Oh gosh, I love those fried duck livers in a salad - yuuummmm! But to each his own.

Anyway, I'm so glad you went to Monpazier and Cadouin. Love your reports and am desperately searching for aifares uner $1,000 so I can get back there myself with the kids in July.

St. Cirq, I think I have a metal block because I associated them with dog food! :)

Good luck finding an airfare. I did OK for my July trip to France on AC; just under $1,000 for a (somewhat) flexible ticket. Give them a try; flying through Toronto or Montreal is not so bad.

regards ...Ger

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ger!! Well, worth the wait.

StCirq, I copied your reports to disk, too, just haven't responded to your recent trip report yet. Yikes. Taking the kidsies to la Dordogne this summer??? I wish you and yours a lovely, restful time, which I'm sure will happen. You'll have to let us know what flavor oil your son picks out next!

Ger, looking forward to more, more, more. The pics are lovely.

Sorry for the long silence. Here is the next installment:

Regards Ger :)

Les Eyzies de Tayac and Font du Gaume

I greeted the day with enormous enthusiasm, full of nervous energy and excitement. This was the day that I would see those wondrous paintings at Font de Gaume that I had dreamed of since childhood. I was a little apprehensive, as sometimes that level of excitement results in disappointment. I had decades of dreams and imaginings around my first experience of primitive cave paintings and wondered if the reality of this object of fascination could ever meet those decades of expectations.

I need not have worried. Font du Gaume proved so much more powerful and moving than I had ever anticipated. I can't write about it, even now, without my eyes tearing up like a daft softie! It is an experience that will occupy a place in my heart forever.

The morning broke sunny and clear, but it quickly became overcast and, throughout the day, and there were frequent downfalls. The drive from Domme to the Font du Gaume is just lovely, but so are all of the drives in the Dordogne. If you really want to be bored senseless by delightful, lush scenery, then get yourself to this region. If I had one regret on this trip it was that it had taken me so long to visit the Dordogne.

I parked my car at Font de Gaume at 9:15 and lined up until the booth opened at 9:30. My ticket was stamped for the 10 am tour. It is really important to understand that they only allow 200 people in per day into the caves (and are thinking of reducing this number), each tour takes 10 people and they are scheduled every 20 mins. If you are visiting in the high season, book ahead or get there early.

I climbed the hill to the cave entrance (this is a fairly steep climb, sensible shoes required) and was delighted to see that two French Septuagenarians had made it there before me; obviously I am not drinking enough red wine!

The tour was in French, and I could understand most of it, but who needs to? This is not an intellectual experience; it is a spiritual and emotional voyage How can I describe my personal experience? An unseen force wrenched my heart from my chest, kicked me in the stomach and the tears streamed from my eyes. The emotional experience was so sublime, that I felt it as a physical assault.

I walked through a confined passageway, into a slightly larger chamber, recognized vague shadows on the wall that became more distinct and real as the tour proceeded, as the images became more solid and the significance more real. These images are not primitive; they are the works of great artists that understood perspective, musculature and movement. These artists had the skills, intelligence and emotional sophistication to touch the viewer's heart and soul. The emotional effect is akin to the wonder and excitement that one experiences when one sees the Sistine Chapel, or any other great work of art.. This is an experience that confirms, however briefly, that man truly is a superb creation and a reflection of a great and good deity.

The tour guide was simpatico. She probably conducts this tour every day, 10 times per day, but she was as enthusiastic about the experience, as if she had just discovered the cave herself and was seeing it for the first time. I watched the mixed group, all ages, all nations, and knew that they were as overcome as I was. Everyone was conducting himself or herself as if they were in a sacred place of veneration; we were all overcome by the experience and tried to hold back the emotion, and, when we caught each others glances, we smiled shyly, somewhat embarrassed, that a stranger caught us in this vulnerable state.
There is humour and whimsy in these paintings, and these are such sophisticated emotions, that truly separate the man from the beast. Reproduction and caring for young is a trait man shares with all mammals; fear and fight we share with even the most basic organisms. Humour and laughter appears to be isolated to the higher orders: Apes, dolphins, whales. The ability to express humour in art is unique to man and a few gifted gorillas.
The tour last for about 45 minutes and I walked out into the morning sunlight with a new-found respect for our ancestors and, quite honestly, I was in love with all of mankind. This is one of those emotional experiences that remains with you, long after the details disappear.

