The Week of Chaos

Hello, Canada! I am at last back in Toulouse, and what a crazy week it’s been! There are lots of pictures to see, some of which are already in the gallery, and several adventures to tell. We shall start last Thursday with the ascent to Cordes sur Ciel!

The church in Cordes sur Ciel.

Cordes sur Ciel – roughly translated to Cordes in the sky – is a bastide town (that is, a medieval town build for defence and generally situated on a ridge or a rather large hill) that was built on a small mountain. After the Cathar crusades, ending in 1218, the Comte de Toulouse, who was at that point in control of the entire Languedoc region, made the decision to have Cordes built – partly as a defence against the King of France, who was not, at that point, in control of this area, but largely to help bring economic power back to the region. Cordes was thus originally a merchant town, and that was where it got most of its wealth.

We started our day by parking the car in the lower – more modern – portion of the town and walking up the streets to the centre of the medieval city. It is important to note that this is not a leisurely undertaking; I have dubbed Cordes the city of “Gravity, My Master, Why Must You Be So Cruel?” and rightly so. Not only is the entire city centre paved with rather uneven cobblestones, but it is built on the top of a mountain. Granted, it is not a very high mountain, but it is a mountain nonetheless, and the sort of place you would be ill-advised to drive in, though we did see a few people attempting it. About ninety-five percent of the streets are on an incline, some of them quite steep, and the city as a whole involves a great deal of climbing up and down.

The view off the ramparts down into the surrounding valley.

Most of the day was spent wandering around the medieval city, poking our heads into various shops and occasionally reading from a guidebook with some historical and cultural information on the city. It is important to note that Cordes, while once a major city in the Languedoc region’s trade, now relies almost exclusively on tourism. It also seems to be a popular spot for artists and artisans; the city, overall, has a much more small-town and genuine feel than the obvious tourist lure of Carcassone, and is well worth a visit.

In the evening, after a very nice dinner in one of the town’s two flat plazas, we gathered in front of the church for a torchlit tour of Cordes sur Ciel, to learn more of the town’s history and to watch dramatically costumed figures yell about heretics, plague, lepers, prostitution, and attacking French armies. The tour was finished with a display of fire dancing and a show from some fire breathers, and then we went home, to arrive, very late and very tired, at the house to collapse in our borrowed beds.

On Friday, we were much too tired to go anywhere or do anything; on Saturday, however, we had some errands to do. Packing had to be accomplished for our forthcoming excursion to Barcelona, and then we went downtown to the library. I am now in possession of not just an International Student Card and a Pastel (the Tisseo Toulouse metro cards) but a library card as well, and have already used it to check out the last three Harry Potter books (mercifully, in English). Also while downtown, my siblings and I went to do some shopping; I picked up an excellent shirt, and a very awesome and even more cheap pair of Converse from a second-hand shop. Then we went back home and got a good rest – and the next morning, we were on the road by 10:30, headed for Barcelona.

The Spanish flag, on the left, is accompanied by the Catalonian flag in Barcelona.

So, what to say about Barcelona? Those who were in direct contact with me while I was there know that I initially found the city terrifying. It’s huge. With almost five million residents, the city is incredibly crowded. Add to that the fact that many of the streets I saw initially were large, several lane roads that clearly welcomed cars – and I a perpetual pedestrian – and is it any wonder I was terrified? And on top of that, not only was I the only member of my family who spoke even a little Spanish, and not only was that Spanish horribly out of practice, but Spanish isn’t even the mother tongue of the region. Yes, geographically speaking, Barcelona is in Spain, but the important thing to understand is that culturally, this is Catalonia. The main language is Catalan, and the people are fiercely proud of their heritage. They have a history of being oppressed by the Spanish people, and I found myself more than a little out of my element. Luckily for me, I suppose, Barcelona is very much a tourist city, and most people spoke a little English; if they didn’t, they were at least bilingual and spoke Spanish, so we could cobble together a limited understanding. I remember vividly an attempted conversation with a jewellery store employee where we moved through Spanish, English, and French before finally coming to a satisfactory conclusion and three euros changing hands. Still, I must admit that the city grew on me, despite being noisy and sometimes smelling of pee. I may never go back, but I am looking forward to visiting more of Spain.

On our bike tour, we stop in front of Barcelona's Arc de Triomphe.

We started our stay in Barcelona with a bike tour. It was held in English, and given by the rather wonderfully named Fat Tire Bike Tours company. Our guide was a hilarious British guy in his early twenties named Buster. He took us biking all over the city, showed us many gorgeous buildings, including the Palau de Musica and Gaudi’s last and greatest work, the Sagrada Familia. We also had an excellent snack and drink at a little beachside bar and cafe before returning to the city proper.

The next day, we headed out in the afternoon to take the cable car up Montjuïc to see the old castle on the top. It wasn’t all that impressive, and we didn’t go inside, because it’s been turned into a military museum, but the view was spectacular and the cable car was great fun.

When we returned home, we took a brief break, then my sister and I went out to explore the medieval city. We only made it a few blocks around our apartment, but there was loads to look at and we did a bit of shopping; I bought some buttons and some jewellery, and she finally found a place to buy an old key like she’s been looking for to put on a necklace. While we were out, we realized the great truth to Spain’s new reputation for widespread acceptance of homosexuality; we saw at least three signs for different gay and lesbian events, openly gay couples in the streets, and some gay-themed buttons (which, yes, I will admit, I bought). It was an interesting contrast to France, where being gay seems to be the sort of thing that most people just don’t talk about, and where some people will take it as a reason to target you.

The next day, we went out again, attempting to visit the Picasso museum, but, upon discovering a line-up that stretched down a full block, we decided to give it up and just went wandering around the city, exploring stores, looking at fountains, and heading down La Rambla to look at street performers. Then we headed out to the beach, where we spent a very enjoyable day swimming in the Mediterranean (much better than the last attempt, I can certainly say), where I did not get a sunburn, and from where we proceeded to an excellent seafood restaurant just off the beach which served very good paella and which was probably a bit too classy for us.

Yesterday, we got up, packed up all of our stuff, and headed out to retrieve our poor abandoned car. Then we piled in and came home, after a very long and somewhat irritating four-hour trip. Today is not set to be particularly eventful, but tomorrow we officially move into our new apartment, and as of then I will likely have zero internet access for a couple of weeks. There may be more chaos in there as well, if we decide to rent a car for the day and go out somewhere; or I might just spend those weeks exploring Toulouse on my own and working on my own projects. I don’t know. I’m having a bit of trouble seeing beyond tomorrow, to be honest. It feels like it’s been a lot more than three weeks.

Wish me luck, and I’ll be in touch when I get my internet back! I miss you all dearly, but soon I will be set up in my own room, and from then things should start going more quickly. Until then, my loves!