But not everyone sees it. — A Total Taurus.

Siiiiiike.

I’ve just always wanted to do that. Yes, “that”, would be taking credit for some  awesome saying.

Granted, I come up with some good ones every now and then. Typically in the form of off color humor … but that’s moi. Your Total Taurus.

This quote is from one very cool, very wise and very dead dude: Confucius.

What a cool guy. I like to think that in a past life Confu and I were friends. See, we had to have been. I’m already abbrev-ing his name.

I love abbreviations. Acronyms. Nick names.

Actually, now that I’m thinking of it, I rarely call anyone by their real name. It’s more fun that way. Although, this can be rather challenging in a foreign language to accomplish.

Not the coming up with abbrev names, but the using of them, which doesn’t always translate in context.

Specifically, I’m thinking of the Gendarmerie. That would be the National Police … en France.

See. When you’re lost, the most perfect place a nice girl like myself can end up is at a Gendarmerie. Luckily this happened to me not once but twice.

The first was by complete accident in Carcassonne. Per other city arrivals, I wasn’t going to waste any time in getting lost. F that. I was going to pull over at the first logical and safe place I could.

Which just so happened to be the Gendarmerie.

The moment I stepped in, I instantly knew there was a reason I had thought to apply lipstick.

Alright, so it might have been the fact that Maman told me I looked a little rough after having driven a few hours with the windows down and some tense toll exchanges (more to come on that, its worthy of its own post). I needed to “brighten up” as she so delicately put it.

Brighten I did. Thank you, Viva Glam.

You know, there’s something comforting about being in a room full of decently good looking, in shape men with machine guns. Yeah, it’s pretty hot.

After quickly sizing the place up – a town drunk, some weird looking people, one transvestite, I was feeling pretty confident.

Until I opened my mouth to speak and Monsieur Gendarme cut me off and asked if I spoke Spanish.

WTF? Spanish? Hellooooo, I’m speaking to you in French. You’ve got to be kidding me.

I decided my best response was to ignore his request and kept plowing through. Thankfully, another Gendarme came to my rescue — think tall and good looking, what the hell was he doing ruining all that with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth? Gross.

In no time those Gendarme boys clarified my directions and had me, and Maman, on our way.

Maman, of course, was more curious if there were any Gd’s around her age that she could go out with. Or at least invite out to dinner with us. No joke. I told her all the old(er) ones had bad teeth and smoked. Only partially not true.

Where was I going with this story?

Oh, yeah. Abbrevs not translating …

When I thanked those helpful boys, I referred to them as the “gend’s”. Not only did they find it not funny – Maman loved it and laughed our whole trip over it – perhaps to make me feel like I can be funny – but they also totally did not get it.

I tried to expliquer. No use.

They’ll still always be my Gend’s though. I think it has a good ring to it.

Carcassonne, while I’m still thinking about it, was f-ing a-maz-ing.

An ancient fortified city. From like 100 BC, or even earlier. There’s too many dates related to Carcassonne. All we need to know is: it’s damn old.

I had great fun walking all around the perimeter. The inside is full of many shops and restaurants, hotels, an incredible church … it’s not very big in there, yet it feels huge. It has to be all those windy narrow cobblestone streets that all loop up and connect with one another.

I was more interested in checking out the castle itself. Le mistral was in full force the days we were there. That would be the wind.

It was crazy windy. As in I think I’m literally going to blow up, off and away crazy. I didn’t.

Maman had to keep yelling at me to get down off of things and leave the place alone.

For real?

You’re telling me I can’t climb around some old bricks? What’s going to happen? It’s not like, after wars and invasions my hands are going to take it down.

But that’s Maman. She’s a rule follower. I’m a rule breaker. Case in point.

Of course, the pictures are not cooperating and lining up right for me! Or maybe it’s just WordPress. Then again, it’s probably me. But, whatever.

Hopefully it’s not too distracting. Plus, I had to include that pic of Maman, I think it’s great. That other one from Sainte Chapelle of us does not do her justice.

Back to Carcassonne.

We had an incredible dinner, followed by an equally incredible lunch the next day.

There must have been some mis-communication at dinner, because when I asked if the salads were small, I definitely heard a firm and clear: Oui, Mademoiselle.

Yet when it arrived it was rather grande, not petite.

Don’t be fooled — Maman’s was just as big. You can’t tell from it there in the background.

She wondered how we were going to be able to eat them, and eat our dinner. I agreed I had no idea, but the best option was to start drinking.

Apparently this is what I look like after two drinks, plus one very scary digestif. For the life of me I can’t remember what it was. I mean I do know it was a local specialty, I just don’t know what was in it. It’s probably best I don’t know.

As for our lovely night time accommodations … I found the most amazing B&B. I’m willing to venture the most amazing B&B in Carcassonne. Period.

Demeure Saint Louis. Unreal!

Absolutely gorgeous.

We stayed in the “Petit Trianon” room. What a deal … the room was very spacious, the detail and design out of this world and I was in love with the bathroom … fabulous big, sunken tub. Perfect for soaking my tired feet in.

Bernard, the owner, was extremely friendly and helpful. I just may have gotten him into yoga.

The back yard of this place was the perfect spot for getting my yoga on … it was quite the picturesque garden … a lovely koi pond, complete with a stone bridge over it, which was the site of my yoga routine. Followed by a meditation.

It was truly other wordly.

So, if any of you ever find  yourselves in Carcassonne, I can’t recommend this place enough. Great breakfasts, too.

Nutella. Need I say more?