the weather

We arrived in Collioure to two days of solid rain and were told that this was exceptional. Some would say it was not a great welcome, but I figured "hey, it can only get better". And it did. Until the 24th.

I don't know how often weather news becomes international, so I have no idea if any of our followers in North America are aware of the storm that hit here. Certainly our European friends and family were all concerned. Here's a link: http://www.ladepeche.fr/. If it doesn't lead to storm pics and info, try putting "la depeche toulouse samedi 24 janvier" in a Google search.

As luck would have it, we had separated our little family. Claude (my mother) and I and Loïc had gone to Toulouse for a three-day, two-night tour. Jeff and Declan stayed in Collioure for a guy's couple of days (hamburgers, much-missed hockey, gum). So mostly I can only write about my experience. We got to Toulouse under grey skies and drizzle on a Thursday around noon. We had lunch on a cafe terrasse equipped with overhead heaters and protective awnings and braced ourselves for an afternoon of wandering around in the rain. It's a lovely city with old narrow curved cobbled streets, fabulous architecture, and much charm, even in the rain. The forecast for the following day was for heavy rain, so we figured we'd wander around in the drizzle and check out some museums and churches during the heavy rain. Loïc alternated between stroller and front carrier. I had left the digital camera with Jeff and took the film camera, so no pics I'm afraid.

Our hotel was a typically French hotel — a large room (i.e. tiny by north american standards — as opposed to a small room, which would be a closet by NA standards) with a double bed. Toilet in a room on its own. Bath, shower, sink and bidet in a separate room. Desk, TV, phone, bare bulbs in the lamp sockets. And, wouldn't you know, a painting of Collioure over our bed! Out the window, a perfect view of St-Sernin basilica (http://pmaude.free.fr/Sernin/Anglais/presentation.htm). The entrance is a tiny door on a side street that looks like it's only meant for employees. You have to go up a flight of stairs to get to the reception, at which point there's an elevator to the upper floors, but it's so small that we just took the stairs. We asked for a second (fold-out) bed which, once in place, left enough floor space for our shoes and bags.

I won't go into the details of what we saw, suffice it to say that it was often stunning and when our mouths weren't hanging open, we had our cameras out. In the mornings, when Loïc woke me, I would get him and me dressed as quietly as possible and head out, leaving Claude to sleep in a little. We strolled the dark streets until we found an open cafe, where we sat with coffee and croissant, a newspaper and a few baby toys.

Friday was, as forecast, a day of heavy rain. As planned, we used the opportunity to visit museums (in old convents and monasteries) and churches. Some of those churches, though, are so cold inside that I worried Loïc might get a chill and we were glad to get back to the warmth of 12 degrees in the rain!

Saturday morning, I read a bit about the impending storm and the high winds forecast and we continued our touring. This was the day we expected a ray of sunshine. Alas, it was not to be. On our way into one museum, there was a large placard (2m high by 1.5m wide?) on a metal stand — the kind that tells of temporary exhibitions and such — that blew over in a sudden gust mere inches from Loïc's and my head (he was in the carrier) as we walked towards it. At the time, it stunned me and not much more. And then came the adrenaline rush with the mind racing with "what ifs" and the irrational fear of what didn't actually happen. Claude, who was a few steps behind us and perhaps saw things more clearly, was extremely shaken. Hours later we were still talking about it with goosebumps.

We still visited the museum, though we didn't nearly the time it deserved before we had to catch our train. We rushed to the train station by taxi, stopping at the hotel to pick up our bags. And weren't we surprised to see two full boards of trains all "supprime" (cancelled). You'd think it would have occurred to us. But as a tourist, you don't pay attention to the news in the same way, and even if you do, it doesn't seem as real, the proof of this being that we had actually seen an uprooted tree that was leaning dangerously into its neighbour's apartment across the street.

And so began stage 2 of our adventure — much shorter but seemed longer. The trains had actually not been running for 24 hours or so. We had already left our hotel, so we looked for one by the train station. The first one was full. The second one had one room left, which we took. Later we saw others with "no vacancy" signs. The next morning, Loïc and I set out unusually early, at 6:30. Went to the train station.
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Supprime
Went back at 8:00. Same. At 9:00. Same. At 10:00. Same. Sometimes we enquired from someone official, sometimes just from another stranded passenger. We vacated our room, assuming we would actually leave Toulouse that day, and and left our bags for later pick-up. We bought a newspaper and saw pictures of the devastation all over the region. We went for lunch. By this point, a certain lethargy had set in. Nevertheless, after lunch, we went back to the train station, and there were some trains running. Not to Collioure, but some were going part-way. We discussed, and decided that part-way was still worth it. So I stood in line while Claude strolled Loïc. The guy behind the counter took our tickets, wrote something on them and said we could get on the 14:40 to Narbonne (half-way), from where buses were going to Perpignan (close enough to Collioure that we could get home one way or another). OK. Thanks. Then I looked at the time. 14:34. "oh, excuse-me sir, I can't catch that train, I still have to get bags at the hotel" "Next one's at 16:55" I slowly left the ticketing area, feeling discouraged. Then, I'm not sure why, I decided to give it a go. Ran to Claude, told her there was a train in 6 minutes and to keep the baby. I ran like some cliche or other across 3 lanes of "drop-off" traffic, two lanes of street, a bridge over a canal, another 3 lanes of traffic, into the hotel, grabbed our bags, knocked over a metal chair that nearly deafened me when it fell, ran back across same lanes of traffic, put Claude's backpack on her... and couldn't find what platform the train was on. Ran out to the nearest one and breathlessly asked where the train was going. "Paris, I think" came the answer. Looked frantically about and finally saw someone sort-off official-looking, talking to some people. I butted in and asked where the 14:40 to Narbonne was leaving from. "Platform 5." I nearly cried. It was 14:39 — and you can set your watch by French trains. He looked at me, Claude, the baby in the stroller, half-shrugged and said "it's not left yet." We grabbed everything, raced down one flight of stairs, carrying bags and baby in stroller, under a few platforms, up another flight of stairs and there was the train. Never mind that it was so full that people were spilling out the doors. We shoved ourselves our baby-in-stroller and our bags on board, put on our combination tough-but-tired faces, and people gave us seats.

At Narbonne, there was indeed a bus that took us to Perpignan. And in Perpignan, my lovely sister picked us up in a car and drove us the last 50 minutes home. Did I mention we had forgotten to bring a cell phone and so kept having to borrow one? Did I mention that when we first got to Toulouse we had changed the tickets we had so that we would NOT have to change in Narbonne and so that the train would take us all the way to Collioure rather than only to Perpignan?

On the way, we saw some very sad landscapes of trees ripped out, boats half sunk, people re-tiling roofs. But we also met wonderfully helpful people and chatty people sharing their tales of thwarted travel plans.

So now I dare not say that the weather can only improve from here on in. We're thinking of buying some snowsuits for the whole family because, of course, we left ours back home in Canada.