Le Midi
/My final weekend in France and my last chance to see the remaining item on my list of "must-see destinations": Carcassonne. Famed for its citadel and as the home of cassoulet, the town is an icon of France. It is also in a poorly serviced area with respect to public transport, so I broke my trip into stages, also stopping in Narbonne and Toulouse. Narbonne was unexpectedly beautiful, even if I did not get access to my accommodation until well after midnight as someone had stolen the after-hours entry keys - for which I got a free breakfast. Carcassonne was as magical as I had hoped, but having cassoulet when it is above 30 degrees was a tough ask. I only had a few hours in la ville de rose, but from what I saw it is a gorgeous city thriving with culture.
Le canal de Robine
Life had been busy: every weekend for the past two months had been spent away from home because of travel (Provence for Bastille, Iceland, The U.S.A., Switzerland twice and Les Vosges for the wedding of friends). Fast approaching was the end of my time in France, and consequently I had set aside the weekends of my final month for the many tedious activities which much be performed when moving country, in addition to catching up with friends to say farewell. Before moving to France, I had constructed a list of must-see places, and I had successfully removed all items from this list, save for one: Carcassonne. I had figured that I would simply find myself in the area at some point and visit the city; however, during my visits to the Pyrénées and Montpellier this did not happen. Making matters worse, the area is notoriously difficult to visit from Paris due to the lack of east-west high-speed rail. In any case, once it became evident that I would not require all the time I had set aside for administrative duties, I jumped onto SNCF to organise a trip. I was however in for a rude shock, as normally I would book my tickets my months in advance, and 9 days before the departure date fell outside this period and a trip Paris - Narbonne - Carcassonne - Toulouse - Paris came in at a hefty 175.60 €. I remember having a chat with some friends at work about my plan, and the discussion really stuck with me as it highlighted the difference with how I approach travel as compared some others. Namely, the idea of traveling on a whim without any planning for many hours - and in this case, paying a premium for the experience - was seen as lunacy. I on the other hand, purchased my tickets.
The cloister of Cathédrale Saint-Just et Saint-Pasteur
The interior of Cathédrale Saint-Just et Saint-Pasteur
Despite the last minute nature of the trip, I had organised to travel with a good friend. Unfortunately at the last minute, he had to pull out leaving me to travel by myself; part of me was disappointed, but another part of me felt a sense of relief. Traveling with other people can be stressful, especially when you plan everything as it is something you want to do and you cannot help but feel entirely responsible for whether the other party is having a good time. This problem is exacerbated when large amounts of travel are involved, which is a torture I am willing to inflict upon myself, but not so much on others. Heightening my worry was our previous adventure, which wasn’t the smoothest and had resulted in my friend collecting a serious knee injury which has plagued (and continues to plague) him, which for a runner is a real downer, and something I still feel bad about. In any case, it meant when the weekend rolled around, I would - for the final time - traverse the city from my work in Orsay to Gare de Lyon to catch the 1807 train to Narbonne.
Stained glass windows in Cathédrale Saint-Just et Saint-Pasteur
At over 5 hours from Paris, Carcassonne is not close to Paris, so I planned to stay as close to Carcassonne as I could get without changing train. After 4h38, I arrived in Narbonne. I knew next-to-nothing about the town, but upon arrival, my mission was to get to my accommodation. I had booked a room at Appart'City Narbonne (now Zenitude Hôtel-Résidences Narbonne Centre) which given the debacle last time we stayed we stayed at an Appart'City may not have been the best idea, but the price was right. As I was arriving late, I had already had some correspondence with the hotel who had informed me that the after hours check-in procedure was simple. Arrive at the hotel, find a pin-access security box, enter the code and pick up the room key; too easy. I arrived at the hotel at around 2300, made my way into the tiny room separating the street from the reception, popped open the box to find it completely empty. I was a little confused, but there was a number to call so I got on the phone. During the waiting period, a couple came into the little room and we got chatting and they informed me that "something was up" and they did hot have access to their room either. I eventually got through to someone and they informed me that someone had visited all the Appart'City hotels from Perpignan to Marseille (of which there are many) and removed all keys from the after hours box. That seemed ridiculous, but I didn't care, I just wanted access to a room and by association, a bed. It was then that she informed me that there was only a single after-hours security guard who could provide access to the rooms for the region between Perpignan and Montpellier. It was at this point I realised that things weren't going to get better in a hurry. Basically, this person was going from Appart'City to Appart'City giving access to people serially - that is, upon request. No master key, just taking the key that was needed. I got chatting with the couple and they mentioned that they had called ages ago and nobody had come to let them in, so they went for a drink. I was given an estimated wait of 1 to 2 hours.
