Tournez à gauche, Tournez à droite? Maitai’s Scenic Detour Through France
Nov 15th, 2012, 05:27 AM
#41
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kerouac and maitaitom--two of Fodor's core posters, together again!
When Bombay movie madness strikes, no one is safe.
http://tinyurl.com/yl5vt4o
http://www.grapheine.com/bombaytv/mo...05ebb847d.html
When Bombay movie madness strikes, no one is safe.
http://tinyurl.com/yl5vt4o
http://www.grapheine.com/bombaytv/mo...05ebb847d.html
Nov 15th, 2012, 05:45 AM
#42
Laughing along with your trip report. Especially the part about your fork turning at Le Tastevin on Ile St. Louis.
When we had dinner there last year MDH had the nerve to push his sliverwear slightly more apart as we were waiting for our 1st course. Madam came rushing across the room, pushed it back into the original place while saying. "No, no monsieur."
Lesson learned---if you eat at Le Tastevin, DO NOT move or turn the silverwear! Besides that, the food wasn't that good.
Having recently returned from Sarlat I am anxiously waiting for your next entertaining post.
When we had dinner there last year MDH had the nerve to push his sliverwear slightly more apart as we were waiting for our 1st course. Madam came rushing across the room, pushed it back into the original place while saying. "No, no monsieur."
Lesson learned---if you eat at Le Tastevin, DO NOT move or turn the silverwear! Besides that, the food wasn't that good.
Having recently returned from Sarlat I am anxiously waiting for your next entertaining post.
Nov 15th, 2012, 07:02 AM
#44
When we had dinner there last year MDH had the nerve to push his sliverwear slightly more apart as we were waiting for our 1st course. Madam came rushing across the room, pushed it back into the original place while saying. "No, no monsieur."
Lesson learned---if you eat at Le Tastevin, DO NOT move or turn the silverwear! Besides that, the food wasn't that good.>
I'm surprised that they allow you to use the cutlery at all.
le tastevin duly crossed off my list.
Lesson learned---if you eat at Le Tastevin, DO NOT move or turn the silverwear! Besides that, the food wasn't that good.>
I'm surprised that they allow you to use the cutlery at all.
le tastevin duly crossed off my list.
Nov 15th, 2012, 07:14 AM
#46
Original Poster
<B>Day Four – In The Dark, Filet de Maitai, A Bloody Time In Limoges, Dr. Mary’s Bag Of Tricks, Introducing Madame Bleu, Unspeakable Crimes Against Humanity, Dueling Navigation Systems, A Sarlat Sensation, Mind Your Manoirs and A Great Name For Our New Business Venture </B>
Anyone can relax on vacations, unless, of course, you travel with me. Today’s schedule would be a good example of why Tuscan Tom’s Tours (even when operating in France) are not for the casual traveler.
Alarms in two rooms at the Hotel De La Paix Montparnasse started ringing shortly after five, because we had a train to catch…the 6:40 to Limoges. Our taxi got us to the station about a half hour before our scheduled boarding.
Once the track was announced, and we asked a conductor (well, he did look a little like Leonard Bernstein) which car was the correct one to board, we climbed the steps onto our car and right into…total darkness.
A funny trick French train officials seem to like to play on unsuspecting, caffeine-deprived tourists is to keep the car totally dark sans any lighting that might make it possible to find your seats without the aid of flashlight, or in our case, cell phone.
Although we had four tickets in this first class car (seats 33-36) that seemingly should have been together, it quickly dawned on us (even before dawn) that there were no seats 33 or 34. Since forcing Kim and Mary to ride on the roof of the train was out of the question (hey, we had two more weeks with them for God’s sake), we sat across from each other until the lights came on to determine what the hell we should do.
When the lights eventually came up, a very nice French woman and her daughter (carrying a cute cat) came up to us and said that although two of us were in their seats, they would sit elsewhere in our car so we could all sit together. Damn French! Why are they always so nice? Next time I visit France, perhaps I’ll go back to see where they hid seats 33 and 34.
The trip from Paris to Limoges was barely more than three hours, made even quicker by my five café-au-laits. I was ready to hit the ground running.
At the Limoges train station, we would pick up the Europcar that we would use for the next two weeks to navigate the roads of the Dordogne, Loire and Normandy. Everything was going perfectly, but as many of you know from past adventures, when it comes to our trips, “perfectly” is an adverb we rarely use.
For those that don’t know my medical history, I was hospitalized for 3 ½ months two years ago, and ever since my release I have been on low doses of prednisone, which has kept my RA from returning (minor miracle in itself). I also was on massive doses of steroids while in the hospital.
Although now on low doses, the cumulative effect of prednisone for the past couple of years has made my skin so thin I bruise when the air-conditioning blows too hard on it or if the dog sneezes on me. “Old man skin,” I call it (not so affectionately).
When I attempted to open the door to the Europcar office, the door was unfortunately stuck. As I yanked on the door, the rather heavy shoulder bag I was carrying slid down my left arm from my shoulder. As it reached my forearm, the bag decided to make quite an impression on me. Even without looking, I knew this was not going to be a Hallmark moment.
With the door now unlocked, I walked a couple of steps into the office before looking down at my lower arm, which was now bleeding rather profusely thanks to a chunk of it being filleted by the bag. Thanks to the copious amount of blood, I couldn’t actually see how much of my forearm was taken out by the evil bag. I really didn’t want to know either. I was not a happy man.
Bleeding to death in the train station did not seem very appealing, but fortunately Dr. Mary sprang into action, and she immediately reached into her purse that doubles as a medical bag when she is on vacation.
In fact, Mary’s purse could be equated to a clown car of medicine. She has a never-ending quantity of medical supplies that just keep coming out of her seemingly bottomless bag. I half expected her to pull out an X-ray machine with tech support when she stated, “You know Tom, I think I’ll just put some glue on this.” OK, that was a surprise, although by this time I figured I was ready for the glue factory. “If I was a horse, they’d shoot me,” I said.
