Our stay in France was quite a bit different than Corie’s and my other travels this year. We spent most of our time in a country house with friends, enjoying hours of great conversation at a long table filled with home-cooked food and an admirable selection of wine. We were in France, after all.
One Monday morning, several of us piled into three cars and took a 20-minute drive to Mirepoix, France, a picturesque town with a population of a little more than 3,000. As we made our way along the two-lane road, the Pyrenees came into view on the horizon, royal blue peaks sandwiched between a verdant landscape and cloudless sky.
On any day, a visit to Mirepoix is well worth the drive. Its colorful medieval streets invite visitors to enjoy an afternoon at a relaxed pace. Timber-framed buildings overlooking narrow streets make the past feel alive and present. The Sainte-Maurice Cathedral occupies the heart of the village, a Gothic gem whose construction began in 1298 then spanned six centuries.
The muted tones inside the church, framed with rich hardwood and lit by rows of circular stained glass, inspire reflection, but the faded paint, weathered stonework, and occasional cobweb hint at the cycle of neglect and renovations the church experienced during and after the French Revolution. In 1907, the government classified the church a historic monument.
On Mondays, a vibrant market surrounds the cathedral with vendors selling everything from shoes to produce. Parking, even on the streets outside of the town, is at a premium for the popular market and, after passing by stalls selling freshly baked bread, cured meats and sausages, and a variety of cheeses, I could understand why. If I lived nearby, I would go deep into debt every morning from the temptation.
As the morning glided into lunch time, people filled the many little cafes and restaurants around the market, enjoying conversation over an aromatic espresso or a glass of wine that the French are so understandably proud of. Going to the market in Mirepoix is a community activity, best enjoyed with friends and neighbors. I sat and enjoyed watching people greet each other with hugs and quick kisses on cheeks.
I was good. I didn’t return to the house with a lifetime supply of French cheese, but I left with a deeper love of the region’s culture and a strong desire to return.
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