Get in the Boot!

We have been keen to have the gates at either end of our little street removed as some of the locals had decided to use it as a pissoire, perhaps whilst they were fishing on the cale. As mentioned earlier, they had been installed as part of the Fete de l’Insolite which was in early July. Despite a visit to the Office de Tourisme, they remained in situ. Until… One morning our doorbell rang. We were still in our PJs, upstairs in the sunroom having breakfast. It rang again and so Fran hurriedly pulled on some shorts and a jumper, and before opening our gate enquired “Who is it?” The male voice replied “ La Gendarmerie Madame“. Not wishing to get on the wrong side of the law (although there was some fear that he had heard about Fran’s exploits on the roundabout!!) Fran duly unlatched the heavy gate. A very handsome young gendarme asked whether she knew anything about the mirrors in the street being scratched. Fran could not help him with his enquiries but proceeded to explain that we would like the doors taken away and Voila! - three days later they had disappeared. Ah ... the power of a smile!

We have just returned from travelling south to the Mediterranean for a mini break by the sea. Whilst the distance doesn’t seem far - around 400 km - it is a long way travelling at speeds of up to 130 km per hour whilst dodging trucks and cars entering the autoroutes. As the autoroute on which we were travelling neared the coast, the traffic slowed dramatically, bumper to bumper for several kms and we started to wonder whether this is the norm on the French seaside routes in the height of summer. It was caused by the confluence of two major auto routes, one heading south to Spain and the Costa Brava and the other heading east to Montpellier, Marseilles and the Cote d’Azur. Fortunately (?) cars resumed their harrowing speeds after that point, hurtling onwards to their particular seaside destination.

We had decided to stay at Sete, an interesting fishing port town, located almost on an island, famous amongst other things for les joutes nautiques. Two teams of men, dressed in white pants, and shirts under which is a long sleeved blue and white striped t-shirt, row towards each other on the main canal in town. On each team there is a man standing at the highest point of the boat holding a shield and a lance. As the boats meet, the jouster readies himself to tackle his opponent, unbalance him and effectively “knock him off his perch” into the water. It was certainly an entertaining spectator sport, although we both thought that it looked fraught with danger. The men seated below the jouster are also at risk of getting toppled. At the front of each boat sit two musicians wearing boater hats, one playing a trumpet and the other a drum.

It's best to be a musician in Sete!

The whole sport is really quite amazing. Apparently in August during the Fete de St Louis which lasts for several days, les joutes nautiques are a major drawcard, IF you’re lucky enough to score accommodation and brave enough to bring a car into the town.

Fran in jousting gear

We ate and drank well there - lots of wonderful seafood, including bulots (sea snails), huitres (oysters) and moules (mussels). We had originally booked for two nights, but as the drive was relatively long and costly (tolls on the French auto routes add up!) we decided to extend our stay, but move to another interesting town nearby - Agde, close to the Canal de Midi - and stay at Hotel Le Donjon. With a name like that, it was a risk, but one that was touted in the Lonely Planet as a good choice and right in the middle of the historic old town and beside the Cathedral (another risk, knowing the noise church bells can make by day and night). In its time the hotel had been a convent and then a coaching inn.

What we hadn’t been prepared for was that a rock concert was scheduled that evening on the river, located not much more than 50 metres from the hotel. Consequently many of the roads had been blocked off. To get to the hotel required some negotiation including travelling across the bridge and then coming back before taking an alley to the right. Fran was providing some navigation tips having long since abandoned Karen who had gone into meltdown or was sulking (one of the two). Adrian did well to ignore one of Fran’s tips which, unbeknown to her, was going the wrong way up a one way street. As she took on the persona of Frantic Fran, Adrian calmly enquired “Would you like to get in the backseat?…or perhaps the boot”?

We finally made it to the hotel only to find we had a front row room for the evening’s concert. That is also when Adrian realised (or admitted) that he was feeling really sick. He had a fever, nausea and stomach ache. Add to this, a stiflingly hot room, a noisy rock band whose tunes (?) were accompanied each hour by the tolling of the church bells and … you get the picture.

As Fran was concerned that Adrian might "cark it", she ventured to the front desk to get the phone numbers of the local hospitals. The man at the desk must have wondered what sort of callous wife she was, as not more than 15 minutes later, the same previously worried madame was jauntily taking herself out for dinner (with Adrian’s blessing as he couldn’t eat and she had eaten little all day). We were both anxious about the trip home. Fran had offered to take the wheel to allow him to recuperate, but the thought of her driving at 130 kph on the wrong side of the road was enough to speed Adrian’s recovery. Well…he put on a good act anyway.