Trying not to waste too much time (we had places to go dammit), I started to chat with the lovely woman at Europcar, while at the same time Tracy and Mary were swabbing me down with anti-bacterial wipes and gluing my arm into a semblance of what it was about ten minutes previously. I tried not to bleed all over the paperwork, and the Europcar lady pretended not to notice the makeshift medical team working feverishly on my arm.
Glued, bandaged and somewhat embarrassed by my futility and “old man skin,” I walked with the gang to our rental car, and after the incredibly nice Europcar woman patiently explained everything about the car, we were about ready to drive off when Kim exclaimed, “Tom, you gotta take a look at this!”
Stepping out of the car, Kim and I stared at the gas tank that had a huge “DIESEL” sticker placed right above it. “Where were you in 2005?” I asked.
We activated the GPS system that, not surprisingly, spoke to us in French. Dubbed “Madame Bleu,” her “à gauche” and “à droite” requests along with the frequent “maintenant” commands would guide us throughout the French countryside, albeit not always where we wanted to go.
Our first stop would be a somber experience. Just about half an hour from the Limoges train station is Oradour-sur-Glane, the scene of a horrific 1944 massacre of 642 French men, women and children.
I had read about visiting here, but I did know what to expect. The entire experience is incredibly powerful. The cost to get in the underground museum is 7€ (the 2€ audio guide is a must, in my opinion).
We then walked through the museum that documents in great deal the rise of the Nazis until you come upon the information regarding that fateful day in June 1944 and its aftermath. We were very impressed how this museum was set up and how it explained, in great detail, the history of those turbulent and terrible years.
Before we exited to the preserved town that was virtually gutted by the Germans, we sat through a film that lasts a little more than ten minutes. It is a sobering experience to say the least.
Walking through Oradour-sur-Glane is a surreal experience and you just have to wonder what kind of people could perpetrate such an act of atrocity. Overall, we spent about 90 minutes at Oradour-sur-Glane.
Afterward, we visited the rebuilt town and had a decent lunch at Au Bon Accueil Brasserie, where the pommes frites were the star of the show. For the second time on the trip, we had knives that would not cut our meat. “This country needs a good knife sharpener,” Tracy casually observed.
On the road again, we started on the two-hour drive to our base for the next five nights, Sarlat-la-Canéda. In an attempt to literally drive us crazy, Mary brought out our GPS system from our 2008 Central Europe trip, the “never-in-doubt, yet seldom correct,” Lady Garmin.
When Madame Bleu would say “à gauche,” Lady Garmin would say “Turn right.” When Madame Bleu would state “à droite,” Lady Garmin would say “Turn left.” Between the dueling GPS systems, my two great map-readers (Kim and Mary) and my excellent road sign reader (Tracy), by the time we reached downtown Sarlat I wasn’t even sure if we were still in France.
Arriving on a Friday afternoon, the town of Sarlat was hopping, and we weren’t sure where we should park. Following Madame Bleu’s (Lady Garmin had been laid off from her job about an hour before) directions, along with the keen eyes of Tracy and Mary spying a sign for our hotel, we scored a great parking place near our home in Sarlat for the next five nights, La Villa des Consuls.
The parking space was located next to a space that had a handicap parking sign, so we guessed that people believed this was a handicap space, too, although it was not (we got this space four out of the five days).
Speaking of handicapped, Kim took a funny photo of my bandaged arm (now throbbing like a son of a bitch) that I placed on the hood of a parked, Sarlat ambulance (the yucks always come first, even when in pain).
We were all blown away by the La Villa des Consuls. It was gorgeous, and the location can’t be beat, just a short walk to the main street in the medieval area. We had booked the Montesquieu, a two-bedroom apartment (152€) with bath/shower, and a veranda where we sipped wine each night before going out and sipping more wine.
After freshening up, we walked through the city getting a bearing on where we were, picked up a bottle of wine (maybe it was two) and went back up to our balcony to have wine, cheese, salami and crackers (always important to have a snack before dinner).
Speaking of dinner, Villa des Consuls’ owner and gracious host (David) recommended we try Le Petit Manoir, 13 rue de la republique, and he made reservations for us at 8 p.m. My arm felt much better after a few glasses of wine, so off to dinner we went.
I guess it was a little chilly for the patio to be open, so we were seated in a nicely appointed, but a tad stuffy, room at Le Petit Manoir. It was quite formal with a gray décor. Thankfully, in a few minutes our not-so-good dinners from our first two nights became a distant memory.
Kim had the 22.50€ prix fixe meal that included a Carrot/Cauliflower/Sesame Oil Soup (très bon), a Salmon main dish and Walnut Cake in a Chocolate Sauce for dessert.
Mary ordered a la carte and had the Ahi Tuna with Black Rice.
Tracy opted for the 28€ prix fixe meal that started with a Foie Gras in Brioche with a Poached Egg, a Confit de Canard with Mushrooms and Potatoes, and ended with the “Wow” dessert, Mousse au Chocolate (a white chocolate mousse with salted caramel).
Having never tried Foie Gras, I figured, “When in Sarlat, do as the Sarlatians (probably an incorrect term) do.” I had a Foie Gras Crème Brulee, Steak au Poivre with Mushrooms and Potato Gratin, and the aforementioned Walnut Cake.
Once again, the knife for the steak was as dull as 2001: A Space Odyssey (ok, nothing is that dull). The four of us joked that we should open a store in France that sells sharp knives and shower curtains. Tracy said, “Hey, we could call the store Psycho.” Yes, I know…you had to be there.