The view from la place de l'hôtel de ville
Shortly after I got of the phone, a security guard - well, the security guard - arrived and I got quite excited. But no, he was there to let the couple in and he couldn't do anything to help me. After a bit of back and forward he left, as he had many places to be, which left me sitting around waiting. It was probably around 0015 when someone else arrived, and when I explained the situation, he was pretty unhappy about it - understandably. He called up, received the same spiel that I had been given, but was given an ETA of 3 - 4 hours. He promptly disappeared. At 0030 the security guard returned, blandishing what could only be the key to my room. We made our way inside, he let me in and then explained that this was the only key and so he had to hold onto it. I didn't care, I just wanted sleep - and that is what I got. The next morning, I went downstairs to check-out, and the reception staff we a little apologetic, but not as apologetic as they could have been. In any case, they offered me a free breakfast - which I took, obviously - before getting out of there and swearing never to return to an Appart'City.
The beautiful grounds of le jardin de l'Archevêché
I admit to knowing next to nothing about Narbonne at the time, it was a convenient place to stay and little else. Looking into the history of the town, it turns out to be a rather interesting place: established as Colonia Narbo Martius in 118 BCE by the Romans, it was an important stop on both the Via Domitia and the Via Aquitania. The town grew into a thriving port city, but suffered cruelly at the hands of nature, with the Aude river - which allowed passage from the Mediterranean (the étang de Bages) - diverting course in the 14th century and isolating the town. In an effort to survive, the city undertook works to once again make the city's waterway navigable, which ultimately resulted in the construction of the canal de Robine, which links to the canal du Midi, and together they represent an incredible engineering achievement - often cited as the greatest engineering achievement of the 17th Century - and consequently are listed as a UNESCO world heritage site.
I was scheduled to catch the 1002 TER to Carcassonne (33 minutes, 5.60 €) so only had a short amount of time. I began by wandering on the upper stretch of the canal de Robine, just to the west of the old town, and it was delightful. The lush grass and myriad colours due to flowers lining the canal were beautiful. Similar to many towns on the Mediterranean, buildings are dutifully coloured in contrasting pastels, which further contrast with the near-permanently blue sky. But as the town is small, it did not take long before I came across the town's cathedral: Cathédrale Saint-Just et Saint-Pasteur. There is perhaps no better evidence of Narbonne's fall from favour than said cathedral, which remains unfinished, but is still one of the tallest in France and given the size of the town, it really stands out. Whilst it is clearly unfinished, the bulk of the building which was constructed between 1272 and 1340 is stunning. Given that I had no expectations for the city, to be gifted such a special place to visit - and having the place to myself, no less - was magical. The choir and courtyard were particularly nice, but the entire building was spectacular.
Following my tour of the cathedral, I made my way to the town centre, la place de l'hôtel de ville. Once again, as I had no expectations for the town I was blown away by what I found: a square with elaborately decorated buildings, notably the hôtel de ville and palais des archevêques, in addition to a terrific view of buildings which hide the rue du Pont des Marchands. Perhaps the most impressive attraction is the Via Domitia, whereby a small section of the original Roman road is exposed, emphasising the age of the city. I had read one of the major draw cards of the area was the jardin de l'Archevêché, and after having a wander around I would have to agree: immaculately maintained and littered with artworks, it was a nice place to pass some time.
The next stop was the inner-city portion of the canal de Robine. The area is lined with parks and the canal is spanned by a collection of bridges, none more impressive than the Pont des Marchands. It is no Ponte Vecchio, but there are more than a few similarities. I allowed myself to get lost in the winding streets on the south side of the canal, but it was only a short-lived experience as I had a train to catch.
The train journey to Carcassonne was remarkably uninteresting. I had hoped that the train line would follow the canal du Midi, but it doesn't. In fact, the crossing of the train line and canal is in Carcassonne, so upon arriving in Carcassonne, the first thing I did was to exit the station and the follow the canal downstream. Directly in town it is built up, but it does not take long before the scenery is painted by rays of light flittering between the leaves of the plane trees and ducks line the canal. This is the typical view of the canal that is conjured up in the mind's eye of most people, which in seriously under threat from the Ceratocystis platani fungus, but thankfully this area is still alive and well.
