Month: October 2019

We are lost…

| Mairead

(Cute touches everywhere, like flowers in the stone fonts)

Aubeterre is one of the Beautiful Villages of France. It’s on the official list but even if you didn’t know about the list you’d think it was beautiful. It’s old stone houses are perched on a couple of hills and there’s even a church built into one of them.

(The house of the potter)

We found it by accident yesterday, a wet and dreary Sunday. Everything was dripping rain, the shops and cafes were closed, there was nowhere to buy even a bottle of water but this place warmed our hearts.

(Pretty tiles)

There is seriously no end to the beautiful places you can find in rural France. Sunday’s and Monday’s are still quiet days though, where the baker gets a break from the 4am start. Sometimes even the supermarket has no baguettes on a Monday morning. This can cause serious anxiety.

(Pretty windows)

The days are getting shorter now and the temperatures are decreasing it’s nearly time to go home – only nine more days and it’s probably just as well. They say it takes less than a month to build a habit and I can confirm that because I have built a solid baguette habit in that time. I’m on one half one a day but I feel the pull to go deeper.

(Look, someone lives there and sits outside at a little table)

You may not have read the reports but baguettes are just a gateway confectionary. They lead directly to pastries and this country has more varieties of pastries than we have potatoes. There’s the croissants, innocuous enough on their own but some days there are no croissants left… so, what do you do? Leave empty handed? No. You choose a pain au chocolate (kinda croissant with chocolate chips). That there is the slippery slope.

(Pretty cafe and restaurant and Jesus)

You may not have heard of the Viennese Almonde yet but you soon will. It is quietly taking over the lives of those who take one bite. No one is immune to its power. Just say No! That’s all you have to do, but saying no is what’s difficult.

(Lovely shades of green just don’t drink the water…)

You naively go into the boulangerie thinking, you’ll just get a baguette, a skinny little trifle of baked goodness. What harm could that be? While you wait – because you must wait, there is always a queue. The boulangerie ties with the mobile phone provider for popularity in France. Every boulangerie has an entrance door and an exit door – have you ever wondered why? I have. It’s because they are very busy…

(More pretty flowers)

Anyway, while you wait your eyes stray towards the adorable cylinder-shaped-just-for-one-4-strawberries-suspended-in-jelly-on-a-baked-meringue-base. Just looking at it and your mouth gets to work preparing to bite into it while your head screams, Noooo! That’s when the Viennese Almonde seems like a good idea. It’s almond, so basically healthy, right? It’s bigger. Yes. But. You won’t eat it all, will you?

Save yourselves, we are lost, Mairead.

(That’s where Aubeterre is located)

We might be in a movie…

| Mairead

(Grand Hotel de Bordeaux)

We left the small town of Créon early on Saturday morning to drive to a lakeside campsite just north of Bordeaux. The journey took about 30 minutes.

(Driving over the Dordogne)

We’ve bypassed it many times but we’ve never been into the city of Bordeaux but on the recommendation of friends – thank you Astrid and John – we decided to have a look. We found the campsite, the information said it was near public transport so we parked up and set off to find the bus stop. It was just outside the gates and the driver was waiting for us. He then drove us to the terminus of the C tramline. It took about 20 minutes to get into the center of Bordeaux.

(Sanna sculpture by Jaume Plensa)

We didn’t have a big itinerary planned, we were just going to soak up the atmosphere. First step: follow the crowd off the tram and into… the longest shopping street in Europe. We can now tick that one off our bucket list. It was very long but it wasn’t very crowded at 10.30am. We walked for a while, me taking pictures, Denis calculating how long before we could have a coffee. Not long, as it happened, we sat down looking out on the world as it shopped. Then we were off walking again.

(The French Camino goes through Bordeaux)

I love the idea that the French have their dinner at lunch time so that was one thing I definitely wanted to do while we were in the city. As déjeuner (midday meal) starts at noon… before long it was time. This turned out to be the high point of our day but not for reasons you’d imagine.

