Les Bignous: Salies-du-Salat

Rest and enjoy was the advise from June and we certainly did.

We had the gift of a home in the Haute-Garonne for a gentle and restorative retreat. Certainly a far cry from the crowds and busyness of both the Marseille and Paris rugby weekends. 

We stayed close for some of the time, an ice cream from Kimglace, the plat du jour at Local 90, baguettes from our favourite boulangerie, Fred gardened and pruned, I cooked, we swam and walked.  We also explored the area, riding the impressive Pyrenees passes, we hiked, we took in the serenity of the churches, enjoyed the villages and it was all a deep pleasure.

It was a place to have family time too, long sunny summer days with Craig, Shawni, James and Kirstie, swimming, swing ball, walking into the village for provisions, the Monday morning market, a braai and just spending time together.

A family at play.

 

Flying the flag: the RWC 2023 conversations happen wherever we are

Flying the flag wherever we land...

It may seem quiet about the RWC here on the blog, but it's not the case in reality. Fred is avidly watching, tracking developments, watching replays and commentaries, making predictions...and as only Fred can chatting to anyone and everyone who seems even as vaguely passionate as he is about the rugby. 

The latest example was in the lift going to the 3rd floor of the Guggenheim Bilbao and Fred spotted an Irish supporter wearing his rather faded old jersey. Well that was all it took and a half a later I eventually prised him away, still blocking the path of art lovers, while the two of them excitedly made predictions for the win. 

So the next keenly awaited game is Scotland vs Ireland and by then we would have travelled all the way east across France to set up home in Cap Martin for a week.

"We have sheeps", indeed: La Queseria, Bilbao

 

A delightful cheese shop in old town Bilbao, La Queseria

Indulging my passion for cheese we rounded off our stay in Bilbao by heading down to the old town to pop into a cheese shop and to source Basque Country cheeses. 

And as the shop owner said, 'we have sheeps', so its ewes milk cheese and she choose two for us.  One pasteurised and the other 'cruda', both well matured and sourced directly from the farm -queso idiazabal and queso irati. 

A fresh baguette and Basque cheese awaits with a view of the Pyrenees as we are back in Salies-du-Salat. 

Another special moment indeed.

A day at the museum, venturing inside: Guggenheim Bilbao

The inspirational work of El Anatsui, Rising Sea.

The interior spaces of the Guggenheim are as remarkable as the exterior and at times completely dwarf the art. Even Picasso's larger pieces of sculpture looked intimidated by their context. 

One piece, however, held its own. The Ghanian artist El Anatsui's monumental work, Rising Sea, up on the third floor. As it happens this was the last piece we walked past and when I appreciated what I was looking at it completely stunned me. Art from liquor bottle tops.

Quote from Curator: For six decades, El Anatsui has been refining a pictorial language that transcends boundaries of culture and medium. In 1998, the artist began making metal sculpture from discarded liquor bottle tops. The material holds conceptual significance given that alcohol was one off the commodities Europeans transported to Africa in exchange for slaves. The material therefore bestows the work with an historical symbolism that, as with so much of Anatsui's work is as powerful as it is subtle.

His team of studio assistances flatten, twist, crush and then stitch the aluminium tops together with copper wire which took up to a year for this piece! 

The epic scale of the work is a metaphor for the enormity of climate change.

Rising Sea, the expansive surface glimmers like waves, the bottom colour bursts suggest a skyline.

Warhol, Kusama, Picasso 

A day at the museum: Guggenheim Bilbao

The Guggenheim from the Puenta La Salve

It only took 4 years in the mid-90's to build this titanium, limestone and glass masterpiece with its incredible visual impact. Built on the site of a former industrial wharf on the Nervion River it has become a icon of Bilbao throughout the world and what a gift to spend the day in, on and around the Guggenheim.

The building dwarfs 'Maman' 

Fred and I have experienced many impactful buildings during our travels and this Frank Gehry's design, with its unreadable internal and external scale and logic, is now a firm favourite. 

Perhaps only the Sydney Opera House would compare for mathematical complexity of design. 

Can you imagine trying the read these plans!

The titanium sheets kept changing their hues as the weather and light conditions changed throughout the day and it glows.

Rather peaceful view of the Nervion River.

'Tall Tree and The Eye' Anish Kapoor, all about the reflections on surfaces.

Meet Puppy, world's largest flower sculpture: Guggenheim Museum Bilbao

Puppy, Jeff Koons, stainless steel, soil and flowering plants
Entrance to the Guggenheim Bilbao

Puppy at the entrance to the Guggenheim here in Bilbao.

Thousands of colourful begonias, impatiens, daisies and greenery make up Puppy as he stands with dignified attention at the main entrance to the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. 

The museum's faithful guard dog.

A monumental piece and also a monument to the sentimental - puppies and flowers. 

He makes me smile and I cannot wait to get back for another look this morning.

 

Tulips, also by Jeff Koons, could not be more different to Puppy. A bouquet of high gloss colourful balloon flowers blown to gigantic proportions.

