Au Revoir, la Dordogne

Our last week in la Dordogne started slowly; after a month and a half "on the road," both Carol and I needed a little down time, so we didn't stray too far from Beauvert. We took some short walks from our gîte, and one lovely "randonée" outside the town of Les Eyzies. (Remember our first randonée, when we managed to get spectacularly lost?) This time, it was uneventful - if a walk in the French countryside on a sunny day can be deemed uneventful.

Jean-Pierre and Danielle invited us to dinner Tuesday evening. Once again we were treated to Jean-Pierre's culinary mastery, Danielle's marvelous desserts and satisfying conversation on an evening we wished would not end - metaphor, perhaps for a visit that we wanted to prolong. We started with wine and a dish of walnuts harvested by Danielle. This night was seafood night. We started with Coquilles St. Jacques, beautifully presented. I found myself, not for the first time in la Dordogne, practicing the art of prolonged chewing in an effort to make the sumptuous taste last as long as possible. The main course was also an ocean fish, named in French Rouget for its reddish color. They were small - three to a person - and possessed a delightful natural salty taste. Then, the pièce de resistance - a pie-sized flan created by Danielle. Ummmm! Throughout the evening, we enjoyed our hosts' delightful company and good conversation. What could be better than good food with friends - anywhere, in any language?

On Thursday, we set out on our only long automobile exploration of our entire stay. At our hosts' suggestion, we drove over 160 kilometers to the caves at Pech Merle. Along the way we drove country roads high above the surrounding farmland that afforded us views that seemed to be endless. We were in the region of Lot. The villages seemed more modern, neat and tidy than in Dordogne, where every dwelling seemed to be hundreds of years old. The farms were larger; there seemed to be more activity. But we weren't swayed; Dordogne had already won our hearts.

The caves at Pech Merle are larger and more geologically interesting than Font de Gaume. The drawings on the walls were older and more primitive. We found the site interesting, but not as stunning historically or culturally as Font de Gaume. If you're in the region and have time for only one, Font de Gaume is it.

Jean-Pierre and Danielle told us that if we went to Pech Merle, we should be sure to visit the pretty hill town of Saint Cirq Lapopie, just down the road from the caves.


Saint Cirq - un des plus beaux villages de France - sits high above the River Lot, providing spectacular views. It was late in the afternoon of a day late in the tourist season, so it was pretty quiet. We found an open restaurant with wine but no view. Since we wished to tarry amid such beauty more than drink wine, we chose to visit the ruins of the fortress, which afforded the best views. Then we walked the streets a bit before pointing the car for home.

In Europe, pointing your car doesn't always mean that you'll be moving in that direction, at least not on the schedule that you had set for yourself.

And then, it was Friday, the 24th, our last full day in la Dordogne. I looked back over the breadth of our adventure to the early days of feeding Wes, changing his diapers and chatting with him about the important things that grandparents have to say to their infant grandsons. Back then, we walked Spud and Bella, drank Dutch beer with Ben, enjoyed Ellen's culinary creations and got lost on bicycles with regularity. So much had happened. And now it was time to... clean the gîte! That knocked the memories out of the forefront. We got a head start the night before, and promised ourselves one more country walk as a reward for a job performed to Carol's exacting standards.

The walk would be to the Chateau de Commarque, an unrestored twelfth century castle not all that far from Beauvert. Road signs pointed to the traditional approach to the chateau, but Carol found a spot a kilometer or two away that would reward us with a pretty stroll through the countryside.

The results were familiar. Actually, we were not lost. When I took this photo, we could see the chateau through the trees off to our right. To our left rose a steep rocky cliff that kept us from wandering too far astray. The path was not well-used, and it took a little while to find our way. But the intrepid Americans prevailed, enjoying the wandering the entire time.

We emerged from the woods at the base of the fortress and were rewarded with beautiful views of the unrestored castle. I've told you in earlier posts about impressive restored chateaux we visited. Chateau de Commarque was closed, but as we gazed up at its magnificence, we were enchanted by the powerful and haunting remains of its former glory. Once again, we were alone amid the natural and historical splendor of la Dordogne. We lingered, allowing the ghosts of long ago work their magic on us.

These are the remains of the village at the base of the chateau's domineering cliff, where servants, merchants and tradesmen who provided their services to the chateau lived.