Now one may ask "what is so special about Carcassonne?" For me, it is more-or-less the icon of France, behind the Eiffel tour and on par with Mont-Saint-Michel. The history of the town is both long and rich, having been established in the Neolithic period (around 3500 BCE) and transitioning through countless rulers. Notably, it was a Roman outpost - Carcasum - and the oldest parts of the walls date from this period. The fortifications were upgraded and expanded countless times, resulting in the town becoming near-impregnable. As military campaigns evaporated and the industrial evolution fired up, the fort was largely abandoned and the city rebuilt around the textile industry. Due to the fort's abandonment and demilitarisation under Napoleon, it was eventually decided that the city should be demolished. Clearly this did not occur, rather the opposite: in 1853 work commenced on its restoration. At the head of the project was Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, likely the most famous restaurateur in French history, mostly due to the quality of his work, but also the volume of it thanks to the revolution. Although criticised at the time for being somewhat liberal, or not authentic with certain aspects of his restorations, many of these choices have become the most iconic features of the restored landmarks. In the case of Carcassonne the most controversial decision was the "witch's hat" tower design which adorns many of the fort's 53 towers. Today the site is essentially a theme park, a problem which plagues many UNESCO world heritage sites; however this would not stop me from enjoying myself.
The city is separated between the new city and the cité, and the station and canal are located to the north of the new city whereas the cité is located to the southeast, on the other side of the Aude. I did not make many stops on my way to the cité, but I could not help but stop at Place Carnot, which is the new city's main square. Given it was around midday, most people were somewhere out of the shade as the temperature was really starting to climb. By mid-September, the temperature in Paris was starting to cool down, but down south this was definitely not the case in the south, with clear skies and a temperature of about 35 degrees.
Eventually I came across the Aude, which is not a particularity big river; it is wide but shallow and flows slowly - at least in the warmer months. However, reaching the river allows you to see what you have come to the see: the cité. More than that, the gorgeous pont vieux which spans the Aude provides a delightful viewpoint and walk to the old city. Crossing the bridge, the strategic location of the castle is unquestionable, providing good reason for the long habitation of the area. On the other side of the river, the 16th century logic for city planning disappears and navigation becomes trickier; despite being below the imposing fort, figuring out how to get in is not straightforward. There are a few sneaky entrances, but the front door in la Porte Narbonnaise, on the eastern side of the city. If la Cité Médiévale de Carcassonne was a theme park, this is where the ticket office would be located - not only because it is a choke point - because this is where you transition from the rural French town into a (wholly artificial) medieval city.
The cité itself is tiny: about 500 by 200 metres and traversed by a number of narrow streets. Like most medieval towns, the most fun is had losing oneself in amongst the passageways and old buildings. My favourite medieval town up to this point was easily Perouges, mainly because of the authentic charm. Mont-Saint-Michel was the other extreme: stunningly beautiful but with no authenticity. Carcassonne has some balance, with immaculately restored buildings and ramparts, but still an air of legitimacy hidden around the small streets. The majority of businesses inside the city walls are restaurants, but due to the heat everything was pretty quiet. I made my way to the town's religious centre, the basilique des Saints Nazaire et Celse. The then cathedral was completed in the 12th century in a Roman style, but was later reconstructed in Gothic style, so it is a bit of an old building. Its most notable feature is probably its size, being extremely compact, but nonetheless boasting some both large and stunning stained glass windows.
The next stop was the town's main event: le château et les remparts de la cité de Carcassonne. A small exhibition space and museum is located in the castle, but essentially everyone is there to walk the city walls, which will set you back 9 €. There is not too much to say about walking the city walls, other than it was worthwhile. Views over the city are great and you are able to see into the myriad hidden gardens within the cité.
After walking in and around the cité (quite literally), I was starting to wear down and so headed to my accommodation, which was selected on the combination of minimising both proximity to cité and price. I ended up at Adonis Carcassonne (50 €/night, including breakfast) which is located to the west, below the cité on the river's edge. Unexpectedly, finding my way there took me to the Porte de l'Aude and surrounding fortifications, which were fascinating and devoid of people, making it one of the nicest spots of my wanderings.
