(The straight road… but signs are that might change…. (the sign?.. on the side of the road?… never mind))

We’re in the beautiful Loire region in a house we stayed in last year, the photographer’s house. Our host is an incredible English woman who, although she’s only been here two years, seems to know everyone. Last time we were here there was a continuous stream of visitors and an impromptu dinner party. All in honour of the Irish bikers who had just arrived in town!

(Bloom where you’re planted! Bird nest at number 4 pump Total garage on A10 Limoges to Paris motorway.)

We found her through the airbnb site that allows people to offer a room in their house for bed and breakfast through the internet. Remember the house on the cliff with the spiral staircase and the dog in Bilbao? That was airbnb. Each time we use this option we have the opportunity to discover people’s stories and they always inspire us.

(Nice road going somewhere else….)

That’s what stories tend to do. They take us to that comfy place in our childhood where we first heard the words “Once upon a time…”. And then we’re drifting into dreamland or heartland. Whatever you call it doesn’t matter, you’ll know it. You’ll be listening to someone tell how they used to be in this really difficult situation and one day they thought “enough is enough”. And you’re looking into their eyes as they tell you how everything had to change and they had no idea how it would end up. But it ended up grand and now they’re glad they took the leap. And even though their story is nothing like yours…. something stirs in you. And because they’re alive and well and ordinary…. you think “maybe I could be that brave”.

(Notice the clean windscreen? I did that! At number 3 pump, Total garage on A10 Limoges to Paris motorway.)

I’m sitting at the kitchen table looking through french half curtains, at people waking up and down the street in this small town. Each one of those people have a story that is inspiring. Don’t believe me? Start to test it! Look at your own life and think of something that was difficult, then something changed, either you or circumstances, a risk was necessary and you took it. It’ll be easier to think of other people’s stories, I want you to think of your own!

If you can’t think of something now, that’ll be because you never stopped long enough to celebrate your risk-taking, your change, your bravery, your leap of faith! Stop Now! Celebrate Now, in anticipation of remembering! Then inspire yourself by telling yourself the story of how you did it. And then tell me and we’ll inspire everyone else!

 

Go brave-hearts! Mairead.

 

(The priest’s house)

We are staying at the priest’s house in Le Grand Bourg – big market town. The priest is gone and in his place is a hotel and restaurant, well…. in his house.

(Candles in the church)

Right in front of the house is a church, as you’d expect and a bar as you might not expect. So last night before dinner we went for a drink. It was so warm we sat outside in the shade and I noticed something I’d seen in the last town.

In front of me in the queue at the supermarket in Masseat was an old man. When it came time for him to pay for his purchases he handed the lady assistant a little purse. She unzipped the purse, took out the required coins, re-zipped the purse and then handed it back to the man.

(Shade from the sun)

And last night I saw the same thing happen. The bar man, a very jovial guy who sang as he served us, fished for change in a customer’s little purse (the customer was there at the time….) The customer was not an old man so I wondered why he might need help. It does point to the trusting nature of the customer and probably the trustworthy nature of the shopkeeper and the barman. So we had another beer!

(Our biere pression)

I went for a walk around the town today and found the graveyard! For those of you who think graveyards are creepy, strange places to visit – think again (Hello Angela!). They are very quiet, calm, peaceful areas…. generally. I was walking along between the graves when I heard a knocking. I could see no one. The knocking stopped. I like to look at the older graves, makes it all seem more like history. There were lots of graves dotted around of men who “died for France” in the 1914-1918 war, some with pictures, all in their teens or early twenties. The knocking started again, but it was fine, just a frenchman fixing one of the grave surrounds. Didn’t take pictures in the graveyard, there could be a repeat of the whole “dead mother” situation from Spain.

(Key on little stone shelf outside graveyard….. the mystery of the knocking explained?)

Then this afternoon I was invited to tea by out host and I spoke in French… she spoke in English! She runs the hotel and restaurant with her husband and I haven’t seen many staff, so she doesn’t have a lot of time, but she made enough for tea with me. Only problem is, I take a long time to formulate my sentences in French. Not too much of a problem if I’m prepared and only want to ask for a croissant, or a room for the night. But as the conversation progressed I learned that in running this hotel she is following her heart. She wanted to do this for a long time and last January, together with her husband she started this business. Well, music to my ears, I had loads to ask and to say! Very, very slowly, with lots of pauses.

