EN FACE, NARBONNE: RESTAURANT QUICK TAKE

The pedestrian walkway along the Canal de la Robine in Narbonne is not exactly deserted on a rainy Monday afternoon before the tourist season hits full swing, but it comes awfully close. That relative tranquility is compounded by the fact that several of our preferred local restaurants are closed on Mondays. So when we decided to visit the Orange boutique near the cathedral to try (and fail) to sort out a problem with my mobile, our luncheon choices were limited. We decided to stroll along the Quai Victor Hugo, read menus, and see if anything struck our fancy. The winner? En Face.

As usual, we chose the midday formula. As usual, the fare ranged from adequate to surprisingly good. As usual, we ate a three-course meal and drank our fill of house wine for less than 20€ per person. So no real complaints. Not good enough to make our regular rotation but just good enough to return to in a pinch. 

You can read more of my restaurant reviews and food writing HERE.

The girls chose the fish soup for a starter and were most pleased. Well done.

The salad chevre chaud was long on the salad and a bit short on goat cheese, but you can't complain at the price.

Steak and onions. French beef is French beef. Frites are frites. You learn to deal with it.

The slow-cooked pork cheeks were suitably hardy for a rainy day.

Fruit, pastry, cream, and chocolate. The French get dessert.

SOLO WALK TO LES FARGOUSSIERES: RESISTANCE!

I enjoy walking in groups but I also enjoy walking by myself. Setting my own pace. Trying new paths. Getting lost. The sorts of things that you can't do in a group, especially when you are in the lead. So when no one took up my offer to lead a walk the other day, I wasn't disappointed. All spring long, I'd been wanting to see what a walk to Le Fargoussieres would be like. I particularly wanted to check out a memorial to the French resistance that I'd visited a year or so ago on a walk sponsored by the local historical society.

I began on the path to the Croix de Juillet, a walk that our group has taken a time or two in the past. Then I broke off, took the paved road to the hamlet of Les Fargoussieres, visited the memorial, then found me way back to the return path of the Croix de Juillet walk. It all worked well. With the help of my GPS mapper, I didn't get lost. But the route was a few of kilometers longer that I thought that it would be. Shade was scarce as the day warmed up. My water ran out. I was on the cusp of sending up a flare. Add to that my disappointment that the memorial has not been well maintained - the weeds were waist high and the printed information sheets were not properly protected and were water stained - and I did not finish the day a happy hiker.

But here are the pics. I'll talk to the local historical society about fixing things up, maybe laminating some of the documents. You can find more of our walks and my takes on French life in general HERE and HERE.

Started in the church square as we so often do.

I could have taken the D184 all of the way to Les Fargoussieres, but that would have been too easy.

I have to remember to carry an apple or a pear or something.

It's been a good year for poppies. I'm headed up and over the hill in the upper left.

Three paths cross: the road, the greenway for walkers and bikes, and the path into the vines. Yes, I choose the path least traveled.

The path least traveled had a car at the top. Hunter? Working the vines? Walking the dog? Never saw whoever it was.

The storage tanks at the co-op make a good visual reference.

The yellow bastards have a picture of my nose imprinted on their DNA. As soon as they flower, they attack!

But they can't hide the lovely views...

And I walked to school and back every day, and it was uphill both ways.

It's been a good year for more than the poppies.

I don't remember seeing these before.

You can barely see the blue arrow on that rock but in life it's very prominent. Turn left at the T!

The blue X on the tree means that I'm going off the path to the Croix de Juillet.

The featureless D184. I never saw a car.

A small hamlet but an ancient one...

With well kept flower beds.

A roadside display for no apparent reason except to be pretty.

It's early spring but I would have thought that the weeds would have been mowed.

Water stained document telling the important story of young people risking their lives for their freedom.

This 'garden' is what's left of the hard work of the former Resistance fighter detailed above.

Leaving Les Fargoussieres and heading back into the vines.

Give me the words to describe views like this.

Not the Croix de Juillet. This is the Arab Cross.

Yes, the co-op can be seen in the distance. I can get home from here blindfolded.

FOR JAZZ FANS, THE REAL STUFF...

WHAT'S REALLY IMPORTANT - MAY, 2018: NICOLA, GIULIANI, AND MULVANEY

I've been thinking about starting a YouTube channel as a companion piece to my blog. Nothing fancy. A little political commentary, stabs at humor, tidbits about life in France. And I haven't been able to start it. And I know why. It's Nicola's fault.

Nicola Blakemore lives in Quarante. Cathey and I like her, count her as a friend. But we don't get to see her as often as we'd like. Nicola is an artist who supports herself through her art in a variety of ways. She accepts commissions. She's built a formidable presence on the internet. She gives courses in person and online, posts videos, works Facebook and other social media. It's time consuming work, a full-time job. And as a result of her hard work, Nicola's YouTube channel has 6,000 subscribers and features video after video, from a few seconds to a few minutes long, that often have several thousand views. (Check her channel out HERE. Tell her that I sent you.) Her video that teaches you to paint a pot of lavender has been viewed over 123,000 times! (I find something slightly disturbing about the image of 100,000 identical watercolors of a pot of lavender floating around in the world. Think about it.) Nicola has even set up her workspace as a little video studio complete with white umbrellas to focus light.

It's intimidating. I want to be that good. So I read and I study and I think and I don't get started.

