Once in a while, the fog that rises from the valleys surrounding Cordes-sur-Ciel freezes.
Overnight the dense cloud that made driving so difficult the night before becomes a delicate crystalline web, clinging to the edges of every leaf, every branch.
It’s magic.
This morning we walked to the le Grain de Sel, the chalky outcropping you can see from our street.
It’s a short but steep climb to walk there from our house, but you can drive up past it and take a flat path too.
Wishing you all a year filled with glimmers of hope, fresh insights, many moments of pure joy and raucous laughter, and at least a few of breathtaking awe.
Emmaüs, the big thrift store in Carmaux, is only open on Fridays.Like all thrift stores, it’s a magical place.I thought I’d take a break from watching the sky fallto share some of the pictures I’ve taken there over the years.Lots of these are available in the vintage fabric sectionan old farm implementKnitting supplies have their own areaAmazing laceI want all the buttons, but what would I do with them?Emmaüs is my regular source for threadThe six interior spaces have employees who set aside your choices and give you a chit on a little piece of paper. You take the chits to the cashier who tears off half and gives you back the rest so you can retrieve your items.There are so many tempting things to take homeThe linens are exquisiteSometimes the line at the cashier takes a long time.Sadly, Emmaus founder Abbe Pierre was accused of sexual misconduct and his name was removed from the organization.His presence in the many Emmaus shops and charities was ubiquitous, but all the posters and busts are gone now.His good works go on, though, regardless of his offenses.
Very heavy. You can imagine. They travelled home from California with me last week, and here they are on their way into our house:
And now, having some copies of Red Vienna to pass on, I’ve set up two events.
It was at the back of my mind to do a launch of some sort locally, maybe in my living room or in someone else’s living room, but when I saw the back room at La Théiere Folle, the new salon de thé in Cordes, I couldn’t resist asking the proprietors, Ricky and Axel, if they’d be willing to host it there.
So, here’s the plan:
And then, for those farther away, the narrator of the audiobook version of Red Vienna and I are doing an audiobook launch on Zoom. I’ll add the details about it in my next post, but here are the basics. Join us if you can!
Carnaval de la Caitiviá took place in Cordes yesterday, after being postponed a week because of bad weather. It was, as good rituals should be, both festive and cathartic. School children in costume paraded through the villages of Cordes and Les Cabannes dancing and drumming to traditional Occitan music. They were led by a big cardboard effigy of Monsieur Carnaval, scapegoat for all the miseries of the participants, who was burned at the end.
The invitation to participate read (in Google translation):
“This Carnival will be that of the caitiviá (of the destitute), festive and demanding. Carnival-goers of all ages, disguised as destitute and excluded from all eras, will stroll through the streets of Cordes and Cabannes.
Loud and joyful, it will be accompanied by artists and musicians, including those from the music conservatory (Cordes and Carmaux branches), La Talvera and the Cantanha choir, themselves supported by children from surrounding schools who will have made their own instruments. The highlight of this Carnival will be the judgment and the cremation of Mr. Carnival, scapegoat for the miseries suffered by the carnival people who will judge him and celebrate his departure with a pantagruelic shared meal! So put on your most beautiful “petaçons” [pétassous] (destitute clothing made of pieces of patched fabric) or another disguise of your choice and join the procession!”
It was indeed loud and joyful!
La Talvera, the cultural association that organizes it, is dedicated to reviving the Occitan culture and language of the area. In addition to yesterday’s extraordinary event, they just published a new book of local legends.
It was a delight to follow the parade through the village and up the path to the meadow where the effigy would be burned.
I can imagine how much fun the participants, especially the children, had in preparing. The costumes were stunning.
Tom and I missed the judging, something we won’t do again, but when the parade reached the meadow, the dancing continued.
La Talvera, the band, lived up to its reputation as the best traditional Occitan band in France. We’re so fortunate to have them based here in Cordes.
