A week ago, we came together for the first time, meeting at the airport in Toulouse, France. Coming from different Dominican colleges, we shared a common foundation before the journey, our heritage rooted in the values first articulated by St. Dominic 800 years ago. Over the course of the past week, I am sure I speak for my fellow “pilgrims” when I suggest we now share a deepened appreciation and passion for those values that bring the Dominican charism to life on our respective campuses. I plan to write a concluding post in the next day or so, in which I’ll attempt to summarize my experiences from this journey to France and to engage in the history of the Dominican order. For now, I’ll focus on the wonderful final day we’ve just shared.
We traveled two hours southeast to the Mediterranean coastal town of Collioure. Collioure is, quite simply, beautiful. Today, the village is in many ways a testament to the brilliant colors portrayed in the Fauvism movement in art, notably canvas paintings; perhaps most famous among its artists have been Derain and Matisse. Admittedly, my appreciation for art and Fauvism is nowhere near expert level. What I will argue, however, is the setting in Collioure is without question inspiring of art and beauty, and I can understand why the artists felt a calling to portray the coastal village in bright and bold colors. The natural setting of the harbor along with the appealing architecture call for artistic appreciation.
The harbor is surrounded by the waning hills of the Pyrenees, complete with terraced vineyards and the traditional tile-roofed, hues of pink and peach, Spanish-Mediterranean architecture influenced buildings that flow down to water’s edge, with “Chateau Royal de Collioure” castle dating back to the 7th century on one side and “Chapelle Saint-Vincent,” “Phare de Collioure,” and the “Eglise Notre Dame des Anges” church all sheltering the opposite side.
After arriving, we walked down to the harbor front and immediately noticed the French naval military training that was occurring; we were told the soldiers were the equivalent of U.S. Navy
Seals, and based on their in-water survival tactic practice we observed, I have no reason to doubt that comparison. We then boarded “Rouissillon II” boat for a harbor tour. Stemming from the aforementioned rain and accompanying breezes, the harbor was less than calm, as our time on the boat was more like a roller coaster ride than a harbor cruise. Nonetheless, the wave swells added to the sense of adventure, and for about an hour we toured in and out of the adjacent harbor villages, observing a famous pink granite light house that is reputed to be visible for up to 50 miles, and harbors where one contains the last remaining monument in France to the ill-fated Louis XVI and another with spectacular caves worn into the cliffs that come down to meet the sea. The cruise was a wild but wonderful treat.
The remainder of our time in Collioure was left for us to explore the seaside village. I began by enjoying a tasty lunch of the harbor’s famous “Anchois de Collioure,” or anchovies as we call them in the U.S. I attribute my less than mainstream enjoyment of anchovies to my father’s Portuguese heritage and seafood love, both of which I inherited. After lunch, I joined the group in walking over to the Eglise and Chapelle I mentioned earlier, and while each was moving to see up close, what struck me as I walked around the harbor front were the numerous empty “picture frames” cast in iron and mounted in vantage points around the harbor; when one looks through the frames, they offer the views that famous Fauvism artists have painted. It is easy to understand why Collioure was and remains a source of inspiration for artists.
Late in the afternoon, we boarded the bus to make the two-hour trip back to Quillan. We’ve just arrived, and I have some time before our final group dinner, which is why I’ve written now versus later. In my final post, I’ll offer reflections on the dinner and the overall pilgrimage experience.