Friday, September 27, 2002

    Whewph! So much in the last couple of days. I'll never remember it all! Going back. . .
    B had successfully reserved three places for the English language tour at the painted cave of Niaux, near Tarascon d'Ariege in the Pyrenees. The drive was a nail biter—because it was a long one we had no idea how long it might take. Our tour began at one, and we needed to be there early to pay for our tickets. We left in what we thought would be plenty of time, but near Nebian had to turn back because I couldn't remember turning off the coffee pot. There went our safety margin!
    Once on the road, headed west, the drive was beautiful. On the highway to Carcassone, B took care to point out the silly concrete sculptures of the Cathar Knights. He recognized them from his research. I read bits aloud from the white guide about Narbonne and Carcassone as we passed them, trying to keep B distracted from his worry over being late. B was driving fast: 140 and 150 kilometers per hour. Thank goodness the French are such polite drivers. Just as in Italy, there are no left lane groggers, so we could go fast to make up time. But still the drive was taking a long time, perhaps a bit longer than we had hoped. I thought we would just make it by one; B was sure we would not make it in time, because we were supposed to be there by 12:30 to buy our tickets.
    Then real disaster struck! About thirty minutes out of Niaux (by my estimate) we were on a local road and we hit stopped traffic. We waited a few minutes, and saw people beginning to turn their cars around and head back. B decided to do the same, and we half followed traffic, half navigated with the Michelin map book and half trusted to luck. Our instincts and maps didn't fail us, and we were soon back on the right road, past whatever had stopped the traffic, and flying toward Tarascon! (B says I'm the world's best navigator. I think I'm the luckiest.) We entered a mountain pass about 12:30, with B frantic that we were too late. The road passed under cuts in the cliff, along the river.
    Then, though the sign posting for the cave was good through Tarascon, the road led us through several roundabouts. E read from the back seat and called out the turnoffs, and at last—the road up to the cave out of Tarascon was a tiny lane that switched back and forth up the mountainside. We had to pull over to let a slow tourist bus go by! Oh brother! Ten minutes to one! We parked at the entrance at five to one and B ran in to buy our tickets. As it turned out, the tour didn't begin at the stroke of one; we all had time to go to the bathroom (B: "Phewph, that feels better!") and put on our jackets. We told E to wear sturdy shoes and she was glad she did.
    The tour was wonderful. Just twenty people and our guide, one big flashlight per couple, no lights in the cave. It was fairly easy walking back into the cave, which was a big tunnel carved out by a river, with a few puddly or slippery places and some stairs, but mostly along an ancient riverbed that was smooth. The first stop was by a rock face marked with dots and lines, many of them red colors. Further on, there was a small test excavation. Our guide said no human artifacts or remains have yet been found in the cave.
    The highlight of the tour was the Salon Noir: a huge chamber about 800 meters back from the entrance. Here there were groups of animals drawn in black charcoal. They ranged from hand size to several feet long. We recognized bison, horses, ibex and boar. Our guide pointed out a fish, although we didn't see it as one. Some of the animals had pointed red marks on their sides. There are about 100 markings and 300 animals in the cave, all drawn low down. And the floor of the chamber has been excavated a bit, so that the floor level of the time was even higher, making the drawings at perhaps waist height when they were made.
    As we've read before, there was an almost reverse correlation between animals drawn in the cave (20 to 10,000 years ago) and animals that were hunted and eaten. That is, many animal bones are found in association with Paleolithic habitation, but these animals are rarely drawn in the caves. Apparently this is true through most of Europe. Our guide was at pains to point out how little is really known about this art. He also asked for a volunteer to sing, but as none was forthcoming he sang a bit himself. The acoustics of the Salon Noir were beautiful: his voice, which was very pleasant, rang and echoed. One of the tour members asked about this, and said he had read that paintings are mostly found in caves that have this kind of effect. Maybe.
    The cave was wet inside. Stalagmites and stalactites abounded. Some of the art was washed away, as recently as 1978. This was perhaps not the most sophisticated of the cave art, but thrilling to see it none the less. There is no idea how long the ancients worked in this cave—a generation, hundreds of years? Modern people—beginning in the 1600s, that we saw—visited the cave and left graffiti on the walls marking their visits. It's hard to imagine people living in these remote places with the main means of transporting self and goods one's own feet—unless they rode horses or other animals.
    After our tour, B asked at the ticket office about restaurants for lunch. The clerk told him there were no good ones anywhere near, and the Red Guide seemed to agree. So from the cave we proceeded back down to town and the museum gift shop. B took photos of the mountains while I browsed the books and E bought a bazillion postcards. I bought a few, plus two books about the cave, one mistakenly in Spanish! We had car lunch snacks in the parking lot, under a convenient tree, and decided to go home by way of Carcassone and a restaurant there. The Red Guide was sanguine about the possibilities, and B pointed out that in Carcassone we could have authentic cassoulet. That decided it!
    Carcassone is another ancient fortified town, but romantically restored to its present turreted state by Violet le Duc in 1844. It's quite the tourist attraction.
    According to the white guide, the faux medieval atmosphere makes it a desirable location for costume dramas, although today Carcassone is ". . . a dour manufacturing town, [it] was once the strategic key to the Midi; the castle built there by St. Louis was a barrier greater than the Pyrenees to invaders." The old walled city, surrounded by the dour town, looks just like a place where women in pointy hats with floating veils would be leaning over the walls to watch jousts. In one square there is a memorial with a bronze bas relief circling it that appears to depict the original, uncapped towers. Again according to the white guide, the river Aude takes a sharp right turn for the sea here, making an ancient crossroads between the Mediterranean and the Atlantic. As early as the eighth century BC, there was a fortress here. During the period 1084 to 1209, Carcassone enjoyed prosperity under the rule of the family Trencavels. "The last viscount, Raymond-Roger Trencavel, was himself no Cathar, but a gentleman and a patriot, determined to oppose the planned rape of Languedoc by the northerners. His famous declaration is still remembered today: 'I offer a town, a roof, a shelter, bread and my sword to all the persecuted people who soon will be wandering in Provence."
    Unfortunately, he was tricked by the Crusaders, captured and imprisoned. The leaderless Carcassone surrendered. Trencavel died in prison three months later, possibly poisoned by the Crusader leader Simon de Montfort. Carcassone was eventually ceded to the French crown and became the greatest fortress in Europe. But when France took over Roussillon in 1659, Carcassone lost its military necessity and began to fall into disrepair. In 1830 France's Inspector-General of Historic Monuments, the writer Prosper Merimee, noticed the deterioration. He gave the restoration job to Viollet-le-duc and the result is the wonderful mish mosh of styles we saw. 200,000 people visit the old city each year!
    After a walk round town, and photos along the double walls, we had supper at Chez Saskia, a Red Guide recommendation. It took a bit of asking to find the restaurant. The address in the red guide was Place de L'Eglise, but there was no such place on our walking map. We asked a shop keeper, who pointed to the church and the unnamed square in front of it. Voila: the church square is always place de l'eglise. We began with aperitifs of Cremant de Limoux, (like champagne) and pastis for B. Then E had foix gras while B and I had salad with little bits of bacon, and coriander, identified by B and confirmed by our waitress. For our main plates, B and I had cassoulet. Fabulous, and very filling. I love white beans! E had fish. I was too full for dessert—fruit for B and me and chocolate for E. They navigated home while I slept in the back seat; too much fun!

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