(This was my view)

We sat at a table outside a lovely looking restaurant facing each other. Does this happen to you? One person gets the best view and the other hears a commentary of the scene? Denis had the best view and was keeping me up to date with the traffic and the scooters for rent. Like the ones we rented in Lisbon. Then he started doing a survey on the number of cyclists wearing helmets. It’s not compulsory to wear helmets in France when you ride a bike. Two out of 25 cyclists surveyed were wearing helmets.

(My duck salad)

It was about this time I noticed the group of five men about 200 meters away running down the street in our direction, probably for a bus. Up until then nothing was happening in my view. So I put down my fork in anticipation of starting a commentary but I continued chewing (an amazing duck salad, by the way). Then the guy in front stopped and turned to the second guy and punched him full on in the face. They weren’t running for a bus. The second guy went down. The first guy turned and ran… straight into a scaffolding, fell, got up… and started running towards us.

(Nice buildings in Bordeaux)

I was trying to tell Denis that there was something happening but my words got stuck and anyway he was devising a new survey about takeaway food delivery logistics and didn’t notice I was mumbling. The guy in front (you know, the one who had hit the second guy?) approached our table. I was trying not to look but at the same time to look because I had a sudden thought that I should be a good witness. But I had to let that dream go my eyes were in touch with fear and he said, Don’t Look! I did see he had a shoulder bag that looked like it was a woman’s Burberry. I was well into a story about how he stole it and the gang of guys behind were trying to get it back for the owner when he ran into our restaurant.

(Old shopping arcade)

I could hear shouting, our waitress was backing away from the restaurant door. I couldn’t see into the restaurant because the windows were mirrored on our side. I was not getting anywhere explaining to Denis. Then the army arrived. I. Kid. You. Not. Six soldiers in full khaki with guns walk from a side street to another side street not 6 meters from me.

(Longest shopping street in Europe)

I’m gesticulating discreetly to Denis, he sees nothing. Six more soldiers pass. I can take no more I catch the waitress’ eye and point to the soldiers. (Did I mention the guns were big? They could definitely be useful with the Burberry guy.) She moved from her spot staring into the restaurant and walked over to me, saying, “Ah, no, madam c’est normale.” (This is normal.) We went home after lunch and fell asleep until it was time to go to bed.

Maybe we stumbled onto a movie set? Mairead

Ps. I hope this doesn’t put you off Bordeaux, it’s a really beautiful place.

(There’s Bordeaux!)

Funny name, adorable place

| Mairead

(There’s Denis racing over to the coffee)

We drove to the town of Le Bugue on Tuesday morning with a bag of dripping clothes and my nerves on edge. We had checked in the Campercontact app and were heading for camping car parking very near the center of town.

(The market was here earlier)

On the way there we passed the most amazing chalk cliffs. Each one more jaw dropping than the next. You could see people walking on ledges or standing at balconies cut into the cliff face. One cliff had a couple of two story houses built into it. This is the busiest tourist area we have seen on this trip, the traffic was mad and the roads were narrow and there were few places to stop. We kept going, promising to return.

(That’s someone’s front garden!)

Then the first thing we see getting into La Bugue is a market! I don’t know if I mentioned previously but we rarely land in a town on the right day for the market and this was the second time it happened this week. We were over the moon. Well to be honest we should have been over the moon but I was still a little moody after the lightening episode, coffee was all I wanted.

(So old)

Our parking was indeed close to the town – about 3 minutes walk over the Dordogne. It also was a little soggy because it seems the whole world had torrential rain on Monday night. We parked up and headed off to find a cafe.

(Reflecting on the Dordogne)

The town was full of people, chatting and buying and selling and generally having the craic. We found a spot for coffee. I started reading the Lascaux book and Denis was reading his phone. We hadn’t two words for each other.

(Hello I’m France, nice to meet you…)

I cannot give you any historical information about La Bugue but I bet it’s absolutely steeped in history like all the towns we are landing in lately. Yet here we were, oblivious. Can you see us? Are you shouting at me? Wake up and look at where you are!

Some days I’m just not at my best, Mairead.

