I loved my father more than my mother, when I was a very little girl. Later, when I had only my mother left, I loved double. Maybe I adored my father so much because he was not at home all the time, as mother was. He worked on the field, he went out of the house for his duties as a mayor. He went and – returned. It was always the pain of losing and the joy of meeting again him. But maybe, it was just his love for me and his almost frightening strictness and his demands for my behaviour. I respected him till almost a fright, but only almost – I never was frightened to run to him with open arms.
I remember, I played with little pieces of all kinds of materials, the left overs what I could have of the dress materials, what my mother was making or her, and for me: aprons, blouses, summer dresses.
Those little colourful pieces of materials were wonders, the patterns were speaking of strange, unknown world, to me, there was a tobacco brown material with many pointed lines! But there between the buttons, what I had, may be not quite in my possession, but with which I was allowed to play, there was a button from my father’s suit, a small button not green not brown, not grey, with tiny relief lines. I put my little plump palm on it and kept it very quiet, feeling some holiness, some life – my father moving on the path behind the door, may be coming home…
In summer noons, where my father came home from field, from haymaking, really clover farming, he was all wet from the heat, sweating, exhausted, so exhausted that he could not go to the table for lunch, nor go to the river for a swim, (may be it was then, when he poured a bucket of water over his head at our well) and stretched out in the bed. I knew, that I had not to disturb him now with myself. But I crept behind him near the wall in the bed, very, very quietly, stretched out very straight, so as not to touch him, kept so silent as even not to breath and lay there as long as it could be endured, it was very hard to lay so straight, so absolute motionless, to keep all my limbs, my life so quiet, but I did it, tried to do in a kind of sacrifice for him, in love and adoration, only to move nearer to him my nose, or my finger to feel his sweat wettened shirt, his body steaming hot and the little dry leaves and clover buds smelling strong all over his cloth and hair.
There, on the same bed, when he had relaxed sufficient to move and to speak again, I had to repeat to him the verse, what I always was taught. Sometimes I had a new one for him, what my mother had taught me since he was away, and it was then a marvel to have his joy for it, even when it was not yet recited perfectly. I did not realise then, that a great deal of his joy for it, came from my difficulties to pronounce clearly all the words, my speech was not ready yet, I was about 2 years only.
Later, when grown up, I read in his bookkeeping books on the last pages whither all the songs I could recite at age of 2, and ‘second edition’ at age or 2 ½. One or two there were in Russian, of what I did not understand even so much, as from the Latvian. I remember me at his knees when he was sitting on the bedside ready to go, reciting those Russian words I could not pronounce at all, and it made him laugh loud and press me in his hands of joy, when at last it went approximately, and then we were going to present the thing to mother.
Songs I learned also sitting on my grand father’s knee and – riding. But there it was a careless, peaceful plain and happy, sometime a little dreamy event.
All those songs were strange words too. Some very sad, even strangely dramatic to the state of hurting, or frightening, the images, what the poems told, were to powerful, often misunderstood, or overtaking, usually the sad things, what had to pass in the poem, did not pass, and ruled with strange frightful power all over the poem. That was, when I was a little girl.
I do not feel, that much is changed. It’s changed superficially, it’s changed also inwardly. But thou the changes are not forever, and are not consequent there are feelings, situations, facts of life, where there are no changes. I am the little girl and would like to touch your back, warm from work, tired, but I have to be absolutely quiet. It’s three years now since I love you like that. You know it. And yet – you don’t. You need me, and yet you don’t. You are married. I was married. In my dreams I never remember it. I always dream, i never have been married. I would have to. It’s getting late. Then I wake up and think, yes – I have to get married once in this life, I have to… And then slowly I remember – I was. For 20 years. I have young, grownup children. Yes – I have children. I never dream, that I should have children. I have them. Now I am out of my marriage. I tore away. But I dreamt the same, when I was there, with him. I lay near him and dreamt, I have to get married once…
We lived normally. Except for quarrelling, except for my terrible suffering being a possession of another person, for having nothing my own, not a minute of time, not a thing, not even the children. I never owned children. I never felt – this child is mine. That’s good. That what was good in that marriage. I never, from the first moment, as I gave birth to my first child, I never had the feeling I have, I own a child. I was immensely happy having given life to a child. No it was not that – that I have given life, it was that I was permitted to give the life. I was permitted to have a child in the house I lived, I was permitted to live for him, to care for him as much as I could. From the first moment children were some untouchable, little persons of they own, in my eyes only, of course, and that’s how they grew up my friends. We discussed things.
