03 Sep 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.
09/03 Nargonne, France
I wanted to make an early start and head into Algora but it was a bit out of the way and didn’t poise enough of an attraction to make the detour. We did manage to make it out early and followed the rails into the Parenoes and eventually made it into Polgceria, La Tour the Carol. When we reached the border between Spain and France again they were still unwilling to share trains so we were forced to exit and board a new. We took advantage of this opportunity to gather up some traveling snacks. I told Jim on two occasions that he ought to pick it up but all I got in return was an attitude. “I’ll see you on the train then.” As the train began to pull out a young man in full stride latched onto the handrail of the last door and it wasn’t Jim. To my surprise the conductor pried his fingers from the rail and he hit the ground moving at about fifteen to twenty miles an hour. The conductor must have known that individual, but either way, I was not going to cross paths with him.
It was a peaceful ride and gave me an opportunity to catch up on some writing. I had hours to burn before Jim would be pulling into town and decided to wander about to get a feel for my surroundings. I ended up down along the water’s edge smoking cigarettes and passing around a bottle of red wine with the local bums. I tell ya, they may sport clothes that had seen better days and the jury was still out if they had a recent bath, but the conversations were interesting and they really enjoyed each other’s company. I tied on a bit of a buzz and wandered across town to the station to meet up with Jim’s train but he wasn’t on that train either. It was kind of a long walk for nothing. Eventually I ended up in an underground pizza restaurant. If I ignored the language and were just relying on my eyes I would have thought I was back in California. The clothes, the gestures and the mannerisms were all the same. Outside the hostel they had gathered around the guitar. It seemed if I wasn’t the only one who had spent a good portion of that night in a local bar. Apparently the hostel was full and there were no more available beds. When Jim finally arrived I suggested that he sleep in the floor in our room but he insisted that a park bench was perfect. Suggestions only made more bent out of shape. He ended up being more bent out of shape since his attitude got in the way of his common sense and found out the hard way that a hard surface and cold weather equals very little sleep. After we tracked down some food and a cup of coffee in the morning we boarded a train towards Carcasconone.
All day it looked like it was going to rain but as the day wore on the sun managed to win its battle. I extremely enjoyed wandering about and touching things from the past. Touching the walls of this castle allowed my imagination to transport me. This was quite a place for a child to explore. There was a small church and I found myself staring at the altar for quite some time which began to irritate Jim. It didn’t matter where we were he always wanted to be on the move. He couldn’t just relax and take a breath.
It was getting late when we sat down to review the train schedules and decided to head into Nargonne. I followed my ignorance and hopped on the wrong train, heading in the opposite direction. While we were waiting on re-connecting to correct my mistake I discovered a hostel in Sete which seemed better suited to our new time frame and Jim agreed. We arrived late in the afternoon but still had ample time for meandering through the park. We spent some time watching the locals play bocce ball. Those guys were good and I mean really good. It showed what sixty years of practice could lead to. Even though it was quite an exhibition of skill it still didn’t match the spectacle of the hundreds of jellyfish that danced below the bridge that lead to the hostel. I find nature so fascinating. Occasionally, like today, we spent some time waiting for the hotel to open its door. It’s not always a waste of time because it would provide an opportunity to meet and socialize with other travelers, providing an excellent trading post for ideas, cultures and travel tips.
We headed out to explore the industrial port and gathered up the ingredients for tonight’s’ dinner. A little cooking, a little relaxation and a little writing were on my agenda for the evening. We began talking with an American couple bicycling across France. The way they explained their travels made it all sound so romantic. Even though I have a passion for riding bicycles the idea of facing multiple days of rain painted a picture of my journal turning into a sponge of lost thoughts. Just about the same time we opened our third beer some Germans were drawn to the guitar. Their sing-along-quartet was quite comical and with each new beer the laughs grew louder. Eventually I wandered in and lay down in bed. There a young lady was rubbing her breasts with moisturizing cream and she took advantage of her audience. I watched. Hey I didn’t get that type of opportunity often enough.
