Leaving France behind

About another 90 minutes of riding through a few more small towns and we arrive at Col d’Ares, the mountain pass that is our gateway to Spain.  A quick fill-up on gas, and we cross the border back into the country where we started.  I make a mental note: No more “bon jour”; it’s back to “buenas dias.”  Sort of like when I used to head back to college in Texas every summer and had to switch from my usual Illinois “you guys” back to the more accepted “ya’ll.”

I love passing through the out-of-the-way towns in this part of France and I will miss this charming region.  There are many images I carry with me as we pass through them, particularly the street scenes, such as quaint and welcoming outdoor cafes, cobblestone town squares with fountains, potted plants, bicycles and scooters, narrow sidestreets and of course my favorite image, windows and doors.  One of the doorways that remains vivid in my mind is an old stone building that housed a small garage no more than 12 feet wide with painted wood double doors and the iconic brand name “Renault” above it.  I love the contrast between the ancient stone work, the faded blue paint and the lettering of the sign.  The entire image is perfectly symmetrical and actually quite indicative of colors and textures seen throughout these mountain hideaways.

The wind has picked up noticeably along this ridge.  We can see the peaks of the Pyrenees in every direction from this vantage point.  Years ago, I am sure these mountains helped draw the lines between these two countries.  With only one day left on this trip, I can’t help but feel like we are leaving more than France behind and headed back to reality sooner than I would like.

Within moments we arrive at our hotel in Mollo, a tightly spaced and placed village carved into the side of the mountain.  Our hotel stands several stories tall above the rest of what there was of town.  The tiny rooms are not much larger than the bed itself.  The best part of our room is the balcony, which we both immediately walk out onto.  The mountain region below us is painted with the evening sun’s rays.  A layer of clouds rolls in along a ridge below us.  Again, I feel a twinge of sadness creep in, but I quickly push it aside, eager for dinner with our companions and the hours of lively conversation we have all come to enjoy so much.