With a bottle of Vin rouge, the total bill came to 140€. I was glad the tip was included, because we dubbed our waiter Monsieur Sullen Pants.
After dinner, we strolled through the lovely town of Sarlat on our way back to the hotel. Tomorrow (Saturday) would be Market Day in Sarlat (as it turned out, the most expensive Market Day I ever attended) and our first day of exploring the incredible Dordogne.
<B>Next: Day Five – Going To Market, Cum On Feel The Noix, Cashed Out, Chateau Hopping, Sir Bleed-A-Lot, Jardin Party, Roque & Rolling On The River, Gizzard Wizards and Where’s Anthony Quinn</B>
Anyone can relax on vacations, unless, of course, you travel with me. Today’s schedule would be a good example of why Tuscan Tom’s Tours (even when operating in France) are not for the casual traveler.
Alarms in two rooms at the Hotel De La Paix Montparnasse started ringing shortly after five, because we had a train to catch…the 6:40 to Limoges. Our taxi got us to the station about a half hour before our scheduled boarding.
Once the track was announced, and we asked a conductor (well, he did look a little like Leonard Bernstein) which car was the correct one to board, we climbed the steps onto our car and right into…total darkness.
A funny trick French train officials seem to like to play on unsuspecting, caffeine-deprived tourists is to keep the car totally dark sans any lighting that might make it possible to find your seats without the aid of flashlight, or in our case, cell phone.
Although we had four tickets in this first class car (seats 33-36) that seemingly should have been together, it quickly dawned on us (even before dawn) that there were no seats 33 or 34. Since forcing Kim and Mary to ride on the roof of the train was out of the question (hey, we had two more weeks with them for God’s sake), we sat across from each other until the lights came on to determine what the hell we should do.
When the lights eventually came up, a very nice French woman and her daughter (carrying a cute cat) came up to us and said that although two of us were in their seats, they would sit elsewhere in our car so we could all sit together. Damn French! Why are they always so nice? Next time I visit France, perhaps I’ll go back to see where they hid seats 33 and 34.
The trip from Paris to Limoges was barely more than three hours, made even quicker by my five café-au-laits. I was ready to hit the ground running.
At the Limoges train station, we would pick up the Europcar that we would use for the next two weeks to navigate the roads of the Dordogne, Loire and Normandy. Everything was going perfectly, but as many of you know from past adventures, when it comes to our trips, “perfectly” is an adverb we rarely use.
For those that don’t know my medical history, I was hospitalized for 3 ½ months two years ago, and ever since my release I have been on low doses of prednisone, which has kept my RA from returning (minor miracle in itself). I also was on massive doses of steroids while in the hospital.
Although now on low doses, the cumulative effect of prednisone for the past couple of years has made my skin so thin I bruise when the air-conditioning blows too hard on it or if the dog sneezes on me. “Old man skin,” I call it (not so affectionately).
When I attempted to open the door to the Europcar office, the door was unfortunately stuck. As I yanked on the door, the rather heavy shoulder bag I was carrying slid down my left arm from my shoulder. As it reached my forearm, the bag decided to make quite an impression on me. Even without looking, I knew this was not going to be a Hallmark moment.
With the door now unlocked, I walked a couple of steps into the office before looking down at my lower arm, which was now bleeding rather profusely thanks to a chunk of it being filleted by the bag. Thanks to the copious amount of blood, I couldn’t actually see how much of my forearm was taken out by the evil bag. I really didn’t want to know either. I was not a happy man.
Bleeding to death in the train station did not seem very appealing, but fortunately Dr. Mary sprang into action, and she immediately reached into her purse that doubles as a medical bag when she is on vacation.
In fact, Mary’s purse could be equated to a clown car of medicine. She has a never-ending quantity of medical supplies that just keep coming out of her seemingly bottomless bag. I half expected her to pull out an X-ray machine with tech support when she stated, “You know Tom, I think I’ll just put some glue on this.” OK, that was a surprise, although by this time I figured I was ready for the glue factory. “If I was a horse, they’d shoot me,” I said.
Trying not to waste too much time (we had places to go dammit), I started to chat with the lovely woman at Europcar, while at the same time Tracy and Mary were swabbing me down with anti-bacterial wipes and gluing my arm into a semblance of what it was about ten minutes previously. I tried not to bleed all over the paperwork, and the Europcar lady pretended not to notice the makeshift medical team working feverishly on my arm.
Glued, bandaged and somewhat embarrassed by my futility and “old man skin,” I walked with the gang to our rental car, and after the incredibly nice Europcar woman patiently explained everything about the car, we were about ready to drive off when Kim exclaimed, “Tom, you gotta take a look at this!”
Stepping out of the car, Kim and I stared at the gas tank that had a huge “DIESEL” sticker placed right above it. “Where were you in 2005?” I asked.
We activated the GPS system that, not surprisingly, spoke to us in French. Dubbed “Madame Bleu,” her “à gauche” and “à droite” requests along with the frequent “maintenant” commands would guide us throughout the French countryside, albeit not always where we wanted to go.
Our first stop would be a somber experience. Just about half an hour from the Limoges train station is Oradour-sur-Glane, the scene of a horrific 1944 massacre of 642 French men, women and children.
I had read about visiting here, but I did know what to expect. The entire experience is incredibly powerful. The cost to get in the underground museum is 7€ (the 2€ audio guide is a must, in my opinion).
We then walked through the museum that documents in great deal the rise of the Nazis until you come upon the information regarding that fateful day in June 1944 and its aftermath. We were very impressed how this museum was set up and how it explained, in great detail, the history of those turbulent and terrible years.
Before we exited to the preserved town that was virtually gutted by the Germans, we sat through a film that lasts a little more than ten minutes. It is a sobering experience to say the least.
