Matterhorn

It's not often you wake up and desire three to four glasses of tap water.  The last time I (L) had that I was in Mt. Shasta. This was the first thing I did early in the morning, after opening the window to see the Matterhorn.  When you open the window first thing in the morning with a street sweeping machine under you and all you smell is the aroma of good, fresh bread, where are you?  Perhaps Zermatt.  That's where we were.  Perhaps, we will all soon realize that wealth is having clean air and water and excellent organic food.  (In France, organic is called biologique.  All over France and Switzerland we found very wide spread recycling – except, oddly enough, in Paris.)

Switzerland is just as I imagined it from song and movie and stereotypes.  I wanted to take pictures of everything because it's all so cute!  Swiss Chalets all over the place with cute window boxes full of flowers.  It is clean.

There is an energy of order in Switzerland that did not exist as soon as we crossed over the border into Italy; more on that later.  We felt it coming into Switzerland - not a girdle exactly, but more like biking pants.  The Swiss will hold you in place and keep you well-behaved, but you can still have fun.  There were no abandoned buildings I saw anywhere in Switzerland.  Even very old buildings were functional, cared for and well kept.  Repairs were neat and orderly and made to fit the décor.

Everywhere you looked there were flowers – not on every building, but on most.  The stereotype Swiss Chalet is everywhere - even in France before you come into Switzerland there are very sweet chalets and bistros dressed up as chalets.  Zermatt is home to several ski resorts; in fact, we saw people heading for the train up the mountain with skis - in August!

Lederhosen – where are my lederhosen when I need them?  If you come to Zermatt in the summer, lederhosen would be quite at home.  Shorts, a plaid shirt, a backpack that comes across the chest like lederhosen straps and a walking stick or two – that's the costume of preference, although I did see a few Parisian women in their finest version of  “casual” – one walking two of the most fashionably trimmed and obedient poodles I've ever seen.

Do you think she's the Wilde Hilde? 

A couple of observations about the railways that climb the valley from Visp to Gornergrat, above Zermatt:  how someone could put any railway through there, much less an efficient, well-traveled one, is a testament to great engineering and sheer determination.  By necessity they are narrow gauge (1 meter), but the cars seem wide enough, and are very comfortable.  Several stretches operate as a cog railway, with gradients of up to 12%, possibly more on the line from Zermatt to Gornergrat; 3% grades are considered difficult for normal railroads.  Even after riding on it, I'm reminded of a comment from the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy: 'Prove it to me and I still won't believe it”. The trains, as expected, depart exactly on time.

Day 4 Damanhur

Damanhur main buildiing welcomes visitors and houses them on the second floor: a dormitory style with a kitchen area for all to use.  No AC but the nights were cool Platapus at the left was our tour guide.  Italian, but English speaking, he spoke mostly with his hands.  He was a good guide.

www.damanhur.org

 For an eagle (or a very hardy crow), the distance from Zermatt to Damanhur, Italy is only about 40-50 km; for us more earthbound creatures, though, it's about four times that, via the ultra-spectacular Simplon Pass, which features several kilometers of tunnels open on one side for ventilation and view.  A few km down the other side, we finally reached the Italian frontier, where we were once again simply waved through – Homeland Security must be appalled at how open the borders are here since the European Union was formed.
One last note about Switzerland:  at Simplon Pass itself, where we had lunch, there is an enormous (about 20 m tall) statue of an Eagle, honoring the Swiss Brigades who kept the country neutral during World War II; just a reminder that for all its friendliness, Switzerland is not a country you'd want to mess with!

Once we crossed into Italy, things felt very different.  The roads (except for the Autostrade) become narrow, and then they narrow again and when you think they can't there's a sign indicating they narrow yet again. Thank GOD for good tires because there are no shoulders at all!  There were times I (L) had to be really careful not to stick the camera out the window because it would have been knocked out of my hand!  Time extends, and the general vibe shifts from 'practical' to 'old'.  There were few if any abandoned buildings in France and Switzerland.  Not so in Italy.  The vibe changed.  Time seems halted somehow.  Language also becomes an issue for the first time, as neither of us has even a basic proficiency in Italian.  Despite this, Jeeves does manage to guide us to Damanhur (about 40km north of Torino) with a minimum of fuss. Thank GOD for Jeeves the GPS, who is very accurate about every roundabout - and there are many.