We are enjoying a quiet day today, recuperating, reading and relaxing. Fran is doing some French homework having started lessons two weeks ago with a delightful local woman in her 60's. She lives in the woods behind Duravel, the next town west along the river. The lessons are one on one and consist of conversation, interspersed with grammar and vocabulary. Slow progress is being made.

Fire and rain

Our most recent visitors arrived on Tuesday evening last week - Bob and Pam. We collected them from Cahors railway station and managed to comfortably fit their luggage into C3’s boot although they were left nursing the parcel tray in the back seat.

Here we are having lunch in our courtyard.

During their stay, Cahors was hosting the 28th Cahors Blues Festival offering a free concert on the Wednesday. We made time for a wander around Cahors, Fran and Pam forging ahead of the men, up one street and down the next, looking for a restaurant listed in the Lonely Planet. When we found it, the staff were all outside having a drink and a smoke so we guessed we might have been a bit early. After visiting the St Etienne Cathedral and Cloister , we found a little bar in the cool of one of the narrow little streets in the old town as by then, we had all worked up a thirst, enjoying a cold drink and tapas. A nice meal at Le Lamparo (the staff were now back in the kitchen and behind the bar) followed by a digestif on the house, Calvados - delicious, and then we scampered back to the concert venue arriving minutes before the second band - Le Swing Machine - was due to play. It was packed, but being optimistic (and tinny) Fran went straight for some seats she could see and although the 4 of us could not sit together we found 2x2, grabbing them tres vite.

The weather was absolutely superb, warm and still (apologies to family and friends in SE Australia). The band members, all 17 + of them were bedecked in yellow blazers with black shirts and pants and the sound was pretty impressive. Throughout each number one musician would nonchalantly wander to the front, grab a mike, play a solo for a couple of minutes, bow graciously to the applause and even more nonchalantly wander back to their place with the others - alto and tenor saxophone, trumpet and euphonium. Even the conductor had a go, playing the flute very well. The band was joined in the second half by Shanna Waterstown, a blues singer from the US with a big voice.

The next day we took off on a tour of some more of the pretty villages nearby - Goujounac, Les Arques and Lherm. Les Arques is famous for the creative works of Ossip Zadkin, on show inside and outside the Church with more on display inside the museum. However, unfortunately we arrived at the door to the museum one minute before it closed for two hours over lunch. Despite the fact that the town was very quiet - perhaps 8 tourists (and a cat) - 4 of whom were at his door and very keen, the curator shut!! Oh well, C’est la vie, or perhaps C‘est la vie francaise. What we did see of Zadkin’s sculptures were unusual and impressive (see photo of sculpture of Mary and Christ, a modern version of Michelangelo’s Pieta). We also checked out the menu for the restaurant in Les Arques called La Recreation which features prominently in the travel book called “From here you can’t see Paris” - looks good and we may venture back there one day for a long, lazy summer lunch as it’s only 30 minutes away. Afterwards, we paid a visit to Lherm (below right) hoping for a picnic spot in the shade and by a river or stream (not asking much) but no luck. So on we went to Le Lac Vert near Cazals - a popular swimming hole - where we enjoyed a picnic lunch - bread, cheese, sausage - complete with a bottle of local white wine. En route home we tried unsuccessfully to find La Plage aux Pterosaures - allegedly one of the most important paleontological sites in the world with fossilised tracks of 50 species of animals who lived in the area 140 million years ago. We know the site exists as a tourist site because Fran had spoken on the phone to someone there to find out … when they closed for lunch!

The next day was overcast and rainy and so we headed underground to another of the amazing Grottes for which this part of France is renowned, this one, La Grotte de Cougnac, close to the town of Gourdon. It is billed as having one of the most amazing cave ceilings in France, with thousands of long needle-like stalactites. Whilst there were prehistoric paintings similar to those at Pech Merle, they were neither as impressive nor as many. Afterwards a walk through the town of Gourdon which probably warrants a further look at some stage.

That evening was to be la piece de resistance - dinner, music and fireworks in a wonderful setting - at the medieval Chateau de Bonaguil, featured in an earlier blog entry. Pam and Fran were keeping a close eye on the sky and as the afternoon passed, they were convinced that the worst of the weather was over. And besides … we had visions of us dining in style in one of the grand salles in the Chateau as we had been told that the meal would be inside. Hmmm…. !