(There’s La Bugue)

The Writing on the Wall

| Mairead

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(Here’s a river that was probably around since the beginning of our story… it’s the Corréze river which flows through the ancient town of Corréze. This river is a tributary of the river Vézère which runs through Montignac (the town near the cave) because I have no pictures from Lascaux but loads around Corréze…)

We were in the town of Montignac on the night of the thunder storm. I had a plan to go to the most famous cave in the world next morning and tell you all about it. It was going to be very interesting. You would have loved it. I would have loved it. But it was still raining the next morning, it rained all night, I didn’t sleep well, our clothes were wet. That’s why I didn’t go to see the Lascaux cave, just ten minutes drive from our camping car spot.

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(The town was definitely around when the cave was found)

To make up for it I bought you a book called See you in Lascaux, by Brigitte and Giles Delluc, who are experts in the Lascaux paintings. Fortunately, for all of us, Angela CaldwellI translated it into English. I’ve been skimming it so I’m ready to tell you a story about the caves. Then when you’re here in the dry season you can go yourself and hear the real story. Ok?

P1080503

(Here’s the old river Corréze, possibly looking like it would 17,000 years ago, possibly)

First thing you need to know is that nobody actually visits the cave. Humans are a toxic cauldron of fumes and chemicals that are bad for the real cave and ever since 1963 it has been closed. The historians, or as they are more accurately called, the prehistorians, found a way to share this amazing place with the world and created a copy of the cave. We went on a tour years ago and the copy cave is very realistic and also the tour was really very good.

P1080552(Very old Michelin signpost in Corréze, may have been up on this wall when they found the cave in 1940)

Long, long ago in the Magdalenian Era which was 17,000 years ago (I read that in the book) some people began drawing on the walls of the cave in Lascaux. They drew goats, bison, oxen, horses and stags. They used various natural occurring dyes to colour their drawings. They were telling stories about what was important to them. And then they left. Not sure why. Could be a previous global warming. Could be the cave flooded. Anyways, they left and the cave was forgotten. No one knew the cave even existed until one day Marcel Ravidat was walking his dog, Robot. (No his dog wasn’t a robot, that was just the dog’s name. Yes, I agree, a little confusing.)

P1080538

(Very old buildings in Corréze)

Marcel was an apprentice car mechanic and only eighteen years old. It was a Sunday in September, 1940. A few months earlier Germany had invaded France. Probably not the happiest of times. Anyway, Marcel and his dog, Robot, were out for a walk and Robot starts barking in the general direction of a hole in the ground. Marcel, who in the book is described as obstinate and adventurous, was all for going down into the hole.

P1080560

(From 1940? Maybe?)

I would just like to stop here and say there is no way that I would ever climb down into a hole in the ground. Which leads me to wonder if there are any treasures I have overlooked and although it must have been difficult for his mother aren’t we all glad Marcel was obstinate and adventurous?

P1080517

(Old stone bridge in Corréze definitely around in 1940)

Unfortunately Marcel was a little too big to fit in the potentially dangerous hole in the ground. So he came back on Thursday with his friends Georges, Simon and Jacques and they forced their way into the hole. They were all stunned by what they saw and went off to tell local teacher, Léon Lavel. News spread very quickly and the place was overrun with visitors. It still is. Marcel and his friend Jacques were unofficial gatekeepers of the cave while the experts figured out what to do.

P1080537

(I just love these little doorbells… also in Corréze)

Time passed and Marcel joined the French Resistance – of course he did and he also went to fight in Germany – his poor mother. But he survived and came back home to Montignac where he was a guide for years at the cave. In spite of the fact that there were experts from all over the world studying the cave it was Marcel who noticed the fungus spreading and damaging the walls in the 1960s.

P1080534.png

(More beautiful ancient buildings in Corréze)

The book doesn’t say what happened to Marcel, what he did when the cave was closed and he was no longer involved in guiding people. I suspect he found other adventures and if he married I bet his wife had stories about his obstinacy. Maybe he’s still alive. Oh, I googled him and he died in 1995, he was 72. I’m surprised at how sad that makes me feel.

Be as adventurous as you dare and as obstinate as that requires, Mairead.