(The Big Market Town)

So I was thinking again…… In France and Spain and every other country that I have not been born in…. I get the feeling that there is a depth to the stories of the people we meet (or just see) that can only get unlocked when I get a lot (lot, lot, lot) more fluent in their language. Maybe it’s time for me to learn a language?!!!!

Sláinte, Mairead (Good health in Irish, for those not fluent in Irish (another language for me to learn…))

 

(We took possession of the keys yesterday)

We’ve left the tower, but not before taking pictures, so that we can plan the decorations. We will need a fence and gate as the locals seem to treat our tower like a public amenity. Other than that it’s pretty perfect, some paint and curtains for the many, many windows.

(Wonderful views)

No kitchen yet but with the hotel’s great food so close we might not need one. Just a tap for water, and of course that won’t be a problem because there’s a lot of water stored here. It’s a water tower. Although with all this water there may be some issues with electricity, just candles to begin with then.

(Might need a carpet and paint job here)

Today, at the start of our last week, we stopped to visit Limoges and it turns out we may have real estate here too. Nothing finalised but here’s a sneak preview of Denis’ Place. It’s a little run down and they melted his statue during the second world war, but I think we could make it our own.

 

(Denis’ Place)

While we were checking the place out we decided to have some lunch. It was very busy (remember lunch is sacred…) so we had to get a table inside. We were seated beside a woman at a table on her own. We had barely taken off our coats when she started talking to us. We smiled for a bit and she was still talking so we smiled some more. Eventually, the tension got too much, wondering if she required a reply, so I said we only have a little French.

(Picture and history of Denis’ statue)

Usually that either stops all conversation or the person throws in a few English words. Not this woman. She happily told us we were to speak French in France. No one speaks French in Ireland, so in France we must speak French. We completely agreed, so we chatted about the wonderful French food, the weather – it does rain sometimes, she said. And how her friend was supposed to be joining her but was delayed because she was a professional (I don’t know either???). All this in French!

(The roundabout where Denis’ statue once stood)

Then our food came and we all went quiet.

It struck me that she just wanted to talk, our understanding was not important. What do we ever understand of other people’s conversation anyway, even if they speak the same language as us? We listen and then we process what we heard according to the way we think. We notice the bit that resonates with us. If it seems true and we like what they say, then we will probably like them. But with all the processing we’re doing the understanding is only in our own heads!

(Nice green country lanes around here)

Then we got back on the bike and I stopped thinking – always helpful….

 

From the priest’s house to yours, Mairead.

We’re still here by the tower and I’ve been off taking pictures and writing postcards. While we were in Spain I only spotted one post office and that was thanks to the tourist office pointing it out. While here in France… they’re yellow and plentiful.

 

(There are old photos around the village from the 1900’s, this is one near the old post office)

So I went to the tabac for cards and on to the post office for stamps. But I couldn’t get into the post office. I checked the opening hours and although I don’t know all the days in the week I thought it should be open. Then I noticed a sign with numbers and pictures. Number 1. a finger pressing a button. Number 2. a bell ringing. Number 3. someone pushing a door. Ok, you know what I had to do…… but why?

(Hiding behind a bush on main street)

I pressed the button, a camera took my picture (that wasn’t on the sign), a bell rang and I pushed the door… what would I find inside?

An empty room with only a white haired man sitting behind a desk, his head down. I asked for my stamps, very slowly in French. He gave them to me without looking up. I wondered why again.

Back outside I realised he could see me coming down the road for at least 100 yards (or meters!), he heard me push the door and still he waited for Number 1. push the bell. Why?

Never mind, I had my stamps and I went off to write my cards. Thirty minutes later I realised I didn’t have enough stamps, no, no, no…….

(Light and dark in our hotel)

I’d have to go back…..

(Detail on the church entrance)

This time I’m ready. I don’t care what his rules are I’m going to enjoy getting my stamps. I took a different road to the post office, he couldn’t see me from this side. I pressed the button and placed my face in front of and very close to the camera and when I heard the bell I pushed the door. (Forgot to say, I looked up how to say “I made a mistake” (Je fais une gaffe)) With a big smile I told him I had made a mistake and needed more stamps. And the air changed. He looked at me, asked me how many and looked at me again to say “Au revoir” when I was leaving.

(Moss covered wall, camera’s choice…)

When I came back twenty minutes later to post the cards I saw him outside the door on his phone, another chance to chat. Unfortunately, by the time I reached at the post box he had gone inside and locked the door. Maybe we can be friends from afar?

