Presidential Politics 2012--A Discourse

The following post is a political discussion which began in response to a letter to the editor contributed by J.J. to the Dallas Morning News. I do not have copy of that letter. It makes more sense to begin reading #2’s response, the last one, which was written first. (Scroll down & find in caps BEGIN HERE.) The last response,  just below, is contributed by #7. There are responses by J.J. in French between each exposé which I am too lazy to translate. 

I've promised a young relation to publish this political exposé without delay & only a minimum editing. Be advised that: #2 lives and works in Passau, Germany & so he has a European perspective, #5 has his tongue permanently lodged in his cheek, & #7 is heavily influenced by Aristotelean dialectics. 

#5’s candor and generalizations are always entertaining. Maybe those younger journalistic impulses were real all along. 

However, it seems like the discourse is devolving into personality-politics. Perhaps that's just the way elections go, but we don't have to parrot the same airy arguments of "electability" that the uninspired pundits do. To say that Obama, who somehow embodies all backgrounds, actually represents any of those backgrounds simply validates the media's fabricated narrative. He's a demagogue with little to say, except what he has to say. So far, Romney doesn't seem that much better, except that he really won't do anything he says and things will at least not worsen. The 47 percent, the 99 percent, and all the other groups are mere numbers. Just some haves and have-nots, all coveting the more. 'Tis the American Way, after all.

#5’s assessment is pretty accurate. Obama hasn't really done much except wish the people well while they slowly fall into decay. Somehow this costs trillions of dollars and results in bewildering health bills and stimulus plans that have stimulated the economy into a record slow recovery. Iraq and Afghanistan are for the most part abandoned. The rest of the Arab world is on fire with radicalism. Europe and China are slowing down despite their furious can kicking. In the U.S., well, Sandra Fluke may just have her wish to have her birth control covered at a Catholic institution. Victory!

We really shouldn't fall for the myth that presidents can do much for the economy. They can severely hamper it through taxation and creating distortions in the market to temporarily stimulate consumption--check, and check--but they can't turn some magical dial from "Poor" to "Prosperous" despite what they may say. They can initiate reform in the national budget, which Obama still hasn't really tried; they can support their allies and punish their foes on the foreign front, which Obama somehow avoids; they can try to enact bills for unresolved problems affecting the country, which Obama only did in his first year with mixed results. Notice how we never hear anything about these issues though. We hear about gaffes ("you didn't build that!" "47 percent"). We hear platitudes ("fairness" "I can fix this!"). And we do our part by unrolling our wishlists at each candidates' feet and choosing the one who promises us the most items that we've written down.

Truly, there's nothing new under the sun. I don't begrudge Romney for his wealth or his Mormonism. That he runs on this image of a successful businessman bothers me a bit. It's a played-out image. The government is not a business. Ditto to Obama the community leader. Governments aren't non-profit institutions either. Ryan was a neat choice; I don't think he's a younger Gen X version of the establishment. He has an eye on the future and had the audacity to say something about it. Unfortunately, the VP position might just be a muzzle for him, like the Secretary of State position was a muzzle for Hillary. 

We're in for a whole lot of blandness. If you thought the convention speeches were vague and boring, just wait for the debates. It'll be the riveting rivalry, pitting two opponents who try to best the other at saying absolutely nothing.

I'm not sure cronyism and trickle-down economics will be much better for my livelihood or the economy in general, but some of the problems snowballing right now might be deterred by a change in personnel. So far, it's looking like another term for the chosen one, but never say never. I'll do my part and vote, keeping Texas red and proud.

#7

J.J. comments:

Notre clan est toujours aussi intéressé par la politique, même si nous n'en sommes que des acteurs passifs! Il semble que nous nous rejoignons tous pour penser que le GOP aurait du présenter un candidat issu de la classe moyenne plutôt qu'un autre patricien. Cette erreur lui coutera une èlection pourtant facile à gagner!

Papa

#5’s response to #2: 

Good points #2. Nice to see you still care about American politics. 

This election is GOP's to lose. No matter how you spin it, Obama's term has been lousy. He can't create jobs, he can't stimulate an economy, and he still hasn't given me my entitlement (but it may come around in the next 4 years). On one hand it's hard to believe the guy's going to get reelected...