Walking through Oradour-sur-Glane is a surreal experience and you just have to wonder what kind of people could perpetrate such an act of atrocity. Overall, we spent about 90 minutes at Oradour-sur-Glane.
Afterward, we visited the rebuilt town and had a decent lunch at Au Bon Accueil Brasserie, where the pommes frites were the star of the show. For the second time on the trip, we had knives that would not cut our meat. “This country needs a good knife sharpener,” Tracy casually observed.
On the road again, we started on the two-hour drive to our base for the next five nights, Sarlat-la-Canéda. In an attempt to literally drive us crazy, Mary brought out our GPS system from our 2008 Central Europe trip, the “never-in-doubt, yet seldom correct,” Lady Garmin.
When Madame Bleu would say “à gauche,” Lady Garmin would say “Turn right.” When Madame Bleu would state “à droite,” Lady Garmin would say “Turn left.” Between the dueling GPS systems, my two great map-readers (Kim and Mary) and my excellent road sign reader (Tracy), by the time we reached downtown Sarlat I wasn’t even sure if we were still in France.
Arriving on a Friday afternoon, the town of Sarlat was hopping, and we weren’t sure where we should park. Following Madame Bleu’s (Lady Garmin had been laid off from her job about an hour before) directions, along with the keen eyes of Tracy and Mary spying a sign for our hotel, we scored a great parking place near our home in Sarlat for the next five nights, La Villa des Consuls.
The parking space was located next to a space that had a handicap parking sign, so we guessed that people believed this was a handicap space, too, although it was not (we got this space four out of the five days).
Speaking of handicapped, Kim took a funny photo of my bandaged arm (now throbbing like a son of a bitch) that I placed on the hood of a parked, Sarlat ambulance (the yucks always come first, even when in pain).
We were all blown away by the La Villa des Consuls. It was gorgeous, and the location can’t be beat, just a short walk to the main street in the medieval area. We had booked the Montesquieu, a two-bedroom apartment (152€) with bath/shower, and a veranda where we sipped wine each night before going out and sipping more wine.
After freshening up, we walked through the city getting a bearing on where we were, picked up a bottle of wine (maybe it was two) and went back up to our balcony to have wine, cheese, salami and crackers (always important to have a snack before dinner).
Speaking of dinner, Villa des Consuls’ owner and gracious host (David) recommended we try Le Petit Manoir, 13 rue de la republique, and he made reservations for us at 8 p.m. My arm felt much better after a few glasses of wine, so off to dinner we went.
I guess it was a little chilly for the patio to be open, so we were seated in a nicely appointed, but a tad stuffy, room at Le Petit Manoir. It was quite formal with a gray décor. Thankfully, in a few minutes our not-so-good dinners from our first two nights became a distant memory.
Kim had the 22.50€ prix fixe meal that included a Carrot/Cauliflower/Sesame Oil Soup (très bon), a Salmon main dish and Walnut Cake in a Chocolate Sauce for dessert.
Mary ordered a la carte and had the Ahi Tuna with Black Rice.
Tracy opted for the 28€ prix fixe meal that started with a Foie Gras in Brioche with a Poached Egg, a Confit de Canard with Mushrooms and Potatoes, and ended with the “Wow” dessert, Mousse au Chocolate (a white chocolate mousse with salted caramel).
Having never tried Foie Gras, I figured, “When in Sarlat, do as the Sarlatians (probably an incorrect term) do.” I had a Foie Gras Crème Brulee, Steak au Poivre with Mushrooms and Potato Gratin, and the aforementioned Walnut Cake.
Once again, the knife for the steak was as dull as 2001: A Space Odyssey (ok, nothing is that dull). The four of us joked that we should open a store in France that sells sharp knives and shower curtains. Tracy said, “Hey, we could call the store Psycho.” Yes, I know…you had to be there.
With a bottle of Vin rouge, the total bill came to 140€. I was glad the tip was included, because we dubbed our waiter Monsieur Sullen Pants.
After dinner, we strolled through the lovely town of Sarlat on our way back to the hotel. Tomorrow (Saturday) would be Market Day in Sarlat (as it turned out, the most expensive Market Day I ever attended) and our first day of exploring the incredible Dordogne.
<B>Next: Day Five – Going To Market, Cum On Feel The Noix, Cashed Out, Chateau Hopping, Sir Bleed-A-Lot, Jardin Party, Roque & Rolling On The River, Gizzard Wizards and Where’s Anthony Quinn</B>
Nov 15th, 2012, 07:23 AM
#47
Very nasty
" For the second time on the trip, we had knives that would not cut our meat. "
I think the issue is the quality of the meat. My father (who was in he trade) used to stalk out of french restaurants if those horrid little steak knives appeared while shouting over his shoulder "can't you get proper meat in this country" dragging his hungry children behind him.
" For the second time on the trip, we had knives that would not cut our meat. "
I think the issue is the quality of the meat. My father (who was in he trade) used to stalk out of french restaurants if those horrid little steak knives appeared while shouting over his shoulder "can't you get proper meat in this country" dragging his hungry children behind him.
Nov 15th, 2012, 07:35 AM
#51
I had a little mishap at the Limoges train station too, though nothing like yours. We arrived and the directions to the rental car agency were wrong (well, as it turned out the agency had moved). For some reason our phones didn't work there--user error, I'm sure. We wandered around perplexed for a couple of hours.
Agree with you about Oradour, very stark, very moving.
And so glad you stayed at Villa des Consuls! Glad to read David is still there, what a charming host.
Agree with you about Oradour, very stark, very moving.
And so glad you stayed at Villa des Consuls! Glad to read David is still there, what a charming host.
Nov 15th, 2012, 09:08 AM
#52
Original Poster
Thanks for all the nice comments. I'm sure I go into way too much detail for most people, but I figure when I'm old and gray (oh wait, too late for that), I can look back at these trip reports to remember everything that happened.
