We drove into a cave. We drove in a cave. We exited a tunnel, just to the right of this, the south or southwest mouth of Le Mas d’Azil cave/grotte. Pretty darned special!
The march of time is often front/center, visually, here in the Old World. It’s there in the New World, too, but it is less obvious to the casual viewer. Here: in front, Roman foundations. On the hilltop, medieval Saint-Bertrand-de-Commings, with later buildings in between.
As we walked the more recent streets, gridded above the Roman ruins, we witnessed a kerfuffle we couldn’t quite figure out. My theory is that somebody’s cows got out and wandered the streets of the lower town…leaving deposits that made no one there happy. We saw the arrival of two aging cowherds who zipped in on bicycles carrying a stick apiece. They spoke to the woman in the truck who was quite angry? annoyed?, then gathered the small herd, and moved them on down the road to the left, then turned north, away from town. I very much like that interpretation, anyway.
We’re now in the foothills of the Pyrenees, or were in and out of them all day. The highest ridges/peaks, when we can see them, look very rugged, often more rugged than the back row here. We will see more of the Pyrenees tomorrow.