Zut! Encore une opportunite ratee: des livres par millions!

Passou-nos completamente, embora teria sido um pouco gelado visitá-la neste inverno: uma cidade dos livros.
Mas não escapa no meio da primavera...
Paulo Roberto de Almeida

Magical Montolieu, In Southern France

By Susan Norton

Travellady, http://www.travellady.com/Issues/July06/3374MagicalMontolieu.htm

For the perfect vacation, some answer the call of big cities. Some crave an athletic trip, straining bones and brawn. Yet, for some, a Writers’ Workshop in a medieval town in the South of France pushes creative buttons and beckons them to join other writers and gifted teacher, Terry Wolverton, in Montolieu, an officially designated Historic Book Village. The trip was expertly organized by Anne Block and “Take My Mother, Please” Tours of Los Angeles. She occasionally puts together writers’ trips for a select number of lucky women every year or so to different locales, along with trips geared around shopping, eating, surviving, chocolate, and wonderful sightseeing excursions of L.A. in her pink cadillac convertible.

After four days in Paris, soaking up the delights of that marvelous City Of Lights, topped off by a Vivaldi concert in the Église de Sainte Chappelle, a stunning cathedral where all the walls are stained glass, the group headed out for six days in Montolieu: first flying to Toulouse, then a train to Carcassonne, and a traditional black English taxi for the twenty minute ride to Montolieu, passing fields of sun flowers, lavender and grapes.

     

Entering Montolieu, the magic began. Surrounded on three sides by rivers and the forth by a chateau built in 1146, it is much like falling into a French “Brigadoon”, a whimsical mountain top hide-away with a population of 800, completely isolated from the twenty first century.

First stop was La Café du Livre, where the workshops would meet twice a day, plus breakfast and dinner. Above the café, which is punctuated with book memorabilia and flower arrangements of heather and grapes, there is hidden The International Inkwell Hotel Of Writers, consisting of five small but wonderfully whimsical bedrooms, all unique and charming. All you have to do is close your eyes, and you can easily imagine someone the likes of Victor Hugo, happily cloistered here for solitude, inspiration and great food.

  

Our hostesses of both the hotel and the café, Poppy and Lucia, spoke flawless English, probably because they were from Boston and London, respectively. They organized all the extra curricula activities: a horse drawn cart ride through the town and surrounding area, berry picking, mushroom hunting, horseback riding, a picnic dinner at an abandoned abbey on top of a hill overlooking Montolieu and its valley, and visits to the Mediterranean port of Collioure, Carcassonne (one of the largest walled towns in Europe), the Cabardès winery and Le Moulin de Brousses, a paper mill since 1877. The food was quite wonderful, ranging from nettle soup to rabbit in a delectable prune sauce and a sinfully gorgeous chocolate cake. They even supplied last minute picnic lunches and mouth watering mushroom and cheese omelets.

Since The Inkwell was not big enough to hold everyone, some stayed at the Manufacture Royale, an eighteenth century textile company, transformed into large guest rooms. Guests were given three huge, old fashioned keys: one for the room, one for the outside entrance door, and an especially long one to jiggle the lock about if any of the other two keys failed. The rooms were painted bright lemon yellow with high ceilings, royal blue carpeting and eight foot tall doors that lead out to a huge balcony, overlooking a field of flowers and old ruins. The bathroom was also large and painted red, white and blue. On one wall, there was a granite fireplace. It was the perfect space and ambiance for a couple.

Montolieu was filled with ten book stores, paper shops, book binders, calligraphers and printers. In the center of town, stood the fourteenth century Gothic Cathedral St.-André. Like all French churches, it was massive, musty and memorable. The village square, adjoining it, had a beguiling fountain and was a marvelous place to read, write or watch the locals play pétanque, a combination of bowling and marbles, using heavy silver balls.  On the last evening there, the group sneaked out at midnight for their own rousing game, a bit raucous but such fun!

The villagers alone made the town unique. They were warm, gracious and charming. It must be against the law to fail to greet a passing stranger with a smile and a “Bonjour”. One can even meet villagers who remember the German occupation of the town, turning the residents into terrified servants.

But, for the past ten years, Montolieu was happy to be an official Book Village, joining only fifteen other towns throughout the world with that title. In the Eighteenth Century, it was dedicated to textiles and had a population of about 2500. The mills slowly closed and the young people moved away. Montolieu was left with a population of under one thousand hearty souls who banded together to make the change over from cloth to books.

Bells seemed to be ringing at all times of the day from either the church or from a near by abbey of cloistered nuns. Their tones gave off a solemn feeling, perhaps of continuity, since they had been ringing for hundreds of years.

Twice daily, the Mayor turned on his sound system, played music (this week, he was in his marching band mood), then announced what was going on in town, from poetry readings to the Book Fair in the town square, held the third Saturday of every month. Stalls were set up and people came from all around the area to sell, buy and socialize. Rare and second hand books were plentiful, along with honey, cheese and regional wines from the surrounding Languedoc Region. The mantra of the day was, “Blow your cholesterol levels on Wild Boar Pâté. It’s worth it!”

Montolieu was definitely a place of beauty from the inside to the outside, from its medieval portals to its quiet, loving population. Just strolling through the lazy streets calmed the frenetic souls of this group of writers and allowed creative juices to flow. By the Grace of God and the dedication of these delightful inhabitants, it will always remain a rustic Mecca for lovers of the printed word and a magical “Brigadoon” to many.

GUIDEBOOK to Montolieu

When:
The best months to go there are May thru October. Montolieu is located in a mountainous region of France and can get quite cold in the winter months.

Getting there:
Toulouse is one hour to the west of Montolieu where there is an inter-national airport, serviced by Air France, Air Inter, Air Liberté, etc.

You can make arrangements for someone to pick you up for the 50-minute ride straight to Montolieu.

Trains operate daily from Toulouse to Carcassonne every 40 minutes.

Trains to Carcassonne from Paris take 8 hrs., from Barcelona take 4 hrs.

The final 8 miles from Carcassonne to Montolieu can be accomplished by bus or by arrangement.

Paris is 8 hours by train and Barcelona is 3 hours.

Where To Stay:
The International Inkwell Hotel For Writers
Rue de la Marie
11170 Montolieu
Aude, France
Tel: +33(0) 46824 8117
FX: +33(0) 46824 8321
For November thru April: P.O. Box 477689
Chicago, IL. 60647
FX: (773) 278 3849
EMAIL: Inlink@compuserve.com
They also sponsor other writer workshops. 

18th Manufacture:
Tel: +33(0) 46824 8018
Rates: 300 francs ($60) per night

To Learn More:
Montolieu Information Center - (33-4) 68-24-80-04
FX. (33=4) 68-24-80-11
 “Take My Mother Please” - customer designed adventures in L.A. and elsewhere by Anne Block - (323) 737-2200 FX. - (323) 737-2229
www.TakeMyMotherPlease.com

SusanRNorton@aol.com

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