The prehistoric museum in Les Eyzies is closed for renovations until July, which would have been a catastrophic disappointment, had I not been floating in the stratosphere. There was no minor inconvenience that could possibly irritate or depress me on this trip, because I was as high as a kite on my Font du Gaume experience.

Instead, I drove along the Vezere river, another beautiful drive, and stopped at La Roque St. Christophe. Over 100 caves have been carved out of the cliff and it was a refuge for man from the Paleolithic era to the 16th century. . At one time, this was a self-contained vertical town, with butchers, bakers, blacksmiths and other trades, and even had a small church. This may well have been Western man's first experience with living in a high-rise Condominium. The stench must have been overwhelming! The exhibition has been set up for the kids, who I am sure will find it fascinating.

St. Leon sur Vezere

Pictures:
http://www.ofoto.com/BrowsePhotos.js...kmc1s&Ux=0

I stopped briefly at the charming village of St. Leon sur Vezere. It was completely empty, as it was around lunchtime, but for a young Basset hound who greeted me warmly on arrival (he had no-one else to play with) and stayed with me for the entire tour. There is a truly excellent Romanesque church, built by the Benedictines in the 12 century, over the ruins of a Roman Villa. The interior is divine in its simplicity and lack of ostentatious ornament. There are two important Chateaux in the town, one overlooking the river. I struggled to get a photograph of it through the trees, until my little friend showed me the way. He leapt up on the wall and beckoned me to follow, which I did, and managed to get a good shot. He tried to encourage me to go further, but I was a bit concerned that this might be a private residence and the owners would not be too pleased about an invasion of a mad tourist and doggie, scrambling over their walls.

I wandered around the town and ran into a few residents that greeted me pleasantly. Being a city dweller, I always enjoy this natural politeness country folk have; it costs nothing to smile at a stranger and say hello. Following my exploration of the village, I wandered down to the banks of the river. The weeping willows swayed gently in the breeze and ducks and geese waddled about on the banks. I was surprised my new pal did not rush into the middle of the birds; I know my own two terriers would have! It was absolutely peaceful, the only sounds being the lowing of the breeze through the willows, the soft music of the water over the stones, the occasional lethargic quaking of the fowl.

I walked toward my car and wondered if I should stop off at the bakery and pick up a treat for my little friend; the usual problem, how much should I tip the tour guide! As it happened, it wasn't a problem, on the way to the car-park, he abandoned me and wandered over to a restaurant, and was greeted by the staff; perhaps his owners. What a good life doggies have in the Dordogne. I was glad of his company and I made a mental note to bring doggie treats with me on my next travels.

Next: Sarlat

Ger, what a wonderful job you've done descibing the Font du Gaume visit!! We returned from a week based in Le Bugue, 3 days in St. Emilion and 4 in Paris last week. I was reading your report prior to our trip and, now that we're back, its even better. We, too, wondered why we did almost every other part of France before Dordogne!
Font du Gaume was definitely a highlight of our trip. I think we must have done the rest of it at a more leisurely pace than you did!

Thanks Judy. I am sure that I will be back in the Dordogne again before the end of the year! Four days were jsut not long enough. :)

I have been told that no-one can updte this anymore. I will continue the trip report later today on a separate thread.


regards Ger

Just testing for you , ger!

Ger, here is me thinking until today that you were a man. Very Irish to have a name that suits both! I am a steak eating vegetarian and will not be rude and refuse the occasional piece of lamb as a guest in someones house. I think its nicer here in Ireland as well less junk fed to them and probably a different type of grass.

I really like the report. Regarding a post a while ago, I did find out that we have an "air Corp" over here...apparently not enough cool military planes to call outselves and air force or possibly we are too mickey mouse. :-)

Hi Siobhan ... My name is Geraldine, but I only use the full name for business.