In my marriage I was deprived of everything. It was a crime, that I loved my mother, that I could have a private thought, that I could thought something by myself. To love the children it was not permitted. To explain a marriage – it’s useless. I even cannot explain to myself, why I never felt married. Mostly of the bases of a marriage I went through. But it’s a sticky thaw {?}, when I get caught in it, I cannot get rid of it. I have to speak some silly untruthful things, to finish it off. To stop it in disgust with myself that I don’t know to say, to know better.
Yes, it was how I started to feel about your back, when I realised, I really am in love with you. I loved your back. I thought tenderly about it, warm and tired in your work you are a bus driver and here in this country, the summers are so terribly hot, you are sweating in your crowded bus, tied at the place, just sitting and turning your bus wheel, and watching the traffic, and listening to the bell to stop the bus, and answer the questions. Every work is hard, that’s what makes the difference between a work and a play.
What made me think so tenderly about your back, might be, the possibility for me to see only your back and to pour on it my disgust sometimes, my anger, for our misunderstandings, to “durt” [stick] my hateful glances in it, and then to feel sorry, ashamed, to look at it mildly and to beg it for the forgiveness. You were tied there at your seat. (And at your marriage, I realised it only later). You could not turn and speak to me. You could lift your eyes and find me in the mirror, and that’s what started it all, and that’s what throw us in painful flames and in delightful flames and never gave a solution, an answer, it gave new life again, it gave complications. We had to avoid the mirrors as much as we could, and yet it was the only way to meet.
Angry, I hated your back, and tenderly begged its forgiveness. I am glad you gave me that thing – to love again a back of a man. When I was married (after all, I was, for nearly 20 years) sometimes my husband asked me to scrub his back, when he was in a bath. Then, it was, when I thought of a crime. I only did not know how. I looked at the living, compact mass, that kept me in prison, that pressed me like iron and stones, that was stronger than all gates, and swords and guns – only living, disgusting, strong, fat, flesh. I was frightened sometimes to put my eyes fully on it, frightened to hate so terribly and to feel so hopelessly dominated by it, only that physical, pitiless strength, what kept me a slave. If only I had the power, I thought, by a miracle, had the power in my bare hands to start a fight like men start the fights among themselves, without a weapon, just hand to hand, person to person. But I had it not, I had to obey, to slave, to go to pieces. My life had to be ruined by that strength of that compact disgusting back. Maybe it was quite a good built man’s back. It was. Maybe it even had a tenderness for me. I never knew it. I felt only it’s pitiless power. Sometimes in contrary, I let my eyes on it, to feel that immense hatred, to drink my forces out of it, may be once to get rid of it.
Between those two extremities how I loved my father’s and how I hated my husband’s back – came you. I never was married, but may be, because of that, because of loving your back, having eyed it tenderly and passionately, I am not left quite out of the life.
May 15 to July 25, 1969 [Erna flew to Germany to visit me (Inese) in the small northern town of Damme, where I was teaching English at the local Gymnasium (High School). At the end of the school year, we (Mum, Inese, Laimons) set off to travel — in the VW van, camping, often informally, through Germany, Austria, Italy, Spain and France, to depart for Canada from Paris at the end of the summer.
There are no diary entries by Erna during this period because our luggage was stolen in Rome. It contained Erna’s diaries and notes from the last half of May to mid-July — that is, from the end of my time at the school in Damme, including a short trip to Holland and Belgium before we set for the rest of the trip that summer.