But then again the establishment of country club members still hasn't learned anything from 2008, "99 v. 1% rancor," and the passage of Obamacare. The Middle Class has gotten nothing during the Bush years except shouldering the astronomical costs of stupid wars, bad bets on Wall Street, foreclosures, and higher health insurance premiums. 

Four years later, these elitist creeps come back in the face of a more refined, intelligent rich guy from the East Coast who'll do the same thing as the folksy, dumb rich guy from Texas: let his rich friends help their rich friends, and beyond that, the middle class will have to fight more dumb wars and muddle along somehow.

So where is this reincarnation of Ronald Reagan? The GOP's leadership is so rancid and exclusive that they can't think beyond their 1%. While they mean well, the Tea Party are a sorry lot of bible thumpers, isolationist, and back to the gold-standard nutballs. Paul Ryan was to give a younger and more sober appeal to the GOP, but he's still one of them, just younger and more handsome. 

Romney can probably do a more competent job than Obama. That's not very hard. With Romney the 1% will probably get even richer, but at least there's some elasticity in moving up in the world. Obama is a go nowhere man for a go nowhere society plagued with stagnation and entitlements. Obama says not to worry, green energy is gonna be the way to a boon.....doggle. 

The only reason I will vote Romney is for this reason alone. Sure, I'll more than likely remain a middle class chump under a Romney administration, but at least there's a chance of moving up as a result of some trickle down economics. With Obama, I don't think my entitlement is coming anytime soon. Obama's got a whole lot of others to take care of before he reduces my student loans, gives Christine extended Maternity, and gives a total day-care tax break. But if it was coming my way soon, I'd be lock-step with the 47%. 

So maybe, I'll go Obama this time, so that after 2016 my little piece of cake will really come true. And by that time, all this stuff about creativity, free enterprise, and fiscal responsibility will be for the birds (or tea party whackos).

Yours truly,

#5

J.J. comments on #2’s response:

#2,

Ton analyse rejoint la mienne! La classe moyenne qui votait pour les republicains a beaucoup souffert de la crise de 2008, provoquée une fois de plus par la rapacité des grands brasseurs d'affaires qui avaient mis dans leurs poches le gouvernement de Bush. En conséquence, comme beaucoup de republicains non-fortunés, nous souhaitions que le Parti choisisse un candidat capable de nous répresenter. En imposant Romney, les Gros Bonnets du Parti ont pris le risque d'une défaite aux urnes. Ainsi, après avoir fait la preuve de sa totale incapacité  gouverner, Obama va sans doute être réelu! Quel désastre!

En attendant de recoller les morceaux apres l'élection de Novembre, nous ferons notre devoir d'électeur mais sans illusion sur l'issue du combat! Avec Obama pour 4 ans de plus, nous continuerons notre marche vers un socialisme à la française et un problême d'emploi pour toujours! Vive la democratie!

Papa 

BEGIN HERE: #2’s response:

The party has not figured out that the vast majority of their voting base has changed personalities -- that is:  since the 2008-2009 Crash, the average Republican saw how the elite Republican have weathered the storm much better than their average counterpart.  The middle Class voting republican has had to deal with job uncertainty, rising cost of education, and unsecured healthcare.  What have the fat party bosses been doing the whole time -- Nothing.  The core values that once made the Republican party strong were moved over to the Tea Party group.  Republican Bosses paid no attention and decided to keep their tradition of promoting the Elite.  I think Elitism in the Republican Party is killing it.  They put Ryan in there to balance out Romney, but he still had more advantages than your average middle-classer.  I predicted early on that Obama would get his second term -- because of Elitism on the Republican side, because the average middle class is still struggling, and also because Romney's a Mormon.  I don't care how much $$ one throws in a campaign, at least the American voting public is quietly registering their dislike of Elites.

When most of the wealth in America is stuck in the upper 1%, and the 99% are feeling the pressure, 1% doesn't make a whole lot of votes for the Republican party -- Hence the reason throwing so much money into a campaign is not going to change the minds of the struggling middleclass.  I don't like Obama, but think of the comparison.  He definitely was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth.  He was recognized as a potential leader when he got into law school -- yeah affirmative action worked for him.  His wealth is mostly made from his book deals.  Romney comes from a legacy, so it's guaranteed that he would be successful.  His money was maRepude on Wall street.  The average American can grasp that making money off a book deal is OK because you wrote it.  But right now everyone at the bottom hates Wall street, particularly the voting middle class that has their retirement funds, kid college funds stuck in it, and have seen the wealthier 1% shielded from the fall.

