Roots

Hello friends! As promised, we are continuing with Olive Does Stuff in France. Actually, we'll be doing that for a while, because (as you all know) I am ex-pating it up in the octagonal cheese factory for about four more months!

We crossed the border between Spain and France uneventfully and stopped off at a well-stocked grocery store. This will be my home, I thought as we snagged some breakfast and headed towards Lagrasse, yet another gorgeous and medieval small town, Lagrasse, which notably houses many different artists, a beautiful abbey, and a little river deep enough to swim in.

We started our two days there by heading to our B&B, Le Roc Sur L'Orbieu. I only truly realized we had officially reached France after we had got to our B&B before the official check in time to be turned away with a quick and authoritative non. It wouldn't be France if there wasn't bitter along with the sweet. We decided to kill time until our room was ready by wandering the picturesque streets of Lagrasse, delish shuttered windows included. We visited the abbey, which offered yet another gorgeous cloister and many ancient rooms of devotion. 

   

After we walked around the grounds of the abbey we took a dip in the river. Many locals were sitting in the shade or wading in slowly because of the water's rocky bottom. After a while we popped back in the car to check in at the appropriate time, joking on our way that there would definitely be a rulebook, no air conditioning, and certainly no TV. 

1/3 ain't bad, I guess. Le Roc Sur L'Orbieu was charming in all senses of the word. To get to our rooms we walked down a narrow corridor between two halves of a chateau on the top of a hill. We were led to our rooms, which included TV, air conditioning, and you guessed it, a rulebook. Our beautifully decorated rooms, complete with gorg old mirrors and Syrian antiques. There was a small pool down the road that we were allowed to swim in at our leisure and a deLish breakfast that included crepes, pain perdu, tea, croissants, and homemade jams of many varieties. Le Roc has charm in spades: the grounds are expansive, and everything that has a pink cushion is yours to use, whether it be chairs around the BBQ or chaises near an ancient chapel that rested quiet and locked nearby. Our proprietor cooked for us every morning, chatted with us as we ate, and offered us great dinner recommendations. 

     

One such restaurant was En Cantimini a V fancy restaurant functioning in a building that used to be a diplomat's home for their visits to the region. I had a Grenadine and was introduced to kirs, basically a glass of white wine with a tablespoon of flavored syrup. I highly recommend the peach. I ordered the vegetarian menu because I try to stay a strictly veggie girl when possible. It consisted of truffle & egg for entree and a vegetable plate bigger than my head that had an incredible range of flavor, with a large block of chevre in the middle. My dessert was nougat ice cream with a lychee jello ring (IDK) around it.

The best part about the meal was its lack of pretention: everyone serving and eating seemed to be having a genuinely fun time, no pursed lips involved. We went home STUFFED and happy, knowing that there was one of our favorite activities waiting for us on the other side of sleep.

AH. The Brocante. We all rolled out of bed earlyish to visit Lagrasse's flea market, and WOW, what a line up. The streets were filled with chotch, antique linens, old books, crystal glasses, leather bags, wicker chairs, puppets, you name it. My mom and I immediately sunk our teeth into the first linen store we saw and spent a good amount on some gorgeous nightgowns that I might try to turn into day dresses if they aren't too sheer. I also snatched a great leather bag (holds a composition book plus all the essentials in perfectly sized pockets) for 25 euros, and a little yellow dress for 12. (Can LYD be a thing instead of LBD?)

After we finished bopping around (read: were forced to leave by the male parts of the Wexler clan) we got in the car and headed to 2 ancient Catarrh castles (read: rock ruins on a steep hill) Peyrpertuse and Queribus. From what I gathered, both castles were strong military bases created to protect the valley which held their citizens below? I might have completely made that up. Our first stop was Peyrpertuse, which was definitely the harder climb of the two. I would recommend not-your-birks on this one, and opt-IN to the audio guide, not for the info, but because the man recording it sounds like an exhausted Borat. There's nothing like a view, and Peyrpertuse offered some gorgeous ones while adding in that mysterious flavor of oh people once lived here what were they like?

Yep, that's my hard-hitting analysis. 

But seriously, standing on what feels like the top of the world never fails to give you a little perspective. I couldn't stop thinking about the disappearance of these peoples and their ways of knowing: putting together the clues of ruins doesn't help us integrate what olden-day-humans knew in their everyday lives into our lives now. The Catarrh people had ingrained knowledge that has slowly eroded with time. All that's left are some buildings that are no longer home to anyone and some theories about what we've forgotten.

