Carcassonne! Also, Back to France!

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Carcassonne!

Again, this one wasn’t on our initial itinerary. Partly, the place in Spain was more expensive than we can afford at this point, and partly we had seen what we wanted to see in Sitges. So we trimmed a few days off our Spanish itinerary,  so we checked out a few towns between Spain and our weeklong French countryside escape in the Dordogne, and thought the Languedoc area looked like fun. We stayed at a charming and cheap chambre d’hôte WITH INTERNET and settled in for a few days of exploring the medieval city and the surrounding towns. Again, it was hot. Another heat wave and moving around mid-day proved difficult with my ever-increasing belly.

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Mostly, and somewhat embarrassingly, I was most excited about having the internet. And I spent way too much time doing important things like looking up train schedules and what other pregnant women look like at 23 weeks. People, my belly is BIG. But it’s okay. Travelling for these months during the middle of my pregnancy has been great in many ways. And I feel confident that everything is progressing well; I’m obviously getting bigger and the Bean kicks and pokes at me constantly. I take these as good signs. But I haven’t seen a doctor, had an ultrasound or weighed myself since leaving Toronto.
When we were in Sitges, I noticed a scale tucked under the cabinet in the teeny tiny bathroom. I resisted. No point ruining a perfectly good vacation with THAT kind of reality check. But I kept noticing it. And then one night I had a dream that I gained over 100 pounds. I had basically doubled my weight, and everyone was worried and the doctor said I had to deliver the baby RIGHT AWAY OR ELSE I WAS GOING TO DIE. Or something like that. The point was that I was obviously a huge whale and it was very, very bad. So the next morning, in something of a panic, I woke up, pulled out the scale and stepped on. And I figure, hey, it can’t be THAT bad – there’s no way I could have gained 100 pounds. Right?

Well, the first thing is that the scale I’m standing on is in kilos. I call myself a metric kid and everything, but I have no idea the kilo to pound conversion. (A side note – we have a strange relationship with metric as Canadians, no? I mean, we track things like speed and temperature in kilometres and Celcius, but we weigh ourselves and our fruit in pounds. And we weigh our cheese in metric. And drugs are definitely in grams or kilos even for the Americans! Any hollywood movie can tell you that. Builders build houses in imperial.  I know what an acre is, but not a hectare. And remember kilojoules? They were supposed to replace calories. That one never caught on. But anyway, all I’m saying is that if the drug dealers can get on board, why can’t the produce department?)

Anyway, so I’m on the scale. And it’s in kilos. And I can’t do the conversion. And this is the type of thing we turn to the internet for, right? And of course, we’re still in Spain here, and we have no internet. And it’s early, but I need to know. So I risk the wrath of Nolan by waking him up (he’s not always so chipper in the mornings and upon being woken in general) and packing up the laptop, we trip over to the nearby hotel for a couple of cafe con leche-s. And more importantly to check the internet. A very quick google search and Bammo! And I weigh the same as I weighed when I left Toronto! Any my belly is so much bigger now! And it means I’ve only gained around 15 pounds in the entire pregnancy so far.  Which, from what I gather from my internet research, is not even that great in the whole realm of pregnancy weight gain, but it’s way better than I thought. I gained a lot of weight the first 3 months. Well, 15 pounds. Which is not normal. I expressed concern about it to my doctor. And he said not to worry. I was just gaining early. I pressed on. But how much weight should I gain? Why am I gaining so much? Is there any danger to the baby? You know, that kind of thing that I’m sure doctors love. He rolled his eyes at me and then started calling me Fatty. But the point being, I gained big early on. Mostly because I had an appetite like a.. um.. growing boy? Like 2 growing boys, maybe? I’m not sure what the appropriate analogy is here, but let’s just say that Nolan was afraid to eat anything in the house for those months. Because I would get mad if he ate anything. Because that meant I couldn’t eat it. I was a beast. I just had a crazy compulsion to eat. All. The. Time. But that part of the pregnancy, along with the nausea has long since gone away, and these days I pretty much eat like I always have. (Italian gelato-and-pasta bonanza notwithstanding).

But it’s all evened out. And the point of this story? I have no idea. Probably I’ll weigh something completely different by next week. These days I have the attention span of a small child with ADD at… What moose? What was that? See. I don’t even know why I’m writing about this here. This is supposed to be something of a travel blog. But the idea is that I spent too much time on the internet looking up stupid shit. When I should have been exploring Carcassonne. Like I should be writing about Carcassonne here. But first another a pic of this big belly.

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Ah, France. It’s good to be back.

I feel like I’m a repeater here, but hey, it’s France. The food is great, I understand what people are saying, I eat good bread, and it’s lovely exploring the little streets and towns. Not many photos from here, as we left our camera battery charger in Rome. And the camera no work no more. The woman who owns the flat is sending it to London, but for now it means the photos will be lean. And from an iPhone. But that’s ok, what with all my great stories about the internet to fill up space here.

We explored the old city. We took a day trip to Minerve, a gorgeous little town and had a wander. We ate some amazing buckwheat galettes at a tiny, very hot little restaurant in the town. We got a little lost in the maze of streets.

We had an incredible meal. I took a photo.

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It was turbot and it was the most delicious fish I’ve had. At least in the last week or so. Nolan had cassoulet. And loved it.

Next up, we’re off for our luscious weeklong sejour in the French countryside!

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