Northern Catalunya
This area didn't seem to be France at all. The minute you got off the main road everything changed. The little towns and villages were tightly constructed with tree lined avenues, and quaint little squares with fountains. Rivers tumbled around everywhere. And wherever you looked there were hills backed by the great bulk of the Pyrenees, with Canigou squatting on its own, dominating the whole area.
We drove up a hill towards the small town of Ceret. We wandered around the green streets. We sat in the square of the seven fountains. We even had a meal in a restaurant with the splendid name of Les Pieds dans le Plat, which I translated as 'hooves in the trough'. And the food was good. We decided to stay. This was where I wanted to live. I loved the place.
We walked up a splendid curved set of steps to a hotel lobby and asked for a room. The woman in reception looked startled, then puzzled, and said she would have to check if there was a room available. She brought out a massive black book and poured over the pages, finally deciding that there was indeed a double room at the front overlooking the street. We checked in.
We later discovered we were the only customers.
We had one of those silly little balconies that will accommodate one person standing up, but I spent ages standing there watching the comings and goings down the street. I couldn't make up my mind quite where I was. Was this France? There was a definite French feel, but there was something else.
"You are in Catalonia," said one of my new friends at the top of the hill.
"Catalonia?" I was puzzled. "I thought Catalonia was the other side of the mountains, in Spain."
"No, my friend. Catalonia starts where the foothills of the Pyrenees start. Catalonia is older than either modern France or Spain." And he nudged me across to the nearest bar where he proceeded to get me up to speed on the local culture.
Apparently Catalonia was a very ancient principality which, in the middle ages, stretched across modern Roussillon right down to the province of modern day Tarragona, with Barcelona as its capital.
Apparently during the eighth century the Moorish empire stretched right up to Tours. I had no idea they had got that far. But in 732 there was a great battle, which put the Moors on the run, and they had been retreating ever since. In 795 Charlemagne pushed them beyond the Pyrenees, and he then set up a series of buffer states between the Franks and the Moors. One of these states was Catalonia.
By 987 the count of Barcelona no longer recognised the French king, and Catalonia became an independent state. No wonder the Catalonians want their independence back from Spain.
In the evening we walked into the square of the seven fountains, and had a meal at Les Pieds dans le Plat. The soupe de poisson was different from the dish I was used to, coming as it did with a spicy red sauce which I stirred into the juices, rather than the garlic sauce used in the north. On the menu were salt water fish, fresh water fish, vegetable stews, and mutton stews. It was all rather delicious.
The next day we drove up the valley of the Tech to Amelie les Bains. This is a charming town set in a lovely valley. It is an old Roman spa town with numerous sulphurous warm springs. The river is particularly interesting as the trout are plentiful.
And then there is the pleasantly warm evening walk back through the tree-lined streets to our hotel. The lamp-light is scattered through the branches of the trees. The town has a very pleasant ambiance. Yes, I could get to like this place. Maybe this is what I'm looking for. And one could even drive down the motorway to Barcelona. It is a long drive, but it is do-able.
The Last Troubadour in Spain: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00OMZZAPO
Travelling the Back Roads of Spain: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DH8JVTBP
Poet in Spain: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0831N5Z23
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