TPAYT - That's funny that there was another "silverware incident" at Le Tastevin. I believe she has a peep hole where she spies on unsuspecting diners. That woman is consistent, though.
StCirg - thanks for the clarification. I was pretty sure Sarlatians was incorrect. I hope I do your beloved Dordogne (and now mine, too) justice over the next few installments.
Nice to see there are already movies about the trip. I'm sure royalties will be pouring in soon.
kerouac, since I have been writing magazine articles for the better (or worse) part of the past 25 years, I don't really find the need for a thesaurus. I do, however, find that vodka is a great vocabulary enhancer. As for Mr. Rick, sometimes he's good, other times...not so much.
Coquelicot - Tracy's use of "idiot" was spot on in your movie, and whoever the actor was who played me showed my emotions perfectly.
bilboburgler - you might be correct about a couple of the steaks we had along the way, but for the most part, the knives were the culprit, not the meat.
Finally, Leely2 - Yes, I can see why people rave about Villa des Consuls.
I better get back to work so I can pay for this trip.
TPAYT - That's funny that there was another "silverware incident" at Le Tastevin. I believe she has a peep hole where she spies on unsuspecting diners. That woman is consistent, though.
StCirg - thanks for the clarification. I was pretty sure Sarlatians was incorrect. I hope I do your beloved Dordogne (and now mine, too) justice over the next few installments.
Nice to see there are already movies about the trip. I'm sure royalties will be pouring in soon.
kerouac, since I have been writing magazine articles for the better (or worse) part of the past 25 years, I don't really find the need for a thesaurus. I do, however, find that vodka is a great vocabulary enhancer. As for Mr. Rick, sometimes he's good, other times...not so much.
Coquelicot - Tracy's use of "idiot" was spot on in your movie, and whoever the actor was who played me showed my emotions perfectly.
bilboburgler - you might be correct about a couple of the steaks we had along the way, but for the most part, the knives were the culprit, not the meat.
Finally, Leely2 - Yes, I can see why people rave about Villa des Consuls.
I better get back to work so I can pay for this trip.
Nov 15th, 2012, 05:27 PM
#54
Original Poster
<< I'm sure I go into way too much detail for most people, >>
StCirq - "Trust me, you don't have the corner on that.."
I've been reading your very entertaining "Not A Trip Report." I feel better now. Thanks. Back to writing.
StCirq - "Trust me, you don't have the corner on that.."
I've been reading your very entertaining "Not A Trip Report." I feel better now. Thanks. Back to writing.
Nov 16th, 2012, 06:41 AM
#55
Original Poster
<B>Day Five – Going To Market, Cum On Feel The Noix, Cashed Out, Chateau Hopping, Sir Bleed-A-Lot, Jardin Party, Roque & Rolling On The River, Gizzard Wizards and Where’s Anthony Quinn</B>
I will be the first to admit it; I really don’t care for Market Days in Europe (or anywhere else for that matter). Yes, I know I am in the minority, but I can shop for crappy trinkets and various fresh produce items at a number of Farmers Markets in and around where I live.
But as Tom’s Tuscan (Sometimes France) Tours leader, I listen to those traveling with me, and they were all excited and ready to explore the famed Sarlat Market Day on Saturday morning. Since the slight drizzle wasn’t supposed to clear for a while, if we were going to see one of these things, today would be as good a day as any, not that I thought the Sarlat market would be anything special.
As we all have found out on these trips, I’ve also been known to be wrong, and today, once again, I was wrong. I hate that!
The Sarlat Market Day had a much better vibe than most every other one of these trinket festivals I have ever attended. From the main drag to the side streets, Sarlat’s Market booths and tables kept me interested, and the stuff they were selling actually looked useful/delicious, at least for the most part.
After stopping by numerous booths (thankfully, without buying anything), we ducked (everything has to do with duck in the Dordogne) in to the Eglise Saint-Sacerdos.
I thought I might escape without making any purchases, but I saw a guy who was selling unique liqueurs or at least ones that were not familiar to moi. I succumbed to his selling technique and bought a melon liqueur, but as I began to walk away I saw he was also selling something called Liqueur de Noix. Well, I had never tried Walnut Liqueur, so I bought a bottle of that, too, but still I was happy getting away from the market for only about 16€. Wrong again!
After Kim and I walked through the covered market (open year-round), stopped by a little store for a healthy and nutritious sugar crepe, we stumbled upon Tracy and Mary standing next to a table full of linens. Their eyes had little euro signs in them, so we knew we were in trouble.
Tracy and Mary had found the Jacquard Tablecloth Man, and remembering what happened on a trip to Alsace about a decade ago, I knew there was no escape. Tracy purchased two tablecloths, and Mary purchased one, so Kim and I, whose wallets were full of Euros only moments ago, were suddenly Sarladais (see, I pay attention) paupers.
Tracy found it interesting that there were no matching napkins for the tablecloths. As a matter of fact, French restaurants seemed to be all over the paper napkin craze (high end paper napkins), even at some of the higher end places we visited. I’m not sure we had a cloth napkin at any restaurant where we dined on this trip.
After replenishing our euro supply, it was time to hit the road, and it was on to Beynac, where we would check out our first chateau (of many). Madame Bleu seemed to be at odds with road signs at times.
As we were to find out, just about every important site in this area is about 10-25 minutes from Sarlat, not counting my circuitous trips around the many ringstrasses, which is what we call all roundabouts since our first Vienna trip in 1996 (it doesn’t have to make any sense..don’t worry).
We arrived in Beynac, which has been around for about 900 or so years. Perched high atop the town sits the Chateau Beynac, which I thought we might walk up to on this still drizzly morning.
We made a quick stop at the TI, who said we could walk up to the chateau, but cautioned that we should be careful because the walk was extra slippery due to the rain. She then told us we could also drive there, which seemed like a much more prudent (and relaxing) decision.
