Sybarites in Cerberes

After an unexciting Sunday (except for the sardines) at Ile des Pecheurs, we needed to get going again! I’d walked the quarter mile to the bus stop and discovered that the bus went directly to Perpignan (where we’d decided not to go in Entry 28 because Rivesaltes was “closer”).

For about a Euro, we wended through the narrow streets of Barcares and other tiny towns along the way, whizzed along a few freeways, and finally, after an hour and 15 minutes, squeezed through the busy streets of Perpignan to the train station. Here, we figured we’d find a way to get somewhere, maybe even Spain, by train for the day.

Thank goodness that before we asked about trains, I happened to spy a bright sign shouting “One Euro!” for a regional bus. Curious, I grabbed it while hurrying past, intrigued by anything that’s only one Euro, then stopped to read further.

A map inside showed that for ONE Euro, we could go almost anywhere in the Midi Pyrenees area! The local authorities had decided to make it affordable for any of its citizens (and tourists) to tour all over their beautiful region, and to save the ecology by getting more cars off the road. How delightful a concept! In French, the reason was, “Pour preserver notre planete pour l’avenir de nos enfants.” In English, “To save our planet for the future of our children.”

Eagerly paying our single Euro for each of us, we climbed on a big plush bus headed for Cerberes (pronounced sayr-bear and rhyming with Care Bear), the closest town to the Spanish border. It was heavenly to be traveling without our backpacks. Not only were we free of their weight, but the bulk of them. With seats crammed just a bit too close together, we’d have had to hold the backpacks on our laps and not be able to see over them. As it was, we had a lovely view right in front by the driver. Later, it became a harrowing view, also, but that’s what happens on the “Corniche.”

The Corniche is mountains and cliffs right down to the sea, with the narrow road winding around every curve along the way. The bus is bulky, long and wide. Thank goodness the small cars on the twists and turns saw us early enough to stop and let our exceptional woman driver swing back and forth three or four times to get around the curves.

Heart-stopping, but the view was absolutely beautiful!

Cerberes is only four kilometers from Spain. It’s like stepping into a postcard -- emerald and blue water in the bay, warm clear air, colorful buildings along the quay.

It was once an important trading port, as were the other small towns along the southwestern coast. Grapes, wine, fruit, grains, probably some minerals – all things important to the Romans and, it seems, everyone else because there were frequent wars over who owned what.

We walked up the road toward Spain, going up and up, coming to this odd road where the arrow warns cars that they shouldn’t try the steps. I loved all the blue accents in windows, sky, sign, gate.

After a lot of walking, we needed refreshing. Sitting outside just across from the beach, under a wide shading awning, I coddled myself with a peach melba (ice cream, raspberries, and a fresh peach). Sybaritic living! (The word popped into my head when I asked it for a term describing exactly that feeling. I’m sure I’ve never used it before.)

I imagine that Cerberes gets horribly crowded in the summer, but in April it was still a small town tucked around a small bay, welcoming all the visitors.

Rather than take the woozy-winding bus back to Perpignan, we walked up up up and around that windy (as in wind blowing, not street curving) road to the train station. The train was relaxing and fast, getting us back just in time to catch the 6:10 bus back to Ile des Pecheurs where we had a marvelous, and fashionably late, paella dinner at La Carbica, the local restaurant on the beach where we had the salmon on Saturday.

The paella was pretty much like the postcard picture, stuffed with crayfish, shrimp, octopus, this and that, and rice, and a hundred times better than the sardines had been.

I used to wonder why my mother always described trips by the food she ate.