For a few days, it seemed that all roads lead to Pisy.
The roads just northwest of Tivauche are a tangle, leading up and down hills, through one-street towns of stone and stucco buildings of various degrees of flower-decked repair. Around fields of cows, hay, corn, sunflowers, and crops I can't identify. We often found ourselves behind our old friend the slow-moving hay truck trailing hay, risking life and limb as we dared pass it without careening into the roadside ditches. Larry was always trying to find the perfect road, looking for more direct routes that in fact took more time as they wound through the towns and landscape. Three times, we found ourselves in Pisy.
Each time, we stopped at the tangle of roads that intersect in the small hilltop village, puzzling over the map. This is what passes for a major intersection in these parts, yet there isn't the little sign you usually find, pointing the way toward the next town. By the third time, we finally learned which road led to Coursaint, and which to Guillon. I wonder why Pisy merited so many roads connecting there? At the edge of town is a falling-down fortress or rough chateau with sheep grazing in front. There are no shops, no signs of activity durig the day. In the center of town is a small plaza with a war memorial and some green plastic lawn chairs stacked up. I wonder how many of the houses are lived in, what the people do up there on the hill. Why did so many roads lead here?