We slept very well in our bedroom under the eaves. We left the skylight and window open for the cool breeze, and were plesantly surprised to not be bothered by a single mosquito. Bill had told us it's been extremely dry, so that with the elevation must account for the absence of the nasty buggers. In the morning we heard roosters, sheep and cows.
Of course, as I was standing on the patio in my nightgown with the first coffee was when I met Michael from across the road, coming over to check on his sheep.
After some apricots and figs for breakfast to atone for the day before (and as you'll read, preparating for the day ahead) we took off for the Sunday market in Chablis. We took the highway up to save time, and it took just a bit more than half an hour. Bill said it's the most lively Sunday market in the area, and it was full of people and vendors. Everything you could possibly need, and some you don't. Ladies, you'll meet all your housedress needs here, as there were four stands selling flowered housedresses and aprons. The housedress is alive and well in rural France, and we saw many elderly women looking very comfortable in them. There were also two stands selling really pretty linen and cotton tops and dresses. I looked, held a few up, but walked away. Now I want one.
Several cheese stands; hams, sausages, pates; produce; breads; olives; fresh meat and poultry; dry goods; and a sweet couple selling huge gougeres, the hollow cheese-puff pastry of Burgundy. We had to get one. It was the size of my hand, crisp outside, and worth every calorie.
We bought a huge head of frilly lettuce, a tomato, a mixture of olives, and a fresh chevre. (Tip for summer travelers--bring along a small nylon insulated cooler and an ice pack for your perishable market purchases. Well worth the luggage space)
On the way home, we got off the highway early to take local roads to Noyers. The town retains many 16th century half-timbered houses, and is a beautiful place to walk around. We followed the cobblestone street through the stone gates and wandered up to the ramparts and back down to the river. Pretty, pretty place. The town has figured out that tourists visit, so there are a few gifty shops in between the more everyday stores and cafes. Very quiet on a Sunday morning, and I suspect otherwise during the week.
We took more tiny roads home, many only one-lane tracks through fields and up and down the low hills. There seem to be far more cows than people in these hills. The towns are quiet and turned inward, with closed shutters and the ocassional elderly woman sitting on a bench or child playing. The only other vehicle we met was the bread van, who visits each hamlet once a day, toots her horn, and the customers run out for bread, croissants, and the few groceries she carries.
The internet hates me this morning, and won't let me load more photos. Let's see if I can do so in a new entry.