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Helen was quite right in her guess that my French would come back as we left. I was doing pretty well the last two days, so I could truly appreciate things like the interaction at the family-run restaurant we ate at Wednesday night (Maman, Papa, Fille, et their dog Cocoon provided both food and unintentional entertainment).
My French was NOT up to the task of the Smallest, Most Entertaining Museum Ever. As far as we can tell, the musee de Chivalerie in Carcasonne is one man's labor of love, and far from charing us an extra two euro for a guided tour, he gave one whether it was wanted or not. Exuberantly. In full templar kit. This includes thrusting swords at the guests, rushing outside to blow a battle horn, getting Helen and I to stand back to back so he could pantomime tying us up and throwing is over the castle walls ("Cannon balls, they take time to make, they are very expensive. English prisoners, they cost nothing! You are English, yes?"), running back to the door so he could do the same thing for the next group and catch them up to us. A mere description really doesn't do it justice. I caught maybe on word in four, and had the reassurance of knowing that the french group with us wasn't catching it all either. Helen caught about as much as I did just because she knows the history (when you're in a room of bows and he just said agincourt, you can kind of figure out the content). Museum square footage? Not larger than my house. Time spent being entertained by obsessed, animated frenchman in maile? 2 hours.
That museum was totally worth the 5 euro.