(Lucky break – went up the tower and spotted Monsieur La Poste coming out of the post office – maybe we need to buy a better zoom lens, Denis?)

There’s a possibility I hadn’t considered – the French are afraid of me?

 

No fear, fearless Mairead.

 

 

(We forgot to take a photo of dinner – here’s desert)

We decided to stay another night here by the tower. Mainly based on the dinner last night, it was magnifique! So this morning while Denis worked I went for a tour of the village. It didn’t take very long. It’s small but it shows up something about France that I have been noticing.

 

(Chateau closed for lunch)

Lunch is sacred: Everything, and there’s not many things, but everything closes for lunch, except the restaurants, they close after lunch.

Yesterday on our way here we stopped off in a small village to have a snack. We went into the bar off the square and there were three people having their lunch. The woman jumped up to serve us at the counter. If we hadn’t seen the food they were eating we might have just ordered coffee but the possibility of something more made us brave.

(We’re very high on a hill, lovely views)

So we said we would like a sandwich, maybe ham and cheese? The woman said something to the man still sitting at the table (maybe her husband?) and there followed a heated debate. He throws his cutlery on the table and storms out the door. I turn to the woman asking “Oh…. pas de sandwich?”, in a quizzical, but friendly, non (very non) heated-debate way . She used the “who knows?” face and asked what we want to drink.

(After cold meat and salad lunch)

As it seemed some food may be coming we went outside to the nice quiet tables and waited. I noticed a map across the square and investigated that. By the time I get back the table is laid, there is bread in a basket and Denis is coming out the door with a plate full of cold meats and salad. He points me in the general direction and soon I have a plate of cold meat and salad. Very good cold meat and salad.

By now the husband (?) had arrived back and was quietly finishing his lunch. We still don’t know what happened. But I think it demonstrates lunch is sacred…..

(Blue Farm Planted Field Green)

And now here I am sitting outside the front of our hotel in a little courtyard with my laptop, drinking a glass of water. The other tables started filling up at about 11.45. They got their menu, but the waiters didn’t come back to take their orders until at least 12.20. It’s now 12.45 and one table still hasn’t got any food. Everyone has wine and they are ordering full meals, not just a sandwich!

(Old Tiles on floor of chateau, and my motorcycle boots)

They are taking their time, no one is bothered by the amount of time they are waiting. It seems like lunch time is a ritual. Maybe it could even be described as spiritual…. I’m not kidding…. it’s different…

I want to get in on the ritual. I couldn’t possibly eat a big meal now and another one tonight, could I? On an unrelated matter, my clothes seem to be shrinking, must be the heat….

 

Be well,  Mairead.

(View from our window! We’re in Disneyland….. not really….)

We’re in a little town called Masseret, just south of Limoges, which I think means we’re in the Limousin region of France. All day today we have been passing beaucoup de (lots of) châteaux. So we went in to visit one, little did we know we’d be sleeping beside one tonight.

(Chateau de Broudeilles in Broudeilles)

I think the travelling may be getting to us… we moved from our lovely ex-banker Logis to another hotel for last night. Nothing odd with that. What’s odd was the new hotel was only thirty minutes away. We (well to be completely upfront, I’m the accommodations clerk, so I…) thought it was somewhere else…. further away… but still in the Dordogne.

(Light and dark in the chateau)

It wasn’t.

Not a huge problem, just an unnecessary move, when we loved our last home and hosts. My French was coming on great. So much so the wife seemed less nervous about talking to us (I think she was afraid she’d get our order wrong…cheese instead of an extra pillow…..) in French. She even said I was very good!

(French Blue)

So we turn up at the new hotel in the window of opportunity yesterday between booking the Grotte de Laceaux and being a little late for the tour of the Grotte de Laceaux. Lovely little French hotel. I dive straight in with my most used phrase “nous avons une réservasition pour la nuit”, possibly not perfect but it gets the message across (“we have booked a room”). But the girl made one of those “What?” faces and walked away. What had I said? But another girl came back with a key, so pas de problem…

(Yummy poppies)

Not exactly…

(Lane beside a church)

We went off to get our little bags from the bike and there standing in the door is the manager saying…. “L’hotel est ferme”, we both got the gist of that!

The hotel is closed.

Which would ordinarily seem like an insurmountable problem, right? But it wasn’t. In a mix of French, English, sign language and body language, he went on to explain that we would be the holders of the keys to his hotel, we were to lock up well, and they would be back in time for breakfast. All the time smiling at us. So we smiled too, and said we’d see him in the morning, but…. “could we have some lunch before you go?”

