier, and Maëlys seemed to appreciate the variety of views. Also, there are nice baby changing facilities and toilets for children next to the parking lot.

At the end of our meanderings around the village, we took a fifteen-minute shuttle bus back to the neighboring town of Vernon, where we caught the train back to Paris' Gare St. Lazare. The baby enjoyed watching the countryside fly past on the 45-minute trip and was nearly asleep by the time we got home that evening. For a small village in the middle of nowhere, we found it surprisingly easy to get to Giverny via public transportation. It's not a super cheap trip, as a return train ticket from Paris is about €25 per person and the shuttle costs €5 each way. Plus entrance to Monet's gardens and house is €9.50 per person. Still, a visit at the height of springtime is well worth the money and effort; it provides a marvellous escape from city life and allows you to feel the same tranquility and beauty that inspired the paintings of Monet.

Château de malmaison

Two weeks ago, March 20th, was Naw-Ruz, the Baha'i New Year. I took the day off work and we decided to go on a short day trip to welcome in the new year. The weather was pleasant -- bright but cloudy, dry and reasonably warm. It was a welcome change from winter.

The château de malmaison.

We settled on visiting the Château de Malmaison, the former residence of Empress Josephine, Napoleon's first wife. This is in the suburb Rueil-Malmaison, a short train or bus ride west of Paris.

If you know some French, you probably realized that "Malmaison" sounds like "bad house": mal means bad or wrong (like in the English words maladjusted and malnutrition), and maison means house. Sometimes when you see curious expressions like this in place names, it's actually a coincidence, and the name originates with some other words, perhaps words which are now archaic or forgotten, or even from a different language. For example, the names of the English towns of Puddletown and Catbrain are actually derived from Middle English phrases meaning "farmstead on the marsh" and "soil mixed with clay and stones", respectively.

In the case of Malmaison, however, it really does have the meaning we think. In 846, a mansion in this area was burned to the ground by Viking invaders. The area was then dubbed malmaison, meaning "mansion of back luck". Looks like the name stuck!

On the way to the chateau, we bumped into the parc de l'amitié, the park of friendship, a local park with some Japanese gardens, a rose garden, and some other features. Given the name and the Japanese theme, I thought that perhaps it was a garden of international friendship -- perhaps the results of the town being twinned with somewhere in Japan, or something like that. But I was unable to find any evidence of that. As far as I can tell, the city planners just wanted to build a cool park. That's okay with me!

The Japanese garden featured a pond and a scenic bridge. And blossoms, lots of blossoms.

In the grounds of the chateau itself is an art collection of Daniel Iffla, a 19th-Century French financier and philanthropist who named himself Osiris (yes, the same name as the Egyptian god). It was a modest collection of various objets d'art from various cultures around the world -- China, Persia, Greece, Rome. It was also really dark inside (presumably to protect the art), and quiet. It doubled as a good place to quickly change and feed Maëlys, too.

Osiris himself!

It was lunchtime when we arrived, and the chateau closes for lunch! The gardens were still open, however, so that afforded us some time to enjoy our own lunch (we'd packed a little picnic) and look around. The gardens are home to a large rose garden, not in bloom at the time of our visit, and several statues and little streams dot the area. Attempts have been made to have the garden resemble how it was at the time of Empress Josephine, although in her day the gardens extended much further in all directions. Josephine grew up in Martinique, in the Caribbean, and so apparently having a well-tended, diverse garden was a particular source of joy for her. There used to be a greenhouse where she grew pineapples!

One of the garden paths, with the chateau in the distance.

As you can see in the picture at the beginning of this post, it is a nice building, but not particularly grand. That is, it is an excellent example of a stately home, but if you had asked me to guess who lived inside, I would not have imagined "empress". The reason for that is because Josephine purchased the mansion way back when Napoleon was just a general, busy invading Egypt. When Napoleon returned, apparently he was upset at her for purchasing such a run-down mansion that would require so much work to renovate! He didn't have much time to be angry, however, as he was busy planning a coup d'état to overthrow the unpopular government and install himself as emperor. They divorced in 1810 following acrimonious disputes about affairs and Josephine's infertility, although she remained Empress.