Ten minutes (and 7€ apiece) later we were exploring the grounds of the 12th century castle. This was a great castle that all four of us enjoyed a lot.
With numerous cool rooms, lots of stairs (a must for this group) and incredible views out over the river valley, we toured (they give you an English handout) Chateau Beynac for about an hour. Even better, as we descended from the top, there were blue skies in the distance meaning that the weather gods were going to be on our side as the day (and weekend) progressed.
Another short drive took us over the Dordogne River to the Chateau Castelnaud, but it was time to eat. In the town below the castle, the restaurants were closed, but we found a pretty good one after we parked, the Restaurant de Pays Les Tilleuls, which was located below the castle walls.
After some filling omelettes, a Croque monsieur and a barrelful of pommes frites (why do they taste so good over here?), we headed to Chateau Castelnaud, whose inhabitants fought with Chateau Beynac all those years ago just so tourists could come and visit these places in the 21st century.
We walked by a knight in shining armor riding a stuffed horse (we think the horse was really stuffed), looked at weapons used to kill the other side and once again were met by incredible vistas accompanied by blue skies and white clouds when we walked the ramparts.
As we entered a courtyard to take a goofy picture of Tracy and me as Knights, complete with our heads sticking out from one of those touristy, cardboard cut-out tableaus, Tracy accidentally cut me with her wedding ring on my right forearm, once again drawing blood. Bandages were not far behind.
It was at this point that Kim and Tracy dubbed me, Sir Bleed-A-Lot, leader of the Knights Of Transfusions. Trying to stay positive (AB, to be exact), I took it all in vein.
We all ventured down a path looking for some Old Town supposedly located near Castelnaud, but after 10 minutes of walking and finding nothing of interest, we said “to hell with it” and made the arduous walk back up to the parking lot. They might want to have defibrillator booths alongside that path for old tourists who are suckered in to trying to find that town.
It was early afternoon as we scooted back across the river for my first real attempt to get Tracy to some gardens. These excursions usually end up in disappointment, as we always seem to arrive at the wrong time of year, but on to the Château de Marqueyssac we traveled.
Bertrand Vernet de Marqueyssac, who was the counselor to Louis XIV, built the chateau in the 1600s. It supposedly has about 150,000 hand-pruned boxwoods, some more than 150 years old.
There are numerous trails, and once again there were terrific views out on to the Dordogne Valley. We could have walked out to a spectacular panorama of the valley, but it was 25 minutes each way (plus we had already seen about 40,000 boxwoods), and I could sense our collective legs might not want to make that trek. We would, however, see that lookout just a short time later from a much different vantage point.
Although there were really no flowers blooming to speak of, this garden was well worth the trip. They must have a heck of a lot of gardeners.
It was about 4 p.m. when we headed for La Roque-Gageac, yet another town deemed one of the “Most Beautiful Villages in France.” Similar to Beynac, LRG seems to be carved right out of the mountainside, and I ostensibly was driving here to check out where we could take a ride on the Gabares (traditional flat-bottomed boats used for transporting goods on the Dordogne River in the olden days) in the next few days.
By now, the sky was blue with those great white, fluffy clouds that make photographers want to snap more photos. We parked near where the Gabares Norbert and Gabares Caminade booths were stationed.
It just so happened that the Gabares Caminade had a boat that was ready to depart in ten minutes, and, since there’s no time like the present, we purchased our 9€ ticket (that included audio guide), and it was off for a relaxing hour ride along the Dordogne River.
The audio guide was a bit cheesy (it was told from the viewpoint of the boat owners’ ancestor), but it was informative and no one sang,“Yo ho, Yo ho, a pirates life for me.” Looking at the town and buildings embracing the cliffs from our boat was pretty fantastic. The ride takes you from LRG to Chateau Castelnaud and back. The sun on the cliffs made the scenery even more beautiful…not to mention, the boat kept us off our feet for an hour.
Speaking of feet, from the boat we saw the lookout point at Chateau de Marqueyssac, and although I’m sure the view is spectacular, all of our feet were happy we had made this decision.
Back in Sarlat, we had some wine and breadsticks on our Villa des Consuls terrace before heading into town for dinner, which turned out to be a rather good one at Le tourney, 1 Rue Tourny. The place was jammed when we arrived about 7:45 and stayed that way all night.
My 22€ menu had five courses that included fried duck gizzards with peach sauce (I was definitely stepping outside my comfort zone on this trip). I also downed a ½ melon filled with white wine (Monbazillac), Duck á la Orange, a goat cheese/walnut salad course and, not to be denied that 5th course, a tasty Citron Merangue for dessert. Then I exploded.
Also a gizzard wizard was Mary who had the Gizzard Salad with walnuts and Coq a Vin.
Tracy eschewed the gizzards (and the five courses), and dined on a white bean soup and a Cassoulet de Canard.
Kim liked his Foie gras on toast, Canard avec Noix Truffle Perfume and crème brulee.
Rolling back to the hotel through the Place de la Liberté (which is full of cafes and was full of touristas on this evening) a band started playing the theme to Zorba The Greek. It got a lot of the crowd dancing and, although I enjoy the tune, it stayed in my head all night. Fortunately I didn’t stomp around the apartment at 3 a.m.
Before going to bed, we toasted the day with some Melon and Noix liqueur back at the hotel. Our apartment at Villa des Consuls also had a nice living room area and a decent-sized kitchen.
We checked the weather report (which predicted sunny days were in our future) on our iPad, and that was a good thing because we still had lots more of the Dordogne to explore and only three more days to do it.
