Amazing Albi, Part 2

Bertrand showed us to our room, called the Fleur de Lys (see picture from his brochure here, and the photo from our window in the last blog). Wow!

After giving us free entry to the Toulouse Lautrec museum, and agreeing that we needed to see the inside of the cathedral in the afternoon, he told us to meet him back at the Tour at 12:00 and he would show us where to have lunch.

Toulouse Lautrec comes off looking really good in his museum set in the old Archbishop’s palace. Who wouldn’t? His family donated all the work left in his studio to the city, and they have done it proud. All the famous posters are there, including pre-sketches, along with some wonderful seldom-seen works. Since I’d lost my free pass somewhere on the street, they let me in for half price, amid a plethora of apologies. What does plethora mean? Ah, I was right. Thanks, google. An overabundance.

Outside, there was a plethora of tulips in all colors, it being a perfect spring day (see photo).

Then Bertrand walked us to the restaurant. It’s good we arrived early because by 12:30 the place was packed. And no wonder. The food is excellent. Our choices had been decided by Bertrand and the waitress, Rosille – then he left.

The salad was tiny spinach leaves and sesame seeds over chevre (goat cheese) and a pate of mixed veggies including eggplant, very light and smooth, on tomatoes, on crumbled shortbread cookies sprinkled with balsamic and oil. The main dish was savory slices of turkey with perfect vegetables and penne pasta. A+. Rosille said that dessert was “rice cooked in milk.” The reality was rice cooked in very creamy milk with a banana/apricot sauce flavored with lemon and ginger, sprinkled with chopped pistachios, and topped by a delicate flower of whipped cream. Not like any rice pudding I ever made!

Each dish was eaten very slowly to savor every tiny bite, not my usual “chow down or it will go away” style.

We left, fully satisfied and ready to take on the cathedral.

As powerful as the outside is, the inside is equally amazing. Paintings done in the 1500s have not lost their luster. The trompe l’oeuile is baffling [see photo]. The statues, big and little, have personalities. Go. See for yourself.

Just inside the entrance was a notice to all visitors that touched me deeply. Here it is, first in French because it’s so beautiful in the original language, then I’ll translate:

“En admirant la beaute du travail des hommes, puissiez-vous trouver la presence de Dieu. Que cette visite rest en vous comme un moment de Paix. »

English : In admiring the beauty of the work of men, you might find the presence of God. May this visit remain in you as a moment of Peace.

It is the most beautiful way of describing why great artists through the centuries have welcomed the chance to work on these buildings. Their love of God inspired them to heights they could not have achieved on their own. And now we, living in a crowded, tempestuous world, see their work and feel a moment of peace.

After exploring the town some more, it was time for dinner. Bertrand showed us to another specially-chosen restaurant where we were treated, thanks to him, like honored guests. More elegant than the lunchtime place, the food was excellent but not quite so excellent as that other. However, the dessert, oh my. Fondant (I’m not sure what flavor that was) glace (ice cream) with a thick perfect raspberry sauce.

It was quite late when we arrived back at the hotel, but Bertrand was waiting for us. We explained that our train left very very early in the morning, 6:00, I think. We would have to rise even earlier, probably 4:45 (because of Mary and makeup) to walk there in time.

He wouldn’t hear of it. No. He himself would drive us in his Peugeot to the station. We protested, but he insisted. So before the sunrise, he was at the gate with his little car, perfect for the narrow streets of French towns. He took our packs, loaded them in the back, and off we went, me in the back seat and Mary in front.

I am not imagining this – he had been flirting with Mary all this time. She denies it, but I am sure of it. She’s a widow of only a few years, so may not recognize the signs yet. I found it charming of him.

At the station, he carried both packs into the waiting room, then stayed with us until the train pulled in. He then carried the packs onto the train, which was crowded even at that hour, and gave each of us the little French kisses.

Waving to us from the platform, we waved back, knowing we would never forget Albi and Bertrand.