So, here are my own notes of our travels during that period]:
MAY
Thurs. 15.5.69 Drive to Frankfurt — located airport and camped in area near river — white clouds, sun, wind, apple blossoms, green, green, yellow, yellow dandelions, lilac starting to bloom — campsite: ducks — rain in night — neither could sleep well.
Frid. 16.5.69 Off to airport — saw plane from lounge — overcast, cold, rather rainy day — then mum & off to Köln – to Canada Consulate & bought sleeping bag & mattress — lunch in parking lot — home — after tea intro to landlady — (mum) red suit, hair done, speaking German — Tired.
Sun. 18.5.69 Cold, rainy at times — dressed warm & walk in forest & drive round district & to Dümmer (lake), old farmhouses.
Sat.24.5.69 Set off for Holland — to Amsterdam (lunch by Zuidersee on way) — boat ride through canals, walk down shopping lanes, look at Begijnhof (inner court & 17.c. houses) — camp.
Sun. 25.5.69 Set off for The Hague — visit to Art Gallery, walk through Binnenhof, out to Miniature Town — incredibly full of people — then to mum’s friend Dick Braam — (old lady came running out with map to help find street) — old photographs & memories — wife & daughter — tea with them — he speaking perfect English — wife French — camp — incredibly huge & full.
Mon. 26.5.69 Off to Rotterdam — cold & windy — up Euromast for views of city & harbour & coffee & cakes — tower rocking in wind — look at monument to ruined city — museum, gallery (some moderns — painted cubicle, glass floor & ceiling — eternity & windy sound) — Chinese meal! — Drove to Antwerp.
Tues. 27.5.69 Visit Academy & address of Mrs Zariņa [where mum and she studied] — out to see her — palatial home & gardens, gold drapes, period furniture, complaints about difficulty of finding servants — talk, dinner, met son Bob — guide round Antwerp 2 museums (one fab. old house, drawings by Brueghel, paintings, incl. Bosch — everything from books, seals, paintings, crockery — fab. setting) — drive through old town, narrow streets (follow the leader) — rain — to hippy pub-cafe with railway seats & treadle under table — then off together for Brussels — camp on way — evening in town (mum stayed behind) — impossible town, writing down streets in hope of finding way out… to see movie “Z” in French & to find place for supper after — Bob & Spanish girlfriend — restaurant open & selling cous-cous (Algerian wheat cereal, ground & steamed like rice + lamb) — red wine (Algerian) — French conversation betw. Bob & girl — discussion about food before ordering — girl very French in talk and gestures — looks Spanish — activities of smuggling in workers & finding them work & lodgings — socialists (comms?) — dodging part of nat. service (in Köln) by making use of info learned in study of psych (& sociology) — put on(?) depressed state…
Wed. 28.5.69 Slept late — drive round bits of Brussels — too complicated without map — strange Chinese place — then off on long drive home via Antwerp, Holland & Arnheim & Osnabrück — tired out but ok.
JUNE
Sun. 8.6.69 1st beaut. sunny day!! Morning walk in forest & photos in new towelling outfits [at right, Laimons, Erna, Inese] — pm sunbaking in garden!! Bliss!!
Wed. 11.6.69 Evening at Heitmann’s — look at rocks.
Sat. 14.6.69 Feldmanns’ + friends there.
Sun. 15.6.69 Kaponier gallery opening — boys singing — full + Holtvogt — later Propstei Blues arouse interest — Schnell Imbiss — rather drunk & singing (Ian wanting to sing “Deutschland…”)
Mon. 16.6.69 “Blaue Montag” [“hangover day” of no work] for L & me & mum.
Tues. 17.6.69 Tag der D. Einheit — to Bremen to pick up Biruta — evening party at farmhouse outside Vechta, dancing, etc. — Mr. Dennis fr. England — plan to get failed teacher accepted by getting him job in England — “establ.” in Germ.