Chateau de Bonaguil between rain storms

No sooner had we been allocated our seats on long trestle tables outside at the bottom of the hill below the chateau, than it started to rain. The locals were smart - they had brought their wet weather gear and their umbrellas. It was such a pity as the setting was beautiful. Fran managed to grab one of the few large umbrellas made available by the organisers but our backs were still catching the drips and the weather wasn’t too warm. Not to worry - there were enough reasonably dry spells between courses for us to eat and enjoy a delicious meal and afterwards we retired to the warmth of the car to wait for the fireworks spectacular, the carpark offering an excellent vantage point. Set amid the ruins of the Chateau and accompanied by the uplifting strains of music by Bach, Mozart and Verdi, the fireworks offered a wonderful spectacle, accompanied by the story of the Chateau (we think) narrated over a loud speaker. It was a late night. Bob and Pam left us the next day after very little sleep, heading for a week’s walking in Corsica.

As for us, we have had a few lazy days because the heat has returned - around 38 degrees on Monday, watching the Tour de France live on TV and enjoying another swim at the waterhole near Montcuq. We are planning to go to a tango night this evening at the local community hall featuring demonstrations by dancers from Buenos Aires followed by a bal (dance). Should be fun.

And the fleas that tease in the high Pyrenees

We realised that we have not included a photo of the front of our house in this blog. In this photo our house is in the centre at the front with our silver C3 parked in front of it. The open space near the river is the cale (old dock). Our house was previously a warehouse used to store wine prior to shipment on the river to Bordeaux and beyond.

A few days after La Fete de L’Insolite we drove north to Sarlat-le-Caneda in the Dordogne valley to spend the day with Canberra friends Pam and Bob. We navigated to within 80 metres of their cottage but even with Karen’s help we could not find it. She had Adrian running around the square and streets like a blue-arsed fly. Fran remained stationary and used a more reliable method - the mobile phone! After making contact with Pam and Bob we checked out the Sarlat market and then took a guided tour of the medieval town before enjoying a delicious lunch.

We then drove to several interesting sites around Sarlat. Les jardins suspendus de Marqueyssac are a stunning tribute to the art of topiary as you can see from the photo. We then travelled on to Domme, via Roque Gageac which lies along the banks of the Dordogne River below Marqueyssac and was originally a troglodyte village. Domme is a bastide town (that is, a walled or otherwise fortified town dating from around the 13th century). It was very touristy and busy so we only stayed a short while. On returning to the car we realised that Karen was no longer with us - Quel horreur… Mon Dieu!! Karen was lost! Adrian assumed that she had fallen out of his pocket at some point and was resigned to the fact that we would now have to navigate the rest of our holiday alone. We retraced our steps to Marqueyssac and on arrival Adrian checked the boot. Voila - there she was, thoughtlessly tossed into one of our sacs. We were so glad to find her again that we promised that we would never call her names or be rude to her again … but that didn’t last long because she continued to give us dodgy directions. On the way home from Sarlat Fran took a turn at driving and astounded the locals by reversing backwards through a roundabout.

Our next adventure was a trip to the Pyrenees to see a stage of the Tour de France (The heading of this blog is from the poem Tarantella by Hilaire Belloc. Adrian studied this poem at school and since then has always wanted to go to the Pyrenees). We wanted to witness a mountain stage of Le Tour because we thought the riders would be struggling up the mountain and wouldn’t zoom past too quickly. After a reconnaissance of the area the day before we opted to drive to the small village of Arreau, located about 60 km from Tarbes where were staying. We planned to walk as far as our legs would carry us up Le col d’Aspin - a 12 km climb to the summit. We managed to get halfway - our feet got a bit sore and we knew that what goes up must come back down. We decided on a spot just above a switchback so that we could see the road below us as well as the road next to us. The atmosphere amongst the spectators was jovial and as we draped a big Aussie flag over a shrub nearby and were waving our small Aussie flags, we were a somewhat unusual element amongst them.

