Leaving Castelnau

Leaving Castelnau

Funny how you can get so connected to a place in just a few weeks. When we pulled out of Castelnau de Guers for the last time on Sunday, we were all pretty sentimental. We hugged and did our bisous to Corinne and Selma, got in the car, and I felt a bit teary as I looked in the rearview mirror, drove past the Mairie, St. Sulpice and Tegan’s school, and away from our family for the past month. Yes we were on our way to the lake, to Menton, on the French/Italian border, and on to Tuscany, but Castelnau, the farm and Pezenas felt like, feels like a good place to be. We were welcomed so well, and even though it took me a while to connect with Corinne, the days before we left we had some great talks, recognized our similarities, appreciated each other, and sensed that it was coming to an end. When we left we all said our goodbyes and that we would look forward to when we would next meet – when that will be we have no idea. Rowan will be back in France in two years for an exchange, perhaps next summer for Jun and Raphaelle’s wedding, but not likely, and will Corinne and Selma ever make it to the West Coast? One day maybe, but it will be a long time away. Same with Julie. When we left her at Lac Salagou after a picnic and swim,  more bisous and hugs and see you sometime. With Julie, though, I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up on our doorstep in the fall or spring. We will be back, who knows when, but I have a feeling that l’Herault is now a part of us, as are the people, and we will walk the garrigue and go to the boulangerie in Castelnau and visit the market in Pezenas again.

There was no big fuss for our departure, but there was the fete at the farm on Friday night. Cathy and Corinne Legumes (not to be confused with our host, Corinne Tisane) had been on the farm for 15 years, and had just paid it off, from what I gathered. They, or should I say Corinne, decided to invite their friends and customers from the Sete market and Friday marché at the farm for a soirée. All the food would be local and organic, from the farm and from Corinne and Cathy’s friends and suppliers. We were preparing most of the day, setting up tables and chairs, Pepé stringing up lights, Cathy making a massive jug of Sangria. I did my final bits of work on the farm, gathering more vervenne, bagging dried herbs and drying flowers and vervenne, and then I was busy getting ready for the marché and the party. Burying electrical cords, wiping down chairs and tables. Late in the afternoon I went back to get the three girls, Rowan, Tegan and Selma.

The evening was amazing. There was an accordionist who made us feel like we were in Paris rather than in the middle of a freshly mowed hayfield. There were bales of hay to sit on, tables set out under the coloured lights, a fire pit where mussels in massive pans were steaming and fresh lamb on the barbecue. Corinne was serving sangria and in all over 100 people had come. The wind had calmed a bit, and as the evening wore on the sun began to set over the fields and the stars, incredible bright infinite stars, came out. At a break in the music, Tegan and Selma played a duet on violin and piano, a song they renamed ‘When Selma Smiles,’ and then Tegan did a few fiddle tunes, and impressed the locals. Time passed, ad couple danced to the jazzy accordion among the bales of hay, under the stars, Corinne Legumes got out her alto sax and played a few tunes, introducing them in her broken English, Tegan and Selma chased dogs, boys, and each other, Rowan and I talked of life and moving on and philosophy, and we ate and  ate and ate. Past midnight, Tegan and Selma had disappeared to nap in the car. It took a while so say my goodbyes, receiving compliments on Tegan’s music, talking about our trip and what an opportunity it was for the girls, and inviting new friends to visit us in Canada.

In the morning I went to the farm one last time to help tidy up, after a final run through the garrigue and to the hermitage on the hill beside Castelnau. Already too hot to run at 9 in the morning. At the farm I was invited to have a café with some friends of Corinne and Cathy’s, talking about ‘camping’ around Italy in camper-vans and rv’s, European style. I helped Cathy load a truck with chairs, filled a box with fresh tomatoes and melons and carrots from the farm, and had another sad goodbye. Come next year on in twenty years, I told Corrine and Cathy, and I hope they will.

And now we have moved on to the final part of our trip: more moving around from place to place, but this time in another language, in a new country for all of us, to a place where we have images of renaissance towns and artwork, of palazzi and rolling hills with rich red wine. And while we continue our travels I will keep Castelnau and our community there with me, along with all of the books and tisanes and sirops and wine that we acquired along the way. Andiamo al Italia.