 

(Old tapestry on wall in chateau)

After lunch we went to the Grotte and when we arrived home they were gone, the hotel was locked and we used our keys to get in!

(Tower and bit of garden at chateau)

Last night we owned a hotel, tonight a round tower, what will tomorrow bring?

From a sunny France to you, wherever you are, have a great day, Mairead.

 

STOP PRESS I just got the email below from my mother, it’s not very clear but it seems the Queen has heard of our hotel and chateau purchases (we didn’t actually purchase anything, but the way it works with royalty might be different?) and she’s coming to visit me…she thinks I’m still in Cashel? My mother is probably doing a bit of a tidy up for her as I write. Will keep you updated.

“……….the Queen will be in Dublin on tomorrow lunchtime,Great security.a lot of roads will be closed down.The main road to Cashel also cut off. Everyone is told to go anywhere by public transport.she is coming in to us at 10 am on Fri and going on to the English Market in Cork in the afternoon.Dull and windy here.Some rain.That is it for now. love Mam”

 

 

 

 

(Old wooden fence near our hotel)

Today we visited (sort of..) the Grotte de Lascaux, where the art is over 17,000 years old.

In 1940 four teenagers and a dog called Robot discovered these caves. They were opened to the public in 1948 but had to be closed again due to the contamination from the visitors – the carbon dioxide and the fungus they brought. Also, opening the caves up to the air changed the micro-climate that had allowed the art to be preserved.

(Some lichen on a rock near our hotel… very bad for old paintings)

So, to be exact we visited Grotte de Lascaux II, the replica cave. It took eleven years to build. We have the guide’s assurances that it’s identical to the original. But it’s pretty amazing, replica or not. Lots of people want to visit and only twenty people can fit in the caves at a time so you have to book your tickets ahead. We bought out ticket in the local town at midday and the next English tour was at 3pm. We had lunch and got back just in time (by Irish standards – we were five minutes late…)

(Np photographs allowed, this is from the brochure, anyway pictures don’t do it justice)

We had seen pictures of the art before but up close they’re different. They’re part of the natural lay of the rock in the cave. Reminded me of the Michelangelo quote ”I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free”. They used the contours of the stones that matched an animal shape and then painted the animal there. So the effect is 3D.

A few things struck me as interesting that the guide said. (I’ll keep some for tomorrow in case it’s a slow day!)

He described how they used crushed rock mixed with water (or saliva) for paint. How it was dark in the cave and although they could make fire, making fire produces smoke, so not very useful. Instead, they invented candles, made from animal fat with a thin juniper twig for a wick and a carved stone as a holder. How they put up scaffolding as most of the painting is on the ceiling.

(Not too clear but look at the ceiling… the orange colour is a horse… or it might be a bull….)

The interesting thing, “So they were intelligent… as intelligent as us.”

I had always thought of “cave men” as not so bright, don’t know why now….. Just another assumption…. and assumptions are dangerous. They cloud my vision. For example, if the traffic lights at the bottom of my road are always broken and I “know” that they are always broken, then when they get fixed I’m unlikely to notice! Why would I? I know they’re broken….

(Two horses. Can you spot the symbols? They’re very small.)

So there I am in the group of twenty and I’m happy looking at the nice pictures. Then the guide starts to point things out. Things that I hadn’t seen. Things that were invisible to me. He pointed to the form of the rock being integral to the picture. He pointed to the “movement” of the horses, and they did look like they were moving. He pointed to the shapes – square, rectangular. Shapes that were unnatural, i.e. not in nature, so therefore invented, dreamed up by these artists. He pointed to the animals seeming to move towards the symbols, the dots, the lines. He pointed to lots more and it became visible to me.

Now I’m thinking….. what else is invisible to me and my assumptions?

Bonne journée, Mairead. (Have a nice day!)

 

 

(Sign at the entrance to the village shows there are 473 inhabitants)

We’re spending a second night in this little hotel near Sarlat in the Dordogne, with the nice ex-bank manager owner. The food is wonderful (for dinner last night, duck salad, then sturgeon with peppers and something that looked like couscous, followed by strawberries and a sauce I wanted (but was too polite) to lick off the plate). We may not fit into our bike gear when we leave.

(Old French Sign)

After lunch today (gourmet salad and glass of rose, followed by coffee and vanilla ice cream) we went for a walk in the nearby village and there are even more restaurants there.