<B>Next: Day Six - There’s A Man With A Gun Over There, Visiting Chateau Josephine Baker, For The Birds, Chasing Windmills, A Domme Good Lunch, Chats & Chats, No Bertha Butt, Watch Out For Falling Rocks, Seeing Beynac In A New Light, Inhaling Soap and I Can See Russia From My Dessert</B>
I will be the first to admit it; I really don’t care for Market Days in Europe (or anywhere else for that matter). Yes, I know I am in the minority, but I can shop for crappy trinkets and various fresh produce items at a number of Farmers Markets in and around where I live.
But as Tom’s Tuscan (Sometimes France) Tours leader, I listen to those traveling with me, and they were all excited and ready to explore the famed Sarlat Market Day on Saturday morning. Since the slight drizzle wasn’t supposed to clear for a while, if we were going to see one of these things, today would be as good a day as any, not that I thought the Sarlat market would be anything special.
As we all have found out on these trips, I’ve also been known to be wrong, and today, once again, I was wrong. I hate that!
The Sarlat Market Day had a much better vibe than most every other one of these trinket festivals I have ever attended. From the main drag to the side streets, Sarlat’s Market booths and tables kept me interested, and the stuff they were selling actually looked useful/delicious, at least for the most part.
After stopping by numerous booths (thankfully, without buying anything), we ducked (everything has to do with duck in the Dordogne) in to the Eglise Saint-Sacerdos.
I thought I might escape without making any purchases, but I saw a guy who was selling unique liqueurs or at least ones that were not familiar to moi. I succumbed to his selling technique and bought a melon liqueur, but as I began to walk away I saw he was also selling something called Liqueur de Noix. Well, I had never tried Walnut Liqueur, so I bought a bottle of that, too, but still I was happy getting away from the market for only about 16€. Wrong again!
After Kim and I walked through the covered market (open year-round), stopped by a little store for a healthy and nutritious sugar crepe, we stumbled upon Tracy and Mary standing next to a table full of linens. Their eyes had little euro signs in them, so we knew we were in trouble.
Tracy and Mary had found the Jacquard Tablecloth Man, and remembering what happened on a trip to Alsace about a decade ago, I knew there was no escape. Tracy purchased two tablecloths, and Mary purchased one, so Kim and I, whose wallets were full of Euros only moments ago, were suddenly Sarladais (see, I pay attention) paupers.
Tracy found it interesting that there were no matching napkins for the tablecloths. As a matter of fact, French restaurants seemed to be all over the paper napkin craze (high end paper napkins), even at some of the higher end places we visited. I’m not sure we had a cloth napkin at any restaurant where we dined on this trip.
After replenishing our euro supply, it was time to hit the road, and it was on to Beynac, where we would check out our first chateau (of many). Madame Bleu seemed to be at odds with road signs at times.
As we were to find out, just about every important site in this area is about 10-25 minutes from Sarlat, not counting my circuitous trips around the many ringstrasses, which is what we call all roundabouts since our first Vienna trip in 1996 (it doesn’t have to make any sense..don’t worry).
We arrived in Beynac, which has been around for about 900 or so years. Perched high atop the town sits the Chateau Beynac, which I thought we might walk up to on this still drizzly morning.
We made a quick stop at the TI, who said we could walk up to the chateau, but cautioned that we should be careful because the walk was extra slippery due to the rain. She then told us we could also drive there, which seemed like a much more prudent (and relaxing) decision.
Ten minutes (and 7€ apiece) later we were exploring the grounds of the 12th century castle. This was a great castle that all four of us enjoyed a lot.
With numerous cool rooms, lots of stairs (a must for this group) and incredible views out over the river valley, we toured (they give you an English handout) Chateau Beynac for about an hour. Even better, as we descended from the top, there were blue skies in the distance meaning that the weather gods were going to be on our side as the day (and weekend) progressed.
Another short drive took us over the Dordogne River to the Chateau Castelnaud, but it was time to eat. In the town below the castle, the restaurants were closed, but we found a pretty good one after we parked, the Restaurant de Pays Les Tilleuls, which was located below the castle walls.
After some filling omelettes, a Croque monsieur and a barrelful of pommes frites (why do they taste so good over here?), we headed to Chateau Castelnaud, whose inhabitants fought with Chateau Beynac all those years ago just so tourists could come and visit these places in the 21st century.
We walked by a knight in shining armor riding a stuffed horse (we think the horse was really stuffed), looked at weapons used to kill the other side and once again were met by incredible vistas accompanied by blue skies and white clouds when we walked the ramparts.
As we entered a courtyard to take a goofy picture of Tracy and me as Knights, complete with our heads sticking out from one of those touristy, cardboard cut-out tableaus, Tracy accidentally cut me with her wedding ring on my right forearm, once again drawing blood. Bandages were not far behind.
It was at this point that Kim and Tracy dubbed me, Sir Bleed-A-Lot, leader of the Knights Of Transfusions. Trying to stay positive (AB, to be exact), I took it all in vein.
We all ventured down a path looking for some Old Town supposedly located near Castelnaud, but after 10 minutes of walking and finding nothing of interest, we said “to hell with it” and made the arduous walk back up to the parking lot. They might want to have defibrillator booths alongside that path for old tourists who are suckered in to trying to find that town.
It was early afternoon as we scooted back across the river for my first real attempt to get Tracy to some gardens. These excursions usually end up in disappointment, as we always seem to arrive at the wrong time of year, but on to the Château de Marqueyssac we traveled.
Bertrand Vernet de Marqueyssac, who was the counselor to Louis XIV, built the chateau in the 1600s. It supposedly has about 150,000 hand-pruned boxwoods, some more than 150 years old.
There are numerous trails, and once again there were terrific views out on to the Dordogne Valley. We could have walked out to a spectacular panorama of the valley, but it was 25 minutes each way (plus we had already seen about 40,000 boxwoods), and I could sense our collective legs might not want to make that trek. We would, however, see that lookout just a short time later from a much different vantage point.