Italians are not in a hurry for anything except meals, or when they are in a car or on a motorcycle.  Motorcycles were very prevalent in Italy; on the highways they pass very dangerously and are able to hug the center line to pass when you think 'surely they won't do that' (screaming in the background) on a 12% downward grade with a stiff curve coming into yet another tunnel.  The mountains on this trip are Swiss cheese, full of holes!  We lost count of tunnels long ago.

The Damanhur welcome was friendly despite the welcome center being a busy place.  Our welcome was a bit confused - they thought we were coming a day later.  It was difficult to get communication going with them (telephone, fax and email were not very effective, and hand signals don't work very well across an ocean).  Fortunately they were accommodating and we have a dorm style room clean and nice with Swiss style showers, with doors that meet at the corner.  (A study of how many different kinds of plumbing there are in the world would be fascinating!)  We were given a guided tour to know where not to go and what to do.  Tomorrow we will get to go to the underground temples and we get to meditate in two of the halls.  We are well, though tired.

During the evening, we spoke with members of an intergenerational group who is visiting here.  They are studying sustainable communities, had just come from one in Portugal and will travel to Findhorn next.  I introduced myself as Lyneah; Will, one of the travellers, thought I was someone coming who had sponsored their group's activities.  Interesting.  Never heard of the name before and here someone was coming the next day by that name.  Yet another unusual end to what is shaping up as a most unusual journey.

Damanhur has its own money.  If you aren't a rare coin collector, you might want to check your money before you go and exchange Damhurian coins for Euros.


Day 4 - Damanhur Temple Tour

Damanhur is an intentional community started in the mid-to-late '70s by a group researching spiritual concepts in Torino. One person donated some land and they began exploring community living.  One night there was a shooting star and they decided they could start some project.  They built underground temples that are amazing.  Mostly the work was started in secret even from those in the community who were not central and trusted.  Eventually some who left told the officials of the town that evil things were happening there.  A judge came with police demanding entrance and Falco the leader invited them in.  Upon leaving the Judge had tears in his eyes and condoned the project.  They are now a community of multiple centers totaling 600 members.  We stayed in the welcoming center building at a cost of 22 E for the night in a dorm style floor complete with kitchen.  It was occupied by a group of people working something through. We mentioned them earlier - the ones on the intergenerational quest.

In the morning we went on a full grounds tour and then up to the community store / gallery / research facility, which carries wonderful organic foods and artwork.  There was a town meeting but we didn't feel like being in a crowd and skipped it.  It also cost 20 E.  Everything here costs 10 E or more.  They treat 20 E like we treat  $10 and its value is more like $30.  They had a great sorbetto; la dolce vita is alive and well here.

Our guide spoke with his hands -  of course, he was Italian -  and named Platypus.  We went first into the Temple of the Earth.  The temples are mosaic floors with many meanings and a central pillar decorated or sculpted and the ceilings are painted glass and the walls are amazing murals with realistic paintings of each person who is a member of the community included.  The whole room is a representation of the third dimension of manifestation.  Instruments were played while we sat on pillows meditating.  Up the stairs was a room of the pre-manifestation – spiritual realm.  It is also very complex and amazingly well done and artistic.  The third room we experienced was dedicated to metals and the ages of mankind with a metal for each age.  Very interesting.  Again the faces were of real people in the community and by their pictures in two cases quite accurate.  One window bay contained the ashes of one of the founders who posed for the image of the silver age. 

That was all we could do in the time we had – there are eight other underground chambers in addition to the three we were able to visit.  We left Damanhur and the roads through the rest of Italy - well, they are so what you hear about them.  Amazingly narrow.  People drive like they are possessed, especially if they are on motorcycles, which as we mentioned earlier, have the right to do almost anything, it seems.

Interestingly, given the frenzy on the roads, we saw almost no police throughout the countryside of France and Italy.  Only in the cities. We did see a few police in Zermatt, but they were just standing the the middle of the street talking.  Didn't seem concerned about anything.  Mark is driving like a European, but a polite one.  People are often surprised at his generosity of letting them in or stopping for pedestrians in crosswalks in cities.  I drove a bit on the Autostrada in Italy, but was glad for Mark's skills on the lesser roads, some of which are main roads, but wow, they are narrow and without shoulders! 

Mark commented that the US is in adolescence or maybe young adulthood, Europe is mature and Italy is in old age.  He may be correct.

My ankle was giving me major grief today probably due to the eating of  brie and fantastic Swiss bread in Zermatt yesterday morning not to mention the outstanding boysenberry gelatto here today.  I will be good the rest of the trip avoid milk products.  It's so hard here because they are sooooo good.   

