An illustrated article on the City of Albi
Introduction
Albi straddles the river Tarn in South-West France. It is in the Tarn Department of the Midi Pyrenees region, en-route from Toulouse to Rodez. The city itself is in a river valley, surrounded by plains, but the red-brick Cathedral of St Cecile looms above it all and is a landmark for miles around.
Albi itself is a city of contrasts. It is a mixture of old and new. A busy dual carriageway by-passes the city centre, with signs to car parks leading off. We parked close to one of the main squares, Place du Vigan. This was a good base from which to explore the city.
Click on any picture to view a larger image (opens a new window at www.flickr.com), or view our complete Albi photoset at www.flickr.com.
Place Du Vigan
Tree-lined Place du Vigan is a vibrant jumble of shuttered Renaissance merchant's mansions inter-mingled with modern glass and concrete office blocks. A children's carousel revolves in one corner; fountains play across the centre.
Lively cafes surround it, in a blend of architectural styles. A gleaming chrome Harley-Davidson, propped outside an art-deco pizza restaurant at the junction of a mediaeval street, epitomised the harmony of ancient and modern.
This is a place to people-watch. Choose your table, order your drinks and sit back.
Old Albi
A network of narrow, mediæval lanes leads westward from the plaza. The buildings here are beautifully preserved, their survival assured by the upmarket boutiques and national chain stores that rent the lower levels, combining 21st century materialism with 15th century architecture. If you are in need to retail therapy, you will not be disappointed as you will find something to suit every budget - but don't forget to look upwards or around corners into hidden mediaeval courtyards. Old Albi is shyer than its brash modern counterpart, but deserves to be explored.
The Cathedral St Cécile
The lanes meander towards the Cathedral, and what a magnificent Cathedral it is! Ste Cécile dominates the entire city. It is a massive gothic edifice, with walls of stark red brick. It took two centuries to build and reflects the supremacy of Catholicism after the struggles against the Cathars. Externally it appears severe and forbidding.
Inside, the contrast with the exterior is startling. You need to take a deep breath and rub your eyes … it is a frenzy of colour. Gazing in awe at the Italian Renaissance frescos on the ceiling, the sculptures of saints and angels in the Choir, and the huge mural of the Last Judgement, it seems that every available inch of space has been painted, polished or sculpted. There is detail, there is glory, there is beauty, there is drama, all hidden within a shell of unforgiving, unrelenting brick.
Outside in Place Ste Cécile, paying homage to the Cathedral at a respectful distance, are shops and restaurants serving the tourists. Here you can sit and view the cathedral from every angle: reflected in the windows of the cafés; stamped onto T-shirts; snapped into postcards; crumpled onto bags. The permanence of the old superimposed on the transience of the new. We ate in one of the restaurants; the set menu was fairly basic, designed with speed in mind rather than quality, but the location made up for any short-comings here.
Toulouse Lautrec Museum
On the north side of Place Ste Cécile is a shrine to Albi's son, Toulouse Lautrec. This is the world's largest collection of the artist's pictures, housed in the crumbling 13th century Palais de la Berbie. Here, in shabby rooms where the paint on the walls is flaking, you view art of undisputable genius. As you wind your way down narrow stairs and venture into ill-lit corners, you find small sketches, forgotten works by a much-lauded master. The building is a strange hotch potch; you begin in a modernised gallery area, displaying some marvellous portraits, but then wander through unkempt, dark, uncared for galleries,. You have to hunt for the gems, but there are many to be found.
Albi believes that Toulouse Lautrec needs a more fitting home. When you zig-zag down to the formal gardens below the Palais, your eye is drawn to cranes and scaffolding. Part of the building is being restored to create a new museum, the site hidden by hoardings decorated with extracts from Toulouse Lautrec's work. You cannot wander round the gardens themselves; these have to be viewed from the steps or from a tree-lined walkway that leads you to the river. And above it all, Ste Cécile stands guard over her people.
The River Tarn
Turning your back on the cathedral and looking out across the river Tarn to the 18th century suburb of La Madeline, you get the impression that all is red. Blood red. Ochre, carmine and terracotta jostle for position in this city whose name means white and whose fortune was built on the trade of blue woad - but whose legacy is the spilled blood of the Cathar Wars. The much-restored Pont Vieux straddles the river, as it has done for a millennium. Tourists cram onto flat-bottomed barges for a better view, regiments of digital cameras clicking away, modern media capturing the ancient city for posterity.
A city of contrasts
Albi is a city of contrasts where old and new, harsh and gentle blend together. Seedy side streets lead into bright squares; forbidding exteriors are relieved by colour within; great paintings sit against crumbling walls. It is a warm, laid back city. The southern sun mellows the severity of the brick. The city is comfortable with its heritage and relaxed about its future. It is worn around the edges but it does not care.
Page created 15 July 2007