Okay, I lied. Yet another post from March, 2009 jumped out at me as I was writing yesterday and I knew I had to share it with you today. I promise NOT to make anymore promises that I can't keep. As you can see, I do have a love affair with the bus in my valley. It began that first morning in August of '98, when the midnight train from Paris dropped me at the Gare de Cahors at 5am. Just in time to catch the 6am bus to Tour de Faure. I was so proud I had even conquered the automatic ticket machines in French.
Enjoy!
I have frequently teased that I am a member of a very elite group: "The On the Roaders". Those of us who are regulars on the bus and live "on the road", can be gifted with a drop at our doors instead of at the village bus stop. The bus ride between Cahors and Figeac is one of the most breathtaking I've ever made and I am constantly astounded by the skill of each and every one of our drivers.
I began my love affair with the Midi-Pyrénées Cars when I arrived at the Cahors train station at 5am to catch the bus to spend my 5 weeks on my own at Wendy's in Tour de Faure that summer of '98. The driver and I were the only ones on the bus all the way to my destination. It was my time capsule. There we were, surrounded by darkness, shooting over train tracks, through cavernous villages, tunnels and cliffs all along the Lot. My driver let me out at the Tour de Faure bus stop. Wendy did not live "on the road". I was quite a sight humping that purple back pack up a number of roads, past many crosses, in my swing coat, gauzy dress and Enzo Anglioni sandals! I took the bus into Cahors regularly that summer.
Who knew that a town I couldn't even pronounce in 1996, would be my future launching pad to home.
Back when I was still stealing moments at the Chatette, I frequently stood on the platform in Cahors waiting for the 12:46 train to Paris.
I'd see my usual 12:40 bus toward home (with one of my favorite drivers) pulling up to stop in front of the main entrance for the last batch of passengers who might be trying to connect from one of the trains. I'd keep my eye on the bus. That day, I still had 5 minutes. Could I run back down the stairs through the underground tunnel and just go back to the Chatette to stay? Would anyone miss me? Do I really need that job and those contracts? I watched Evelyne pull away that day with tears in my eyes. It seemed that both sides of my world met on that platform at the train station in Cahors and regularly squeezed me and my heart in between.
I made a morning run on the bus into Cahors with Evelyne aller retour (round trip) last week. Munching my jambon and fromage sandwich in the sunshine with my purple back pack and bargain yellow tulips sitting beside me, I realized that I was now on the other side. I watched piles of people running in to catch the 12:45 to Paris. I even passed them on the platform when I made my pit stop before heading home. This time I sat on the bus. Evelyne pulled up to the main entrance to stop and wait. The train to Paris left without me, but I was on my way home to the Chatette, Dali and Sam. And who knows, maybe some day I'll even be better at pronouncing Cahors!
Some of the fun in the looking back is the memories. The one comment on this old post came from my friend Evelyn Jackson, who is now living in Cadrieu herself. It also reminded me of a great photo I have from last summer when Russ and Angela Carll came to visit me, and a great bus story of theirs that I'll share soon. Russ is struggling in hospice at the moment. Please send lots of love, positive energy and prayers to them and their wonderful family!
I have a 2002 AAA road atlas of France that I bought used for $3. It's about to fall apart...I've thumbed thru it so much. So I looked up Figeac to trace your route to Cahors (I already knew where that was). It looks like a long ride!So you catch the train to Gare Austerlitz from Figeac? Which direction from Cahors is your village? I say "Ka-oar" is that right?? Hope your day is going well...
Posted by: Evelyn Jackson | March 18, 2009 at 12:23 PM