The R11 Regional train heads northeast from Barcelona, past Girona, past Figueres to Portbou just on the Spanish side of the French border. After a short stop, the train heads through a tunnel, and this Spanish train ends its run in the French border town of Cerebere. There a group of uniformed French officials standing on the station platform met the arriving passengers and thoroughly checked passports. Inside the station, I bought a round-trip ticket on the French SNCF train heading north. I wasn’t going far, just to the next station: Banyuls sur Mer (Banyuls on the sea).

It is a small town of about five thousand residents. It is quiet and French. I did not hear any other language spoken as I wandered around town. There is a tourist office, and one of those “tourist trains”. But, I guess they are all French tourists! 🙂





A fish market and bakery

This town is definitely in “wine country”. At the time the prospect seemed a bit heavy, but in retrospect, I should have bought a couple of bottles to take back!


First-line restaurants.


Like “Fanta Orange” in Spain, “Orangina” is a soft drink that includes real orange juice (rather that those horrible flavoring chemicals in American orange soda!) It tastes different than Spanish Fanta Orange, but both are very good! And the view was lovely!


“Pierre” is of course, my name in French. But this does not mean “Danger, falling Peters”. It actually is warning about falling rocks!




As the train was nearing this town, I had noticed from the window that there was a cemetery that reminded me of the one we had toured in New Orleans. So later in the afternoon I set out to find it. Using the most basic pieces of French I know, I saw a woman on a chair in front of a small shop. I told her that I don’t speak French and asked her if she speaks English or Spanish. Uh, no, she didn’t. So I asked where the cemetery is. She replied ” which one? There are three”. With a few words and some gestures I conveyed that I had seen one from the train. Right away she knew which one I sought. She pointed down the street, said a few sentences that included the words for right and left, and I was on my way!



Near the train station there was some agricultural land.

The French train was actually quite nice compared with the Spanish regional one I had been on heading from Barcelona. Based on some strange arrangement between the French and Spanish railway systems, the Spanish train heading north can cross the border and drop the passengers off inside France. Heading south, it is the reverse. The French train crosses the border and drops everyone in Portbou.


But before leaving France there was another passport check.
From Portbou, back to Barcelona on Renfe!

Banyuls sur Mer has definitely been added to my “go back and visit again” list!