Anyway, the inside of the chateau was decked out as it was at the time of Josephine. There were lots of grand paintings, intricate timepieces, and fancy chairs. Absent was any kitchen or obvious servant's quarters, but apparently they were in other buildings in the grounds which have since been destroyed.

One of the receiving rooms inside the chateau.

There was a lot of Napoleon-themed pieces around, including the original version of the famous painting Napoleon Crosses the Alps, which depicts (in grand heroic style) Napoleon heading from France into Italy in 1800. Not pictured: his army!

Napoleon Crosses the Alps!

After we'd seen around the chateau, we hopped back on a bus and then a train and made our way home. It was a lovely trip outside of Paris for the day, and we're going to try to do more day trips like this as our move to Hawai'i gets closer and closer! As I looking back on the pictures from the chateau, it all looks a little drab and grey in comparison to the weather we've had here in the last week or so. It appears that we did a good job of welcoming in the spring!

Le printemps est arrivé

Spring is finally here! The weather has turned around, and after a few driech weeks of grey rain, it's sunny and warm. It's about 20C (68F) today, and this weekend it's supposed to get up to 25C (77F). That's summer weather as far as I'm concerned!

A view of the Seine from the Pont de Bercy. In the distance you can see the Pont Charles-de-Gaulle, beyond that the Viaduc d'Austerlitz (with a métro train on it), and behind that you can just make out the piers (the parts that descend into the water). of the Pont d'Austerlitz. There's a Wikipedia article on Paris bridges if you want to know more.

Nice weather means that the Parisians want to go out to enjoy it. Things get pretty busy!

The crowds at the Jardin de Luxembourg. In the distance is the Église Saint-Sulpice.

Last Sunday was May Day, which is a national holiday in France, although it was a Sunday so people were off work anyway. Talia and I decided to take a trip to the Parc de Sceaux. This is a large garden in the suburb of Sceaux (pronounced "so"), formerly the grounds of a stately home (and historically a castle). It's about 30 minutes by commuter train from the centre of Paris. The park was busy, but nowhere near as busy as anywhere in Paris!

There's a huge "canal" through the centre of the park.

And some really beautiful water features.

Us! I'm struggling to keep my eyes open in the sun. See the beautifully-tended gardens behind us!

The old country mansion at the centre of the park has a museum inside, but being a Sunday (and a public holiday), it was of course closed. No matter, as it was absolutely delightful being outside and strolling around in the sun with a gentle breeze blowing. I hope you're enjoying the weather wherever you're reading this from.

A trip to London

Last week we went to London to see Soraya, a dear Baha'i friend from Columbus. She was just on her way out of the UK after studying in Oxford for a term. It's easy to forget how close London and Paris are - it's just 2 and a half hours by train from city centre to city centre. London is closer to Paris than it is to Glasgow, and Paris is closer to London than it is to Marseille!

So, it wasn't difficult to hop up to England to see Soraya. We had planned to visit the New Southgate cemetery, which is where Shoghi Effendi (the leader of the Baha'i Faith from 1921 to 1957) is buried. It's a little far from central London so I think Soraya appreciated us being able to help her with directions and navigating the tube.

A view of the resting place of Shoghi Effendi. The tulips were blooming!

After paying our respects at the cemetery, we toured around central London a little. This included a trip to Oxford Road, where we looked in shops for baby things, and Soraya practically fainted at the cost of pushchairs. ("How does anyone afford to have children?") We also got to explore the famous department store Selfridge's, which we were disappointed to discover does not actually sell fridges.

Talia outside of Selfridge's

At the risk of making an obvious statement,London is different from Paris.

Yes, I've become that person who visits somewhere and then spends the whole time comparing it to wherever they live. ("Ugh, these baguettes aren't as good as in Paris.") This can be obnoxious if the place you're visiting is a little village or in a radically different culture, but in the case of London, it feels appropriate to compare it to Paris. (Both are global cities consistently ranked in the top 5 for participation in the worldwide economy.)