There are no surprises -- The only thing that would make this a Republican win is a candidate that appeals to the changed Republican base.  I'm affraid that if the Republicans don't reassess their core values, they will be loosing their voting base by the masses to the Democrats who are appealing to the neglected middle class by more secure government jobs and health benefits.  In the process, the US looses its creative entrepreneurial edge because one will no longer be able to dream and really create their own opportunity.  The stage is set for full blown Democrat flavored Socialism.  I'm not too hopeful...  Think also why socialism seems to work in Europe -- Everyone gets their "little" cake -- so no one really complains.  Do that for 60 years and the voting public forgets what adventure, risk, opportunity, motivation, and creativity means.  The Socialist Elite stay quietly on top of the pyramid protected by the Leftist media (who is getting their "little cake" too).  They invest overseas (China, US, Latin America, Russia), keep the proceeds in secret bank accounts (difficult these days) and amass an amazing wealth to be handed down to the future generations.  Seldom are the Rich in a socialist country entrepreneurs.  Most are party bosses, CEOs of National Champions, and most importantly the descendants of industrialists of the late 19th and early 20th century.  I challenge anyone to list over 50 true Western European entrepreneurs starting from the 60s to now that have made it to Elite status.  One example that comes to mind is the Austrian that went to India or Thailand on vacation and saw the Taxi drivers drinking some red juice to stay awake -- launching Red Bull energy drink in Europe and in the States.  The Austrian was a master at marketing, and a true entrepreneur.  No help from the government there.

I leave this email now, because I'm rambling on about the social stagnation of Europe.

#2

Wide Open Spaces

We knew that we would separate from the Texas Trio at the Toulouse Airport after lunch, & they would be taking a flight back to Paris.  The drive from Albi to Toulouse was little more than an hour on a double to triple lane highway. We glided on a wide open plain with sunshine all the way. For you see, now we were in the Midi,  or southern France, where the sun rarely hides and rain is even rarer. Access into the terminals was easy as pie with corresponding parking buildings - A, B, C, & D.  Each had about 10  open air parking levels. Cars entered & exited from a coiling ramp, with a ticket gate at each level. To get to the terminals one merely took an industrial-sized elevator to the ground floor & then walked toward the terminal on a sheltered sidewalk. 

Contrary to the usual constrained European spaces, Toulouse’s airport surprises by its enormity in area and volume. Except for the language one might have thought it to be in the U.S., Canada, or Australia. Toulouse is perhaps the one city in all of France that could pass for a city in these “new” countries. It is France’s aeronautic center where presently Air Bus is being assembled for eager customers worldwide. Unlike the regional poverty of the Massif Central (Central Mountains) where we had just passed through, Toulouse and surroundings are thriving. 

The only fly in the ointment was that to get out of the parking lot we were supposed to pay with a special credit card that only Europeans have.  We cannot have this Carte Bleue unless we have a European bank account! J.J. spoke on the S.O.S. intercom to an employee who came to us quickly. The poor troubleshooter arrived out of breath and limping, as he accepted our cash payment, & released us with a special key. (Think poor Chester in Gunsmoke. I know handicapped people need jobs, but did his employers have to give him this one?!) How many times a day does this happen? You’d think they would offer another pay option for non-Europeans who don’t have European bank accounts.

With no pressure to make a schedule we drove leisurely toward our cousins’ top floor penthouse apartment in Colomiers, a nearby suburb of Toulouse. Our pace would slow down for the next 4 days as we relaxed in a homey atmosphere with close relations. Aaahhh!

We were wined and dined as we gazed out of an eagle’s aerie. Marie France, M.D.,  flew in from a full day of work at community health services, and like a magician produced a mini-family feast.  J.J.’s cousin Martin, after a full day en conférence at Air Bus,  served the aperitif & opened conversation.  Before the eve was over we had discussed our boys -- 4 for them, 7 for us, siblings, cousins, surviving and recently deceased elders, religion, & politics. 