Looking back towards the village of Arreau

Soon after we arrived the caravan of vehicles - team cars, press cars, VIP cars, vans, trucks, floats and motorbikes - which precede the cyclists on each stage, started their ascent of the mountain with horns blaring. As they travelled past the throngs of spectators the passengers were throwing out freebies of all sorts - fridge magnets, crackers, lollies, mini umbrellas, hats, bags, key rings, team jerseys (the caisse d’epagne team only) and even liquid washing detergent. We scored quite a bit of stuff, all completely worthless. Look out for this stuff on eBay! An announcement was made that the riders were just 6 minutes away. After 10 minutes an eerie hush fell over the crowd as everyone strained to see the first glimpses of the lead cyclists. The first sign was a line of 5 helicopters that flew slowly past, one after the other. Then we could see a lone helicopter hovering and slowly moving up towards us. Then a series of motorbikes, mainly police bikes, roared past. Finally we could see the lead riders - about 7 - all working hard. All attention was on them as they pedalled around the switch back and up towards us. And then the peleton came into view followed by official cars, TV motorbikes and team cars. It became a hectic flurry of bikes and cars and motorbikes and shouting and cheering and waving. And then it was suddenly over. But what a memorable experience!

No sooner had the cyclists passed everyone started the long trek down the mountain. We had only gone about 20 metres when a car with two people in it slowly threaded its way through the people. It had its window open. Fran commented - “Gee it would be nice to have a lift” . The woman must have heard her as the car stopped and the driver, who was English offered us a ride to the bottom. He said “Are you English?” We replied “No, Aussie”. He said “Close enough - my daughter’s married to an Australian. Hop in.” What a bonus, as by this stage it was quite hot and it would have taken us 2 hours to get back to Arreau.

The next day we travelled to Lourdes, a site of religious pilgrimage for Catholics and renowned for its “holy water”. A huge, impressive Cathedral is built above a grotto where it is believed that a local girl , Bernadette, saw several apparitions of the Virgin Mary. It attracts people from all over the world seeking to be healed from their illnesses. We had a drink of the holy water from one of the taps (note the freebie King of the Mountain polka-dot hat).

We arrived home late but unfortunately did not have the energy to attend a Bastille Day village party in the town square, opting for a quiet evening enjoying our beautiful view over the river and a glass of chilled wine. C’est la belle vie!

La Fete de L'Insolite

It was with some trepidation that we prepared to go out to our first social engagement at a French person’s home. Having read all sorts of advice on etiquette regarding what to do, what not to do, whether or not to bring a gift and if so, what, etc, we were in fear of offending our hosts. However, when we arrived Norah and Benoit made us feel very comfortable, we got our first double-cheeked kiss and we had a really enjoyable evening. After aperitifs in their garden they took us on a tour of their village, Luzech, telling us some of its history. Luzech is located in the tightest loop of the Lot river. When the river was the major means of transportation in the 19th century, negotiation was very hazardous. Norah explained that the tiny church located along the curve of the river was where the locals prayed for the safe return of the brave batelieres (boatmen). As a solution to this problem, a canal was built thereby bypassing the big loop around the town. The canal has been since filled in and is now the main street. The evening extended beyond aperitifs. After the village tour we were served a four-course dinner which we were not expecting. Norah went to a lot of trouble and is a very good cook. Fran’s dietary requirements presented few problems, although she missed out on a delicious home made apple tart, enjoying pear ice-cream instead. We plan to return the hospitality in the weeks ahead.

Following the installation of the doors at each end of our street which was re-named La rue des Reflets, various mirrors were attached to the stone walls together with some unusual decorations such as wicker furniture, bundles of long thin branches and various wall hangings and paintings. As the “keepers of the street” we were charged by the festival organisers to lock it at both ends before we went to sleep each night and then open it up again when we woke up. Outside on the cale, a flag pole had been erected. Other streets had been decorated in different themes with one being La Rue des synonyms, and another La Rue des voiles (veils). Other unusual sculptures and objets d’art were strategically placed in the squares, streets and the primary school yard. The weekend started with a Bienvenue drink and nibblies in the square outside the Mairie. We joined in with the locals and other visitors and tourists. The atmosphere was enlivened by a drum and percussion group, although their playing went on for so long that most people drifted off to hook into the free food and wine.

The main event to which we had bought tickets kicked off at 7:00 on Saturday evening in the Place de la Cale with a concert involving children, teenagers and adults. The adults play involved a character who had had his head chopped off. When he came onstage, they had a meal while discussing his predicament, during which time they poured his soup down his neck through a funnel. It was very funny, if somewhat unusual. (That's the door to our cellar in the background.)

