On the road (Europe 2010): Carcassonne to Berga, Spain

Spent most of yesterday looking around Carcassonne. Carcassonne is really two cities. There is a new city and the old walled city. The two are separated by a river crossed by two bridges, the Old Bridge (now for pedestrians only) and the New Bridge, reserved for vehicles. The new city looks fairly prosperous. There is a substantial railway station, several large squares, and a long, pedestrian-only shopping street with fashionable shops. But even the modern city is here and there dotted with the occasional old building, sometimes several centuries older than what surrounds it, decorated with carved stone. The old town consists mostly of old stone structures, but there is a thriving tourist trade, so many shops sell the usual post cards and souvenirs. Had a fair dinner at Le Saint Jean and a very good lunch at L'Auberge des Lices, which is very hard to find, but probably worth seeking out.

Like so many places in Europe, the old city is a layer cake of construction and destruction over the centuries. If I understand correctly, most of the lower level of the walls is Gallo-Roman, but much of that is itself built on older construction. Medieval additions were made over hundreds of years. Carcassonne fell into ruin (and was to be torn down at one point) after the border between France and the Kingdom of Aragon was moved further to the west (to the Pyrenees) and Carcassonne was no longer a border stronghold. When the ever-present Viollet-le-Duc began restoration work in the 19th century, Carcassonne appears to have been in rather poor shape. Viollet-le-Duc attempted to restore the walls to what they would have looked like at the time of King Louis IX in the 12th century, but he seems to have taken quite a few liberties. Notably, he added the pointed tops to the towers that today everyone associates with Carcassonne, but these are actually of a style common in northern France and probably were never present at Carcassonne.

The defences are impressive. Two complete walls (built at different times) ring the old town. The space in between was used for such things as military training, jousting, and the placement of catapults and trebuchets used to attack besiegers. A good trebuchet, according to something I read, could throw a 100kg rock projectile as far as 600 feet. Many sections of the stone walls have interesting brickwork incorporated into the masonry.

In the new town, I just happened to find the church of St. Vincent, about which I knew nothing in particular (or so I thought). However, an English translation of one of the pamphlets at Tourist Information mentioned that the tower of the church was one of the high points used by Delambre and Méchain in their work laying out a meridian through France during the Revolution. The tower is more than 150 feet high and from what I can see it is still one of the tallest structures anywhere in the area of Carcassonne. Cassini and his sons also used the tower for their mapmaking work. I really enjoyed seeing it just for these associations. I recommend Ken Alder's excellent book The Measure of All Things (Free Press, 2002) if you want the full story of what Delambre and Méchain were up to.

Inside, a funeral happened to be in progress. I listened to the organ for a while. The space was rather interesting. It has no side aisles (which I don't think I've ever seen before), giving the church a very broad, open look. The sides are lined with high-roofed chapels, but the impression is of a single open space. Later I read that this design is fairly typical of the southern French Gothic style.

The drive into Spain was marked by extremely twisty mountain roads--the sort that love a sports car--and a violent thunderstorm, complete with pea-sized hail. There was no border control. French wine regions announce their presence with bigger signs than the one I saw indicating the start of Spanish territory. Wildflowers were in bloom everywhere. Crossing the mountainous terrain involved two long toll tunnels that saved a great deal of time, but we arrived late in Berga. Happily, Spanish restaurants serve very late. Unhappily, we chose the hotel restaurant, which had food I'd generously describe as barely edible.

[Oddly, the best meal on the entire trip was the following night about two miles away. See this post for details.]