Uhlfelder News

December 7, 2007.  Pearl Harbor Day.  We started out with a nice hotel breakfast, lots of choices, tons of coffee, fruit, fresh OJ, etc… Then we decided it was time to visit some of the local stuff that we were told about including two villages.  So we headed north and arrived, totally by mistake, in a village that had a lot of castles on a hill called Les Quatre Chateaux de Lastours. 

We found a way in, which required a five Euro entrance plus two for each boy.  And we hiked about 500 vertical feet to the four chateaux.  This was a bunch of steps and as we started the rain got worse.  By the time we visited the Chateaux, it was raining pretty constantly and we were getting wet.  As you topped out at the Chateaux, the wind and rain was coming sideways. 

After that nice hike, where we found the place completely by accident, we went to the original destination, the town of Cabrespine.  We had no idea what was here; it was just a place circled on the map we were given.  A note here about the roads: imagine driving on the narrows of independence pass but with no traffic; welcome to Languedoc back-roads.  The place in incredibly beautiful with pine forests, narrow well taken care of roads, views that are consistently breathtaking, castles everywhere, in short a real disneyesque experience.  Locally they call this region “L’Aude” and it’s sort of the soon to be discovered Provence.  Right now it’s still kind of run down (“charming” in Peter Mayle-ese).  Once Peter arrives, though, voila, c’est fini.

Anyway, the place is crawling with Spaniards who do not speak a word of French, and we’re happy to report that either there is no communication or it’s attempted in English.  The Spaniards don’t really speak English and the French generally don’t speak Spanish and neither really speaks English.  Today we learned that the Spanish haven’t even taken the trouble to learn the word “cheese” in French (fromage). 

So we arrived at Cabrespine to find a sign saying something up the hill.  So we went up the hill, then got to a place to find a cavern that makes anything I’ve seen in the US, including Carlsbad Caverns, look very petit.  This was a giant cave, with stalactites, stalagmites, lighting and about a five hundred foot drop into whatever was below.  They had only opened it for the week-end because they know Spanish people may visit (otherwise it’s closed in December) and the guy in charge was sort of, well, uninterested in working. 

Anyway, I negotiated a discount for Anne and myself, got us all in including the dog and a box of cookies and took photos, ate our cookies, had the dog walking around inside.  No rules here.  They have a more advanced tour for spelunkers that is 35 Euros by reservation and would probably be worth it if you were into caves.  We saw people way, way below walking around with headlights, probably eating and drinking with their dogs, on the tour.  It was probably at least 500 feet below us.

Then we had to find someplace to eat, it was about 1:30 and there was a tiny town below with one open restaurant where the chef/cook/server/busboy/waiter took our order after about 30 minutes of his trying to cook a menu for the 15 or so Spaniards that had wondered into the place.  It was no smoking, which was the only reason we continued to sit.  As opposed to the Spaniards, we were only interested in some sandwiches.  No such luck, so I ordered four crocque misseurs, got six, we ate and were happy.  It only took about an hour.  Then back to the hotel, finally.  Of course, we took a wrong turn, went through the town of Carcassonne, David had to poop, we had to stop at the train station, etc…  I went for a run, after washing my hands.

We had a very nice dinner at the hotel, which was very reasonable.  The food here is very good, and reasonably priced, when compared to Barcelona.  The people here are also nice, and very easy to deal with.

December 8, 2007.  After a long breakfast, with fantastic French croissants, off we went for a drive in the country back to Spain.  It was kind of dreary weather and we were on the narrowest country roads you can imagine, lost and on detours to try to find the other town we were told about, called LaGrasse.  We found it, and went on our way not even stopping. 

Anne and I observed that while France and Spain to a lesser extent really allow people to do what pleases them (e.g. want to walk on a wall with no handrail and a 20 foot drop — go ahead if you want to), they provide free (not very good) health care when the person falls off and requires hospitalization for a few months.  On the other hand, in the US there is a barrier, warning sign, and guard to make sure you don’t get exposed to anything dangerous, but no health care at all unless you have money.  Lawyers, I guess. 

December 9, 2007.  We went to the port this morning via bus, walked around, and were blown around like crazy.  It was super busy with people and crowded everywhere.  The winds were incredible, which means that the drive from France to Spain would have been worse today than yesterday, when the winds were plenty strong.  Last night I got rid of the car (turned it into Hertz two days early) and noted how nice it is not to have one.  Cars are a burden here. 

Anne has made potato latkies and David and Joshua have made home-made menorahs so we can light candles and celebrate Hanukkah here. Photos to come.

We were giving the kids their third gift for Hanukkah and there was a racket outside in Turo Parc.  We went downstairs and found a bunch of Chabad having a celebration in front of our house.  Imagine, there were about 200 people, most just curious Spaniards looking for a place to smoke and enjoy being with lots of people.  Then the Chabad people put on a film, in English, about their Rebbi which was hard to hear since everyone was talking.  In fact, we ran into a friend, Isabel, and ended up chatting ourselves.  Anyway we ended up watching the “lighting” of the Menorah outside with a few other Jews.

December 10, 2007.  Studied Spanish, went for a run through the huge park next to Barcelona, Conserrola Parc, using a map to get back since I took a train well into the park to make it a point to point run (1:20 minutes).  Then a lunch with another American who has lived here for four years and is a refugee from the Microsoft/Amazon world and finally to get David, drop him at soccer, then come and go and do business with Colorado.

December 11, 2007.  Anne and I met for lunch at a wonderful restaurant, which was at some point in it’s history a meeting place for Picasso and his friends.  It’s called “Les Quatre Gats” (I’ve hotlinked into their annoying website) which means the four cats in Catalan.  Anyhow, we were disappointed since we fully expected to see Mr. Picasso but he wasn’t there, I guess.  For 13 Euros we had an first course, a second course, desert, a glass of wine, a bottle of water and a wonderful almost tipsy conversation.