At that hour the sun was still high in the sky and quite hot. Long trestle tables and chairs had been set up and people grabbed a seat wherever they could find one. After much deliberation we sat next to a couple in their 60s. They were there on their own, rather than with their families or friends. As expected they were French and spoke no English. Communication was challenging but we managed to chat thanks to Fran’s basic but adequate French. Fran managed to understand a little of what was said although as the man had a David Boon moustache, no lip reading was possible. They lived in Cahors, 30 km away, and had both retired. Previously they had lived in Paris. Fran recognised the lady on her other side as the woman who had served us a few days ago at the Patisserie. She spoke French more slowly and the communication was far easier. We shared some jokes about our difficulties with the French language and Fran told them about her haircut “with nappies”, which they found quite amusing.

The meal was very unusual. We started with a local apperitif which has nuts as one of its ingredients, served with a packet of cracker biscuits, followed by half a melon, then some haricot beans and pork strips in a bowl, followed by some barbecued lamb (not the best we’ve tasted). Dessert was two nectarines each. Of course, bread and wine accompanied the meal.

The piece de resistance took place after dark at about 10:30 p.m. It was a pretty amazing spectacle with fireworks and actors on bouncy stilts wearing bizarre costumes and makeup. The area outside our house provided the major stage, with lots of smoke billowing from the fireworks. We were glad that we had opted to attend the event although, as we had left our kitchen window ajar, we thought that the smoke detector might go off and add an extra element of theatre. Not to worry - the pompiers were close at hand. To close the evening there was a presentation of historical images of Puy l’Eveque. These were projected on the wall below our bedroom window, which you can see in the photo below on the right with smoke everywhere.

The festival continued throughout the next day and we attended a musical concert in the little church nearby featuring two guitarists and a female singer. One of the guitarists also sang with very interesting harmony and rhythm. About 200 chairs were set up on the cale for another concert involving drums and percussion on the stage (which used to be an old loading dock) directly under our bedroom window. This photo was taken from the window.

Time flies

Early on in our stay here we met, and quickly became friends with a very nice couple called Pauline and Paul. They are from Perth and were staying in a cottage close by. Their cottage was the one that initially attracted Fran to Puy l'Eveque when she spotted it on the net. We enjoyed several apperitif evenings swapping travel stories and chatting. Unfortunately, though, they were only staying here for one month before moving on to another cottage further south which they did a few days after Gina and Phil left. We continue to enjoy sauntering around our village which appears to have picked up a bit more liveliness recently with new shops opening almost every day. One day whilst walking up the Grand Rue we heard a brass band playing in Place Mercadial (the old square). We stopped and had a drink and listened to them. They were a group of Dutch students on their first "international tour", having been booked to play at a local camping ground that services Dutch campers. But they wanted to play in a "city" and had chosen Puy l'Eveque. Their audience totalled eight - including us! But they were pretty good and put on an amusing show. We got talking to another couple there, Norah (Hungarian) and Benoit (French) who are currently staying in a nearby village before moving to Paris with work. We chatted in both French and English with some helpful hints on vocabulary and pronunciation both ways. They invited us over for an apperitif later this week, which we are looking forward to as it is our first social invitation from a local person.

We also managed another trip to Montauban to restock our gluten-free supplies, this time stopping to look at the sights of Montauban and yet another amazing cathedral. We had lunch in the main square (pictured above). En route chez nous (home) we stopped off at a swimming hole near Montcuq. The swimming hole is a dam about 300 metres long by about 100 metres wide, with an artificial sandy beach and large grassy areas shaded by big trees. Quite pleasant.

Further to our story about being sought out by the paparazzi, we can report that we have now graced the pages of La Depeche, a daily newspaper covering the Midi-Pyrenees region. However the caption for the photo says “Victor and Corinne standing behind some tourists”. Not quite the headlines we were hoping for as the article reports on the opening of Le Salon Gourmand and refers to us as mere tourists - rather than as inhabitants of the village. Here is a link to the article. Click on the link if you want to see it.

http://www.ladepeche.fr/article/2009/06/21/627441-Puy-L-eveque-Un-salon-gourmand-d-ou-l-on-peut-tout-emporter.html

Our next visitors were Heather and Bill and their daughter Caitlin. They arrived after a long trip from Montpellier with some sightseeing along the way at the Millau Bridge (the highest vehicular bridge in the world) and Conques, another stopover for medieval pilgrims on their way to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. The following day was a quiet one, spent showing them around our village and introducing them to the glaces at Victor’s Le Salon Gourmand for which we have developed a strong liking. We are sure that Victor will be very sorry to see Heather, Bill and Caitlin leave as, with them, we were steadily making our way through the various parfums (flavours) on his ice cream menu.

