The Honeymooners

Husband's Log
Marriage Date: 086.453

We have recently recovered from a terrible debacle. They say bad things happen in threes. If that's the case I'm not sure if two flat bike tires count as one bad thing or two. The third bad thing was the first chronologically. A slight scheduling/geographical error resulted in a missed flight and a bad start for our endeavor. Deciding to layover in Charleroi for the night, we explored Brussels and the Museum of the Old Dutch Masters (of art in the 16th and 17th century, not Kung-Fu, no Jean Claude Van-Damme here). After a night in the Ibis (read: economical) we boarded the plane and headed for the historic fortified city of Carcassonne. After traipsing around the city for a while we finally found the bike rental and prepared for the next leg of our journey: a 40km bike ride along the Canal Du Midi and French countryside to the quiet village of St. Pierre-Des-Champs and our lodgings at the B&B of L'Roc Sur L'Orbieu. This was, in theory, an ideal concept that should have been perfect. We enjoyed the start of our ride along a section of the Canal Du Midi (one of the most beautiful cycling paths in France) that led us out of Carcassonne to the village of Trèbes. It is on the outskirts of this beautiful village that the first tire (my rear one) went flat. This was not such a problem at first. I pumped the tire back up and it held air for a short time, letting us travel on without having to change it. Things came to an impasse, however, when Megan's front tire went on us only a half hour later. That became a bit of an issue...

Excerpt from Husband's Log
Marriage Date: 081.1015

A second bicycle tire has popped. The speed of both bikes has been greatly diminished and daylight grows short. Megan has begun to cry at the top of a large hill I have deemed 'Mount Meltdown.' We are 17 kilometres into our journey with half a bottle of water and little food. I must find shelter for the night.

We pumped up our tires one last time and coasted down a large hill to the hamlet of Monze. Once there, I inquired at the local restaurant/bar (populated with three Frenchmen a bit too inebriated for 7:30) where a young patron named Benjamin (ben-zha-MEEN), the only one who understood (and I'm using that term loosely) English, listened to our problem and led the way to a local B&B in whatever the European counterpart of a Geo is. We decided to stay the night in this lodging which was actually the home of a couple of winemakers in the middle of harvest who also happened to rent out a few rooms with ensuites. All the restaurants in the town were closed by the time we had gotten settled in, so our supper consisted of a banana, one nectarine, and a chocolate bar. We fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillows, exhausted.
What our supper lacked was made up for by our hosts at breakfast time: fresh pears and bananas, grapes taken straight from the vine, delicious bread smeared with locally made jams and spreads, freshly squeezed grape juice. It was amazing. We had decided that it was best not to risk going on with our bikes since we would have no spare tires left for the rest of our trip or the way back. I used Google translate to ask our Francophone hosts if there was a bus and when we could take it. We were back in Carcassonne before 10:00 where we extended our car rental for a few days.

We were at our destination in a little under an hour and the 'crisis' we had faced was averted.

It has been a true vacation ever since, one that we will elaborate on in another post.

KD

P.S. the captions are a mix of commentary from both Meg and myself. In case you were wondering

Happily riding along the Canal du Midi. 

Megan was excited by these "cloud trees" as she called them. 

Just on the outskirts of Trebes...before disaster struck. Is the apprehensive look on Megan's face portentous of the events ahead?!

Mt. Meltdown. The view over which Megan had a panic attack. 

The real hero of our story, the Ford Fiesta supermini: standard transmission and a whopping 123 horsepower.

Finally made it to our B&B!

The keys to our room! Huzzah! 

Meg, looking lovely on the first day of our actual honeymooning. 

The "hallway" at the B&B, which was a former castle renovated into a charming hilltop getaway.

The view from our lunch table in Lagrasse, a charming village only 5 minutes away from Sainte-Pierre-des-Champs.

My delicious salad! 

Bridge-view of the abbey tower.

Little L'Orbieu river winds through the village. 

Fruit for breakfast by the water before taking a tour of the abbey.

We decided to name this guy Monsieur Fluffles.

Abbey de Lagrasse has a marvelous history. A 13th century manuscript, the legend of Philomena, recounts the legendary foundation of the abbey by emperor Charlemagne in the 8th century and the miraculous consecration of the abbey Church by Christ himself.  The abbey's founding charter states that its first abbot was named Nimphridius. Nimphridius is a pretty rad name. 

This is a Romanesque capital of a column supporting a wooden gallery in the Abbot's courtyard.  The other capitals portray rather plain natural, geometric images, while this one so loudly represents "lust." They all date from the 13th century, and why only one should be decorated thus was intriguing to us.  

The enormous dormitory (13th century).

In lovely Termes, at the foot of the promontory that houses Chateau de Termes, a medieval Cathar castle! 

On our way to the fortress! 

Testing out the self-timer function on the camera... Outlander style! 

AMAZING local grape juice! 

Market morning in Narbonne! 

Beautiful loaf of bread with Maltese cross! 

Europe is decades ahead in its bread making. 

The bustle of Les Halles market. We loaded up and headed to Narbonne Plage.... 

Oh, hello Mediterranean Sea. 

The many attempts at a perfect beach jump shot...

Nailed it on take 271.

Then we zoomed off to Abbey de Fontfroide for some more medieval history! 

A stain glass window that Meg thought was very representative of the region's war-torn history. 

The abbey itself was abandoned many times due to conflict and the Black Plague. 

All of the doors were like this! 

Meg has a thing for cloisters. 

Look at those marble pillars!!

Gorgeous Romanesque chapel. 

St. Anthony! For our dear friend back home who happens to be this fellow's namesake.

There is nothing like trying to walk down stairs that have been tread over for hundreds of years... in the dark! 

Blushing in the Rosarium.

Pomegranate trees?! 

Enchante by these hotels for insects.

After finally finding someone to take a picture of the two of us together, Megan does that with her face. 

Another epic picture featuring Kyle and lions. 

On our way home... even in France tractors hinder the flow of regular traffic. It was grape harvest time! 

Rows and rows of maple trees along the highways. 

Romantic dinner on our terrace! Everything market-bought and locally produced. 

The view from our terrace.

 5 Things we learned in France so Far:

1. They actually do wear striped shirts a lot. So much so that the Narbonne market has a guy who deals exclusively in striped shirts.

2. They actually carry large baguettes around with them FOR REAL.

3. They say C'est la Vie at least as much as we do whilst imitating them.

4. Stray cats roam the streets for real. Disney doesn't lie.

5. They say voilà at least 4 times in every conversation. Particularly in the service industry.