The tone of our banter was convivial as we launched into all manner of subjects. We do not feel the need to put on “a good face,” or to pump up our accomplishments. Our yearly letters have summarized major happenings, kid’s studies, adventures, disappointments, and losses. As “boy” families we have a lot in common. Perhaps the Petits Martins* have been a bit more marshaled than the Petits Darcy. They’ve been stellar boy scouts and disciplined Roman Catholics. The parents have encouraged summer sèjours à l’ètranger.** Our boys have been eccentric scouts and, although they are Roman Catholic, they are not very disciplined. Ours have always been immersed--whether they liked it or not--into a variety of foreign cultures. The result is predictable. The Petits Martins are fine products of the best conventional French parenting; their manners are impeccable. The Petits Darcys are fine products, though issue of a raffish style of parenting; their manners are rough around the edges. Both sets have completed  successful studies in fields of their choice. All wives and fiancées are their equals. Both sets include mates from other nationalities. It makes a fun comparison.

You might recall that there was a presidential election in full swing while we were in France. Plus, we have an activist pope who is always ruffling feathers by his solemn declarations. Our debate was quite lively. We have noticed that the Martins have over time shifted from center right  to the center left politically. And did you know that even catholic views have degrees of right & left? Here again we noticed the slide toward center left. No matter; we’ll always enjoy debating la différence. Wouldn’t it be boring if we always agreed?

*It is a tradition in J.J.’s family to name each family after the first name of the sons or the surname of the daughters. Actually, J.J.’s family is called Les Jean-Jaques & the sons, Les Petits Jean-Jaques. It works. I’ll demonstrate it again in my next post where we will be visiting his youngest sister & her husband.

**A period of time spent in a foreign country. Summer cultural and linguistic séjours are quite common. This is the way that young europeans learn other languages before they finish secondary school. The full year exchange is another formula. Our boys have done it both ways. 

Easy Does It

The red writing says, Marché Couvert (Covered Market), although it functions the same as the open market held twice a week. Our van is in the parking underneath.

In contrast to the previous day of operating in restraints, the next one proved to be one of ease. From the moment I backed the van out of the special hotel parking cave the world seemed to flatten out and open up. With valises repacked we still had to re-park the van & complete our visit in Albi: the Cathedral Sainte Cécile, and the Musée Toulouse Lautrec. We found the entry to the huge underground parking, which was directly under the marché couvert above. Roomy parking spaces were plentiful for a reasonable price, plus we would be metered on an hourly basis so there was no limit.

Don't be hungry when you go grocery & wine shopping here!

Yes, the parking is still under this level!

This cathedral has an appearance like no other. If one did not know better one could even say that it was built much later because of its exterior sobriety. It was built like a fortress soon after the war against the Cathares, called in France Croisade des Albigeois,* was won by the northern barons. In a show of strength the  papacy granted money to the Bishop of Albi to build an impressive cathedral with the adjoining  Palais de la Berbie, Bishop’s Palace.  This massive construction, having no  buttresses, steeples, or gargoyles, consists of small red bricks fabricated locally. It is the largest brick structure in the world. The exterior austerity belies the actual age of this edifice, about 700 years.

One is reassured that it is a place of worship by the great portal which is singularly ornate in keeping with gothic style.

Notice the size of the bricks... & also the way the lower level is solid and slightly bulging like a fortress.

Under the portal

Once inside the powers-that-be have divided nave and apse into separate parts: the nave is free of charge, but no photos may be taken with a flash; the apse has a 10 Euro fee. J.J. was very critical of this decision to lop the church in two saying, there was no way, even if one paid the fee, to get a proper idea of totality. #4 took some “illegal” photos. Still, the interior stuns by its art, and optimal state of repainting and repair. There is too much to take in on just one visit.

Ac

Actually, worshipers are facing toward the back of the church, not toward the "choir." You are looking at the divider.

This photo gives an idea of the colors and detail of the interior arches. 

Crossing the narrow street to the Bishop’s Palace which housed the works of Henri de Toulouse Lautrec, Claire & Grand-mère had to make a pit stop. If the Albigeois were top-o’-the-line for their greatest pair of historical monuments, they were the absolute pits for public facilities. On all our grand tour of Europe east & west this was the only time I ran into a despicable toilette à la Turque. I timed it poorly because we got stuck in an outdoor line with other tour groups. Have to say these were just the nicest of ladies who allowed me to jump line with little Claire. When she saw the whatever-it-was she announced plainly, “I not do that!” Luckily, next to it there was a stall with a modern potty option. The Little Princess was in and out in a trice. As previously noted, she is a professional traveler.

