Tautavel is a relatively small village in Aude, close to the Spanish border. It is also the self-proclaimed European center of prehistory. Upon exploration of the Prehistory Museum in Tautavel, one can begin to understand where the village founds its claim, as well as what makes the rest of this region so captivating.

A Part Of France Left Untouched

Wandering through the museum, I came upon a familiar diagram: I had seen pictures of fossil layers in natural science textbooks. Normally, I would have passed by such a drawing without a second glance, but something made me stop and try to get some sense of the numbers so big that they exceed comprehension. Compared to the Riviera, with bodies crammed like Niçois anchovies on the beaches or to nearby Barcelona, where the nightlife never ends, this whole area of France, seemingly so untouched by man, is actually a place that holds the human handprint even stronger than its neighbors.

Much of Europe has been modernized, either built up into enterprises or knocked down during the Second World War. Tourists like to pose in front of that which has held on, still standing, an ancient tower sticking out like a sore thumb in an otherwise industrial and anonymous city, shrapnel still lodged into the sides of its stones. To Americans, these buildings seem so old, so full of stories. I have visited these cities. I have fallen in love with many of them. But this country is vastly different.

Here, one can walk where Tautavel man walked, up to the Arago Cave. One can see the same landscapes he saw, observing the plants and trees that decorated this same hillside when our first ancestors walked here.

The Old Collides with the New

Much more recent, but still old beyond comprehension, one can walk amongst the Châteaux of Cathar Country. The Aguilar château is now no more than a chapel and four crumbling walls. You can pick your way through the loose rocks that cover the hillside amongst wild fig trees and try to understand what it would have been like when the Count of Besalù owned it in 1020 AD, so long ago to us, but so recent when you think about how long this hill has stood.

Through the archery windows, one can see vines extending as far as the eye can see. These, too, have their history. Just one hundred years ago, now seeming like a two second blip in the history of the area, the winemakers who lived and worked here revolted against the production of artificial wine, staking everything for their fight, because without wine, without these vineyards, these people had nothing. Even now, people work this land. Life here is much simpler than we know it in the larger cities, even though in comparison with the ancient landscape, such modern inventions as automobiles are almost anachronistic.

Queribus is much more well-preserved than Aguilar: while the path to the top is more difficult, with loose rocks at every turn and a sharp precipice that would beg for lawsuits in the States, here one can actually climb the original staircases and examine some of the rooms that existed almost identically hundreds of years ago.

At the Château de Queribus, I saw in what could only happen in real life at the risk of being too cliché: an army helicopter flew past the open spaces in the wall of the château, modern and ancient colliding for just one moment, right before my eyes. The layers of old and new still live here in the pays d’Oc, surprisingly peacefully, an ancient château next to a modern wine-production facility, modern mopeds parked next to vines that have been here for centuries.

Time passes differently in the garrigue of Aude, and if one can take the time to slow down, it’s possible to blend with the centuries of history that still breathe here.

[Photo by ||!prliignore0||]