Casey's Blog: La Première Semaine

Saint Guilhem le Desert et Rivière

Right foot first. My toes glowed luminescent as they slid along the mossy rocks beneath the clear surface. The water’s chill shocked my body, initiating an irrepressible storm of excitement behind my wide eyes. I pushed off from the dusty rock and leapt forward. The icy turquoise river swallowed me, refreshing my bones after a tired afternoon of climbing sloping cobbled streets under the mighty july sun.

Our second excursion was everything I’d hoped for and much more. Our journey over took us through the awesomely vast countryside, with manicured farms blanketing the valleys between majestic blue mountain ranges. My eyes grew wide and fervently scanned the scenery before me so as to paint a permanent mental landscape. I felt the thirst in my eyes and the need to appreciate the beauty laid before me. When the bus gained ground on the elevated highways, one could look down onto the tiled roofs of small houses-- aged villages quietly existing under the guard of the mountains.

At length we crossed the narrow Pont du Diable (Devil's Bridge) built

high above the rocky cleavage of the Hérault River. Built in the early 11th century, it's the oldest Roman bridge in France. From this point one could look down into the narrow rocky gorge where the fresh water runs its 92-mile course.

Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert had a very romantic feel to it. Altogether, with its narrow cobbled roads and close stone buildings, it seemed comfortably separate from the rest of the world,

as if a self-sufficient people had dwelled on this mountainside without incident for a great many years. If only my words could bring you to understand the sensation in my heart as I climbed higher into the depth of this city. Think children with their dogs, iron-framed windows and arched wooden doors nestled deep in light stone walls. Vibrant pink products of flower boxes bringing the eyes up the balconies where patterned skirts hang to dry, flapping carelessly in

the warm breeze.

Small shops where local artisans work their craft as shoppers admire their creations-- a man standing barefoot in his gallery, working the wet pigments of an oil painting as recently finished landscapes hang to dry.

As a group, we were led to a small specialty tapenade shop where we were able to taste three varieties of the spread-- black olive, green olive, and tomato. How delicious! I bought a jar of the tomato for myself afterwards. I know, you care.

And of course the educational part.. we visited the church established by Saint Guilhem-- L’église abbatiale de Saint-Guilhem-- in the town center.

After all this pack traveling, we were allowed a few hours of free time, during which we could go swimming in the river if we wanted to. After some more exploring and shop-searching, my friends and I made our way down the quaint stone steps that led away from the main road of the village and down into the wooded cliff overlooking the gorge. With the rest of the explorers (and of course, our fun tour guide Nicolas) we refreshed our tired bodies in the chill clear water of the Hérault.

And, bien sûr, there was wine tasting.

........................................................................................

........................................................................................

Les Danses Occitanes

1-2-3-4: Ladies sashay forward into the circle. 1-2-3-4: Ladies walk backwards into place. 1-2-3-4: Men strut out into the circle. 1-2-3-4: Men come back and face their partners. Right hand on each other’s right shoulder. Left hands linked underneath. Sixteen spins and then the men guide their ladies for eight steps around the circle. Repeat.

Whoever knew that dancing medieval dances to the rhythm of a one-man-band would be such a fun time?

After a normal Wednesday morning of classes and afternoon of exploration, many of us returned to the university’s hall at 8:30 to learn the traditional dances of the south of France.

To be honest, I was kind of on the fence about this one... after already having so much fun and a few intense nights in France, did I really want to go learn a few corny dances. But then I decided not to be a recluse and to take advantage of this window into French culture.Oh my goodness, so much fun. So our special guest emcee was our very own adorable tour guide Jérémie, accompanied by Jérémie on the harmonica, featuring the star accordionist Jérémie, and on the kick drum... Jérémie. Rather entertaining.

We learned line dances, couples’ dances, and circle dances. And Anna totally did the worm at one point! That was not in the program. We first had our intelligence slightly insulted by being taught a simple children’s dance which involved all of two moves. Some of us immediately had our pride weakened by being unable to learn said dance. But then things really got spicy, and complicated, but in a fun way. You know, in a “this is difficult and I’m a beat off but I can’t stop smiling and laughing at myself” way. And our four-in-one musical master must have loved watching us try to keep up as he sped up and slowed to a crawl at his leisure. I especially liked the last dance, where everyone formed a circle and started with his hands on the shoulders of the person in front of him. Each of Jérémie’s refrains named a new body part... hands on their ears, hands on their eyes, their hips... their thighs... their ankles... Very challenging. But very, very fun.

........................................................................................

........................................................................................

Carcassonne

I stood happily gazing from the rampart up high,
From which a husband in chain mail once feared for his life,
The stone was still firm and the fountains still spouted,
The dogs still ran free and the vendors still shouted,
It’s too much to believe that this rock was once theirs,
That they sat on these ledges and mounted these stairs,
Once a set of twin walls halted traffic both ways,
Now a thousand strange people come through every day.

Sunday we travelled 200 km west of Montpellier to the fortified city of Carcassonne. We dismounted the bus in the village center, amongst shops and roads at the bottom of a paved hill. Just visible at the top was a fairy-tale castle, seemingly photoshopped onto the crest of a small mountain. As we ascended and neared its fortified walls, the image became more real. Before us loomed the largest fortified city in Europe, existing today in very nearly the same condition as a millennium ago, after it was constructed to defend its people from foreign invaders.

The city’s history is quite interesting. As with several other excursions, we were shown a short informational film on the journey over, and there was a short historical film inside the city. Walking through the city in this summer of the twenty-first century, trying to comprehend the efforts and motives behind its creation, was a powerfully moving experience.
We were given time to explore the city and its shops on our own, at which point I nearly

drowned in my own contemplations. Now, Carcassonne receives three and half million visitors every year. The open squares have turned into dining plazas where visitors can eat outdoors in

the shade of surrounding ramparts. Gift shops and vendors of regional crafts line the narrow roadways. At one point I sat at the foot of a statue carved of stone and imaged the men and women who’d sat there before me. Other tourists, recently. Before that, those working to restore the city. But first? Men of the Middle Ages resting during a day of work.

........................................................................................

........................................................................................