Palais de la Berbie, or Bishop's Palace

Un peu d’histoire…

Henri de Toulouse Lautrec is a somewhat tragic figure for many reasons. Physically his growth was stunted by a congenital disability; he was only 5’1” tall. He suffered greatly from bouts of depression & was just 36 when he died due to alcoholism. 

Joanna & J.J. buying tickets: Notice the gothic arches.

Lautrec came from a wealthy noble family of Albi. He showed artistic promise very young, was encouraged by his mother, and tutored by a relative in the basics of painting and composition. His early works were conventional. I call this his “Horse Period.” You can guess why. We usually identify Lautrec with his famed later works executed in and around the Le Moulin Rouge - Jeanne Avril, Can-Can Dancers, Ladies of the Night, Valentin-Who-Had-No- Bones, Le Chat Noir, & unique works executed in tempera on brown wrapping paper. Thus, he took his place among the Post Impressionists greats, Gauguin and Cezanne.  

There were two reasons for the Museum in Albi. First, Lautrec's mother left a large gift of money before she died for a future museum in Albi. And 2nd, the Louvre turned down the early works first offered by Lautrec's brother, executor of his works. Next he offered them to the Albigeois.  They jumped at the chance to obtain them, which for sure, would fill the vast Bishop’s Palace and provide an overview of the artist’s development. The museum contains only a small portion of the artist’s entire collection which is scattered over the globe.  

Even if we should follow the rules, no one forgets being kicked out of an expensively paid exhibition. There was no attenuation here for the large crowd who had not quite finished viewing. At ten to one the docents began herding us like sheep toward the exit. The doors were slammed shut at one o'clock, only to reopen again at three: mandatory 2 hours for lunch. As it was, the staff had already skinned viewing time on the morning hours, that was probably the reason there were so many visitors still there at mid-day closing. So, like all well-trained Frenchies we would do lunch.

We found a spacious, two-story, brasserie, a casual eatery with  nothing fancy right on the market square. In contrast to the restaurant of the previous evening the decor & furnishings were ultra moderne with dominant black, white, & metallic. Our young waitress explained the menu and accommodated the children. She seemed left to take care of the 2nd floor mezzanine dining room which was filling up with patrons. Not to worry! The hot platters began to arrive quickly from the kitchen below. Our waitress got an assist from a young cook in traditional uniform, crisp white cap (not a toque) and long white bib apron who took the opportunity to wish patrons “Bon Appétit!”.   

Too bad you can't see all of the caption on Claire's pink sweat shirt: I Love Chocolate!

*Crusade of people from Albi

Tight Squeezes

We descended the mountain to face the last daunting episode of our day: finding a hotel in Albi. It was easy enough to drive into Albi, but like all old city cores, it was not made for modern vehicles. Nevertheless, the locals are intrepid & get around despite everything, so we always think we are just as capable and intrepid as they. At this point I was driving. My feeling is that because I am rather slow and deliberate with the stick shift, I do okay in the old town centers. Also, I’m also good at sending J.J. on reconnaissance to find a hotel.    

The goal was to get rooms as close to the cathedral as possible. Well, that’s okay, as long one finds parking which can be as challenging as finding a room. After about half an hour ol’ JJ returned saying that he’d found us reasonably priced rooms, breakfast included at L’Hôtel St. Germain. This hotel was adorable, tout petit with tired decor, & thoroughly booby-trapped--- Fawlty Towers à la française.  It was owned & run by a stylish, middle-aged, imperious French woman who impressed by her complete self-confidence & eccentricity. Now this doesn’t mean that she was mean. She was a bit bossy, but it was all for our good. She just wanted us to enjoy Albi, not have problems, & she would forestall the usual pitfalls.

The first order was for us to remove our van from the loading area which was exactly the same size of our european-sized 5-passenger van. When we unloaded from the hatchback, or even opened the side doors to get out, we were beyond the limits.  I had been tooted several times by irate drivers. But, for 18 euros Madame La Patronne  would rent for overnight until 10 the next morning a special hotel parking space. (Now wasn’t she accommodating!) #4 & I followed her on foot a few meters down the narrow street where she opened a pair of old, rusted gray, creaking metal garage doors that revealed a space like a small cave. There was already a car right in the middle. It appeared to be for only one car. Then she said, “I’ll have to move my car so that you can put yours inside.” Now, you have to picture this. It was okay for one european sedan, or even our van, but I couldn’t imagine two cars in that space. I took a deep breath. We had already committed to pay the 18 euros. She was only trying to help us out, of course.