BTW, I was in Dublin last the weekend before last and had a snack in Peploes on the Green; nice plece :)

Ger,
I'm another big fan of yours! I've been savoring this report, a reward as I try to work through the anxiety of planning my upcoming trip.
I'm looking forward to your piece on Sarlat. Your writing really makes the region come alive.
Paule

Thanks Paule!

Relax with the planning; you can't turn left or right in this region without falling over something lovely :) Your plans look pretty excellent to me.

regards ... Ger

Wonderful Sarlat!

The Photos:

http://www.ofoto.com/BrowsePhotos.js...p6y7w&Ux=0

The weather continued to be overcast, with occasional bouts of rain, as I drove toward Sarlat. One of the really great features of this region is that everything is so close together, so in no time at all, I was making my way through the Friday traffic in Sarlat. After driving from one side of town to the other, and then back again, I finally found the car park outside the old town. It was a bit of a shock to brave the noise and fumes of Sarlat, after the serenity of the country and I admit to being tempted to hop back in the car and bolt for the countryside again. But I persevered and was delighted I did, for the old town is a pedestrian area and as lovely a small town as I have ever visited.

Unfortunately, as soon as I left the Tourist Office, where I picked up a very good map and guide of the town, the heavens opened and the rain came down in sheets. I had an umbrella, but this was the kind of rain that beats off the pavements and splashes you all the way up to your knees! I had my "town" Tods on, which I had no intention of ruining, so the choice was to either explore the town barefoot or take shelter. I darted into the first restaurant I could find, which was packed, and had an omelet (really ordinary) and by the time I had finished, the rain had stopped.

The reason this gem is so well preserved is that, because of its remote location, its role as a center of commerce declined in the 18th century and it was therefore spared much of the destruction (AKA as progress) and modernization of the 19th & 20th century. It was also chosen, in the 60s, as one of the sites to be restored under a national program to preserve older towns and cites. As a result, it is a perfectly preserved temple to the growth and prosperity of trade and the merchant classes.

For me, Sarlat was a wonderful visual and historic contrast to everything I had seen thus far in the Dordogne. I had seen the birth of man, in the caves of Font du Gaume, the bastide towns of the medieval era, huddled around the massive castles that experienced centuries of warfare. Now, I would see the birth of the modern era, a town where life played out not much differently than it does today, with its banks and shops, cafes and brothels, schools and domestic houses. And this, for me, is the wonder of the Dordogne: It is the history and development of western civilization in a microcosm, available in a tiny parcel of land.

There is no point in my describing the experience building by building, as any guide book can do better. Please pick up the guide at the Tourist Office for a wonderful walking tour of the town. You will get lost, of course, because it brings you along the back streets, but getting lost is exciting. You will notice from my pictures that I am in love with architectural detail and this town more than satisfied my desires. There are wonderful textures and contrasts, fine wide streets and twisting alleyways and everywhere, little corners of sheer delight. There are open squares, large and small, with exceptional examples of domestic architecture from the 13th to the 17th centuries. Everything about this town shouts prosperity, peace and trade ? you can feel its former, and present, commercial success in every stone.

Before leaving, I could not resist visiting this very chic purveyor of fine edible goods (the word "shop" just does not do it justice). I picked up some more oils and vinegars and, as the lady wrapped my purchases, she caught me looking longingly at the shelves of Foie Gras. She asked me if I wanted to buy some, I explained that I couldn't because Canada customs would not allow it, and she said not at all; as long as it was canned and not in a jar, it was acceptable. That's all I needed to hear. I bought several cans. I staggered to the car with my purchases and set out back to the hotel.

I had thought of staying in Sarlat but, once again, was glad I had chosen Domme, simply for the peace and quiet. However, this would be an excellent base also, as it is large enough to have several excellent restaurants, would be wonderful to wander around in the evening and yet small enough to provide an intimate experience. As I drove back to the hotel, it struck me that my first impression I had of the Dordogne, during my research, was correct. Frankly, one is spoilt for choice! Its just a matter of making a good choice or a better one and which it is depends on your heart's desire.