The music and dancing paused as the wishes the participants had attached to the effigy were read aloud – let a cafe reopen at the center of the village, let me never be spanked, reduce the price of fuel – as M. Carnaval was wheeled to the pyre and installed.
Then it began again, the crowd swirling around the giant figure as the fire was started.
The fire grew and grew until it engulfed the figure.
A cheer went up as the head fell off!
This is the second year Carnival has been celebrated in Cordes. The revival of an ancient ritual like the Carnaval de la Caitiviá is just what this changing world needs.
We are so very fortunate to have it happening here in Cordes!
I’m busy getting ready for the first Chat Nomade, a pop-up cafe filled with cat art and objects. Nicole Barrière, Jude Brazendale, Marie-Josèphe Boyé and I are planning it for the first weekend of October, at Tom’s and my place. In November, it’ll be at someone else’s place.
At this point we’re working on the poster and making or collecting cat things.
Cordais friends, mark your calendars now and join us Saturday or Sunday afternoon between 2 and 5 the first weekend of the month for the Chat Nomade.
Je suis occupé à me préparer pour le premier Chat Nomade, un café éphémère rempli d’art et d’objets félins. Nicole Barrière, Jude Brazendale, et Josèpha Boyé et moi le prévoyons pour le premier week-end d’octobre, chez Tom et chez moi. En novembre, ce sera chez quelqu’un d’autre.
À ce stade, nous travaillons sur l’affiche et fabriquons ou collectons des objets “chat”.
Amis Cordais, à vos agendas dès maintenant et rejoignez-nous samedi ou dimanche après-midi entre 14h et 17h le premier week-end du mois pour Chat Nomade.
Please join me and Mocha on our walk around the village this afternoon.
Along the footpath between le Barri and le Bouysset. C D B ?The new owners have cleaned up the area behind a house along the path.This is part of a ruin that now has a sign on it saying it will soon be renovated.A lovely old garden gate in le BouyssetI know this valerian is an invasive plant but it’s so beautiful!Poppies root anywhere. The walls in Cordes have lots of these arches built into them.
Now I’ve come round the west end of the village. This is the guardian of a garage, I think.
Abandoned gardens like this one aren’t uncommon.
Heading down the north side now.
I’m walking on footpaths mostly.
It’s high rose season now.
Almost home now. The cat disappeared when he sensed Mocha coming.
And look! Henri IV is in his place waiting for us again.
This morning we welcomed a new member to our French conversation class, Samaher Alqadi, whose documentary, “As I Want” is beginning the film festival circuit now. Here’s the trailer:
And here’s a short interview with Samaher:
Then, the end of our conversation, another participant shared this recently released music video, filmed in Cordes:
A few weeks ago my Facebook account was hacked. It wasn’t the ordinary kind of hack where someone (or something) sends lewd pictures to your friends via Messenger. Instead someone used my account to post something so egregious that Facebook immediately shut down my account for violation of terms of service. I was told my account was restricted for thirty days and a Facebook bot wrote to me to acknowledge that I’d been hacked, but a few days later, a picture I posted on Instagram showed up on Facebook, and I found I was able to post.
This is the image I posted on Instagram.
I thought the issue had been resolved until a couple days ago when I received an email from Facebook telling me that my $250 limit on paying for ads automatically had been reached. It turned out that my Mama Ganache ad account was attached my private Facebook account and that when we turned over the Mama Ganache page to the new owners, the ad account remained in my name.
Now someone had ordered $2000 worth of ads. If I hadn’t had a limit on automatic payments, the whole amount would have been withdrawn. I immediately wrote to Facebook, deleted the fake admin on my ad account, changed my passwords on my account, my PayPal account and my bank account, reduced the limit on automatic payments to $2 (the lowest I could), and removed all viable payment methods from my Facebook account. I wanted to close the ad account entirely, but the restrictions on my account didn’t allow me to do that.