Wed. 18.6.69 Evening out at Schneiderkrug, dinner from Al & Bernard.
Thurs. 19.6.69 To school in evening to look at slides till 11.30, when projector burnt out.
Sat. 21-22.6.69 Out to Dümmer to sail & camp — chickens, some singing, ladies in suits — little wind for sailing — sun, sunbaking — cats in Kleider. [Inese, on left; Erna standing, at rear]
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Mon. 23.6.69 To Münster for John’s Day celebrations — madly making crowns — rush to get there via Vechta — all overdressed in paddock — tame celebration — chat to some international Letts. — dead beat. [L to R: Erna, (Al, Canadian), Biruta, Laimons, Inese, Ian, Austra]
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Tues. 24.6.69 All to bowling & dinner with eel — mum bowling.
Wed. 25.6.69 Ausflug to Norderney — slept in — Frl. Schöning there an hour early (halb sechs!) — lots of walking — Wasserturm — all beaches gesperrt — 1.65 to get in — Fischerhaus museum — kids twice on own — L. singing on bus.
Thur. 26.6.69 Kids’ party in afternoon — evening — all to Holtvogt’s — Schulz & Heitmans — vine & a bit to eat — pleasant.
Frid. 27.6.69 pm rush around with jobs — to Krebecks to return TV — coffee & cake — then home to dress for Lehrerausflug — … etc
Sat. 28.6.69 Flowers & presents from kids — pm to Vechta & Harts & Biruta & off to Lübeck — arrived late afternoon — walk around — Town Hall & glazed bricks — Holsteiner Tor — walk down Glockengiesser alley to old town & inner courts full of old houses & old people — corner pub meal & DoppelKorns — camp.
Sun. 29.6.69 Rain — drive up coast to Neustadt — amber shops on way — beaches with baskets — alternate clear & heavy rain — Austra couldn’t get into camp (army) — back through pouring rain — long drive home — drive through Hambourg, looking at Reeperbahn, but too wet to get out — Erbscenter — in Vechta all over to Welpe Cafe & session of beer & DoppelKorns — me drunk. [L to R: Inese, Erna, Ian, Austra]
Mon. 30.6.69 Packing — L. to school etc. getting reference — packing & sending parcels (books) — pm to Heitmann’s — beaut talk — L. to grog-up at work — me to H’tmanns — then home.
JULY
Tues. 1.7.69 Packing & evening to Feldmanns’ for farewell, me in great pain from over smoking etc.
Wed .2.7.69 pm L. to Holtvogt to get Steuer card etc. — packing.
Thur. 3.7.69 Set off 9.30 — to Vechta — completed Steuer forms — to Harts, picked up some things for Vichy — off — Osnabrück trying to send things to France & home — to station, wrong place, repacked — to goods station, better to use carrier — carrier at lunch — wait till 3 pm — suitcase ok — big parcel (eiderdown) home would cost £12 — take it with us to divide int 2 later — finally set off, almost to Koblenz — camp in field near brick factory & sand gravel mine. In Koblenz, we stayed overnight at Youth Hostel in Koblenz overlooking “Deutsches Eck“, the junction of Rhine & Moselle rivers [below left]. The Youth Hostel is located in the historic fortress of Ehrenbreitstein [below right]. [Photo above: In Koblenz overlooking “Deutsches Eck”, the junction of Rhine & Moselle rivers]
Fri. 4.7.69 Morning repack of all gear — food etc — divide parcel into two — too much exertion & bending — me feeling sick — was sick in car — down “Romantic Rhine” [above] & on to Stuttgart — stop in village at 10 mins to 6 pm to post 2 parcels — to Fellbach (through town) to cemetery etc. — up hill — camp on top — clearing an old bronze age mound.