Tulips, stainless steel balloons!

Snowy owl moments: 'Maman' at the Guggenheim, Bilbao

'Maman', bronze by Louise Bourgeois, Guggenheim Museum, Bilbao

There are times on long extended overseas travel when it's too easy to compromise, it's easier to say no for whatever reason, Fred and I call these decision moments, Sharon's 'snowy owl'. We had been travelling across Canada and Alaska for a couple of months and had arrived back in Anchorage, a couple of days earlier than expected, after a particularly arduous birding trip out to the Pribilof Islands.

I thought about planning a trip up north to Barrow, the furtherest northern community in the USA and an excellent sighting spot for the Snowy Owl. But I didn't. We went bear watching, glacier viewing, cooked salmon and halibut instead, all special but I have yet to see a Snowy Owl, a must on any birders' list.

It was a decision where I settled, rather than being bold and following what I really wanted to do.

And here we are, in Bilbao, Fred having driven across the 380km from Salies-du-Salat, and this is not a snowy owl moment, we braved traffic, a parking garage, signs we cannot read to get to the Guggenheim this evening as heavy rain is predicted all day tomorrow - our museum day.

I have just experienced what I have desired to see and do, which is to experience the power of art,  'Maman'! 

'Maman' is monumental, 9m in height, predatory but protective of her sac full of eggs. 

She hovered above me on those bronze spindly legs which are like Gothic arches, she is powerful and fragile. 

Happy and grateful.

'Maman' looking towards the bridge.

We buy cheese from a farmer: Aire de Lacq Audejos

Ewe's milk cheese, direct from the farmer.

As we fly along the motorways with a destination in mind we pop into an 'aire', a motorway stop, to picnic, to have a break and we don't expect to be either delighted or surprised - it's functional at best.

Today we pulled into an aire and I set up the table while Fred wandered off to find the coffees. A man approached me carrying a cooler box and my South African response kicked in, 'what does he want, I'm not available for anything'! 

He is a sheep farmer, and makes cheese, he also pops over to the aire at lunch time and sells his cheese. What a complete delight to say yes, we tried the ewe's milk cheese, well matured, nutty, fragrant and had some for lunch. 

I asked a few times for the name of the cheese and I could not decipher the reply - but he mentioned it's regional and between two valleys, and I figure it's the name of the aire, so its fromage de brebis Lacq Audejos, and completely delicious.

The barns captivate me: rural Haute Garonne

Barn relics of the Haute Garonne

Lattice-work details are another feature of the barns,

A conversation with the delightful Kim of Kimglace, the artisanal ice cream maker from St Martory, got me appreciating the barns along our afternoon drive to the Col Portet d'Aspet. 

She makes a heady Fleur de Lait ice cream and only does so in summer when the cows are out in the pastures, eating the grass, as the milk is then rich and flavourful. A true connoisseur.

Come winter, come the snowfalls, the animals are herded into the barns and hay fed. Mostly the barns are attached to the centuries old farmhouses, two storied, upper wooden structure for the hay and an enclosed lower tier for the animals. This old style mountain farming has changed no doubt and the barns are now more a feature of the landscape than a practical solution to the brutal winters of the Pyrenees. Barns are now collapsing or having makeovers and being integrated into the living space of homes.

Anyway, I had Fred stopping at the last minute to photograph these old barns.  Even though the temperatures are still in the 30's, the farmers are getting ready for the cold, the hay has been harvested and bailed, and in some cases moved into the barns already. 

Mountains are soul food: Col du Tourmalet

The majestic Col du Tourmalet

The tortuous paved roads of the Col du Tourmalet

'le traffic' - Saturday out and about on the Col

We headed out into the mountains today, time to follow the Tour de France climbs again. Our quest was to experience the famed Col du Tourmalet, one of the highest paved mountain passes in the French Pyrenees,  with an elevation of 2115m, and the most included climb on the Tour, over 70 times.

What a surprise to see how pastoral the landscape is, shaped by centuries of mountain farming, the cows and sheep graze freely and were holding up the cyclists and traffic up the pass every now and again! 

Even more quirky was a flock of llamas who also survive in the high mountain pastures up at La Mongie and even up to the high cross-over point of the Col.

It's certainly a beautiful route and the Pyrenees are green gentle giants with their soaring ragged peaks. 

What an experience to remember.

Quirky sight of Llamas on the approach to the high point of the drive

The magnificence of a walk in the Haute-Pyrenees: Col d'Aspin

Crocuses in the high altitude pastures on Col d'Aspin

'Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Everyday, I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. But by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one comes to feeling ill. Thus if one just keeps on walking, everything will be all right.' 

Soren Kierkegaard. Book: The Essential Kiekegaard

This quote from Natalie is a daily reminder to me to move and to walk, and we had the best possible place to walk yesterday, the French Pyrenees. Our trail started at the high point of the Col d'Aspin, 1485m, in the Haute-Pyrenees. The quiet and sunlit dappled route through the pine tree forest en route to the high point was just a little bit magical. 