I had dinner that night at L'Espanade; why bother going anywhere else? This time, however, I went "a la carte" and insisted on only a glass of Champagne to start, the main course (fish), and a glass of wine (well OK, I had two!). I resisted all temptations to overindulge, much to the consternation of my hosts. It had nothing to do with lost revenue; honestly, it appeared to be genuine concern that I might expire from starvation if I did not at least have a bit of cheese to finish. It was a bit like dining at your Mammy's: "Ah, go on; a little bit of cheese is not going to kill you". We had new diners in the restaurant. A family had just arrived from England (it was a long-weekend there) and the four children were very well-behaved indeed, which is always nice to see. There were two very spiffily-dressed German gentlemen, who downed a bottle of the Dom, worked there way through a great vintage bottle of red (judging by the ceremony with which it was served) and retired to the drawing room to have coffee and cognac. I was invited to join, but demurred and had my coffee at the table. I wanted an early start the next day as I had big plans!

Next: "The best laid plans often go awry" or "Why Ger can sometimes be so very stupid that she should not be allowed to travel without a minder"

Regards ... Ger

Ger, you are an inspiration. You write so well and make that connection with the terre.

Hi Ger,

Thanks for a really great report.

I'm starting to plan a trip to the Dordogne, and this has been very helpful.

Ger,

I haven't had dinner in Peploes just a glass of wine and light lunch in the bar. Even that was fantastic. Its my B-day next week so I am hoping to be taken there or Rolys Bistro....fingers crossed! I also treat myself to a glass of champers before a meal when I can...not very often in Dublin though due to insane prices (18-20 for a split)...must get back to Paris soon.

Great report :-)

Thanks all, I'll try to add more this evening.

Siobhan: let us know about the dinner at Rolys (have not been there for about 3 years) or Peploes (its become a favorite of my sisters)

regards ... Ger

Most people that know me consider me quite an intelligent individual. However, I occasionally have these lapses of profound stupidity that are so great, even very stupid people would be ashamed to do the things that I do. I never know when I am going to be visited by the wicked God of Stupidity (it could not be a Goddess, as Goddesses are always benign creatures), there are no obvious warning signs, and thankfully they don't happen too often. I have noticed that these lapses occur when I relax my guard and when I travel so, to compensate, I make endless lists of activates, in sequence and time-stamped, and lists of required documentation and paraphernalia. For example, my limo service has been instructed not to let me into the car until I produce my passport and ticket and credit cards.

Well, on a beautiful Saturday morning in the Dordogne, I was visited by this evil God of Stupidly that caused me to have a very different day than I had so carefully planned. The good news is that no lives were lost and I got back to the hotel in one piece.

On Saturday morning I woke early. The day was fresh and there were just a few billowing clouds in the azure sky. I left the hotel at 8am and there was no-one at all awake in Domme, as it was a holiday. The plan for the day was a trip to Grotte du March followed by a visit to St. Cirq Lapopie and finally Cahors. It was certainly ambitious, probably more than I should do in one day, but I thought it possible.

I took the most magnificent drive to date, made even better because the roads were empty and the weather was perfect. I followed the road to Gourdon from there the highway (N20) towards Cahors, turning left, on a small road (D677), towards Labastide Marat, then south on D32to St. Gery and westward, along the river, to Grotte du Pech Merle. The first leg of the journey was lovely enough, with its farmlands and livestock grazing contentedly in the fields, but the latter part, from the N20 to my destination, at times made my heart stop from sheer delight. I would compare it with a previous drive around the Cathar region; a secret place that has changed little in a thousand years ? I found the French Brigadoon!

The air was cool and fresh and the rivers and streams were swelled to capacity and in many places had flooded the banks. The roads twisted tortuously through the landscape, making no effort to abide by the basic rule for roads: to assist the traveler to get as quickly as possible from point A to point B. THIS road's mission was to slow the traveler down, to give her enough time to enjoy the landscape, to force her to open the windows of the air-conditioned car so she could hear the sounds of the birds and water, to smell the freshness of the of the morning air and to realize that sometimes you are forced to accept that the end-point of a journey is less important than the journey itself.