The next morning I saw that the $250 had been refunded to my bank account through PayPal, and I closed my Facebook account.
I’ll miss Facebook. There are lots of people I kept in touch with there that I won’t be in contact with now. And even though I can’t deny its dark shadow, the connections I’ve made on social media, many on Facebook, have enriched my life. Cartoons on Facebook made me laugh, I mourned friends’ losses and cheered their successes. I used the local buy, sell, trade site, and I connected with neighbors. Facebook offered me a window into the lives of dear friends and relatives I rarely see, and resources for news I wouldn’t have come across otherwise.
My mentor, Alice O. Howell, loved social media. Though Facebook gained prominence late in her life, she embraced it. The Internet was part of the Age of Aquarius, she used to explain, because Aquarius is an air sign depicted by the symbol of waves. She was thrilled to see electronic communication blossom.
I may open a new Facebook page in time. But for now, I’ll be posting here more often, though – if the ex-president’s blog is anything to go by – a blog will never have the same impact or response of a Facebook post.
All the same, here’s a window into my life over the past couple weeks:
Last week we had guests. Mocha enjoyed Oona’s company very much as long as Oona didn’t try to eat her food or want her to play too much. Mocha is nine now, and Oona is only two.We were so happy to have young friends from Paris here too.Dear friends from Vendée cleaned up and moved into the vacation house they bought here. We’re so excited to share this beautiful place with them. A view of Albi from the Château de Castelnau-de-Lévis.The tower at the same chateau. We were sad to say good-bye to our friends (well, maybe Henri IV wasn’t so sad) but we know we’ll see them again soon.
The name of the street on which Tom and I (and Mocha and Henri IV) live is called Rue de l’Acampadou, which we’ve been told means something like “between the fields and the town.” Our neighborhood is called Quartier du Barri. Opposite our house is a low wall and the stairs to our garden.
Below that, almost all the way down to the stream, L’Aurasse, is a wooded hillside.
Our house is blocked by trees in this picture, but you can see Simone’s house with the blue shutters next door.
When we first came to Cordes, we walked along the road below our house and tried to come up the hillside on some overgrown footpaths. Mocha was so covered in burrs and sticky seeds when we came home from that walk that we stuck to better maintained paths for a good year and a half after that.
One day during last spring’s confinement, I discovered that the paths on our hillside had been cleared. I went down a set of formerly bramble-covered stone stairs just up from our house and found that there was a maze of cleared paths zigzagging up and down the hill in broad sloping swaths.
Some of the paths were left narrow. I preferred those to the wide ones at first.
Mocha and I began to explore the maze of paths. I was surprised at how wide most of them were, as wide as roads. Over the summer, you could hear the noise of brush cutters as the village cleared more and more.
It was a dry summer. The cut grass lay on the dusty pathways. I took Mocha along the paths but all I saw was the wildlife cover that was gone. The paths made me sad.
Then fall came and it began to rain, and the paths became beautiful grassy walkways. I read somewhere that they have a name, Les Terrasses du Barri, and I realized that they were indeed terraces, and no doubt very ancient.
Now that we’re in the second confinement, which limits walking for exercise to one kilometer from home, I’m realizing what an extraordinary treasure is across the street from our house.
Mocha enjoys being off leash.Sunset is our favorite time to go You can see how they zigzag here. At the top a house on rue de l’Acampadou is peeking through.There are a few landmarks. This spring is running now. It’s just off a a small meadow with rock I like to sit on to meditate.There are a number of very big trees like this ash that I like to lean on and look up.This structure was part of the Medieval Festival a few years ago. Wood was stored in it and burned in the small building next to it to demonstrate how charcoal was traditionally made.
The woods are full of foods, like these wild plums, and medicinals waiting to be gathered.RosehipsFigsNettleAnd blackberries.It’s the end of our walk, but Mocha thinks there are still interesting things to see. Tomorrow, Mocha.
Eve Neuhaus 