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Sat. 5.7.69 Early up — down to cemetery to plant some wild violet plants — on through Schwarzwald — nice — to Basel — on to Zürich — walk through beaut lanes, full of with-it people & shops full of gear — to “Blockhouse” grill joint (Europe on $5 a day place) for fondu & steak tartare — rain — drove on & camped in field — creature(?) under tent… [Photo: Erna & Inese at grave of Erna’s mother, Alvine Bērziņš in Fellbach]
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Sun. 6.7.69 Through Liechtenstein (cork) to Austria — over Arlberg mountains & pass (cows on road) — to Landeck (festival — parades of bands in costume from each of surrounding towns) [Photo: Erna almost hidden behind Inese at left] — on past Innsbruck to Gerlos Pass (up narrow road to reach toll road) — camped at Kaprun (near Gletcherbahn [cable car]).
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Mon. 7.7.69 Up Gletcherbahn to top — Laimons skiing, us coming down in stages & looking at flowers — fantastic — through Bruck to Grossglockner — 2543m — fant. flowers again — top snow & clouds — “Römerweg” — lunch as waiting for petrol (hand pump, no electr.) — every time stopped discovered new flowers — incredible —
then look at Gletcher [glacier] (pipe) & down & on to Winklern — visit old house & Frau Liebhart — remembered all — on to find camp spot — kept raining — through Lienz & then on river side — hue cliffs up one side — farm tucked away (verboten signs & mountain stream).
Tues. 8.7.69 Mum up early washing in stream & buying eggs & greens from farmer — on south to Italy — crazy drivers again — passing 3 abreast, semis, buses, anything — on to Venice — & camp & washing.
Wed. 9.7.69 Up reasonably early — mum home, a bit of a cold & tired — us by bus into town, etc… pizzas in back street — bought more & home — boat + bus + rain.
Thur. 10.7.69 Morning off to Florence via Bologna — en route passed rows of dilapidated villas — huge fancy gates & 1/2 boarded up house behind — Florence 3pm — lightning tour! — look at Cathedral (one of M’s Pietas?) — huge, candy marble outside — tower by Giotto — opposite Baptistry with 3 bronze doors — one by Ghibertti, gilded — Medici tomb (at Lorenzo Church) — M’s Night, Day, Morning, Evening — hall with bright coloured marble inlaid pictures & decorations — to Uffizi Galleries, closed — down to Ponte Vecchio & look at shops along it — on way back fruit salad & cream — straw market, rain & cold — drive on out — hard to find spot — all cultivated — gloomy, grouped, eerie, big farm buildings — drive down dirt road & camp in tree plantation — Apennine hills — terribly winding road.
Fri. 11.7.69 Drive on — still same hills, patchy fields, scattered farms — villas & castles — big medieval cities, walled, on top of higher hills — eg. Orvieto, etc. — to Rome — camping area (packed).
Sat. 12.7.69 Early start & into Rome — to Venice Square — look at Victor Emmanuel Monument, Trajan’s Forum — down to Colosseum (full of cats! — all Rome is) — across, past Constantine’s Arch — to Palatine Hill & across all through Roman Forum — car & over to St Peter’s — beautiful — drive towards Via Appia — stop at Caracalla’s Baths for lunch [on block of marble, Erna & Laimons, right] — look around & bought tickets for “Aida” in evening — on to Catacombs of St Sebastian — good — (12 km in all — perhaps oldest) — along Via Appia — back to town — found “Eur. on $5” restaurant — walk around & then fixed price meal — watery wine — & out to Opera (on stage in ruins of Caracalla’s Baths) — good (except that hard to hear — too far back (on benches in open) — 2nd act with 4 white horses & chariot & armies etc — left after scene I Act 3 — too tired — fun finding way home to camp.