Thunderstorms Always Include Lightening

| Mairead

(One Mississippi)

My shoes are still soaking, so are my second best pair of jeans, socks, raincoat. We walked back from the town last night after dinner. All day it was hot and overcast. Funny weather. The kind you know means something is coming. What could it be? What’s coming?

(A different happy day)

Rain. It could be rain is coming. It was rain. Rain came. Buckets of it. We weren’t very far from town, just far enough to get totally soaked and totally frightened to death. Well I was totally frightened to death. Denis thought it was a “new experience”.

(I’ll never complain about fog again)

You’re probably thinking rain isn’t that frightening. Who would be frightened of a little rain? Not me… I’m not afraid of rain. Lightening, I’m afraid of lightening… it was lightening. We were having a lovely meal when it started. I nearly choked on my canard trying to count one-Mississippi; two-Mississippi… to figure out how far away it was. But what does that number mean anyway? How big does the number have to be to be safe? Please god let 4 be a big enough number!

(Lovely clouds)

It’d be ok we’d ask the waitress to call a taxi. I went back to chewing. Excuse-moi could you call a taxi for us please? Confused looks, French words, not sure what that means but no, it’s ok she is calling. Hang on, she’s saying je suis desole…

(Nice flower)

She’s sorry, why is she sorry, Denis? No taxi. The weather is too bad, he’s taking the night off…. What?! My eyes are on stalks. She asks, Do you have an umbrella? I make a smile appear on my face, Yes, thank you we’ll be fine. She is distraught, No! Don’t use the umbrella, it will be dangerous! I make a laugh come out of my mouth, Oh, thank you. We’re dead.

(Happier days)

We’ve finished eating ages ago. Everyone else has left the restaurant. The waitress is closing the door. It’s time to go outside. This is a new experience. Don’t you love new experiences? Don’t I love new experiences? No! No, I don’t love new experiences. I actually bloody hate new experiences! I have rain proof shoes, I’ll be fine.

(Reflecting on nice things)

They’re not rain proof. I can feel the water squelching around my toes. I instantly forget that with the first flash of lightening. I call the son of god, his mother and Joseph, I can’t help myself, I am way beyond dainty cursing.

(Formerly, my biggest fear…)

Denis’s arm is black and blue from the tight hold I have of him. I’m back to counting Mississippis and now I really need to know what number is safe? Is it three?!? The thunder comes at eight and I start to remember the other things that keep you safe… Don’t stand under a tree… ok. Don’t stand in a doorway… ok. Don’t stand out in the middle of a field..ok. But where should I stand? Can I stand in the middle of the road? Do I have to stand? Can I keep walking? Should I run? Not run?

If it wasn’t so frightening it would be beautiful. Unfortunately, the part of my brain that recognises beauty is short on oxygen at the moment. All oxygen supplies are needed for fear production. We’re home. Get into dry clothes. Take a breath. Oh no hang on, what do that say about sitting near windows? Denis, get away from the windscreen!

(Scary bridge on the way to CERN)

Hang on I’ll ask Siri, HEY SIRI! WHAT SHOULD I DO IF I AM IN A MOTORHOME IN A THUNDERSTORM? It took her a moment to process and then she said… ok, Married (she can’t pronounce Mairead) I found this on the web, Thunderstorms always include lightening. Don’t use anything electrical… I slowly back away from my phone.

Not a true story, Mairead.

Ps. Is.

Living Rich in Ancient France

| Mairead

P1080358

(The single-lane stone bridge into Vieille-Brioude)

Stopping for a coffee or for the night in ancient villages and towns is making me feel a little bit overwhelmed. They are so beautiful, they are so weathered, they are so peaceful… and there’s so many of them. They are telling me something. But what are they telling me? No idea… yet. We keep moving on, as we have a plan to be in a big city by next weekend, but I want to take a moment here to listen to a few of these ancient places.

(On the stone bridge)

We stopped in Vieille-Brioude on our way to Massiac (the Village Étape). Something made me tell Denis to follow the signs. We were on a dual carriageway but I spotted the village in the valley below. A single-lane stone bridge led across a river valley. It was about that time I started doubting the detour. All is well, it was sturdy, we survived.

