Christmas images

Outdoor Christmas markets in the square in front of the old cathedral and, here, in front of Sagrada Familia.
The Catalans have their own twist on Christmas traditions.

A Christmas centerpiece at home is the Christmas log -- tio de Nadal -- either alongside or instead of a Christmas tree. Large selections are available in all Christmas markets.
According to Catalan tradition, children dance around the Christmas log, commanding it to poo gifts. On Christmas Eve, when no gifts are left, it is thrown in the fire.

Many homes also have a nativity scene -- but with added, uniquely Catalan figures. Here some children choose their favorite.Perhaps this Catalan tradition is worth a closer look.


Of course, no family's Christmas decorations would be complete without some good, fresh moss -- a selection of varieties is offered for your pleasure.

Would you like that wrapped to go?






















Popular year-round, but especially at Christmas, is a nice leg of jamon (ham). A fine selection is available at a local shop specializing in this delicacy.
In the spirit of Barcelona Christmas, we have assembled our own modest Catalan Christmas tableau -- Bon Nadal!
Wednesday we are off to a family Christmas, DeCoster style, in Albuquerque, NM.

Thanksgiving on the road – Return (last of 4)

After another day sightseeing in the area of Port-Ste-Marie, we headed back to Barcelona. We decided we wouldn’t tempt fate by driving across the Pyrenees again, being still sans equipment.
Instead, we took a road along the French foothills of the Pyrenees, running from Foix to Perpignan (for any who care to keep track on a map).

This frontier region between France and (mostly) Aragon on the Spanish side has been the scene of much conflict between the Cathars and France in the 13th century and then France and Aragon somewhat later. Dotted through the landscape are castles, many perched on rocky outcroppings.
The French call these the Cathar castles. Catharism was a heretical religious movement prevalent in the Languedoc region of France in the 12th and 13th centuries: Albi, Beziers, and Carcassonne all figure in Cathar history. The Catholic Church first attempted conversions, but the Cathars, who thought Papal institutions were creations of Satan, were unpersuaded.

In 1208 a papal legate sent to the Count of Toulouse, who was sympathetic to the Cathars, was murdered. The Pope called for a crusade against the Cathars. The Albigensian (for Albi) Crusade, as it became known, also was a war of conquest. Crusading knights loyal to the French king were authorized by the Pope to seize the conquered land of nobles who were independent of France. Thus did France gain control of this region. [See the Wikipedia article for more details.]

Crusaders saw no reason to be gentle with heretics. This one began with an attack on Beziers; when Catholics who lived in Beziers refused to leave, the crusaders massacred Cathars and Catholics alike, up to 20,000 by some accounts. Before attacking, the commander of the Crusaders asked how to tell Cathars (whom it was fine to kill) from Catholics (on behalf they were suppose to fighting); the reported reply was – “Kill them all; God will recognize his own.” The region through which we drove contained the last holdouts, and massacres, of the Cathars.

The landscape was spectacular. Towns in valleys, the road running through narrow gorges, castles on hilltops, the Pyrenees in the distance.
The town of Quillen in its valley.
A gorge on the road leading out of Quillen.











The Chateau de Puilaurens above the town of Lapradelle.

Several kilometers later we left the main route for a narrow winding road to see two other castles in the Corbieres region (also a nice wine domaine).

The Chateau du Queribus (below) was one of the last sites attacked by the French – although the Cathars managed to slip away and avoid the usual fate.
A few kilometers further, in sight of the Chateau de Queribus, are the more extensive ruins of the spectacular Chateau de Peyrepertuse.
The French call these Cathar castles, but the facts are somewhat less romantic. There were fortifications occupied by Cathar holdouts at these sites, but the castles whose ruins one sees today replaced the fortifications occupied by the Cathar. The castles seen today were built a little later by the French to defend their new frontier against the kingdom of Aragon.

As we drove back from these last two chateaus to the main road, we were greeted by a spectacular view looking over the valley toward the Pyrenees.

Then it was on to Perpignan and down the coast to return to Barcelona.

Thanksgiving on the road – Port-Ste-Marie (3rd in a series of 4)

We were invited for Thanksgiving dinner Judy Logsdon Dubois, a Canton, MO, high school classmate of Pat's, and her husband Francois, whom she met in the Peace Corps.

Judy and Francois live in an old farmhouse named Tremisat set in fields and orchards on a bluff north of the Garonne River between Toulouse and Bordeaux with fine views over the valley.




Their four children are grown, but the house is hardly empty, with their 3 cats, 2 birds, and a dog, Kribi. I only got a picture of Kribi.









For Thanksgiving (which we celebrated on the following Sunday), they had invited their 3 daughters who live in Bordeaux, grandchildren, friends and neighbors (their son was too far away, in Brittany); altogether we were a cosy gathering of about 20.

Finding a Thanksgiving turkey is a challenge; the French think November is too early for turkey. Turkey should be for Christmas. But Judy has located a local who raises turkeys and is willing to slaughter one early for her each year. She and Pat drove to the outdoor market at a nearby town to pick it up. Unfortunately, my picture fails to show the head and feet, still attached.

Thanksgiving dinner had all the traditional elements, with a few nice French variations. Everyone pitched in. Pat and Judy prepared pumpkin pie (with filling Pat shipped from the US). In the absence of shortening for the crust they sacrificed and made do with good French beurre (butter).

Judy’s daughters, two of whom have cooking blogs, prepared pumpkin tarte (no canned filling here), mashed potatoes, corn bread, and wonderful cranberry-pear relish.









Francois helped as needed and brought some pomegranates in from the tree in the yard to show the children.






Soon dinner was being put on the table, with the guests waiting for the signal to begin.


Also waiting nearby was a hopeful Kribi.