Our welcome here in Cagnes-sur-Mer (about 10 km west of Nice) was also interesting.  Communications problems again and our hostess didn't think we were coming, but accommodated us so sweetly.  She is a wonderful woman.  We are ready for sleep.  Goodnight.

Question and Mediteranean at Cagnes sur Mer

I was asked if people in Europe use deodorant now and if women shaved their underarms.  Ten years ago Paris was very different than now.  I did not notice any women at the beaches or in town with underarm hair.  I only noticed body odor strongly once and that was on the bus from Orly to Paris. The man did not look Parisian.  He looked like an immigrant from an Arabic country.  There are many more immigrants in Paris now than there were 10 years ago and they are from many countries.  Many African countries, Morocco, Slavic countries, Arabic countries.  A much wider diversity than the last time I was there.  But that's true here too, we now have everything in Spanish as well as English and in Mexico they are having to use English in parts because of the large influx of US retirees.  This is true in Panama and Costa Rica as well.  The world is more international these days.  Watching the US Open Wozniacki from Denmark is in the finals!

What you might find surprising is the comfort level with women lying on the beaches face up with no tops on (sorry no pictures). Tops are optional on most of the beaches we saw and we've heard of the nude beaches, but we didn't see one.  Women face down on the beach with no top on is fairly frequent.   I suppose to get a line free tan  They sit up quite unselfconsciously, put on their tops and go into the water.  We also saw women  face up with no tops on.  No big deal was made of it.  People in Europe and California are more comfortable with the naked body.

You'll have to guess if I have my top on here or not :)  Actually for me, I don't object to having the option, but I personally don't want sunburn anywhere, especially in sensitive places.   The water has much more salt content than the Atlantic and it's much easier to float in except Mark, he has no body fat and just doesn't seem to float anywhere so far.  We had a glorious day at the beach at Cagnes-sur-Mer. 

Arles to Saintes-Maries de la Mer

The Romans were here.

Old city street in Arles.

The drive from Arles to Saintes-Maries de la Mer (SMM) was beautiful, passing through the Camargue, France's equivalent to the Everglades (including flamingoes!), with the Mediterranean visible a good bit of the way.  As we got closer to SMM we found numerous horse ranches offering holiday riding. Barbel tells us this is the place to take your children on Holiday to teach them to ride horses.  Many horse ranches along the road and many parties of horse riders going off on trails getting their last rides in before the end of Holiday the end of August.

For some reason, we expected SMM to be a fairly deserted fishing town.  I don’t know why.  What we found instead was another crowded Miami Beach type of place.  Passing through the town square with its bocci courts (very prevalent through the region), we reached the local cathedral, passing many Gypsies along the way, who were offering medallions and other trinkets.

Church at San Maries de la Mer

Inside the church all the pictures came out wierd.  Granted, it was dark, but so were other places we were at and they didn't turn out like these.

By history and tradition, SMM is where Mother Mary, Mary Magdalene and their company landed after their journey across the Mediterranean, and is also one of the main gathering places for the various Gypsy tribes.  There are horses and gypsy and bullfighting influences everywhere.  Many gypsies outside the church.  Watch out for them energetically and well as physically.  They try to give you a medal, "It's tradition....".  In the book The Witch of Portabello, by Paulo Coelho (which I happened to pick up at the airport to read) they talk about the patron saint of the gypsies as being St. Sarah.  She has not been canonized by the Catholic Church so her image is kept in a crypt outside the church (built in the 9th 10th and 11th Centuries).  At festival time, when especially the gypsies come to pay respects to St. Sarah, her statue leads the procession.  St. Sarah is believed to have met Mary Malone, a cousin of Jesus, when she arrived at SMM  escaping Roman persecution.  Sarah-la-Kali was of noble lineage.  The procession reenacts the meeting at the sea and is followed by celebration, song and bull runnings. (Seriously – there are street signs warning about 'Taurean Events'!)  We were not present for festival, just for the end-of-summer throngs.

 

Behind Door number one........a real Water Closet.

Finally, we headed to Carcassonne,  arriving at the Abbey where we were supposed to have reservations.  The Abbey was ancient and smelled of mold - at least in the hallways.  We never made it to seeing the rooms as there was again a misunderstanding about the dates and they had us down for the next day.   It was a good experience, though, as the gardens in the center of the building were lovely.  Since there was no room at the inn (so to speak), we went off and found a modern, moderately priced and comfortable hotel nearby, with a unique room design: the room had two doors that you would assume would each lead to a closet.  Instead one was the molded WC and the other was a molded shower.