Sun. 13.7.69 Into town & St Peters [left] — Vatican Museums etc — all closed on Sunday — to Capitoline Hill — steps, wolves, & museum (mainly old Roman) — then 12 noon to flea market — hot, wandering along — L. to do the bargaining — hat for mum, bag for me, whip for L — feeling happy at great success of Rome visit — back to car at 2 pm — been broken into — 2 suitcases, 2 bags (mum’s and mine), radio, binoculars, Ian’s typewriter — all gone — & my writing paper & addresses — all jewellery & clothes — Police & to station to give statement — while there 5 or more others with same story — lunch in Borghese gardens — Mus. closed — all museums etc. closed after 1 pm Sundays — look at some squares — Barbarini (Triton) — Pantheon — Navona, fountains & paintings — church of St Agnes — home to camp — … & few remaining possessions.
Mon. 14.7.69 In to see Vatican Museums — till 2 pm — Sistine Chapel full of people (like cattle pen) — Raphael’s rooms — long corridors with Roman busts etc, tapestries, maps of areas of Italy — Library with 1st printed Bibles — & letters etc. from Luther, Raffael, Michaelangelo, Henry VIII, Dante, Galileo etc — room of animals — Laocoon, Apollo & Perseus & Mercury — lunch near Baths of Caracalla, watched 2 “ladies of the profession” at work — cars pulling up all the time — going for rides — out to find insurance office (after going into town to police station to ask for directions) — office closed — into town in Via Nationale to shop — 2 department-type stores, rest all specialized shops — dead tired — home, meal of ravioli at camp — bed.
Tues. 15.7.69 (Mum at camp) — us off early to insurance office — 3 hours of work there — claim amount $844 — will get less than half — drawing pictures to explain articles — “underwear” episode — “mistress” — on way back through town to St Angelo Castle — look at Vatican souvenirs & along Gioncolo home — — afternoon of rest, washing hair, etc.
Wed. 16.7.69
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Packed up & off to Insurance office to collect money (10,000 x 25 L) — out along Via Aurelia — stop at Cerveteri to look at Etruscan tombs [above] — beaut — mounds, entrances, stone “beds” everywhere — Wheat fields — golden — “houses” of hay — again towns on hilltops everywhere — Lunch at Porto San Stephano — headland — walk along harbour, boats, fishes — (yachts registered in Panama) — on to Pisa — chapel, across bridge to Cathedral, tower & presbytery — beaut! — drove off road (near Pietro Santo) into valley full of marble cutting mills — whole town full of blocks, sheets, tiles of marble — camped at roadside.
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Thur. 17.7.69 Continued along road (through Apennine Alps — huge semis bringing down immense blocks of marble — flying fox affairs everywhere — huge mountain cuttings — Then through pretty & prosperous wine district (houses with flower gardens!) — along Via Aurelia again — through Genoa — terribly hot — hours trying to find enough shade to park for lunch — on along It. “riviera” — horrible — all belonging to hotels etc — all dilapidated and dirty — rocks for “beaches” — shopping (dress + blouse) at Alassio — camped in river bed near Imperia [river bed was dry, quite gravelly, but there and along banks wonderful wild flowers in great variety]
Fri. 18.7.69
On & across border into France — bought wrong Michelin guide at Menton [at right] — exchanged — along riviera — quite beautiful — great contrast to It. one — beaut. homes, gardens, villas, cleaner, beaches nicer (gravel) & accessible — to Monte Carlo — look at Casino & up to Castle — stop at market below — on along water — Nice, extremely long beach — into Museum — Picasso, paintings, drawings, sculptures, ceramics — beaut & beaut place (Grimaldi Castle — church next door — white & blue water & swallows & pigeons) — on along water through Cannes (so much traffic couldn’t stop) — Juan les Pins etc — sandy beaches — camped on hillside overlooking water near Ste Maxime.
