Moving On

Since I last wrote I have been through a whirlwind of activity. I decided to leave the comfortable womb like warmth of Dordogne, with its rich foods and eclectic history, and I have bulled my way through some incredible cities. I visited Toulouse, Carcassonne, Nimes, Avignon, Marseilles, Dijon, Venice, and Florence. Wow. 2 weeks of intense travel.

Carcassonne is basically the quintessential mediaeval castle. Eugene Viollet-le-Duc, France’s architect extraordinaire of the 19th century, rebuilt the castle. My hostel was literally placed inside of the old and sprawling city walls. Its ramparts have hundreds of hidden archer slits and holes for dropping hot pitch and large head crushing stones. There was no one else in the hostel except for a pilgrim who walked from a cathedral in Spain, and a class of young children learning Occitan, a traditional language of the south of France and north of Spain. So, of course, I ended up sharing a few beers with him in the only bar that was open before tourist season. We played soccer with a 9 year old and then snuck into the quartered off parts of the ramparts at night.

At Nimes I visited the best preserved amphitheatre in the world, it is now used for bullfights and concerts. It also has one of the best preserved Roman temples, Maison Carre. Right across the way is a new building by Norman Foster which makes for a strong juxtaposition of the ancient and the modern. That night I met two Japanese guys, who were really surprised to meet a white guy speaking Japanese to them in France. We spoke a mélange of Japanese, French, and English to understand each other; my mind has never been so schizophrenic. We decided to go to Pont du Gard, outside of Nimes, to visit that great Roman aqueduct the next day – which also happened to have many bories strewn about it.

In Avignon, home of the papacy for over a hundred years around the 1200’s, it was more history like Nimes, but there was no one to speak with which made it less fun. This combined with a really crummy hostel which took me over an hour to walk to made me kind of bummed out, but it was still fun to walk around the papal palace. The next day I went to Marseilles where I met Sandra again and visited with her parents for a few days. It was nice to relax after hectic traveling, plus it gave me an opportunity for good food, wine, champagne, and the opportunity to wash smelly clothes. Sandra’s parents were great people, very nice to me, and they had an exceptionally tasteful house. It was furnished with impressionist paintings, African sculpture, large well bound literature, and lots of good music. They were more than happy to explain everything to me, including the head of a 600lb Marlin.

les Jardin des Marqueyssac

This allee is absolutely divine. All you can smell at this time of the year is that sweet acidic and pleasantly skunky fragrance of the boxwoods where ever you walk. In the woods to the left is a drystone wall carpeted in thick rug-like moss that runs perpendicular to the allee. Here, I have been reminded of what a great time this is to visit France. The temperature was well into the 20's in the sun, being on top of a rocky ridge and surrounded by limestone cliffs, yet there was a cool breeze and a very soft landscape that surrounded me. When I was in Paris I had the galleries, the streets, the architecture, the city almost to myself, there were at times crowds, but not the bustle of tourists, just the rustling of locals.

Here at Marqueyssac I wandered for atleast 2 hours, and for an hour I didn't encounter one person! Because this photo highlights just one person in the distance it seems even lonelier, and it helps to put the sweet solitude of this place into perspective, before the hideous crowds in summer. This garden sees over a million visitors in the summer and is the most visited in the Dordogne.

This mass planting of boxwood (Buxus sempervirens) becomes a theme of this garden, the melody that is constant throughout the bones of this garden.  Just to the side and back of the chateau is this labyrinthine essay in topiary.  It is notable for its billowing organic shapes and lack of strict geometry.  This garden was radically altered by its 19th century creator, Julien de Cervel, who was  deeply influenced by Italianate gardens and decided to imitate their relaxed formality and do away with the previous design which followed in suit with the designs of Andre Le Notre (known for Versailles).  He planted over 150,000 boxwoods, and also built a few cabannes as follies, or eye-catchers, following in the romantic tradition.  The photo I included in this post was at the end of a long allee and was called the Asile du Poete, or the Poet's Hut - inside it had an unspecified poem by Diderot written in, to me, incomprehensible french.  I can struggle out a basic conversation, but I can't read Enlightenment french.  

I am pretty sure that these are not original stone carvings, although they do have a little look of age as moss and a slight patina has set in.  There are other modern sculptures that dot about this garden, and they are mostly anachronistic and jarringly out of place.  These little phantasmagoric heads poking out of the ground are kind of eerie, but suit the woods.  It reminds me of the Italian garden Il Sacro Bosco which I think of often.

Perigord 101.