Quiet magnificence

The farmers bring their cattle and sheep up into high pastures in summer so we were accompanied by cow bells along the trail too. 

The purple crocus flowers with their orange centres were in full bloom and seem so carefree the way they pop out of the ground and relish the sun. 

We were treated to views of the Pic du Midi observatory along the way and once we passed through the forest the panoramic views of the Pyrenees were our reward. 

On the path with Pic du Midi so clear

Pastoral beauty

There was a moment on the trail, when I had pushed a bit too hard, felt breathless and teary, and then Fred just held me for a moment, we breathed and took it all in, the quiet magnificence of it all.

The world capital of cassoulet: a visit to Castelnaudary

Castelnaudary from Le Grand Bassin

A conversation with Martie some months ago about meeting up for cassoulet ended up with our visiting the town of Castelnaudary in the heart of the southwest of France, unfortunately not with Martie as she and the gang are on the Canal du Midi and too far away at this point. 

To highlight the importance of this dish to the French it has a grand old brotherhood dedicated entirely to the preservation and dissemination of this one dish - the cassoulet. I have one of Jan's Journals - our South African Michelin Star chef in Nice - where he features the dish and its recipe, its been on my to do list for some time to attempt. So much excitement to get to do a tasting first.

According to the article the story and legends of the dish can be traced back several centuries. It's an Italian potter who made the terra cotta flat bottomed and flaring at the top bowls which became the signature shape for the bean and meat stew. 

Jan goes to the world's best cassoulet restaurant and when I  googled, it is closed on Wednesdays, oh well, you cannot win them all, so I picked another mostly on star rating and in we went.

The cassoulet has a crust, which we broke releasing a wave of steam so heartwarming and earthy, comfort food at its best and as my friend Rosella quipped 'rib-stickingly delicious'. 

The beans are Haricots du Lauragais, beans from this part of France, they are a long, narrow white beans and so delicious as the base of the stew, by far my best part. It's not runny either, our dish had the traditional sausage, piece of roasted pork and a confit leg of duck. Fresh green leaves as a side. 

We could barely move after lunch but I still had shopping on my to-do list and to experience the amazing Maison Escudier in the old village, in operation from 1920 and  a 'member d' honneur' of the cassoulet brotherhood.

We found the delightful old shop after some driving 'squiggly' as Nate would say. And I made my first purchase, Maison Escudier  are well known for the ready to heat and eat cassoulet bought in a glass jar. I am keeping it for a dinner with Nikki and Jan when we are back in the Netherlands. 

My second purchase was a huge sack of the dried Lauragais beans, what a treasure. My plan is to challenge our foodie group back in South Africa to cook the recipe from Jan's Journal and from Rosella's French cooking lesson and to treat ourselves to cassoulet one cold winter Sunday. 

We stretched our legs and walked along the Grand Bassin with its views across the town and the four ancient locks Saint Roche still in operation some 350 years after the Canal du Midi was built, and as it would happen the boat going through the locks had been hired  by South Africans.

Fred and a Pope: Pierre-Buffiere, middle of nowhere, France

Our delightful refuge, the Auberge Dupuytren, Pierre-Buffiere

So what do Pope Pius VII and Fred have in common? 

They both overnighted in Pierre-Buffiere.

Fred yesterday and the Pope in 1814, both fleeing (sort off) Paris; I seem to collect these random bits of info along a road trip and I am really not sure what to do with either the photos or the information, so mostly its forget and delete.

What amused me even more was the tourist agenda for our 'village etape', which is an acknowledgement given to villages that offer something different to the standard food or accommodation you would find along the main highways throughout France.

Having just had our time in Paris as a family with a choice of world class places, spaces, museums, gardens, galleries, shopping, restaurants, exhibitions, fan parks - the options are endless and overwhelming, so we settled on our daily highlights, unable to even touch what is on offer.

And it's manic with people.

Roman road and bridge in Pierre-Buffiere
with the hand painted signage

Here in Pierre-Buffiere we were the sole tourists, no security, no queues and no ticketing. Its a gentle amble down to the Breuil River, along a Roman Road to see the Roman bridge; its a visit to the Xth C abbey, special for my quiet reflection time, with its 18 deep-blue enamelled porcelain tiles from 1838 set into the door (photos already deleted); its an ancient church wall with its bricked-in window that is now part of someone's home; its a lovely sunset while having a set menu which once again was a treat. 

And restful country views.

I rarely plan a one nighter on road trips but leaving Paris now and in August; it was just too far to get to our base here in Salies and in August to Italy. And how different my two choices!

The overnight in Beaune was the typical Ibis highway stop, gosh it was a box with a window, we could barely manoeuvre around and certainly could not move at the same time. The food we could find without too much hassle has already slipped my mind into oblivion. 

So how wonderful to have returned to this delightful little village, with its fabric bunting and recycled plastic ornaments everywhere, we were well nourished on every level.