Deliverance

I have pondered a bit, while we have been here,  the reason why so many ancient buildings in France remain in such good condition and I can only assume that the  temperate weather is kinder to slate and stone than our own sometimes cruel conditions.   In almost every town and village in the Languedoc, history surrounds you in the narrow, cobbled streets.    The  ancient  buildings sit majestically alongside the rather squat and ugly newcomers.  It is a joy to  wander through them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Certain  villages are categorised as “The Most Beautiful in France”.  When we were here in September we visited the village of Olargues.  It most certainly deserves its place in that august company.   High in the hills beyond Beziers, its cobbled streets seem to be almost vertical in places, clinging on to the hillside overlooking the River Jaur.

We also overlooked the river as, with close friends, we ate outside  at the Restaurant Fleurs d’Olargues.    After we had moved downwind of the freshly manured kitchen gardens of this exquisite  restaurant, with its adorable young waitress, we were once more rendered speechless by the beauty of our surroundings, the amazing food and the pleasure in laughter and good company.    And some very fine wine.

 

Based on the success of our visit here we decided, last week, to visit another of these famous villages.   Lagrasse.

It was naive to think that a “plus beaux villages” would be as beaux on a grey day in January as on  warm, sunny day in September, but as demonstrated earlier we do err on the side of naïveté.   Lagrasse  is to be found high up in the Aude.    It is renowned for Corbières wine and is now home to numerous pottery workers and artists, and hosts numerous cultural and intellectual festivals such as “Le Banquet du Livre”.

On the day of our visit Lagrasse  was shut.

Obviously its natural beauty must be illumined by the sun which shines, we are told, 360 days of the year.   But not on a grey day in January.   Shops, restaurants, church and school all had a Miss Haversham air of cobwebbed waiting.   Silence pressed against our ears as we tiptoed around the town.

 

We found the car, carefully closed doors and started the engine, so that our departure would have no more impact than our arrival.   As we took the steep descent from the village, there was a sudden roar behind us and a school bus, carrying half a dozen blank faced children, overtook us on a hairpin bend.   We slid to a stop, inches from the parapet wall separating us from oblivion!

With shaking legs we got out of the car to gulp in some cold mountain air,   Across the valley I’m sure I heard the sound of duelling banjos!

Its a true story bloggees. But we shall return in the Spring.   Preferably on a guided tour.

Gaz and I now have our Senior Citizens rail card.  We have booked our first rail journey to Marseille next week.