We learned later - as we researched on the internet at Beauvert, glass of wine at our side - that in July and August, the lonely, magical spot we had visited is so crowded with visitors that English language tours are given hourly!

This was our last Dordogne adventure. Ahead now lay Paris, which I'll tell you about in my next posting. But I must finish my Dordogne journal by introducing our hosts, about whom I cannot say enough good things.

Jean-Pierre and Danielle Caron-Lys, the owners of Beauvert, have made their home a special place. From the moment we arrived, when we found them waiting outside their home and waving to us (alerted, I suppose, by the sound of our car's approach in the serene valley), Jean-Pierre and Danielle treated us with gracious warmth. Chief among the delights we experienced during our stay in la Dordogne were the times we got to visit with them. If we saw them outside doing chores or sitting on their patio on the warm autumn sun, we felt a rise of excitement at the thought of visiting and telling them of the day's adventure.

Their pleasure at hearing us recount our day's wandering was genuine. They offered ideas and insights on places to see that we hadn't known about. (Their knowledge of the region of la Dordogne is extensive. In fact, I invite you to check out Jean-Pierre's own blog, which reveals their knowledge of the region as well as their own fascinating interests. It's a good way to practice your French, but you can get the gist of much of what they have to share, with a little reliance on context and, of course, photos.)

Jean-Pierre and Danielle were so helpful and so kind to us, day in and day out. In addition to tips about the region, they were eager to help us with any question, any problem that arose. When I had my unpleasantness with our rental car (a little scratch or two, a bit of a dent), Jean-Pierre looked at the damage and in his best English exclaimed, "Sheeet!" He seemed even more upset that I was! He proved invaluable in calling the car rental agency in Brive and later helping me to translate my letter to the agency - a necessity for making sure that they did their part in providing necessary documents for insurance.

And all the while, we grew more relaxed with them, more comfortable in our conversations, eager to visit with them and to chat. As I wrote in their "Livre d'Or" - the "Book of Gold" - their guest book, I felt that among all the memories we were leaving la Dordogne with, one of our fondest would be the memory of our hosts who had become our friends.

Au revoir, Jean-Pierre et Danielle. Jusqu'à ce que nous nous réunissions encore.

Photo Tour of Our Gite

Bonjour, everyone. Before I get to the photo tour, I want you to know that the head cold that assaulted my body in the middle of our stay in the Netherlands is for the most part gone. There are varying theories regarding the cure. I took massive doses of vitamin C for several days, which I'm sure helped. Then one night, Ben, Ellen, Carol and I sat around a roaring fire in their backyard fire pit and drank a bottle of excellent Port wine that they brought back from their trip to Portugal and saved to share with us. Ben and I drank the lion's share while we answered questions from their Question Box. (Who, in your opinion, are three of the greatest Americans of all time? If you were deaf and could hear for only one hour each month, what would you like to hear? What animal would you like to be? If you could have been at any historical/cultural event ever, which would you choose? It was actually a lot of fun.) But what I meant to tell you is that the next morning I awoke with no hangover, no queasy stomach and NO COLD! Vitamin C? Maybe. High quality port wine? Hmmmm. You be the judge.

I have contracted a new malady, however. It's called in French, marché fièvre. It is translated, market fever. If you get it, you go to the farmers' market five or six days a week, traveling from town to town, following the markets. Sunday - St. Cyprien. Tuesday - Le Bugue. Wednesday - Bergerac. And on and on. You can't help yourself. The fresh produce is so beautiful you just have to buy some. And then there are the cheeses! I resisted the fresh sausages until today, when I purchased a duck sausage and a goat cheese sausage (really). There are so many more to try. Then you wander into a patisserie and fortify yourself with a fruit tarte or perhaps an eclair. Maybe it's not a fever; maybe it's love!

So anyway, I thought you'd perhaps like a little tour of our home for the next month. So, follow me. (Before I forget, you can always double click on any photo to see it full screen.)

This is Beauvert. The main part of the house is where our hosts, Jean-Pierre and Danielle, live. Our gite is the section at the right of the photo.

To the left, as you face the house, this is our view.

Jean-Pierre has several lawn mowers.

This is our terrace, which we use to dine al fresco whenever we can. The entrance to our gite is on the right, where the little floor mat it.

You enter through the kitchen.