Yar, this here be the city gates.  A castle was established here in the late 12th century by Phillip the Bold, the Roi of France, they then "encouraged" the locals to settle on top of this hill to make it a proper village.  Im not sure if encouraged means (a) threatened by sword point (b) incentive by way of goats OR an alternative (c) Get out of Jail (Hell) card.  Anyways, in 1307 a few Templar Knights were stuck here until the culmination of their persecution (the other, more fearful, "-tion" word, execution) and in the process they inscribed crosses and holy maps all over their jail cells.  Locals call it graffiti, but maybe this kind of cheapens the last days of these knight, just a thought.  I feel that there is not a subtle difference between me tagging my name on a highway pass for props from my buddies compared to painfully inscribing holy writ onto stone walls in light of most certain impending doom.

This photo has a very expensive looking car in it, which is on purpose.  Just as I was walking up to gates, on a beautiful sunny afternoon, around 18 degress in the warming rays, an entourage of ridiculously expensive cars flew by.  One by one, BMW's, Audi's, and bunches of other convertibles and sports cars flew by - the rich coming to their quaint provincial cottages in their pretty medieval town.  Its really sad that this town is almost dead until summer, other than a cafe, a restaurant, a tabac, a boulangerie, and a small market that runs every thursday, this town is almost ghost like right now.  The gorgeous stone homes that compose this village are mostly owned by the rich, and many of them English.

Domme is now considered a plus beau village, from which you get a sweeping view of the Dordogne valley, which is also famous for its many caves.  The caves contribute to it as one of the first, and most prestigious, caveman cultural centres of pre-history, Lascaux is in the Dordogne along with many other lesser known painted caves.  The immediate area around Domme is also blessed with Castles, and a great number of other plus beau villages, a coveted designation among tourist frenzied France.  The Dordogne, or Perigold, is also the place of truffles, foie gras, wine (from Cahors and Bergerac), it is a lush and fertile lowland country.

This is the market at Sarlat-la-Caneda. But, wait a second (thinks the reader) this just looks like some dingy old church.  Well, it ends up that this IS an old dingy church, but it has been converted into the most beautiful place to sell truffles, sausages, wine, and fine nuts.  They took out a wall and inserted a 50 foot high metal door, to allow this church-market to become completely open air.  Architecturally speaking it is a funny mix of both gothic and romanesque - having both roman and gothic arches.  The gargoyles/grotesques on this church were few, but very well done and very large in size.  Otherwise it had simple rib vaulting, few adornments, and the stained glass rose window has been exchanged (or not restored accurately) for a massive circular clear glass pane.  A very clean and simple looking church that really screams out its structural features.  This city has incredible windy little medieval streets, and is one of the best examples of the medieval town in France.

Because I'm such a hard working tourist sometimes I get really sleepy.  So I usually just find closest dry stone cabanne or borie to fall asleep in.  This one was about 4 kilometres into the woods off of a hiking path.

I recently visited Marqueyssac, a phenomenal garden, it REALLY blew me away.  My next post will wax about its virtues, but in the mean time I include this photo to induce architectural salivation.  Im swallowing spittle just seeing this little photo.  This borie is named cabanne de cloche, or the bell hut.  The name is self evident, it was restored just over a decade ago now, but it was included in the original plans of this garden's RE-designer in the 19th century.  It's all stone, no mortar, roof included, fantastic construction.

Halt the Presses!

This just in, Evan Oxland completes his premiere sculptural piece named, “Dragon Lady.” It immediately struck critical acclaim (although not necessarily good claims) with his peers (albeit the other two blokes stuck on the volcano with him).



In a recent interview Oxland reflects on his influences, “Well, you see Jim, I had just finished reading Michael Crichton’s Jurrasic Park when I it struck me… Or, should I say SHE struck me. I mean the stone I was in the business of mutilating with hammers and chisel or reordering into neat looking little piles was all the product of this woman… this age of mighty beasts, their very bones were providing me with the medium I made a living on. In this way Crichton’s dinosaur’s are that chthonic force, that primeval feminine, but a tragic one at that. Jurrassic Park really helped me to conceptually grab the essence of this. I mean, there was so much killing, death, and misery in that Park that Ian Malcom warns us of. Malcom is always talking about the forces of chaos, which in many ancient religious texts whether they are ancient Babylonian or Greek Mythic traditions, is represented by the female, the chthonic. And when human intervention, that foolish masculine pride of science, wontedly penetrates prehistoric amber to gather dinosaur DNA, and thus neglects to respectfully acknowledge that ancient sacrifice, the forces of chaos are released. In this sculpture I see a peace offering, a pre-emptive reconciliation, and a ward against an ambiguous future apocalyptic world tyrranised by Velociraptors and Pterodactyls.”