After a while just chilling in Frayssinet-le-Gelat, quite literally: it's not very cold ( the electronic board outside our window says 10C) but it feels much colder than that because it's gloomy and drizzling. Inside we have a log fire going in a combustion stove sort of thing- there's probably a French word for it- but if the fire dies down, the house soon gets chilly as it's made of stone hundreds of years old- literally- I think from the 15th century! So probably not very draught-proof although we have all the shutters closed as well as heavy curtains pulled across the windows (and the doors!) to keep the cold out. I've just ventured out to the woodpile in the barn which I think is even older than the house to bring in logs for tonight.
Yesterday we took a trip to Rocamadour- not a pilgrimage as everyone has done from the 8th century and Louis VI made a habit of it- but just to see it. We drove so many pretty little French villages with names that were just as pretty: Cazals, Poumayrol, Luzieres, Salviac, Gourdon, and Le Vigan. When we arrived, it was sprinkling lightly so we donned rain gear and walked down the tiny street at the bottom of the cliff, had a coffee at the first cafe we found that was actually open; the whole place is closed for the winter ( including l'ascenseur ( lift) which takes summer visitors up to the midpoint where there are no less than 7 churches, yes SEVEN, built around a tiny square clinging to the side of the cliff. There must have been some sort of ledge there originally as I don't think they could build things back in the 7th century on air (not sure they can do it now either). Still pretty incredible. So if we were going to climb the cliff, that's exactly what we had to do!
The rain eased but that did not make scaling the slippery stone steps any easier, especially for me who was trying to avoid all the puddles in the worn steps to prevent wetting my possum socks. Yes, I am still wearing those sandals I bought at Jack Wolfskin. Best buy ever! At the church point, a guide tried to convince us to stay and look at each and every one of the churches, but to be truthful I am a little over churches since the Mesquite visit. We wanted to go all the way up to the chateau which he said, had nothing there except the view. Which was actually true. Along the zig-zag path were the stations of the cross at every turn. There were 14. I thought there were 10, so when I got to 9 thought I must be close to the top, and was sorely disappointed to find there are actually 14.
Everyone else wanted to walk down to have a look at the village again. I think they were hoping some of the shops would be open! I decided to walk to Rocamadour l'Hospitalet which is the little village at the top so I jogged (well not quite) along the cliff path hoping I could find a toilet. Eureka! A whole block. Unfortunately, my 50 cent piece would not unlock any of them! I found a dry chair and sat down and waited for the return of the mob who drove straight past me. No one saw me ( why did I send home that bright pink jacket?) and only heard me (even through closed windows) when I called COO-EE!
We ate our cold packed lunch: corn fritters, boiled potatoes, and stuffed mushrooms. Lunch never tasted so good! Kiryn was all for driving the same way back to Frayssinet but I suggested going via Arbas which was a village on the River Lot built entirely of local stone and built in the cleft of a gorge on the edge of the river. I was not disappointed.
But first we detoured to Cahors to see a bridge Kiryn had read about. The ancient city of Cahors was in medieval times a thriving university town. Across the river is the town's signature piece, the Pont Valentré. This magnificent fortified bridge was built between 1308 and 1500 and features a trio of towers, battlements and seven pointed arches. We walked all the way across and looked down on the River Lot whose weir was overflowing vigorously. Maybe they've had more rain than I thought, although we did drive through some patches of extremely heavy rain; I was relieved Kiryn was driving as I couldn't see the road in front of me.
On the return journey, I kept myself amused with translating the French signs. I saw a sign "moulins de vent" which I translated "sheep for sale" but then I thought hang on, why would they have a proper road sign saying there were sheep for sale and then remembered sheep is "moutons" not "moulins" and for sale is "a vendre" not "de vent". The penny dropped. "Moulins" is mills and "vent" is wind- windmills! I'll get there eventually. Maybe if I write a book of my adventures like Mary did, I can make enough money to buy a little French house and learn French properly! One can dream...
Back to our cosy retreat in Frayssinet-le-Gelat via Pradines, Douelle, Luzech, Albas, Prayssac and the very pretty village of Goujounac. Autoire may have the reputation of being France's prettiest village, but there are dozens that go close!
No sonner had I walked through the door, (avoiding the curtain), that I sliced some fresh bread bought at the local boulangerie and spread it with pate de fois gras- yeah the real expensive stuff, but if all those ducks and geese have given their lives and suffered force feeding to achieve this result, I am not going to waste it. I try to block the images of force feeding from my mind as I savour the delicious taste that no one else will try! Ah well, the cheese is tasty too. Lorelle then set about cooking beefburgers, boiled potatoes - the best potatoes I have ever had! :-) - and I can't for the life of me remember what else but it was scrumptious anyway. I cleaned my plate, of course I always do, and then volunteered to wash up. I am hoping if I wash up every night I won't have to cook!
