Road trip

"Like most Americans, I'm appalled to discover that after decades of progress, people in other countries still insist on speaking foreign languages."

Dave Barry

Despite facing the above insurmountable hurdle, we took the tram down to the Montpellier train station where we rented a Hertz car. I steeled myself for the fight where they insist on selling you unnecessary insurance, but it never happened. We got a very nice diesel Opel, returned to the hotel, loaded it with out bags and took off.

Once we actually located the highway -- no small feat -- I found French roads superb. Much better than ours. And with higher tolls, but no matter. One thing in which they excel is the plenitude of rest stops, here called aires.

It seems to me that when I first visited France in the mid-80s, sandwiches were puny, dry affairs. Now they're big enough for two. Can obesity be far behind. Anyway, Kim and I routinely share on lunch.

Our first planned stop was the much-esteemed town of Mirepoix, about an hour southeast of Toulouse. But we decided to make a short stop at the attraction of Carcassone, one of the most visited sites in France.

A massive set of castles and tours, walls and moats, it's exactly what you'd think a medieval fortified city was like. With dozens of restaurants, T-shirt stores and kitsch vendors. Fortunately, it was off season, although hardly deserted. For some reason, though we found it supremely boring.

Carcassone, like virtually every castle town in the Languedoc region, was the site of one or more horrendous massacre of the Cathars. These were a numerous religious sect that broke with Rome, which over the years sent armies to extirpate them. Why France wants to celebrate this part of its history is beyond me, but it does. In fact every other sign in the area reminds you this is Cathar Country.

We readily left Carcassone and headed south to Mirepoix. In France, driving secondary roads means mostly enjoying one roundabout after another. Better, perhaps, than traffic lights, but still disconcerting.

Arrived in Mirepoix, home of a town square foiled with timbered buildings and touted carved heads. It was also cold and overcast, which advanced to steady, cold rain. The historic hotel boasted free wifi which translated means either pay wifi or, as in this case, no wifi at all. Blog delayed.

Virtually all the restaurants in Mirepoix were closed. One that was open was a cheery place that featured pizza. After four nights of French cooking I chose pizza. It was smothered in Gruyere and resembled, and tasted like, a giant, slightly tomatoed, croque monsieur.

It was raining when we woke and it followed us out of town. As we approached the Pyrenees, though, it stopped and showed the mountains in dramatic light. We decided to give the Middle Ages another try in the town of Foix. The three-towered chateau there loomed atop a high hill and afforded a fantastic view (photos to follow). Twenty Euros and a lot of climbing didn't spoil things. Good show Foix.

We proceeded into the mountain s to a rustic looking inn. We were the only guests, but Pierre (his real name) was most hospitable and spoke sufficient English to ease the way.

We eventually made our way to the nearby river town of Tarascon for dinner. Nothing open. We drove 15 kilometers back to Foix, which had a slew of restaurants, all open when we stopped in the afternoon. Nothing open.

However, the McDonald's on the outskirts was humming and we embraced it. There is a McBaguette. And I had some other variation we don't have in the U.S. French McDonald's bread isn't just better than ours; it's good Plus the English-speaking clerk didn't raise an eyebrow when Kim ordered an after-dinner cappuccino. We probably wouldn't have gone there if there had been an alternative, but all told we were pleased. And spent 1/3 of previous evenings.

Tomorrow, we head for a local food market, and then the caves full of Neolithic art. We'll see if we can find an indigenous dinner.