She hopped into her car, reversed out,  & parked, hugging the far side of the street---parallel & all of 5 feet from the garage aperture---so we would have plenty of time & space for me to make my maneuver without harassment. She instructed us to fit my van into the right corner parallel to the right side, about 1” from the front wall & 1” next to the right wall. Then, she would park her car next to ours. Just dandy! #4 coached me all the way. We’ve never worked so hard in our lives. I moved back & forth in distances of a few inches at a time. We must have been at it for a quarter hour. One wrong move & there would be a price to pay to the car rental company! 

Once my van was snuggly tucked in for the night, Madame la Patronne needed to re-park her car. #4 was such a gentleman that he coached her, too. But, she was in no way as timorous as I, bucking forward and backward, & finally ramming into a wall. Yes, poor dear! She ended up with a ding on her luxury late model Citroën. Now, was that worth the 18 Euros she stood to gain on this parking deal? I gloated silently, “Serves you right!,” and I smiled sympathetically.  

Charging ever forward #4 & I returned to our hotel thoroughly drained & somewhat proud of ourselves. Yet, we still had to wrestle suitcases into the rooms as we squeezed up a flight of tortuous stairs. As is normal, #4 with the children had a nice-sized room with okay beds; but oh my! the old couple had a double bed in a room that replicated the size of the parking garage. We could hardly operate as we sidled to keep from stumping our toes or bruising ourselves on useless tables and chairs. I began to wonder what life in a prison cell was like. 

It was evening by now & we were really hungry since those ice cream cone calories had been completely used up. Madame la Patronne recommended “Le Parvis,” a restaurant catty-corner to the cathedral & just a short walk from the hotel. By now, we so trusted her implicitly that after she called in our reservation we trouped right over, thinking she had probably recommended the perfect family eatery. 

As we entered,  Madame la Patronne du Restaurant* looked at the children & smiled tentatively. I assured her that our little ones would behave. While she was seating us strategically in a cozy,  peripheral corner, we began noticing that the interior was stunningly decorated in late 19th century elegance.  There were 2 different staircases that led to another dining room and an upstairs kitchen. Oh-là-là! It was awe inspiring and impressive all around. It was pretty quiet. There were only kitchen sounds as patrons, one table at a time, quietly ordered their preferred wines & gourmet delights.

As I gazed amazed by the refinement, my eyes fell upon the diners who were scowling at us. Yes, they were! They absolutely had the most vicious French scowl on their faces. Yes, and it said, “En garde! One wrong move by those kids & we’ll have you ejected! We pay handsomely for this gourmet treat. We are serious diners & we will not tolerate unruly brats!” Now so far, Lou Henry and Claire were picture perfect: Little Lord Fauntleroy and The Little Princess straight out of the novels by Frances Hodgson Burnett, sans Victorian costumes. 

As it turned out, until they got a few calories in their little tummies, our babes were subdued. Moreover, by the time they got happy, so had everyone else. Typically the decibel rises in French restaurants as food and wine are consumed. Because you must realize something. Anytime you go to eat anywhere in France you suddenly become part of a sacred ritual. Seriously. Seated in one dining space together, even with people you know not nor will ever see again, it is for that moment, an act of worship. Now, the food might not pass muster, but still it’s all about the most important aspect of French life: eating. Truly the French--still in our times--live to eat, not the contrary. 

Our perfect pair confined their joie de vivre to our peripheral-cozy-corner-table. I must say, also, that according to J.J., this was the best restaurant on the whole trip. He still dreams about the Confit de Canard with a glazed expression. Kooky as she was,  Madame la Patronne of l'Hôtel St. Germain had recommended a 4-fork restaurant. The service was impeccably smooth and the food, well….unforgettably divine.  

#4 with Little Lord Fauntleroy & The Little Princess---only the least bit disheveled

* I don’t know how I knew she was patronne of Le Parvis. “Mom” exudes a certain je-ne-sais-quoi -- a certain something. She’s in charge. She can answer any question. She never defers or seems unsure of herself. She even speaks a bit of English. “Pop” is very likely the chef. He’s the magician behind the scene.

