In Carcassonne: Canal du Midi

October 9, 2017

I my hunch was right. Things do look quite different here this morning. Not only is it not this:

It's not even this:

It's this:

Let's go check it out, before leaving incredible Carcassonne. It's a short, flat ride toward and and along a stretch of the Canal du Midi and back - the first time on the bike in a week. It feels quite shaky at first for me, for about two miles, and then better all afternoon long (we don't leave the room until about noon). There's some other small drama to the day: I get up early and dine alone downstairs, then bring back a few items back for Rachael because she's her digestion is a bit off ; and then go off to explore the city alone for perhaps an hour while she decides if she's ill. I'm blown away again by this amazing place. I felt like we'd basically seen it all last night, but this is a whole new section, around the basilica, that's all new. The whole old city is an unbelievable to explore - a small area really, but the wonderful things to see just keep coming and coming. And coming. And coming.

Great news, Rachael's just fine. Tour is back on.

We have some trouble finding a spot to pick up a lunch, finally find it in the new city. Have an interesting little drama trying to buy two sandwiches to go and a quiche for here, and end up annoying the young female attendant and the lone French customer who keeps trying to translate. Pretty funny - we end up with one sandwich. I try to indicate it's to go but the quiche is for here. We want two sandwiches though, different types, which confuses her - she thinks we wants one between us somehow and can't agree on what type. She gets flustered and frustrated a bit, but we finally have it. We buy our goods, which itself is frustrating - I haven't really tried to speak any French in two years now, and have lost my ear for the sounds of amounts. They've figured that we're just two more of the billions of idiot Americans and English they must get in this place, they're ready to shoo us out the door and get some peace again.

Rachael is already outside, sitting down at a sidewalk table. I sit down, and Rachael looks at me, puzzled. Where's your sandwich? We still only bought one damn sandwich! Back into the arena, with a smile, and ask for another. She can't believe it - those idiots still can't make up their minds!!!

Then the light comes on - she finally gets that we wanted two all along, but couldn't get the words right. Her face relaxes, a small, not unkind smile breaks out, and she sells me a second sandwich, of the type I was asking for. I go back out, and we eat our quiche in the delicious sun, which feels wonderful - it's an awesome time to be down here, near the sea.

We finish the quiche. We're outside, but right next to the display case. Rachael looks at it from her chair. They have sable, Scott. Sable. It's my favorite French cookie, a simple, lightly glazed pancake shaped shortbread. I had just said yesterday I couldn't wait for my first one in years (they don't seem to be a common item around the Alps, where we were the last time). Gotta have it. I go back.

This one's really easy. Un sable, sil vous plait. She looks perplexed. Un? Yup, that worked. Sable? Puzzlement. I Point. Oh, you mean sable. Sound is identical, to my ears. Very funny. I try again one more time, for feedback. She nods and smiles at me. By george, I think he's got it! We're starting to relate as people, and I realize that if I stayed in France for a longer time this is how I could work my way in, but of course never to fluency. One. New word. At a time.

When we're finally done, we look in to drop off our trash and say goodbye. A friendly smile this time. We've done it, together - a human connection. We say our friendly goodbyes, and then even the other customer smiles and calls out, an voiur! Great encounter.

And a great ride, to a lock on the canal about fifteen miles, and then back home just in time for dinner. We're in luck in our timing, and boats are coming through. I'll come back when I've got the time and throw in the boats and their tale.

We'll let Rachael, who's had a very tough week worrying about and tending to me and going stir-crazy sitting around instead of being active, take the lead today. Show us a taste of what Languedoc is about, Rachael, s’il vous plait.