Collioure, my love
At 7 a.m., I rushed out with the dogs for a walk. The hallway is so long that I didn’t want to risk them peeing on the carpeted floor in because they couldn’t hold it any longer. It worked. Then I went back to bed for another hour or so. Breakfast wasn’t bad, but it’s so strange to me that the French and Spanish don’t eat vegetables. Daviddel and I always ate tons of vegetables for breakfast. Here, it’s mostly croissants with jams, muesli, and (because of the German tourists) cold cuts and cheese. However — much to my delight — I was able to make myself a soft-boiled egg using a wonderful contraption. Vincent’s dog, Obelix (a black-and-gold King Charles Cavalier Spaniel), lay down next to me. The poor thing doesn’t know how cold-hearted I am with dogs at the dining table. But I petted him, which he really enjoyed, and he stretched out next to my chair like a frog.
After breakfast, I ran into Vincent, the receptionist who “doesn’t speak a word of English,” and he recommended the path behind the hotel for a walk, saying how nice it was because there were no cars there. Well, we already walked that yesterday, thank you very much! It really is very nice. He was impressed. Then we ended up heading in that direction anyway, because I figured I’d walk the dogs for twenty minutes, then we’d get in the car and go to Collioure. Then, as we were walking along, Panka ran up a driveway on the right. I turned to see what she was up to, and I saw a few steps and a sign leading to a hiking trail. Well, let’s go this way! It was a great decision. It really gave our legs, hearts, and lungs a good workout. We walked through the forest the whole way. Birds were singing overhead. All the dogs were really enjoying the freedom. Gerbeaud would either run ahead or fall behind, but eventually he always showed up. I stopped once to take a picture of the trail, then had a thought and turned around to take a picture of where we’d come from. And then I caught sight of that magnificent, snow-capped mountain peak in the distance. What a majestic sight! I’m so glad I stopped right then and there, and even turned around! At times like this, I always feel like David’s hand is in it too. It’s such a good feeling.
About an hour later, we came to a sign and a cairn. The sign read: AMELIE, and a spring symbol was carved into it. The town where we are is named after this spring: Amélie-des-Bains. From here, we had two choices: continue on toward Montbolo or head down to Amélie-des-Bains on a different path. I chose the latter. The forest is really cool; I even found some cork trees. I like these trees so much. It’s so interesting: they peel off the bark to make cork stoppers and all sorts of other objects, and the tree doesn’t die — it lives on and regrows its bark. Wonderful Nature. They tried planting these trees in the United States and China, but they didn’t take root. Their true home is Portugal. However, it seems that some have migrated to Spain and France.