On the Highroad to Santiago de Compostela

On a rainy Sunday afternoon we ate at a mediocre fast-food chain called“Flunch” because it was the only place we found open. At least it had WiFi so that #4 could reserve rooms at a pricey 3-star hotel in Capdenac Gare. We justified the costs of the excellent meals & sumptuously modern rooms by telling ourselves that we had braved the rains, eaten poorly, driven long and hard, & we needed a bit of pampering. As it turned out, we would surely use our “recharged batteries” for some serious touring.

Conques is still medieval: no cars.

We had to go off the beaten track to find Conques, a well-preserved medieval town in the mountains. Now at one time, the 10th through 13th centuries, it was very much on the beaten track as a major stop on the pilgrimage to Santiago de  Compostela in Spain.

The stolen relics of Sainte Foy made it possible to build this massive romanesque church.

Un peu d’histoire...

Pilgrim roads of the distant past were the super highways of today. Since pilgrims traveled on foot, these roads were neither practical nor speedy. These “roads” were formed by holy destinations, churches & cathedrals, which contained saints’ relics. The towns and cities of these holy destinations catered to pilgrims in much the same way as to tourists of the present day.

This is part of the cloister. To the right is the convent where the relics are now kept.

As it happened, Conques (pronounced "konk") began as a secluded, poor, medieval mountain burg with a church but no relics. Not content to be left out of the pilgrimage traffic the Conques clergy tried several times to obtain few relics by proper negotiation. They were always turned down. At last a monk was sent to Agen. His mission: to get some relics. Beg, borrow, or steal! It took him ten years to gain the confidence of Agen’s clerics, but he was patient and at last they trusted him. As soon as they let down their guard, the devious monk absconded with a scull bone of Sainte Foy, she who could deliver believers from their chains, physical or spiritual. It was a commercial ploy to veer the pilgrims to Conques and away from Agen.  

The Front Portal - Heaven on the left; Hell on the right. To which side was the monk sent? 

From 900 to 1000, with the money that began to pour into Conques, the monks were able to build a magnificent Abbaye and adjacent convent. This edifice is one of the best examples of romanesque architecture having escaped the usual types of destruction down through the ages: Hundred Years War, wars of religion, French Revolution, etc. 

Notice that romanesque architecture uses rounded arches, smaller windows, and natural light.  No stain glass.

Now, a bit more on Sainte Foy who could break chains…

Being a pilgrim was a dangerous proposition. Many times while on the highroad, brigands would capture them. After they mugged them, they wouldn’t kill them, but they would shackle them, sequester them, and demand exorbitant ransoms. When they escaped to safety Sainte Foy was credited with “breaking their chains.” These captives knew exactly what to do with these heavy, iron shackles; they would take them to L’Abbaye de Conques where they would donate them to the glory of Sainte Foy. These shackles were then melted down and became part of an interior grill of wrought iron encircling the apse. This ambulatory made it possible for masses and other rites to proceed without being disturbed by visiting pilgrims.

Only a section of the ambulatoire. Imagine how many people were abducted for ransoms & miraculously escaped!

JJ as chief navigator read his trusty paper maps, while we wandered around in the misty mountains until we found our next destination, the fortified town of Cordes-sur-Ciel.  

Entrance to the bastide  

Tired of driving & only a little hungry, we consoled ourselves with big ice cream cones on the square while waiting for a little train that took us to further up the mountain to the original fortified city. France’s first bastide* was  built by the  infamous (but thoughtful & generous!) Comte de Toulouse for relocating nearby populations left homeless by the Cathare Crusade.** Is that where the expression comes from, “Head for the mountain!”? 

You can see why Cordes added "sur ciel" (on the sky) to its name.

In the 1950's Cordes sur Ciel began to attract writers, painters, and craftmen of high art, i.e., etching and woodcarving.  The town has been able to escape commercialism of kitschy souvenirs sold in most tourist destinations. 

We ran for cover from a serious rain storm (see photo above) in this old-style open market in center town. All around the square are boutiques with original artworks, antique books and artist designed jewelry and accessories. On this day 2 restaurants were vying for table space.

*Bastides were "new" cities on a grid plan. They were usually built on hills easy to defend. They were used  to relocate populations devastated by wars & to protect vulnerable borders. The greatest number of fortified cities are found along the old British (Aquitaine) and French border, the Dordogne river. They were  constructed during the Hundred Years War.

**See previous post.