The accommodation was nice: I had a two story apartment which was an icebox upon entry thanks to the room service crew. I hate cold rooms, but on this occasion it was welcomed; of course I turned it off and suffered through the warmth of the stuffy little room for the rest of the stay. During my re-hydration and relaxation, I set myself the task of finding where dinner from where dinner would be coming. It was clear that it would be Cassoulet, the regional speciality of beans and meat. Like all French food, there is a history behind each dish which is littered with inconsequential controversies. The general story is that the dish - as in cooking vessel - la cassole comes from the small town of Issel, which is less than 10 kilometres to the north of Castelnaudary, the town which claims to be the origin of cassoulet. Now this is only 40 kilometres upstream from Carcassonne and there are those who say the dish is indeed from Carcassonne. There are also others that argue that it is from Toulouse. In any case, it is delicious and I wanted to get some - despite the climate being totally inappropriate. My research took me to Le Chaudron, a quaint restaurant in the cité which is reputed to have the most delicious cassoulet but also has a lovely outdoor seating area. Being ignorant, I forgot that people in the south eat later than those from the north, so turning up at 1830 meant that I was the only person at the restaurant, but likely also the only person having dinner in town. This suited me just fine, as after ordering I had a good chat with the restaurateurs, which ultimately made me really sad. I had really found my stride in France: understanding the culture well and with sufficient command of the language, I felt good about everything, so the concept of leaving was daunting and regrettable. In any case, the food was delicious, and I was treated to some wine and dessert on the house!
With the sun making its way lower and lower in the sky, I set out to take some happy snaps of the cité. I had performed some online reconnaissance and knew that the vineyards to the south of town should be what I was looking for, so I wandered off into the essentially uninhabited wine country. Eventually I stumbled across a little shack on a hill which provided a great lookout over Carcassonne, from where I enjoyed the sunset.
By the time I had walked back into town, the cité was lit up, glowing a rather unhealthy orange. As darkness fell and the contrast of the city and its many towers increased, it was something special to look at. I decided to walk to the new bridge (the crossing of Avenue de Général Leclerc) from where I would get a view of the fort but also Pont Vieux, although I had not planned for the multicoloured lights which illuminated the old bridge, which mixed horribly for long-exposure photos. It was a pretty interesting place to be, as had actually crossed the Aude upstream of the bridge and walked along the west bank, which was a pretty seedy area. Under the bridges, there were some pretty unsavoury characters, most of whom were completely intoxicated and not afraid to tell me what was up. Likewise, when I was taking photos on the bridge I was passed by a number of groups that seemed lubricated that told me where to go. Apparently some locals do not like tourists? In any case, I finished taking my photos and returned to my apartment and hit the hay.
The day started well, with a voluminous breakfast at clear skies. I had few plans in Carcassonne other than getting to the train station for my connection to Toulouse, but I thought I would use the morning for visiting the "new" part of town. Unfortunately, most things were closed or unavailable early on Sunday morning, so I ended up aimlessly wandering around an essentially killing time. The train from Carcassonne to Toulouse (0h51, 7.00 €) was a beat-up intercités, which at 0951 was largely empty. My desire to visit Toulouse stemmed from it being the 4th largest town in France, but again I knew little about it prior to going. Things I knew were that is was called la ville rose due to the uniform coloured terracotta bricks used to construct the town, that is was the centre of aerospace technology and manufacturing in Europe and that it by train from Paris it is difficult to reach. The history of the town is rich, with basically every player in the region from about the 8th century BCE having had a shot a running Tolosa. Despite the myriad things to see and do, I only had 5 hours and no plan upon my arrival. I had my now well-worn guide, but was happy to just make my way to the centre ville and see what was happening.
Stop number one was the le Capitole de Toulouse, the seat of le capitoulat which governed the commune from 1147 until 1789 who decided that they needed a swish building from which they could govern. The original design was completed in 1190, although the exterior was extensively redesigned in the 18th century by Guillaume Cammas. Today, the Capitole is home to both l'hôtel de ville and the théâtre du Capitole and as luck would have it, the former is open for visits on Sundays - and is free. So I sauntered in, not knowing what I would find (although I had my suspicions) and was treated to the well-decorated Salle des Illustres, which depicts the characters and events which shaped the city. In addition to the artworks, the windows overlook la Place du Capitol: a spectacular square which at that particular moment was moment, was bustling with activity due to the FestOval, which from what I could tell was an event celebrating rugby, something for which the south is well known. Intrigued by all the activity I made my way out to the square.