     

Queribus was a shorter treck, but we were in a rush to get home, so I snagged some pictures upon arrival and we descended tout suite. 

Before long it was time to leave Lagrasse and her surroundings to head towards Molitg-Les-Bains. When we arrived at The Grand Hotel (Wes Anderson eat your heart out) after 2.5 hours in the car on windy roads, I immediately felt at home. Our rooms weren't ready (as usual) so we traipsed around the hotel grounds, accidentally breaking into the spa that takes up much of the bottom floors. We returned to the pool and I did laps for a little and then sought out a magnificent salad with burrata+2 different dressings+tomatoes+crunchy crunchy croutons. On vacation, I often find that I miss simple good: food in restaurants is almost too prepared. 

Then it was time for our appointment at the spa, which started with changing into our bathing suits, a large white robe, plastic slip-on shoes and a plastic shower cap that gave us all a case of the giggles. Then we spent our first ten minutes in a yellowish tub with jets for our back and metal handles to hold onto. The sulfur smell coming off of the water seemed to be the source of the slight eggy smell that permeated the hotel from the ground up. For the next ten minutes, we were led to an incredibly alien looking milk bath that was filled with white clay. We waded in and floated in the surprisingly buoyant, temperature changing milk. Once our allotted time was up we showered off and were escorted to a little area that had juices, coffee, and teas. I felt like we were in this weird sort of purgatory where bureaucracy reigned and where we waited, listless and relaxed, for what was next. What was next was two rooms, one of which had a light that was so discombobulating that the colors scared me, and the other was (for lack of a better word) a sulfur shower. I left feeling lightheaded and spent the rest of the day calling friends and writing a bit.

My whole family knew what was coming next on our trip: a 2-day trek in the Pyrenees, following in my grandfather's footsteps as he escaped France during World War 2. None of us knew what to expect, and we certainly hadn't been training in any way other than eating a lot of European food. I was particularly nervous about the whole thing, because
1) emotions+physical activity didn't sound like the best combo
2) after the mountain there was nothing standing in between me and my study abroad program
Also
3) I'm not what you would call a mountain girl.

Well, city girl or not, I woke up alongside the rest of the Wexlers with a packed bag and hopped into the (weirdly comforting) grey van that our guide, Norbert, picked us up in. I was actually pretty siked about it, despite it's daunting aspects. Hiking is like slowly melting into the landscape, and our thoughts become less present as we become defined by our actions instead. We arrived at the foot of the trail, and I found out quickly that there was no way for me to do our treck without taking it one step (quite literally) at a time. We started going up, and I avoided looking anywhere but right where I was placing my feet in order to avoid being overwhelmed by the difficulty (or the beauty) of it all.

We stopped at the summit for lunch, which was a delish salad, ham and cheese sandwiches, fruit and some chocolate meticulously packed by Norbert, and then we started our descent to Nuria, a spanish town at a sleepable altitude. Going down layers of avalanche-able schist rocks, was, um, not fun, especially for a girl who has never liked the falling motion (I'm looking at you, roller coasters). Sooner than expected though, with only one fall on my ass included, we reached a clearing where we came upon mountain goats, horses, and waterfalls along our grassy path.

Pro Tip: buy hiking boots that are a half size bigger than what you expect you need.

Descending was a uniquely painful experience because my toes were smushed and blistering up against the front of my shoe. Ow. I made it to Nuria, Spain (where we had booked beds in a hostel-ski-resort) by singing Hamilton under my breath to distract myself (yikes, IK) and was so happy to see a yellow-sheet-clad cot at our hostel that I went to bed before 1AM. The next day, our final descent took another three and a half and was lined with gorgeous rock and the occasional waterfall.

It was in the minutes when we weren't climbing: on the summit, train, eating lunch, and in my hostel bed, that I felt tears wiggle into my periphery over how overwhelming the whole experience was. I can't believe (even with the world in its current state) what it must be to leave everything you know behind, Consequently, that is exactly what my family is founded in. I mostly felt//feel thankful.

I spent this whole summer retracing Arnold's steps, and today I sat in front of the Seine. Paris feels like home in an innate way. I know it's a modern and ancient city for everyone, but it's also the whispers of my roots sprung to life in front of me. I'm wondering whether my next four months will illuminate anything deeper than a sense of this will be my home.