A long and beautiful day.  Time for a good night's sleep.

Unexpected Photo Show

In the Cathedral at Arles, there was a photography art show. 

Day 6 – An Occitan Journey - Arles

From Cagnes-sur-Mer, we are heading across the south of France, through Provence into Languedoc.  This region is very different from the north, with its own geography, culture, history, and (in places) language.  It took several centuries of conquest and inquisition to bring it under French rule, and its assimilation is still far from complete.

Back on the Autoroute (and getting caught iup in some of the last vacationers returning to Paris), we continued on to Arles, the home of Roman baths dating back to the era of Constatine (3rd century AD).  As luck would have it, the town was in the last day of its annual Roman Festival; we were very fortunate to get a parking space right at the Rhone River and near a restaurant which looked very inviting.  We went there for lunch and found that the waiters in togas were part of the festival, and they were serving a Roman style lunch.  The food was delicious and so were the waiters (not that I noticed!).

We both had a sandwich that was one of the best on our trip - chicken and salad in a flat bread pinned together and fantastically seasoned.  Sitting outside in front of the ruins of Constatine’s baths near the river and in the beautiful day - what a remarkable lunch.

The waiters weren’t all that concerned about the sides of their togas and it was clear they only had very brief black undies on.  I went to take their picture and Mark questioned if they’d allow it, I was pretty sure they would, and they not only posed but hammed it up, and kidded that 'that would be 14 Euro, s.v.p'.  They were more like actors or businessmen on a holiday playing waiters.  It was a fun time.  Ancient sycamores followed rivers and road throughout the parts of Italy we drove through and southern France.  Many main streets now become roads are lined with Sycamores and when they need to expand the road, they do not cut the sycamores, rather build another road and make each a one way.  Nice they appreciate their trees and how long it's taken them to grow so huge.  (A side note: There were far more women working as waitresses this trip than 10 years ago in Paris.  Many waiters still have the serious countenance that seems required of the profession.)

Missing

There were several things missing in Europe.  Billboards.  We only saw billboards coming into one major city and I don't remember which one it was now.  They were all commercial and minor in size and impact compared to the US.  Religious billboards were non existent.  We only saw one protestant church in all our travels.  It was a solid door in a residenhtial/commercial district and the door simply said "Protestant Church".  Also no bumper stickers.  Occassionally we saw a window little sticker for a school.  But no bumper stickers.  Interesting. 

Climbing Montsegur Day 7

The road to Montsegur is speckled with visions of torture and attrocities too gruesome to detail.  Actually, Kate Mosse did detail some of them in her book and they bore remarkable resemblance to hwat I saw int he ethers along the way here.  I was surprised at my sense of connection to this land.  Mark was aware of his, but mine surprised me.  If you want to know more about the untold story of this region, read Labyrinth by Kate Mosse.  It's a very, very well written book which takes you to the 13th and the 21st Centiries of this region.  We have just finished reading the book, and the experience is still alive.  Glad we read it after visiting.  Reaching the pass at Montsegur, we park (there are a surprisingly large number of parking spaces for such a remote area), and begin our climb at 1000 meters (3925 feet) elevation.    The Chateau de Montsegur itself is another 250 meters up from the base - equivalent to climbing a 60 story building, but ivia steps that are mostly rock, with no hand holds and slippery places and loose stones and very steep walks with no steps and all of it with frequent sheer drops and you've begun to get the idea.  (Also, make a good number of the steps about twice the normal height and some of the potential falls quite dangerous if you were to go over the side.  No concessions to tourists here!)
Two hundred were burned here.  Those were the ones left at the end. Did you know the Inquisition started in France? 

Our destination. Three sides carved out of the mountain itself.  Monsegur, the safe mountain.  The last stand of the Cathors those whose beliefs the Roman Catholic Church sought to annihilate.

Fresh at the first! There were few hand holds after the pay station. Any journey starts one step at a time.