A large inflatable rugby pitch had been set up, and a large elastic strap connected between the two people located on the pitch. When the signal was given, they ran in opposite directions, striving to reach the try line, but the elastic was not sufficiently long to allow this to happen one the end result was basically to send one of the competitors flying. It was thoroughly entertaining, especially with no shortage of pride-fuelled "tough guys" around. There was a game of touch and some clinics for children, but what really drew me in was the market on the northern side of the square. I am always a sucker for fruit, but there were some baked goods that looked near perfect, especially the croissants and the pain au raisins, although I was careful to ask for une brioche aux raisins as I had been forewarned. I am not sure if the issue is as heated or divisive as the pain au chocolat or chocolatine debate (make your vote count), but I did not want to risk it. In the end, there was insufficient crème pâtissière, so my sole data point tells me that pains au raisins are superior to brioches aux raisins, which I had suspected.
To the southwest of the square is cathédrale Saint-Étienne and the path between the two is littered with gorgeous buildings: it is the heart of the old city and the real pink city. My destination was the cathedral, but I was happy to just amble the small, windy streets. Arriving at the cathedral, I was surprised by how ugly it was. It is certainly impressive and imposing, but it is the type of building that comes about when there is no clear vision for the end product. Indeed, the front is misshapen as to include two separate churches. Inside, things don't get much better, with the two axes of the separate churches clashing and just making a mess. The large rose window was subdued but intricately detailed which contrasted against the clean and bright nave was flamboyant in the way only a Gothic building can. If cathedrals were commonly posted to reddit's awful taste but great execution community, this would do very well. The cathedral grounds on the other hand, were exquisite.
I wended my way through the old town's uniform but decorated streets before arriving at my next stop, the Couvent des Jacobins. The construction of the Roman Catholic church commenced in 1230 shortly after the Dominican Order was established, and is often cited as a major source of inspiration during the development of southern French Gothic architecture. With the order's fall from grace unfolding along with the revolution, the building served many other purposes, not just as a house of worship. Eventually it was deconsecrated, but thanks to a restoration it now serves as a museum: both the building and for exhibitions. Perhaps it was just the time I was there, but the stained-glass windows were incredible. Not so much from a technical or story-telling point of view, but rather the richness of the colours, especially when illuminating an enormous, largely empty space. I maintain that the most impressive experience one can have involving stained glass is visiting La Sainte-Chapelle in Paris on a sunny afternoon, but this comes in a close second. Not quite as impressive but still remarkable is the Palmier des Jacobins, the pillar in the nave of the church which supports the ribs of the vaulted ceiling in a manner reminiscent of a palm tree. A large mirror placed at the base of the pillar provides some unique perspectives on the building. The 14th-century cloister was equally impressive, providing a place to escape but also giving great views of the distinctive octagonal tower of the church.
By this point, I was ravenous and wandering the streets. I ended up picking up a quick meal at Secret de Pains, not far from Le Pont Neuf, the town's main bridge for traversing the Garonne. The most interesting titbit I learned from my visit is that the bridge is that the bridge is not symmetrical. But that was secondary to my purpose of visiting the photography gallery of Le Château d'Eau, which is housed in the town's old water tower. The building has as much personality as a building can: situated next to the river with well-maintained grounds, what amounts to a lighthouse rises out of the ground. The building has been well maintained and restored, both inside and out, making it - along with the exhibition (4 € entry) - a pleasure to visit.
With my time starting to run thin, along with my capacity for playing tourist, I had one stop left before catching my train home, which was the La basilique Saint-Sernin. The basilica is steeped in history, with humble beginnings in the 4th century but rising to prominence during the reign of Charlemagne, who bestowed a number of relics to the basilica. With pilgrims stopping by on their voyage to Santiago de Compostela and eventually becoming a pilgrimage site in its own right, the original basilica was no longer going to cut it. During the 11th and 12th centuries, the gargantuan Romanesque-style basilica was constructed, and is the largest remaining Romanesque building in the world. It is a UNESCO world heritage listed building, not in its own right, but rather as part of the greater sites of the routes of Santiago de Compostela in France. In any case, it is a magnificent building, albeit rather dark. I enjoyed admiring it from the outside, sitting surrounding parkland and just taking in the grandeur of the place, in a manner reminiscent of how I most enjoyed my time in Trier. But the relaxing was not to last: I had a long trip back to Paris. I arrived back at the station with only a few minutes to spare before the train departed and realised that I had only a little water left for the journey. I asked an attendant if there were water available at the station, to which he replied only in the toilets and I would not have enough time. I asked if there were any on the train and he just laughed and said of course not. I could purchase some, but I never buy bottled water so the 1604 Toulouse to Gare Montparnasse service (5h30, 79 €) made for thirsty work.