Celebration

When I bought this apartment last year, I signed papers at the notary on my birthday and then took myself out to lunch at a local restaurant to celebrate.  This week, to celebrate both events, I left town.  At one point I thought I would make that local restaurant a yearly tradition, but after considering that for a few seconds, I realized that whereas the restaurant is good, it isn’t wonderful.

So I took the train to France -- to Perpignan to have lunch at my favorite restaurant there -- Al Très.  In addition to lunch, I went shopping.  I had a good time looking, and even tried on a pair of secondhand Armani pants, but they looked really awful and in the end, I didn’t feel compelled to buy anything. 

This was just as well because the next day I had to pay an unexpected vet bill.  Felix has not been his usual rambunctious self lately and I was worried.  Biopsy results of the enlarged gland behind his leg suggested no cause for it, and exploring his insides with a sonogram came up with no culprit for what I thought might be difficulty in urinating.  So with no diagnosis, Felix came home full of cortisone and antibiotics.  The vet says it’s often difficult to diagnose cats or to say if a cat is ill or simply in bad humor, so I’m hoping for the latter.   After all, from his point of view, moving from a house with garden where he could go out and roam the neighborhood all day to a small apartment where he is constantly being held prisoner is nothing to celebrate.

 

Just a few steps from the train station
and you can see you're in France

 

View from my terrace seat as I
sipped my cafe au lait and nibbled
a croissant

 

Some buildings look like they could be in Catalunya.
But hey! This used to be Catalunya.

 

It's not all fancy shmancy

 

At lunch

The mussels were to die for.

 

Sweeter than any dessert

 

France!

Portbou train station

It was my dream to move to France when I sold my villa, but it turned out to be impossible.  Well, maybe I could have arranged it, but it was so complicated and so uncertain that I couldn’t take the risk -- not at my age and with my limited resources.

When I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to move to France, I started thinking about where in Catalunya I would move to and settled on Figueres.  I didn’t want to be in one of those coastal towns that is flooded with sun-burned bodies in the summer and dead in the winter.  I wanted a place not too big and overwhelming, and not too small and claustrophobic.   I wanted good public transportation to be available so I wouldn’t have to use my car for every outing or even just to buy bread.  Figueres fits all the above plus it is only 20 kilometers from the French border, so I figured if I can’t live in France, at least I can go to visit, and living that close I could even visit on daytrips. 

Finally, after being here for over a month, I got up my courage to test the trains and see if the odd connections would work.  They are odd (and this took some probing to find out) because on the way there you take the regional to the last stop, which is Cerbere, the first town on the train line in France.  But on your return you pass Cerbere and take the French regional to its last stop, which is Portbou, the first town on the train line in Spain.  It’s a little asymmetrical and tricky for getting round trip tickets on either the Spanish or the French trains, but once you know how it works, it’s easy.

I didn’t have any specific expectations for Perpignan.  Some Brits I know said it was pretty much like Catalan towns.  Historically, the Rousillon was part of Catalunya, some still think of it as Catalunya North and some people there speak Catalan.

The natural landscape doesn’t change much when you cross the border except that in Spain there were a few vineyards while in France vineyards dominated the landscape, sloping in every which direction.  While the natural landscape was similar, I think that French towns are distinctly different.  Perpignan certainly is.  In Perpignan, there is no mistaking that you’re in France.

Houses look different, and even the little cars seemed to have an extra touch of je ne sais quoi.  Figueres boasts a beautiful promenade along the canalized River Basse.  I had done no homework, wanting to just get there, explore, and be surprised.  And I was surprised.  There is nothing that looks like this in Catalunya, at least nothing I’ve ever seen.

I was also surprised at how mediocre my lunch was.  I looked for something other than one of those brasseries with the large patio out front designed to entrap tourists but couldn’t find anything better.  So I went to one and ordered their special seafood tasting menu, which had I-forget-how-many different parts.  Unfortunately rather than being served in courses they were brought to the table all at once and all, except the bread with tomato and anchovies vinaigrette (a remnant of Catalunya cuisine) was boring and deeply disappointing.

But that’s OK.  There are two types of travelers:  those who research first and plan out the visit, and those who just go and see what they find. Both have their merit, and I have a little of both in me.  So when I know I’m going to a place that I will likely visit again, I can indulge both approaches.  On my next trip, I’ll definitely research restaurants before I go.  In fact, I've already started.