We spent a day canoeing and kayaking on the Lot river. Great fun, but quite hot and, as there is little flow in this river, we were pleased that we had opted for the 12km option rather than 18 km. The shorter trip meant that we had to disembark and carry the canoes past only one weir rather than two! Here is Heather, Caitlin and Bill on the river with a weir in the background. We didn’t swim along the way even though the canoe-man maintained that the river is fine for swimming and cleaner than the sea - hmm! Bill spotted a small snake swimming across the river, at which point Caitlin decided it was a good thing we hadn't stopped for a swim.

With Heather, Bill and Caitlin, we made another trip to see the cave paintings at Pech Merle and to visit St Cirq Lapopie. Along the way we had a picnic at a village called Vers, next to this lovely little stream where the local kids were taking a dip. The weather has turned very hot, with the hottest part of the day around 4 p.m. Mornings, though, are cool. We also enjoyed another meal at the Creperie, again on a beautiful night with the street lights replacing the fading sunlight as we looked across the river at the medieval buildings of Puy l'Eveque.

We have seen several hot air balloons above the river outside our house in both the morning and the evenings as there is virtually no breeze. In France they are called montgolfiers, and are namd after French brothers - Joseph and Etienne Montgolfier. Stories about how they made their discovery vary widely, but one of them is that whilst working in their father’s paper mill they observed how paper rose in the updraft of the chimney. They conducted experiments with silk bags, noting that by filling a large bag with hot air it would rise (source: Le Forty-Six No. 28). This photo was taken from our bedroom window at about 7:30 a.m.

Although we look out over the cale and the Lot river, our street (Rue des Cloutiers) is actually a very narrow one that runs along the side of our house and courtyard. It is only about 2 metres wide at its widest and about 50 metres long. Over the last 2 days two wooden doors have been installed at either end of our street. They look quite incongruous. As our house is the only one with an entrance from that street, we were intrigued and started to formulate all sorts of theories as to why the doors were put there …
1. They were going to use it to store the fireworks for the forthcoming Fete de l’Insolite (Festival of the Unusual) - fantastic!!
2, They were planning to lock the etrangers in, so they wouldn’t have to put up with our bad French and faux pas!
3. They have decided to extend our estate so that we could use the whole street - not sure for what purpose though, perhaps an extended washing line?

This morning as Heather, Bill and Caitlin were leaving, a local arrived and started some sign-writing on the gate that faces the river. It reads - La Rue des Reflets (The Street of Reflections). Apparently this weekend (La Fete de l’Insolite) there is to be a big spectacle on the cale outside our house, with street theatre, fireworks and a slideshow of historical images of the village from 1900. A meal will also be served, but we were told places are limited so we must act tres vite. Further conversation revealed that our street will have mirrors installed along it and those attending the festivities will pass along it to enter the event. We suspect the mirrors might be like those at Luna Park that distort your figure. As the organisers are hoping for 250 attendees - that’s a lot of traffic past our door and a lot of Bon Soirs as they pass our window. So we decided to attend the event as well and scampered to the Office de Tourisme (tres vite) and bought our tickets.

From Bach to Blood, Sweat and Tears

We have been touring the local area, encountering lots of pretty towns and photogenic countryside. We visited the 13th century fortress Bonaguil which is a massive castle which the local people are trying to restore. It will be a huge job because during the French Revolution the towers were dismantled, the materials were carried off and the place was sacked and left to decay. Nevertheless, the façade is impressive. We were going to hire some canoes and paddle down the Lot River but the weather looked suspect in the morning so we decided to go underground again. We drove to Pech Merle a cave system that was discovered in 1929 and contains rock paintings which are about 25,000 years old. There were also some human footprints in the mud that were a mere 12,000 years old, which really impressed us. Then we went on to St Cirq Lapopie - a town similar to Rocamadour but much more attractive in many respects and the vistas to the valley below even more dramatic. Karen took us on some back roads (again) but we forgave her because we came across a red deer in a field.