Although there were really no flowers blooming to speak of, this garden was well worth the trip. They must have a heck of a lot of gardeners.
It was about 4 p.m. when we headed for La Roque-Gageac, yet another town deemed one of the “Most Beautiful Villages in France.” Similar to Beynac, LRG seems to be carved right out of the mountainside, and I ostensibly was driving here to check out where we could take a ride on the Gabares (traditional flat-bottomed boats used for transporting goods on the Dordogne River in the olden days) in the next few days.
By now, the sky was blue with those great white, fluffy clouds that make photographers want to snap more photos. We parked near where the Gabares Norbert and Gabares Caminade booths were stationed.
It just so happened that the Gabares Caminade had a boat that was ready to depart in ten minutes, and, since there’s no time like the present, we purchased our 9€ ticket (that included audio guide), and it was off for a relaxing hour ride along the Dordogne River.
The audio guide was a bit cheesy (it was told from the viewpoint of the boat owners’ ancestor), but it was informative and no one sang,“Yo ho, Yo ho, a pirates life for me.” Looking at the town and buildings embracing the cliffs from our boat was pretty fantastic. The ride takes you from LRG to Chateau Castelnaud and back. The sun on the cliffs made the scenery even more beautiful…not to mention, the boat kept us off our feet for an hour.
Speaking of feet, from the boat we saw the lookout point at Chateau de Marqueyssac, and although I’m sure the view is spectacular, all of our feet were happy we had made this decision.
Back in Sarlat, we had some wine and breadsticks on our Villa des Consuls terrace before heading into town for dinner, which turned out to be a rather good one at Le tourney, 1 Rue Tourny. The place was jammed when we arrived about 7:45 and stayed that way all night.
My 22€ menu had five courses that included fried duck gizzards with peach sauce (I was definitely stepping outside my comfort zone on this trip). I also downed a ½ melon filled with white wine (Monbazillac), Duck á la Orange, a goat cheese/walnut salad course and, not to be denied that 5th course, a tasty Citron Merangue for dessert. Then I exploded.
Also a gizzard wizard was Mary who had the Gizzard Salad with walnuts and Coq a Vin.
Tracy eschewed the gizzards (and the five courses), and dined on a white bean soup and a Cassoulet de Canard.
Kim liked his Foie gras on toast, Canard avec Noix Truffle Perfume and crème brulee.
Rolling back to the hotel through the Place de la Liberté (which is full of cafes and was full of touristas on this evening) a band started playing the theme to Zorba The Greek. It got a lot of the crowd dancing and, although I enjoy the tune, it stayed in my head all night. Fortunately I didn’t stomp around the apartment at 3 a.m.
Before going to bed, we toasted the day with some Melon and Noix liqueur back at the hotel. Our apartment at Villa des Consuls also had a nice living room area and a decent-sized kitchen.
We checked the weather report (which predicted sunny days were in our future) on our iPad, and that was a good thing because we still had lots more of the Dordogne to explore and only three more days to do it.
<B>Next: Day Six - There’s A Man With A Gun Over There, Visiting Chateau Josephine Baker, For The Birds, Chasing Windmills, A Domme Good Lunch, Chats & Chats, No Bertha Butt, Watch Out For Falling Rocks, Seeing Beynac In A New Light, Inhaling Soap and I Can See Russia From My Dessert</B>
Nov 16th, 2012, 08:09 AM
#56
Although there were really no flowers blooming to speak of, this garden was well worth the trip. They must have a heck of a lot of gardeners.>>
Tom, there was a time that you may remember when we were following you around Europe; now the roles are reversed, and you are going where the annhig family's feet have trod, albeit several years ago when our foursome included our kids. They were dragged, if not screaming and kicking, then certainly reluctantly around several gardens in the Dordogne, but 10 years later we still remember the Château de Marqueyssac, not for the beauty of the gardens, nor the loveliness of the roses, but for the rudeness of the guide who thought that we couldn't understand when she said that with their regimented hedges and manicured parterres French gardens were "sensibles" and english gardens were undisciplined and stupid. The look on her face when we burst out laughing was a picture and one of the highlights of our trip!
PS - isn't it compulsory to buy something from "Tablecloth man"? we did too!
Tom, there was a time that you may remember when we were following you around Europe; now the roles are reversed, and you are going where the annhig family's feet have trod, albeit several years ago when our foursome included our kids. They were dragged, if not screaming and kicking, then certainly reluctantly around several gardens in the Dordogne, but 10 years later we still remember the Château de Marqueyssac, not for the beauty of the gardens, nor the loveliness of the roses, but for the rudeness of the guide who thought that we couldn't understand when she said that with their regimented hedges and manicured parterres French gardens were "sensibles" and english gardens were undisciplined and stupid. The look on her face when we burst out laughing was a picture and one of the highlights of our trip!
PS - isn't it compulsory to buy something from "Tablecloth man"? we did too!
Nov 16th, 2012, 09:18 AM
#57
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Maitai, a great story, and I'm glad to hear you're a writer, or I would feel very badly about my trip report effort!
This brings back memories from 5 years ago when we stayed in Sarlat for 3 days and another 2 weeks in France, during which time I managed to gain 5 pounds, despite 5 miles and 1000 steps a day!
Damn that fois gras, oh and the cassoulet, and the creme brûlée....
Been afraid to go back to France ever since!
Tablecloths, but no fois gras???
This brings back memories from 5 years ago when we stayed in Sarlat for 3 days and another 2 weeks in France, during which time I managed to gain 5 pounds, despite 5 miles and 1000 steps a day!
Damn that fois gras, oh and the cassoulet, and the creme brûlée....
Been afraid to go back to France ever since!
Tablecloths, but no fois gras???
