Toulouse - Albi - Montrejeau

Our plan for the day was to either take the train to Carcassonne or to Albi, depending on whether or not we’d read the schedule correctly, and whether or not we arrived in time... We got up early in order to arrive at the station in Toulouse with time to check our packs at the consigne automatique' (which wasn’t automatic) and then take the train. We’d missed, in reading the schedule, that the early train to Carcassonne had stopped running at the end of August. So we ate breakfast in the train station and waited for the train to Albi, which left an hour later.

With my brain still unreeling from the tight windings of the last year, it is often a challenge to relax, to feel quiet of spirit, to be still of mind, to let things soak in. But distance from the usual fray often affords some clarity of perspective. For me it is like a breeze clearing clouds from a valley, or the sudden hush when night insects stop their keening...

Beyond some quirky translation issues on menus (my other current favorite: "smashed potatoes"), the food we've had so far in our travels has been a great part of the adventure. We are here in the glory season for fresh fruits and vegetables: rosii (tomatoes), vinete (eggplants), ardei (bell peppers) and thicker walled gogosari, varza (cabbage), apples, pears and grapes from every household bolta (grape arbor). Yum...

Driving 2700 km around central and eastern Romania in a bright yellow Bucharest taxi cab is not what any of us had imagined. And I'm sure other drivers were unprepared for the the yellow blur with the Bucharest plates to squeal past them on dusty, narrow roads in states of drastic reconstruction. The image of the little cab (a Dacia Logan, diesel-powered), bounding away across a mountain pasture, having dropped the four of us at the base of a hiking path, was somewhat absurd. My dad wryly pointed out "think of what it would be like if a New York cab showed up in New Richland (the rural MN town of 3000 where he grew up) and out climbed four people in funny-looking clothes..."

Ever since we left Portland, we've run into unusual weather. A tornado hit Brooklyn while we were there, and Romania has experienced unprecedented heat waves, hailstorms, and torrential rains (leading to devastating flooding) both before and during our visit. The day after we returned from our travels in northern Romania with Brita's folks, heavy rains swept away houses and cars, and demolished several bridges we'd crossed only days earler.

Finally, we're off!

On our way out, we found the dutch oven in the oven.

Thanks to all who helped with our big push in the final week to get moved, and to get the houses cleaned up & ready to

Monday we were able to pour the basement floor and back stairs, after another big push of several weeks to get ready. Whew! It's great to have reached this major milestone.

Pictures tell a lot of the story, but I'll add one part here:

The term "Slump" refers to how viscous or fluid uncured concrete is. In our experience, concrete is delivered from the plant a bit on the thick side (with a low slump), and the people placing the concrete ask the truck's driver to add water until the desired slump (usually no more than 5") is achieved.

Why did we do it? Why did we lift our house 4' in the air, spend a week demolishing the basement, and then spend 6 months slaving away to build.... another basement? Several people have wondered aloud.

The quick story
Our good friend Gary had an unexpected surgery on March 24th. This page is a place where we're posting updates about his condition, to keep friends informed about what's going on.

See below for more details about how the surgery came about, and also about ways in which friends can support Barbara and Gary.