P1080332

(Worn down by the years…)

After a peaceful coffee (yes even the coffee has a touch of peace about it) we went for a wander. I took photos of almost every door in the village. They all looked so good, I suppose it helps that the sun was shining but it wasn’t just the sun. Every door seems to tell a story.

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(Briode is 4.1km away from Vieille-Briode)

On Saturday after leaving our spot by the river and visiting Puy de Dôme we travelled to Meymac. Here we were lucky enough to wake up to a market on Sunday morning and a story.

(Jean Gaye-Bordas built this house in Meymac during the good times)

Jean Gaye-Bordas was born in a nearby village in 1826. He had a poor start but that didn’t prevent him from leading a very interesting life. He put Meymac on the map with his slogan, Meymac, prés de Bordeaux, (Meymac, near Bordeaux.) Not exactly a catchy slogan, not accurate either as Meymac is nearly 300km (3 hours by car today) from Bordeaux but the people in the north of France didn’t know that nor did the Belgians. They didn’t care, they were delighted with Jean. On with the story…

(The church in Meymac)

You see, Jean had this great idea, the results of which can be seen in the very impressive houses in the town. He had travelled as a young man to Bordeaux doing anything he could to earn a living. He was illiterate but very smart and noticed everything around him. He spotted opportunities, like when he saw a guy sending wine to a relation in Lille (a city in northern France near the border with Belgium).

(The hotel, notice the telephone notice over the door…)

Jean realised, what no one else did, that wine from the south would be most appreciated up north because even back then Bordeaux wine had a great reputation. His idea – travel to Lille and Belgium and go door to door selling wine from “his vineyard in Meymac near Bordeaux“.

(Center of the old town)

You already know Meymac isn’t near Bordeaux and you can probably guess he didn’t have a vineyard either but he didn’t need one. He sold the promise of wine, before it was produced and then used the advance money the Belgians gave him, to buy from real vineyards in Bordeaux and deliver back up north. He was an entrepreneur. You could even say he invented crowdfunding.

(Even the sheds are cute)

Many others in the village followed his example. A lot even made enough money to buy vineyards in Bordeaux, as did Jean. By the time he died on the 30/12/1900 he was penniless. He had won and lost many fortunes. As you walk around it’s possible to see the results a thriving wine business can have on a community.

(Fortunately, we didn’t try to drive down here)

I really like Jean. I was a bit sorry he didn’t die rich but then I realised he lived rich and that’s probably more fun.

Live rich, Mairead.

General Area…
Meymac on left; Vieille-Brioude on right

The Sleeping Volcanos

| Mairead

(View from the top)

There’s a lot I didn’t know about volcanos. Like, they are called dormant if they’ve erupted in the recent past and they are extinct if they’ve erupted in the distant past. We visited Le Puy de Dôme volcano and it’s dormant… sleeping. So not extinct then? Fortunately, I didn’t know this before we stood on top. As I also didn’t know that recent past, can mean 15,000 years ago, no harm done. Unless we are very unlucky today isn’t the day it blows.

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(Oh look a train…)

We were driving for about an hour when we saw signs for Puy de Dôme. We’d been here years ago on the motorbike and Denis said, Pourquoi pas? (his favourite French phrase) meaning, why not? The sun was shining and it seemed like a nice opportunity for a walk. It was… after a train ride up the steep bit.

P1080407(That’s a visitor center on the right)

This whole area, Chaîne Des Puys, is full of volcanos and I learned that there are three different types. (1) The Dome, lava seeps our through a gap near the top of the mountain, leaving a dome shape when it cools. (2) The Cone, where the lava blows the top off the mountain leaving a saucer shape. (3) The Maar, lava and water mix and there’s a huge explosion creating a crater with a lake. There are examples of all of these around here.