Dinner served, we sat down to eat -- the children at their own table in the kitchen.










All in all, a fine family Thanksgiving dinner with old and good friends - an American tradition transplanted to and enriched by France.

We stayed on in Port-Ste-Marie, visiting and enjoyed some nearby villages, including Clermont Dessous, a nearby small town with a 13th century Romanesque church on a hilltop above the Gironne .

Thanksgiving on the road – in wine country (2nd in series of 4)

The next morning we walked around old Bergerac, with its picturesque church and many half-timbered buildings. Not a major tourist attraction perhaps, rather one of many such old town centers throughout France, but very enjoyable.








We also visited the Bergerac wine museum, housed in an old building with a courtyard. The designated Bergerac AOC produces some very nice, not-too-expensive wine (a bottle of which, of course, we had enjoyed at dinner the night before).


Leaving Bergerac, we stopped at Saint Emilion on the way to Bordeaux, one of the best Bordeaux wine regions and one of the most attractive villages in France.

This is one small town that will not expand; it is surrounded by the vineyards and, the land is more valuable growing grapes than people.



Of course, grapevines also provide a pretty decoration for some of the old buildings in town.









Then it was on to pick up our wine.

In the spring of 1992, while living in Paris, we had visited the Margaux wineries in the Medoc region NW of Bordeaux, which are among the most famous wine chateaus in France. At Chateau Prieure Lachine we decided to buy a case of the 1990 vintage (a very good year).
It was still in casks, waiting to be bottled, but the chateau would be happy to store it for us in controlled conditions until we could pick it up. Since these Margaux wines are not ready to drink for at least 15 years, and last considerably longer, we figured we could let it age gracefully, and then pick it up and transport it back at our leisure, perhaps a few bottles at a time. That had never happened, but now we were back in France, and the wine was ready to drink. And we were happy to take delivery!

Next we drove up the road to Chateau Palmer, another of the great Margaux chateaus, which Pat’s brother Tom had visited back in the 1980s and told us to be sure to see; we’ve gone whenever in the region.

A fitting final image for wine country.
Then we headed to Port-Ste-Marie.

Thanksgiving on the road – heading north (1st in series of 4)

We returned a few days ago from a week-long trip to southern France. We visited friends for Thanksgiving dinner and picked up wine we had bought years ago that was stored in the cave at the Margaux winery. This is the first of 4 posts on this trip.

Judy Logsdon was a high school friend of Pat’s from Canton. After college she went to Cameroon in the Peace Corps, where she met and married her husband, Francois Dubois. They lived in Cameroon for a number of years, and then moved to France. They live in Port-Ste-Marie, a small town on the Garonne River between Toulouse and Bordeaux. The trip gave us a chance to see her again after many years and to meet Francois. We last visited Judy in 1992 when we were living in Paris, but had missed Francois as he was in Cameroon.

After picking up our rental car, we headed north out of Barcelona. We had checked the weather reports, we had decided to drive straight north across the Pyrenees, rather than take the more circuitous but faster autoroutes up the Mediterranean coast to Perpignan and then west across France.

About 20 miles outside of Barcelona the road passed Montserrat –a massif with jagged pinnacles that give it a “serrated” appearance. A priory half way up the cliff was founded in the 11th century. This is one of the three “sacred mountains” of Catalunya and fonts of Catalan identity. And Wagner used this as the setting for his Parsifal. In 1812, however, the French destroyed the Romanesque buildings from the 13th century when they invaded.

Continuing north, our route took us by Andorra (although we never quite crossed the border). It was bright and clear, with snow on the mountains, and much colder than in Barcelona. [It had been about 50 in Barcelona when we left, the coldest day yet, but was in the mid-30s in the mountains.]

The views across meadows to the mountains were beautiful.











And Pat certainly was enjoying herself!





Shortly after passing by Andorra we began to climb again into the high mountains. And got a rude shock. A large illuminated sign announced: Equipment Obligatoire – with a picture making quite clear that the required equipment consisted of chains. Which of course we did not have. By then there was a little snow accumulated by the side of the road. There was still no snow on the road and the temperature remained (just) above freezing, but the road also continued to climb, we were driving into thick clouds, so we really weren’t sure what was ahead. We proceeded: there really was no alternative other than turning around and taking a very long detour to the coast. We continued to climb, while the roadside snow and clouds accumulated, until the road split – we could take a tunnel or the road up over the pass. Needless to say, we opted for the tunnel. On the other side the road headed down; there was plenty of snow around but none on the roads and no need for chains.

But the weather certainly changed as we crossed the line of the Pyrenees. The sun had disappeared. It was grey and cold and the trees were covered in hoar frost as we headed down the French side alongside a mountain creek – as can be seen in this picture of our car parked at a pullout.



We pushed on as we had reserved online a hotel in Bergerac, France, on the Dordogne River. The plan was to stay there and then drive on the next day to the Bordeaux region and pick up our wine.
It was dark by the time we got in, which made finding our way through the narrow streets of the old town more of an adventure. After a certain amount of quasi-random wandering, we finally spotted the hotel. And were told that they did not have a room for us – repairs on the room were suppose to have been finished that day, but were not, and they had no other room. But, no problem, we were told: they had arranged a room for us at nearby hotel. Fortunately, the substitute hotel was fine and somewhat better situated, being a few blocks closer to the old town.

After unpacking, we walked down into the old town and found a small restaurant tucked in an old, low, stone, barrel-vaulted room. We were glad to find it because Wednesday seemed to be closing day for about half of the restaurants in town, including the one that we had identified online. Dinner included terrine de canard, confit de canard, agneau, chocolate mousse, and pear sorbet, tasted good; it was good to be back in France, and dinner certainly tasted good after a day on the road.

To be continued.