A quick trip to the south of France

It seemed an awful irony to be travelling in the south of France with a gastric upset. But there we were, in the land of cassoulet and tarte tatin, and I couldn't eat! We were there for just two days of meetings, and it was still a pleasure, despite the stomach turmoil.
Our first meeting was on Monday near Carcassonne, so we spent Sunday night in that marvellous medieval city. Our hotel was an elegant chambre d'hote, our host a most accommodating man who recommended several restaurants in the walled city - but it was a Sunday night in January and we were two of perhaps a mere 6 tourists in town. Not much was open, so we settled for a cozy little bistrot and Gary tucked into the cassoulet while I watched, sipping a glass of the local red.

Tuesday's meeting was at Goult  in Provence, so we drove east again on Monday afternoon, stopping in pretty Roussillon for the night. Another lovely hotel, le Clos de la Glycine, and an upgrade to a beautiful room, in classic provencal style, with simple painted furniture and a truly wonderful view down the valley over the ochre cliffs for which Roussillon is famous. We didn't have time to explore, sadly, but have made a note to return. Instead, we strolled through the narrow streets of the village just after sunset, when the ochre glow was fading from the walls and houses, and then returned for another solitary dinner in the hotel's superb restaurant. Gary was happy with his five course meal - mine was a bowl of lentil soup...
Our meeting in Goult was at the famous Cafe de la Poste. Famous, apparently, because Peter Mayle ate there - but fortunately on this January Tuesday, there were only locals, celebrating the cafe's re-opening after the Christmas break. We joined them, drinking endless cups of espresso (for once grateful that French espressos are so terribly weak) and then finally the plat du jour, a hearty portion of chicken breast, fries, and pureed vegetables - washed down, of course, with a bottle of Luberon red.