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(That’s one of the cone volcanos)

The Romans recognised Puy de Dôme as the perfect place to build a temple, so they built one. The ruins are still here. The Romans were way ahead of their time and invented creative ideas for lifting huge blocks. There was a video (in French) explaining how they did it. It involved a notch in the huge stone block and a block of wood, a similar size to the notch and some clips. I wish I had pictures to help me explain but trust me it was ingenious. Oh, now I’m wondering if the notch shaped block of wood might have actually been a notch shaped block of metal… apologies to any Romans reading.

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(There was a beautiful view out this window…)

The French recognise the beauty here and have been visiting the Dôme for a long time. There was even had a steam train at one time. It used to be you could drive up to the top too but now you can only walk… or take a little tourist train. We took the train.

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(Our fellow travellers)

The train leaves every half hour at this time of year and travels slowly up to the summit, passing walkers and even cyclists. We didn’t wave out at them but they made us feel absolutely thrilled to be sitting inside. One needs to know one’s limits after all… or does one? Possibly one is just choosing an nice easy day in France.

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(And Denis on the edge…)

Pourquoi pas? Mairead.

Ps Puy means ancient mountain, isn’t that lovely?

(There’s the Puy de Dôme)

Village Étape

| Mairead

(Our view)

The difference a few hours makes. We drove to the town of Massiac after the fog show. The sun shone the whole way and the temperature rose… to 23 degrees! That’s 19 degrees hotter than in the morning. Massiac provides a beautiful space for camping cars (that’s motorhomes) alongside the river, so we were very comfortable.

(It’s also on the Camino de Santiago)

Actually this town knows what travellers want. It’s a Village Étape. Literal meaning is a stage village and it makes me think of a stage coach. You know in historical movies when the stage coach stops at an inn and they change the horses? Or the passengers take the opportunity to have a meal? Or stop for the night?

(Petrol pumps are very important here)

Well, these towns are all over France, near the main routes and they are designated places travellers can get a meal, stay in a hotel and buy fuel for their vehicle (oats for the horses?) There’ll be a supermarket, a boulangerie, a tourist office and public toilets. Massiac has all those things and it’s bustling and friendly.

(Can you see the rock in the distance? There’s a church on top!)

We stopped at the Library Cafe this morning before we left, it’s a book shop and cafe. That’s another thing travellers need – books! Unfortunately, none in English so I bought a copy book and a notebook.

Now we’re off to see a volcano! Mairead.

Four Degrees!

| Mairead

(Sunny evening in Coubon on the Loire)

We stayed in a town called Coubon last night. It was 4 degrees Celsius this morning when I got up. Four…. It was 12 degrees at home in Greystones! I got dressed in no time and went outside. We were surrounded by fog.

(Four degrees and fog)

When Denis got up he went to the boulangerie so we have bread – we won’t starve. Is bread enough? I was thinking about the places people choose to live. On the banks of the Loire in a cute town with a cafe, a bar, a restaurant and a boulangerie seems lovely and it is lovely but it means for this town, as they are situated in a valley, they probably get a lot of foggy days. On a sunny day they possibly get less sun than their neighbours up on the hill.

(Can you make out the top of the cloud?)

I was still thinking about this when we drove off. We were leaving anyway but the fog made it easier. Our drive was taking us uphill and in no time we we’re above the clouds and it was glorious. It was hard to believe that ten minutes away everything was so different. There was nowhere to stop on the narrow roads so I took pictures through the window as we continued up and up. Then we turned away from the river and we could no longer see the valley.

(We seem to be we going down again…)

I couldn’t stop thinking about the people in the town, still stuck in the fog. Do they go up the hill on days like today? Do they forget that the sun is up top shining to its heart’s content? Do they just put up with the fog and get on with their day?

(That little line of white behind the tree line is the fog)

And then we turned a corner. We could see the valley again, stretching for miles and miles. There was a blanket of fog laid out all along the river’s course but it was a blanket with holes, where the hills peeped through.

(It’s good to be alive)

We spotted a patch of grass just big enough to stop. I set off down the road and into a field to get photos. I was about to take the first one… and the battery died in my camera. When you find a little hill peeping through a hole in the fog you can put up with almost anything.

My feet were wet, I was freezing cold but I was on top of the world, Mairead.

Ps I had a spare battery in the van.

(There’s Coubon)