Wednesday, July 29, 2015
I left Tarbes this morning at 8:15 a.m. It was my second night without much sleep. Michele's neighbors shout through the paper-thin walls and both her upstairs and next-door neighbors have children in difficulties. One has night terrors, the other is a terror during the day. The parents of the daily terror shout at him and each other, as I found out yesterday afternoon, when I tried to catch up on my sleep. It was all but impossible but for twenty minutes.
Fortunately, Equestria, the spectacle of horses which brought me to Tarbes, was more than worth keeping my eyes open for: not a demonstration of dressage, not a trick-riding show, it was a marriage of music, image, horses, riders, drummers and dancers. The horses and riders were from Spain and France, and each of the eight presentations featured different breeds, including miniature horses (put through their paces by a man not much bigger than them).
The show opened with a team of eight black miniature ponies pulling a carriage carrying the Master of Ceremonies and the aforementioned trainer of ponies. It was two hours of pure pleasure.
I struck up an acquaintance with the president of the festival, Pierre Lauginie, on entering the show tent: the ticket service I had used had sent me a ticket, but assigned no specific seat. M. Lauginie found me a seat at the top of the seating area at the center, where I could see all the action. Later, he explained to me that the site of Equestria, l'Haras National, is one of several centers of horse breeding in France. Owned by the government, Tarbes' is now empty of horses, and in the process of being sold to private bidders. M. Lauginie said that the hope is that sponsorship can be found so that l'Haras can be restored and horses brought back.
Tarbes was known for its Anglo-Arabian breed. Until a few years ago, there were horse auctions at l'Haras, with buyers from all over the world vying to buy colts that might make a Triple Crown, Ascot or Prix de Diane winner. The town would like to buy l'Haras, but can't afford to do so. Without private sponsorship that will allow renovation and maintain the property, the fate of Tarbes' Haras --like those everywhere else in France-- is in doubt.
Tarbes has seen better days, it's clear walking the streets. It's not that the buildings are dilapidated --as is the case in large parts of Carcassonne-- but there's no sense of economic activity, except at the most basic level. Yet this was a town frequented by Empress Eugenie, the wife of Napoleon III, as well as the Rothschild's, who kept stables here.
Today, Tarbes' population consists of not only the local French, but immigrants from North Africa, and, increasingly, asylum seekers from Africa and the Balkans. France has a commitment to placing the most endangered in war-torn countries, a policy that has intentionally placed them in smaller towns, rather than large cities, in the belief that they are more likely to integrate successfully in smaller communities. For that reason there are shops selling African goods, and a variety of restaurants serving the new immigrants, as well as the natives. Just a block from l'Haras is a store selling African clothing, and on a cul-de-sac on Avenue Foch, a principal artery, is a store selling clothes made in India.
The social service challenges are implicit, and explain why a building like that my airbnb host, Michele, lives in can include a private owner like her, but also transients, like the families that live around her. However, I was hoping to find in Tarbes a base from which to explore the Pyrenees and its noted villages. Gavarnie is one of the most famous, with a gap in the mountains at over 9000 feet known as La Breche de Roland, or La Brecha de Rolando in Spanish. It is a passageway between France and Spain.
Alas, it was not to be. Sharing one bathroom with four people and not getting enough sleep are not recipes for happy travel. I visited Lourdes this morning, taken in hand by Tatiana, a friend of Sandrine's, with whom I had pre-arranged the visit. I don't want to give "short shrift" (no pun intended) to this inexplicable place, but I am glad I had such a well-versed guide.
Tatiana has lived in Lourdes for twenty years and retired from work as a receptionist in hotels in Lourdes and many other places a few years ago. She is a volunteer tour guide who does what she does because she loves meeting new people who believe as she does. I saw all within the space of two and a half hours, confessed, did penance, then headed for Caunes. On the way I picked up a young man studying linguistics and anthropology in Toulouse, Joss. His conversation --he is very interested in mysticism-- kept me happy behind the wheel for three hours. Once I dropped him off near the Metro station, I grit my teeth and got home by 4:30 p.m.
No one knows I'm here: Beauregard is with Chantal, and I think I'll keep my presence a secret. It's too delicious to have at least one day to read, to drive to Toulouse to visit the museums if I want to, to remember what it is to live somewhere comfortable --and to give thanks for being able to do so.
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