We said goodbye to Gina and Phil the next morning at Cahors train station. They were off to chateau country in the Loire Valley for a few days before heading to Paris for their final week in Europe. After bidding them adieu we headed for St Etienne Cathedral in Cahors for a jazz vocal concert in the Cloister due to start at 11:00. There were 8 singers, 3 men and 5 women - a capella (no accompaniment). Their repertoire was mainly African music from the Congo, Tanzania and South Africa. A really interesting sound, although unfortunately their encore - Thank you Lord - went a bit off the rails as they changed key several times, but at different times! Nevertheless an enjoyable musical experience.

The summer solstice in France is celebrated with music in towns and villages across the country. Some of the smaller ones like Puy l’Eveque celebrate a week earlier because they can‘t compete for the performers. The big show around here is in Cahors, 32 km from us. We went there and it was a good night. Lots of people of all ages, including many families were out and about, and there were bands and musical groups every 100 metres along the main boulevard, at some times just a cacophony of sound. After dinner we again headed for the Cathedral to hear some sacred music, a vocal group of about 40, singing unaccompanied., interspersed by organ music - Bach, Haydn and Rachmaninov(?) were three of the composers that we picked up in the commentary, as well as one piece by Handel that Fran used to sing. Heading back to our car Adrian picked up the unmistakable brassy strains of Blood , Sweat and Tears. The band was so good that we stayed until they finished playing. They also played some Chicago and other big-band numbers - great music from the 70's. Another late night - after 1:30.

Today we took to the hills to do one of the self guided walking trails around the small village of Castelfranc several kms from us and also sited on the Lot River. It was rated “easy” - 6 km, estimated time to complete 1 hour 40 minutes…but no one warned us about the European wasps that would harass us most of the way!! One got up close and personal with Adrian, stinging him on the hand. After that we weren’t game to stop for long to look at the scenery, because they got a bit feisty when we stopped walking. We think we set a new record for that walking trail.

There are vineyards in the surrounding countryside as far as the eye can see. When we went to the winery that had offered us a free gift nobody was home. So we went to the winery where our local restaurant buys its white wine and bought 5 litres. Wine containers in France are somewhat different to what we’re used to and the wine is cheap and good. We are quaffing more than we would at home.

Here is Fran with some of our empties.

Au revoir

Roll out the barrel

Our first Australian visitors, good friends Gina and Phil, arrived on Sunday and we met them at the Cahors train station. They had travelled from Carcassonne. It was great to see someone so familiar in such unfamiliar surroundings. We somehow packed them and their luggage into C3 and headed off on the half-hour journey home. As we pointed out things of interest along the way we realised that, in the short time we had been here, we had acquired quite a bit of local knowledge. We were all quite excited as we chatted about our different travel experiences and compared notes about the places we’d visited.

We had intended to go to a market on the way to the station but Fran went to Mass first and, due to some christenings and some First Holy Communions, she had got more than her money’s worth. By the time we reached home from the station, all the shops were shut, so we made a scratch meal out of biscuits and sausage, jambon, fromage and tomatoes, and then headed off to Grezels, a nearby village. Fran had discovered that they were holding the 5th Annual Wine Festival and that the program included the first Championship of Barrel Rollers - Exceptionnel dans la region! The competition was listed as kicking off at 3:00 p.m. with registration from 10-2 and practice from 2:30 p.m. This sounded like it might be fun. When we arrived in Grezels, the event was being held on a lovely grassy open space in the village. There was a display of historical cars and tractors, and various tents selling wine, wine and more wine. And there were a few other tents selling fresh fruits from the region, pastries, and other delicacies. Fran even recognised that the man selling sausages was our sausage man from the market at Cahors. The barrel rolling course was marked out with ropes and flags.

We bought a glass each for 2 euros and proceeded with the wine tasting. We’re not sure whether Fran read the program correctly as by 3:00 p.m. there was very little action on the barrel rolling course. But by 4 o’clock, everyone had finished their wine (except the 4 Aussies) and the event got underway. It consisted of teams of 2, rolling a big wine-barrel down the course. Initially, the casks were rolled on their edge for about 10 metres, then they were tipped onto their side and rolled up a plank and over a small log, down the other side, and then helter skelter in a straight line for a further 30 metres. There were 5 heats each of 3 teams, then a semi-final and a final. It was pretty funny because the barrels would not roll straight and the faster the teams tried to go, the more crooked the barrels would roll. There were continual cries of Garde la publique, Garde la publique from the MC as the barrels became lethal objects, careering off the course as the rollers struggled to keep them under control, falling over, leaping up and somehow managing to get to the finishing line. It was great fun watching the crowds scatter to avoid being crushed and everyone was laughing and shouting and having a good time. The winning team was presented with a huge bottle of wine, and the second and third placegetters also received prizes. Unfortunately our camera ran out of batteries and we didn’t capture any photos. Gina did, but we haven’t worked out how to upload them from her camera yet.