I took a walk down to the village (all of 10 steps) to book the duck meal at Le Relais, and took some photos of the Christmas lights in front of the church. Every village, no matter how tiny, has Christmas lights, Christmas trees and decorations. Just lovely!
Yesterday we took a trip to Rocamadour- not a pilgrimage as everyone has done from the 8th century and Louis VI made a habit of it- but just to see it. We drove so many pretty little French villages with names that were just as pretty: Cazals, Poumayrol, Luzieres, Salviac, Gourdon, and Le Vigan. When we arrived, it was sprinkling lightly so we donned rain gear and walked down the tiny street at the bottom of the cliff, had a coffee at the first cafe we found that was actually open; the whole place is closed for the winter ( including l'ascenseur ( lift) which takes summer visitors up to the midpoint where there are no less than 7 churches, yes SEVEN, built around a tiny square clinging to the side of the cliff. There must have been some sort of ledge there originally as I don't think they could build things back in the 7th century on air (not sure they can do it now either). Still pretty incredible. So if we were going to climb the cliff, that's exactly what we had to do!
The rain eased but that did not make scaling the slippery stone steps any easier, especially for me who was trying to avoid all the puddles in the worn steps to prevent wetting my possum socks. Yes, I am still wearing those sandals I bought at Jack Wolfskin. Best buy ever! At the church point, a guide tried to convince us to stay and look at each and every one of the churches, but to be truthful I am a little over churches since the Mesquite visit. We wanted to go all the way up to the chateau which he said, had nothing there except the view. Which was actually true. Along the zig-zag path were the stations of the cross at every turn. There were 14. I thought there were 10, so when I got to 9 thought I must be close to the top, and was sorely disappointed to find there are actually 14.
Everyone else wanted to walk down to have a look at the village again. I think they were hoping some of the shops would be open! I decided to walk to Rocamadour l'Hospitalet which is the little village at the top so I jogged (well not quite) along the cliff path hoping I could find a toilet. Eureka! A whole block. Unfortunately, my 50 cent piece would not unlock any of them! I found a dry chair and sat down and waited for the return of the mob who drove straight past me. No one saw me ( why did I send home that bright pink jacket?) and only heard me (even through closed windows) when I called COO-EE!
We ate our cold packed lunch: corn fritters, boiled potatoes, and stuffed mushrooms. Lunch never tasted so good! Kiryn was all for driving the same way back to Frayssinet but I suggested going via Arbas which was a village on the River Lot built entirely of local stone and built in the cleft of a gorge on the edge of the river. I was not disappointed.
But first we detoured to Cahors to see a bridge Kiryn had read about. The ancient city of Cahors was in medieval times a thriving university town. Across the river is the town's signature piece, the Pont Valentré. This magnificent fortified bridge was built between 1308 and 1500 and features a trio of towers, battlements and seven pointed arches. We walked all the way across and looked down on the River Lot whose weir was overflowing vigorously. Maybe they've had more rain than I thought, although we did drive through some patches of extremely heavy rain; I was relieved Kiryn was driving as I couldn't see the road in front of me.
On the return journey, I kept myself amused with translating the French signs. I saw a sign "moulins de vent" which I translated "sheep for sale" but then I thought hang on, why would they have a proper road sign saying there were sheep for sale and then remembered sheep is "moutons" not "moulins" and for sale is "a vendre" not "de vent". The penny dropped. "Moulins" is mills and "vent" is wind- windmills! I'll get there eventually. Maybe if I write a book of my adventures like Mary did, I can make enough money to buy a little French house and learn French properly! One can dream...
Back to our cosy retreat in Frayssinet-le-Gelat via Pradines, Douelle, Luzech, Albas, Prayssac and the very pretty village of Goujounac. Autoire may have the reputation of being France's prettiest village, but there are dozens that go close!
No sonner had I walked through the door, (avoiding the curtain), that I sliced some fresh bread bought at the local boulangerie and spread it with pate de fois gras- yeah the real expensive stuff, but if all those ducks and geese have given their lives and suffered force feeding to achieve this result, I am not going to waste it. I try to block the images of force feeding from my mind as I savour the delicious taste that no one else will try! Ah well, the cheese is tasty too. Lorelle then set about cooking beefburgers, boiled potatoes - the best potatoes I have ever had! :-) - and I can't for the life of me remember what else but it was scrumptious anyway. I cleaned my plate, of course I always do, and then volunteered to wash up. I am hoping if I wash up every night I won't have to cook!
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| Rocamadour on a rainy day |
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| Half way up with poncho on! |
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| The nativity scene at Rocamadour L'Hospitalet |
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| One of the towers on the PontValentre in Cahors |
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| Poncho on the Pont |
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| Another one of the towers on the Pont Valentre |
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| Our car...notre voiture ou notre auto |
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| The fertile valley of the River Lot. plenty of vineyards around Cahors noted for its Malbec wines |
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| Across another unusual bridge |
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