Sat. 19.7.69 Mum to water for wash, Laimons for swim — couple of fishing boats — sun on water — off along coast to Marseilles — as closer country more bare, rocky, scrubby — huge rocky mountains near M. — drive along beach boulevard — (stop first at dept. store — swimmers — always manage shopping about 10 mins before closing) — old harbour — lunch in parking lot reserved for weddings — on to Aix en Prov. Cézanne’s town — exhibit closed — drink at tables outside bar near Sextius fountain — thermal water — people in droves with all kinds of bottles & containers getting water — look at exhibit — great take — bits & pieces — some Utrillo, Renoir & various other lesser ones of Provence — abt 3 Cézannes — drive towards Atelier — Mt. Victoire in distance — off to Arles — huge arena & theatre & look at Cloisters of St Trophime [at left] — long straight road to Arles — flat country — clusters of villages, olives, full of activity — narrow streets etc — on to Nîmes — second Arenas — Maison Carré & out to Pont du Gard — camped near it — animals in the night.
Sun. 20.7.69 Up Rhône valley — to Bollène on autoroute (toll 3 fr) — off & up to Barry — abandoned village (cave dwellings) on hill — view of Donzère canal complex — suspension bridge (& Mistral) at Donzère — med. village & susp. bridge further — nougat at Montélimar — all cultivat. divided into plots by cypresses & other trees — pretty good wind — into Lyon — to Judy’s address — not home — camp (Frenchman asking “Where are you going?”– told us of camp) — fancy place — reception committee & girls on bikes — hot water aplenty — washing — another try to visit Judy — home, shower, bed.
Mon. 21.7.69 One more try — heading west for Vichy — mountains — wide valley (early Loire) near Feurs — more mountains & fir forests — stop at Thiers (Coutellerie) — cutlery place — look at old streets — bought nut cracker — on to Vichy — full of water-takers, carrying own glass — pm Harts — shopping — Ian to camp & feed (Austra & essay) — then A to camp an grog.
Tues. 22.7.69 5 to 8 at Hotel, picked up Harts & 2 others — to Lycée — 3 hrs — litt. BalzacPère Goriot, intro to “humanisme” (phil) — Industrie in Fr — back to camp for lunch — pm out to pick up Harts — us shopping 3 hours! — then down to restaurant with Harts — on waterside, table outside — beaut meal — 3 bottle wine, 2 Beaujolais (red) on white St. …(?) — entrée tomatoes & potatoes & others & sauce — then grillade (?) — steak & chips — then salad — then cheese, 2 kinds, help yourself — then coffee & sweets — me ice cr., boys pancakes — full & happy after wine to camp to finish wine bottles there — at small table on river bank.
Wed. 23.7.69 Set off — up Puy de Dôme [left] — views, flowers — 1st look at Clermont Ferrand Cathedral gothic (black volcanic stuff) — accident outside — then Notre Dame du Port — romanesque & figures on column tops — on to Issoire, past hill where Vercingétorix fought & beat Romans (Gergovie) — along mts & rivers — feet in water bec. falling asleep — camped in flower paddock before Mende.
Thur. 24.7.69 Bitten by mosies in night — off through Mende to go along Gorges du Tarn — Florac — canyon-like scenery — medieval villages at bottom — Castelbouc (from opposite bank) — ruins of castle (legend) — houses 3/4 in rock — Ste Enimie [at right] — les Détroits (people going down Tarn in “barques”) — Pas de Souci & fallen rocks & legend abt. Devil escaping from Ste Enimie — at junction up into mountains to visit Montpellier le Vieux (strange rock formations, like ruined town) — saw part — (very hot) — top of plateau & gorges all around — some isolated farms — lunch & down & along Jonte Gorges (terraced farms) — off to Aven Armand — fantastic cave of stalactites/mites, hole on top of plateau — few foreigners — many French — then south past area Brambian — large properties belonging to “name”? — up onto plateau — nothing for miles — wheat fields or simply rock fields — odd old town — to Cavalerie (British army base) — camped in hollow, behind rocks in middle of plateau.
Fri. 25.7.69 Off across plateau then down (Pas d’Escalette) — but up again along windy hillside road — & down to Béziers, through Narbonne & Perpignan (streams of tourists returning — 12 miles of almost stationary cars) — across into Spain…