Next to the kitchen is our first floor dining and work room. It's a comfortable place for writing and using our laptops because...

...it has a wood-burning that keeps the room quite toasty on cool Dordogne mornings and nights. The warmth rises adequately to the second floor.

On the second floor is our living room. It's very cozy. It's so cute that I thought I'd do my writing here, but I keep gravitating to the dining room downstairs. We're still settling in and finding a good "flow" in our home.

Our bedroom is tiny but it works. Instead of a photo of our bed, which looks strikingly like beds everywhere, I chose to show you what we see when we open our eyes in the morning. Well, that's a little bit of a fib. When we open our eyes around seven, give or take twenty minutes, it's still dark. The sunrise here is around 7:35! On our first morning I awoke in the dark and went back to sleep. I stayed in bed until the view looked like this photo. "Yikes!" I said when I looked at my watch and discovered it was 8:30! I felt like such a slacker.

We're gradually settling into a routine. See Carol. See the math book. See Carol work on her sabbatical project.

See the pool. See Carol. See Carol play. The pool is lovely, and for about four hours in the afternoon if the sun is bright, it's a great place to hang out. The water is very, very, very cold. We appreciate our friend, Peter's, heated pool much much more.


See Marc. See the fire in the hearth. See the fresh coffee. See the New York Times (virtual edition). See the smile on Marc's face. Vive la France!

Everyone Here Speaks French!

On Saturday morning, Ben deposited us at the train station in Maastricht in time for us to catch the 6:12 a.m. train to Liege, Belgium. Eight hours and four trains later (five, if you include the Paris metro), we stepped into the warm sunshine in Brive, got our zippy little five-speed Peugeot and headed for our home for the next month. The journey was comfortable on the speedy European trains. The only tense part was rushing from Gare du Nord to Gare d'Austerlitz in Paris in forty minutes to catch our last train. We worked up a sweat doing that, and caught a brief glimpse of the Seine, Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower from the metro - a view of what's in store for us at the end of our adventure.

We arrived at our gite (cottage) around four in the afternoon and were greeted by our very friendly hosts, Jean-Pierre and Danielle. We are in the country, four miles from the lovely town St. Cyprien. Let me tell you, it feels like forty miles! It is quiet here, and little else except for a few scattered houses.

Our first twenty-four hours have been a sensual experience - from the delicious dinner and wines that Jean-Pierre fixed for us last night, to the astounding darkness and silence when we went to bed, to the smell of farmers' wood fires as we cycled through the countryside, to the sights and smells and sounds of the morning market in Saint Cyprien. Ah! The market! I couldn't get enough of it.

The main street was packed with vendors and shoppers. We arrived early and strolled the length of it while stands were still being set up and the region just awaking. After an espresso at a café in the sun, we went to work stocking our kitchen.

There was so much to choose from! Local vegetables, fruits, meats, fish, wines, mussels, nuts, cheeses (not to mention clothing, knives, and a Frenchie kitchen wonder tool - It slices! It dices! - that was being demonstrated).

We found one of the local patisseries and scored our first of many baguettes (and some luscious treats). The line stretched almost out the door as we left, with good reason. We didn't want to leave, but you can only buy so many tomatoes (really!). Our last stop was at a stand where they prepared ready-made dinners to go. We bought our first lunch - paella - and headed for home. There are markets every day of the week in different local towns. Jean-Pierre and Danielle have clued us in on which ones are the best.

We had our paella on the patio, looking up at the swimming pool (which we've used twice). Yum! Next week, we're getting the cassoulet. So, we earned a rest by this time. For Carol, it was a brief nap. For me, it was finishing up my last blog so I could get to this one. (A writer's work is never done!) Then...

...it was time to try out the bicycles! We spent the better part of the afternoon cycling through the countryside, passing through tiny villages. We visited Les Eyzies, where we commenced our '06 bicycle tour. I had forgotten the hills of the Dordogne, but the memories returned as we glided down, wind in our face, for a couple of kilometers. Of course, other memories returned as we cycled up those same hills.

Along the way, however, scenes like this delighted us at every turn.

Ellen, Ben and Wes begin a weeklong visit this Wednesday. It will be our turn to return their wonderful hospitality during our visit to Eygelshoven. Ellen has become quite a master in the kitchen, and we'll have to work to equal the great meals she fixed for us. At least, the market has provided us with the raw materials.