That's going to change. I watched a video the other day on some kid's channel by accident while cruising YouTube. I was astounded. It was horrible. I mean, HORRIBLE. Cheap production, cheesy visuals, and an unfamiliarity with the English language that provides proof that, in at least this young gent's case, public education has failed miserably. Oh, he's heard of The Beatles, or at least a couple of them. And he's heard a song or two of theirs that are alright, he guesses. But what's really important is that his channel had 6,000 subscribers and the video that I'd stumbled on had over 200,000 views.

So I'm just gonna put myself out there once I get a video editing program sorted. I'll try to be as good as Nicola. I can't possibly be as bad as Millennial Dude, whatever his name was. If I land somewhere in the middle, I'll be happy. Yeah, it means settling for mediocrity. I'll own that. Stay tuned.

But that's all beside the point. The point is Rudy Giuliani. Giuliani has said that Trump knew about Cohen's payment to Stormy and that Trump paid Cohen back. Slow down. Reflect. You know which Trump I'm talking about. The Donald. Right? You know that Rudy Giuliani has joined Trump's legal team, even if you thought that Rudy's name would never come up again except in sentences containing the words Fox News or divorce proceedings. Right? You know that Michael Cohen is Trump's fixer, his consigliere. Right? You know that Stormy refers to Stormy Daniels, a woman whose real name is Stephanie Clifford, who has claimed to have had a sexual liaison with Trump, who signed a non-disclosure agreement about said affair, and who received a payment for her silence. Right? And you know that the amount of the payment was $130,000. Right?

Have you slowed down? Have you reflected?

Aren't you just the least bit embarrassed that you know all of that shit already?

But that's all beside the point. The point is Mick Mulvaney. Mulvaney is a former member of the US House of Representatives. He's Trump's former White House Budget Director. He currently serves - in the loosest definition of that term - as temporary head of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. Saying that Mulvaney serves in that capacity is like saying that Bonnie and Clyde worked in banking or that the Brewster sisters know fine wine. (What would an erudite blog be without an obscure movie reference? The Brewster sisters? Arsenic and Old Lace?)

Mulvaney recently said, and I quote: "We had a hierarchy in my office in Congress. If you’re a lobbyist who never gave us money, I didn’t talk to you. If you’re a lobbyist who gave us money, I might talk to you." Incredible. I checked with snopes.com. Twice. He really said that. He really said that he only talked to lobbyists who gave him money. HE REALLY SAID THAT! To be fair, Mulvaney also said that he always talked to a constituent whether they gave him money or not. If you believe that, I have a bridge connecting two New York City boroughs that I can let you have cheap.

What burns my butt is that the Mulvaney is still working, still spending his days protecting financial consumers like us, and still getting paid for it. How is that possible? Whatever happened to righteous indignation? The fact that the American people haven't dragged this guy out of his office, tarred and feathered him, and run him out of town on a rail says a great deal about the ability of the American public to eat shit and say that it tastes like strawberries.

So what's really important here? What's important is that we've somehow allowed the morally repugnant to become acceptable. We have been so overwhelmed by the misdeeds of the people who we have chosen to govern us that we can no longer call up the energy to do more than march once a year or so, parade around with punny signs that go viral on the internet, then get back home in time to catch the latest episode of Elementary. (I am soooo glad that the season has finally started.)

How do we fix this?  It's up to you. The top five suggestions will win a trip to Washington, a cot and a sleeping bag, and the right to camp out in Mick Mulvaney's office until he's forced to resign.

You can read more of my political commentary HERE, free and worth every penny.




 

LE DOLMEN, CEBAZAN: 9.6 KM WALK IN THE WOODS AND THE VINES

Our grey and chilly spring means that it's difficult to decide how to dress for one of our group jaunts. And so it was this past Monday, the last day of April, 2018. Grey and chilly as we headed out on a walk that most of us have taken before, starting in a little parking lot on the north side of Cebazan. Seven of us wore tees or polos, down or fleece, Pants or shorts. Layers of one type or another, certainly. Eventually, the day heated up and so did we.

But it's not about fashion. It's about the exercise and the views. And so, here are the pics. More walks and other observations on French life HERE.

Seven walkers. Two cars.

The 'official' walks generally have these signs at the start. And they are very well marked with color-coded dabs of paint along the trail for walkers, mountain bikers, and horses, fresh this year.

Through the alley is not a very promising start.

But things open up fairly quickly. On this walk, the Sleeping Lady was often in view. This is not her best profile.

Climb. Take a picture.

Climb. Take a picture. (Better profile.)

Climb...

Stop and talk...

...and point stuff out.

It seems that no matter where you go, you aren't far from the vines.

No, not a car in the ditch. Just a bumper complete with tag.

More climbing and more vines.

And more vines.

Entering the woods, now. Shedding layers. In the distance, the last of the climbs...of the first half of the walk.

After crossing the road that could have taken us back to Cebazan, we continue. Continuing means another climb, this time single file.

You see these ruined stone walls and building shells everywhere. I keep threatening to bring a shovel, find an old trash pile, and see what I can dig up. I'm not certain that it would be legal, though.

A long stretch of scree not good for weak ankles or poorly shod feet.

There's bound to be a trash pile somewhere near a ruin like this. At least, that's what I tell myself.

You don't usually see these sorts of signs but several trails intersect this one.

One day I WILL bring a shovel.

Ooops. More inadvertent art photography...

At the top of the second half of the walk. We are assured that it's all downhill from here...and it mostly is.

For all of my friends in eastern Pennsylvania, check out the old lime kiln...

...complete with picnic area...

...because there's another intersection right there.