So, some observations that I made, in no particular order:

• London is cleaner. Not just the streets, which have less litter and, uh, organic detritus, but even just the trains and buses seem to be less grimey.
• The London underground (locally known as the tube, although I kept calling it the métro), especially the older lines, has small tunnels, claustrophobic trains, and feels much more like a series of old mineshafts. By comparison, most of the Paris underground feels like a set of train stations that just happen to be underground.
• The architecture in London is less varied than that of Paris. I'm not sure to what extent this is due to London neighbourhoods being levelled during the blitz in WWII...
• London also feels much much bigger than Paris, and the transport system is much more confusing, although these feelings might just be due to Paris being familiar to me and London unfamiliar.
• Also, people speak English in London, and French in Paris, but I overheard a surprising amount of French in London. Apparently somewhere between 70,000 and 300,000 French people live in London, giving rise to the claim that London is France's sixth largest city.

I'm curious to know if others share my perspectives (even if you've only visited one of these places). Let me know in the comments! Part of the fun of travelling is seeing how things are different or the same from places you are used to. I'm not sure what I am "used to" now (having lived in three different countries), but comparing things can still bring fresh insights.

On the road to Rouen

(Title of this post shamelessly stolen from the Supergrass album of the same name. And yeah, we took the train, so it's not even that accurate.)

Last weekend, we took a short trip to Rouen - we left Paris on Friday afternoon and came back on Sunday afternoon. Rouen is a small city northwest of Paris, about 75 minutes by train. It's the capital of Normandy and is principally famous as having several medieval cathedrals and also as being the place where Joan of Arc was tried and executed. For us, it was a chance to get out of the hustle and bustle of Paris and have a relaxing weekend. For Talia in particular, it was her first time exploring France outside of the Île-de-France region.

The journey begins.

I didn't know that much about Joan of Arc before going to Rouen, so here's a rough approximation of my knowledge. The background to the story is the Hundred Year's War between France and England, which despite the name, did not last for a hundred years (it was 116 years), and was not a war (it was a series of disconnected skirmishes and battles). During this period, the English crown was trying to assert authority over (parts of) France, while (parts of) the French royal family were fighting to oppose it. Joan of Arc was a peasant girl who had a number of religious visions showing a united France, and rose to prominence in leading successful attacks in several decisive battles. (To do this, she wore men's clothes, which was regarded with a mixture of shock and bemusement.) After a while, she was captured by the English (well, allies of the English in any case), and eventually put to death (by burning) for heresy. Given that Joan quickly became an icon of French culture, a symbol of fighting for freedom against an oppressive force*, the town that was responsible for putting her to death has been, at time, a little embarrassed of its status.

[* This is part of the myth-making that I don't really understand. It wasn't as if France was under the cruel yoke of a dictator and they were fighting for freedom and democracy. This was a war to determine which unelected hereditary leader was "rightfully" the leader of France. Not particularly noble in either case.]

Nevertheless, there are a number of Joan-related activities that you can do. Principally, you can visit the 13th-century fort where she was imprisoned.

The fort where Joan of Arc was held prior to her execution.

Rouen recently made most (all?) of their public museums free of charge. Consequently, we had the following exchange at the entrance to the fort:

Man: Entry is free. Well, except for the English. You're not English are you?
Talia: No, I'm American, and he is Scottish.
Man: Ah! American! Well, you liberated us, so you can go in. And Scottish? My grandmother was Scottish, so you're good too.

(Of course, he was ignoring the fact that the Scots fought on the side of the French in the Hundred Years War, including the fact that several Scottish soldiers fought alongside Joan of Arc during the siege of Orléans.)

Once inside, there was a good selection of historical information and Jean-related paraphernalia. One exhibit featured an amusing Franglish translation:

Her "eldbows"; she is "hearing the voices"; "made in biscuit".

The statuette in question. Looks delicious!

This post would be remiss if I neglected to include pictures of the grand churches and cathedrals. It felt like you couldn't go a few paces without bumping into another huge church or medieval tower.

The trip achieved its goal of being a relaxing (yet cultured) weekend away. There are many more regions of France to explore, so hopefully this will be the first of many such excursions!