We were very surprised at how many white-haired folks over the age of 75 were climbing it.  It is a stiff climb and the elevation doesn't help.  If we were to do it again, we would take walking sticks and twice the water we brought - 1-1/2 liters for two people wasn't enough.  We wished you could find ice in this country.  They are missing a fantastic income – cold water or ice cream at  the top of the climb to Montsegur.  There is a 4.5E fee to go up, but only the only official presence is a nice man in a little hut, who was providing guide pamphlets in several languages - very austere and nothing else the least bit commercial, somewhat like the Cathars themselves.  It's good that way.

Stopping frequently along the way, we met various people.  One rather large group was from Denmark,  others from England, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Russia, France; we were the only Americans we could detect.  The Danish group was aware of past life connections.  As we stopped for lunch just before the top, we had an interesting conversation with a Brit and his son. He explained many ex-pats from GB live in the area; one town nearby is 70% Brits.  His story was much like many these days, people sold their homes, put the money into stocks and bonds, lost a lot on the market, and are poor now.  The cost of living was very cheap when he moved there but now it's quite high especially with the ratio for the pound to the Euro.  We said many Americans have experienced similar situations,  moving to Mexico and Panama/Costa Rica.  His son is traveling and might ring us up if he comes to NC.

Reaching the fortress after just over an hour's climb, there was a commanding view for miles around in all directions, and many reasons to reflect on what had happened here, and on the passions that have all too often set us one against the other.  Very sobering, and well worth the considerable effort it took to reach this place.

The haze of pollution was disappointing and concerning.

Energetically it was a profound and challenging experience.  Much healing, forgiveness and clearing required here

Coming back down isn't much easier than going up – a bit less time though.  After paying our respects at a monument to the more than 200 men and women who were burned here after the fortress fell, it was time to find serious amounts of cold water, and we found it at a lovely little road side cafe with a wonderful waterfall

After this refreshing stop, we headed back over to the sea near Perpignan (about the most Spanish city you'll find in France).

High winds and blowing sand kept us from swimming, but the view was still gorgeous.  A quick trip to the supermarche for dinner (definitely the most economical way to eat) and some excellent regional wine -- Le Pas du Templier, a Minervois -- at under $2 a bottle!

On the road once more, to reach Carcassonne by nightfall.  The walls of the Old Cite are floodlit at night, and words can't do justice to describe how dramatic it looks .  The inside is going to have wait until the morning, though – it's been a physically grueling day, and we need a hot shower and a good night's rest .



If you are interested in more info on Monsegur, Kate Mosse wrote a book called Labyrinth which was on the NY Times Bestseller list.  It's a novel based on historical info.  Mark just finished it and enjoyed it very much.  I've just started it.  One of the reviewers says Dan Brown will have to move over to make room for her!  She says, "It's a place of secrets, one that has seen too  much and concealed too much to be at peace with itself."  I hope we brought more peace there.

Day 7 - Montsegur

DAY 7 MONTSEGUR

Flying the Occitain colors red and yellow Carcassone was decked out from their Fete of the weekend.  

The Occitan region was the birthplace of the troubadours, and of many of the social and political movements that brought some light into the Dark Ages.  Along many of the highways, there are large signs saying that 'Vous etes dans le pays Cathare' – you are in the land of the Cathars – a religious movement implacably opposed to the medieval Roman Church and its excesses, and still reverently held in the regional memory.

We decide to save our visit to the Cite at Carcassonne until tomorrow, taking advantage of perfect weather to head into the Pyrenees and up to the fortress of Montsegur, where the Cathars made their last stand in the mid-13th century.  The Grand Pyrenees are indeed Grand and very different from any mountains in the US.  Pictures later will be worth 1,000 words (we hope – if they come out well).

 

I think Disney's been here.

On the way to Monsegur.

Typical for so many towns in Southern France and in Italy the ancient Sycamores provide dense shade.  There are signs warning that the trees lean into the road and to watch out.  When a town needs a new road, they build another separate road instead of cutting these trees and make both roads two lane one ways in each direction.

 When you leave a town the name of the town has a red stripe to let you know you are no longer in that town.  The 70 is the speed limit (Km of course).

 

It is so true that many things are closed in August and in the South of France many were still closed the beginning of September.  Closed metal doors with signs saying "en Vacance" show they will not reopen until 6th Septembre.  But there must be a Boulangerie open somewhere becasue everyone is carrying their petit loaf of French bread and/or chomping on a croissant on the way to work.  

  There they are the Great Pyrenees mountains.  Home of Sampson (Maria's dog).  Our destination is out there somewhere.  The drive continues to be beautiful through little towns no matter how small they all have a church.  

 Looks like it'll be four lanes soon.