Carcassonne, France

It wasn’t nearly as dangerous as Jumanji, but still we had images of one of our favorite board games, Carcassonne, coming to life as we made our way to the fortified city in southern France. It was the stop between our Christmas visit with Charlie and Ann and our ski trip to the Haute Pyrenees. We have played the game for years and wanted to see the real thing.

Carcassonne, an old city on the northern front of the Pyrenees, played a part in the long running border disputes between France and Spain, before they even were France and Spain as we know them today. Its strategic location meant that for hundreds of years it was repeatedly a target for whoever wanted control of the region. It was also a stronghold for a group of Cathars, who were on the wrong side of the power curve with the Inquisition, bless their souls. It is fortified with not just one, but two walls, enclosing it. Or at least enclosing those who were inside. The unlucky ones who lived in the village below provided food and raw materials to those inside. When an invader showed up, you were bumming if you were left high and dry outside the fort, not privileged to enjoy the benefits of all that defensive engineering.

Not unlike the Alhambra, this fabulous historical and architectural wonder was neglected for centuries and was overrun by countless squatters. Eventually the authorities said enough is enough, we need to tear that eyesore down. But the locals rallied and a long renovation process resulted in a fabulous restoration as well as a great economic resource for the area. Millions come here every year to visit.

These old places are filled with layers and layers of history, which confuse me. That seems to be my refrain, confusion and wonder. How do you tease out the different periods, the different struggles, the separate histories, economies, etc. from a castle and its community? It’s a melting pot of time. And each of these places that we visit is tied to the others, with common characters, plot lines, themes.


Sometimes a mundane detail, a sundial for example, sets me thinking. There is a very interesting sundial on the wall at Carcassonne. When was it built? How does it work? How were other people telling time at that same time in history? (Why didn’t I take the tour so I could get the answers to these questions?)

Standing there I am reminded of the sundial in the castle in Segovia, and the meridian embedded in the floor at El Escorial, and even Thomas Jefferson’s clock at Monticello, and John Harrison’s ambition to develop a chronometer that would fundamentally alter sea navigation. Time. Measuring time. Telling time. Telling the community what time it is. How do we do it? How did they do it? Why is it important?


There are thousands and thousands of these details, questions, distractions. How do we ever make it out of any of these places? The kids get hungry. And then it’s time to leave.