(Half-Stone Tiled roof in the village)

There’s nothing exciting to tell you today as I spent most of the day working on my website to add a page for my upcoming Success Teams course. It’s not quite ready but I’ll add a link here when it is. About a year ago I read the book Wishcraft (free to read on http://www.wishcraft.com) by a woman called Barbara Sher. As I read I became very excited. She has very simple ways of getting you to think about what you want and then believe you can get it. Then, really importantly, helping you turn the want into a plan. The more I read the more I wanted to do her Success Teams course but there was nothing available in Ireland. So, last February, I started one.

(French Intention – Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood)

The idea of the Success Team is that people who have a wish (even if that wish is to know what their wish is!) gather together and are facilitated by a leader (me) for eight weeks. During the eight weeks the group becomes a team, encouraging each other and learning about themselves in the process. After the eight weeks the team keeps meeting, because some wishes take longer than eight weeks to come to fruition!

(Roses dripping from a bush)

So, a year after I had a wish to join a Success Team, I’m in one. Wish Granted! Now I want to set up more Teams. The Wishes Continue!

Doux rêves (Sweet Dreams), Mairead.

(Bending with the bend)

We stayed in a beautiful Chambre d’Hote last night. It was run by a british husband and wife, along with her daughter and family. The daughter’s husband was the builder and he had done an amazing job of renovating a barn into a seven room guest house. They also renovated the old farm house for themselves. Our bedroom was very tastefully decorated and there was a dining room downstairs where we were served dinner. Just off the dining-room there was a large room looking out onto a deck, with a stone buddha and the swimming pool. The large room was completely empty. Over dinner Denis and I both wondered what the room might be intended for.

(French Poppies – For Bairbre)

This morning as I was carrying my bag out to the bike, I met the wife. I felt the peace of the place so strongly I mentioned it to her and asked if that was the reason that choose to move here. She had a funny smile on her face and said they had originally intended it to be a retreat center but they had to run it as a Chambre d’Hote to make enough money. The empty room’s purpose was becoming clear.

(Nice sky)

That’s all the information I have but something about it got me thinking. So I made up a story about them…..

(French town)

We have stayed with a few different families through airbnb.com, who have moved to France and welcomed guests to fund their dream. It has always been inspiring to sit with these people who have taken a big step and changed everything. People with small children who have stood at the school doors with their little ones and handed them over in the full knowledge that their child would understand nothing and their parent could not help them – that takes courage. So whenever we get a chance we choose to eat the table d’Hote,table of the house – everyone eating with the family, because then you get to sit with the family and since they can speak English all the better.

(Little short cut the Sat. nav. liked)

Last night we were served dinner on our own! Was it the odour from hours in the sun and fog and rain? We didn’t know, but we missed the chat. Maybe we’re needy or just something about being Irish?

(The rows of Vines…looking towards the sun in perfect drainage… optimum location)

But back to France, the food was great and we asked lots of questions each time the wife came in with another course. The whole family up and moved to France with an amazing plan. The son-in-law would do the building, the husband/step-father/father-in-law would be a helper. The wife and daughter would cook and decorate and run the retreat centre. But not enough people know they need a retreat centre. So they had to come up with a different plan. They would do Chambre d’Hote, B & B, guesthouse whatever you want to call it. But their hearts just weren’t in it. They didn’t want to eat with the guests. They put up notices to make sure the guests checked out by 10am. They did everything they could to keep their input to a minimum, because this wasn’t the dream, this was just a temporary blip.

(Old Fashioned car – in the distance – in dappled sunlight)

Sometimes the thing I get is not exactly as I expected and I think something is wrong, and I give up. What if the thing we get is exactly the thing we were looking for, it’s just wrapped a little differently? Last night that wife and husband and maybe the daughter and son and two small children had provided a retreat for two weary travellers, but they didn’t know it because they didn’t sit at the table.

(Wouldn’t you love to know who lives here?)

Wherever you are right now is exactly the place to be…. right now… just now…. notice how much it’s exactly right.

(Self Portrait!)

We are staying in a Logis hotel tonight (Thank you, Dave!), the owner is French and speaks great English.  I have told him I will be speaking French, he’s speaking more slowly every time I see him! He and his wife have also taken a big step and changed everything – she was a teacher and he was working in a bank. We have SO lucked out! Even though they had a full house tonight, seven tables, he found time to tell us his story. We will bring more news tomorrow….

Saludos (Salutations), Mairead.