The next day the weather wasn’t as nice so we spent the day showing our visitors around our village and having some quiet time. However, the paparazzi spotted us having a quiet coffee at Le Salon Gourmand (again) and insisted taking our photo for inclusion in the next edition of the paper. We’re not sure which paper he was working for but have a sneaking suspicion that we might be the cover story of The Barista Monthly or some such similar (high-circulation) journal.

The following day involved a trip to the Gouffre de Padirac and Rocamadour. The Gouffre is an enormous sink hole about 75 metres deep and 30 metres wide, with an underground river and cave system at its bottom. You descend in a lift and then walk through the caves until you get to the river which is about 100 metres underground. You then hop into little boats (each holding about ten people) and are gondoliered about 500 m to a big grotto where guides take over and explain all the features of the river, height of ceiling, stalactites and stalagmites, etc. Unfortunately the guides didn’t have much English so we didn’t understand much of what they were explaining, although Fran picked up a lttle. It was pretty impressive though and we all enjoyed the experience.

We then had lunch at a nearby café and drove about 15 km to Rocamadour. It is a tiny town but its claim to fame is the way it apparently clings to the side of cliff. We were expecting hordes of tourists here but were pleasantly surprised to find relatively few people. The town itself is on the old pilgrim route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Its main building is the Chapelle Notre Dame (dating from about the 12th century) which sits at the top of the Grand Escalier (Big Staircase). Pilgrims used to undergo penance by climbing the 200 odd steps on their knees. We used our feet but our knees weren’t feeling too good either by the time we reached the top. We then continued up a zig-zag walkway, which had sculptured scenes of the stations-of-the-cross at each of the zigs. On the way home Karen misbehaved badly and we now have a serious breakdown in our relationship with her.

Fran and Gina on the Grand Escalier

There was a market in Cahors the following day so after a leisurely breakfast we decided to check it out. It had the, by now, familiar, hustle and bustle of a good French market. We stocked up on lots of fruit, vegetables, cheese, ham and sausage, and Gina bought a new top. Fran and Adrian knew that, just off the square where the market is held, there was a little shop that sold baked potatoes and a bar that didn’t mind you eating them at their tables, provided that you bought a drink. So we set ourselves up in the shade with pressions (beers) and a Perrier and had a lunch of baked potatoes stuffed with lardon (chopped bacon) and cream and topped with grilled cheese. Delicious! After lunch we looked at the impressive Cathedral St-Etienne (12th century Romanesque style), which has some beautiful stained-glass windows, and its 16th century Gothic cloister. Later we visited the Pont Valentre, a 14th century medieval bridge which is still in beautiful condition and is one of the landmarks of Cahors.

We have taken to the French tradition of having an aperitif at the end of the day. This usually includes some nibblies and takes a couple of hours, so we have been dining rather late. But it doesn’t feel late because it doesn’t start getting dark until after 10 o’clock. We decided to have dinner out at the Creperie, which is a restaurant in the pigeonnier across the river from our house. When we draw our bedroom curtains each morning we look across at the pigeonnier and it makes a lovely scene with the reflections off the river. The Creperie specialises in crepes but has lots of other items on the menu as well. They also have a pretty good selection of sweets, many of which feature various liqueurs. And they are generous with their servings. So, after our aperitifs, pre-dinner drinks, a litre of wine and some pretty potent glaces, we were glad we were within walking distance of the restaurant and didn’t have to drive when it came time to leave. We had a lovely meal there, sitting outside on a balmy evening with the light slowly fading and the old town of Puy l’Eveque making an attractive backdrop. Something tells us that you may hear more about the Creperie in future blogs!

At the restaurant, Fran and Phil recognised one of the customers as the winner of the barrel rolling contest from Grezels. As mentioned before, no Frenchman/Frenchwoman is safe from Fran and so she accosted the poor bloke. But he was happy to be recognised and congratulated. It seems that he owns a winery near Duravel, about 5 km away. After discovering that we were Australians and here for some months, he gave us a card that introduced us to his winery and promised a gift if we visited. So, guess what we‘re doing today!

Au revoir