I pulled into the car park of Grotte du Pech Merle and was there were only two other cars. It was about 9:30 and I was probably still in time for the first tour. I thought that I might be the ONLY person on the tour. How exciting would that be? I approach the booth, with this great silly grin on my face. The lady in the booth greeted me with a big smile. My hand lunged into my bag to find my purse, so I could pay the paltry sum of 7 Euros to see the great wonders of Grotte du Pech Merle. A very cold hand of realization gripped my stomach and a flush of disbelief and horror coursed through every vein and sinew in my body. I wanted to scream and curse in public! At times like this, when I know I must face the horrible reality of a situation that cannot be undone, I rely on some good advice from my dear parents. My father told me "Never let them see you sweat"; my mother warned me never to make a public spectacle of myself, regardless of the circumstances.

So, I excused myself from the smiling lady in the booth, walked to a place in the car park where no-one could see me, fell on my knees and emptied out the entire contents of my bag. There were two packs of ciggies and a lighter, a camera with a spare battery and sim card, hairspray, hairpins and clips just in case I had an urgent need for an "up-do", a makeup bag that any supermodel would be proud of. What was missing was my wallet, (which contained Euros, Dollars and Pounds) and any form of currency or credit. There was not a coin in the bag, from any of the counties I have visited in the past 12 months. I was in denial mode, despite the fact that that little person called reality was bombarding my brain with the TRUTH. I shook the bag again, and out popped the watch that I thought I had lost. There was a brief moment of delight at seeing the RW watch I thought I had lost, until I realized that this was my only piece of tradable worth at this moment. I stuffed the contents back in the bag and went back to the car. There was just slim chance that my wallet, with its cash cards, currency and THREE credit cards had fallen out of my bag. There was also a chance that I had some cash in the car. The thought buoyed me up for a few moments, I am one of those people that has absolutely no respect for money and therefore has bits of money stashed everywhere.

I tore the car apart. I had exactly 30 cents, two apples, a litre of water and two stale croissants in the car. This was a dismal inventory. Even landless serfs in the early middle ages had more net worth than I had at that moment.

I evaluated my options. There were only two other cars in the car park. I could beg 7 Euros off them or offer to sell my RW watch. Neither was option was really appealing: I was not brought up by my parents, or the nuns of the Loreto, to pan-handle and I was rather fond of the watch. It just was not meant to be. I had to accept that I would not see Grotte du Pech Merle today and try to make the most of the remains of the day.

I drove down the hill and set out toward St. Cirq. I hated the idea of retracing my steps to Domme and starting out all over again. I was very much aware that I was a foreigner driving a rented car in France with no form of identification, and I know that the French authorities do not like that at all. I considered how I could get money transferred from Canada to France, but I would need some form of identification to collect the money and I had NO identification. That is quite a shocking realization: At this point in time, I did not exist. At that point, I saw, just ahead of me, the wonderful town of St. Cirq. It was only a few miles up the hill, how could I resist the temptation to visit?

I drove up to the village, what a wonderful sight, from every angle. I entered the town and looked for parking. Both automatic car parks in the town demanded one Euro before allowing entry. I pulled over to the side, sat on a wall overlooking the lovely valley and considered my options. I had eaten the apples and drank half the water. I had on form of identification. The sensible thing to do would be to go back to the hotel. I am always reluctant to do the sensible thing, but I had run out of alternatives.

Next: Lascaux II

Poor Ger!

If it makes you feel better, twice I've arrived at Pech-Merle too late for the morning tour and had to leave before the afternoon tour began. I'm getting to know that parking lot too well.

Isn't Cabrerets a dump, by the way? You'd think they'd fix that village up and take advantage of all the people who pass through to see the cave!

There are some places I think I am just destined never to see. Been to Rome a bunch of times and have NEVER been inside the Pantheon. It's either all boarded up or closed or what not, but it does not want me see it!

Hi Ger,

Too bad about the missing wallet.

I've done the same thing, if that's any help.