Our Grand Tour of Europe

Saturday, September 18

Today is my 49th birthday… I’ve always considered birthdays special, so it seems a bit odd—awkward—for this to be a travel day. We are traveling quite a ways from Créancey in Burgundy to Turenne in Corrèze. I told Kelly I wasn’t disappointed about traveling on my birthday, but the truth is I’d much prefer to have a day that seems more… well, special. In my “working days” I often took a vacation day on my birthday or planned some kind of trip… something just to make it different than a “normal” day. However, here we are on an extended sabbatical in Europe—truly the trip of a lifetime—how can I complain?? Most of our days are special days.

Kelly is like me when it comes to making birthdays special. (Wonder where she got that from?) She left me a note last night with instructions to read it when I woke up this morning. The note wished me a happy birthday and asked me to stay in bed while she and Charley did a few things downstairs. The two of them went downstairs while I read in bed—finally I was called down. Charley had made a morning fire, and Kelly had made a birthday banner that was hanging over the fireplace. “Happy Birthday Mommy!!” What more could I ask for? We sat down at the table, and Kelly presented me with a card and two gifts. The gifts were wrapped in cellophane… apparently the only wrapping paper they could find at the ATAC grocery store. One of the gifts was a beautiful apron in a bright yellow and blue Provencal fabric… I had admired this in Paris, and they had gone back to buy this on their “errand day” in Paris. I’ll use this while I’m cooking all the delicious dinners I’ve planned in Provence. The second gift was even more special—a sketch Kelly had made of the Eiffel Tower illuminated in bright colors. Charley had found a frame for the sketch, and on the back Kelly had taped a postcard that was the inspiration for her sketch. The card is something I’ll treasure forever—Charley had made a sketch of the area where we’ll be living in Provence, complete with our house, the sign on the little road that says La Bastide Vieille, and the village of Bonnieux perched on the hill above. Charley and Kelly both had written special notes on the card.

Charley made a quick trip to Pouilly for bread, and we had our last breakfast in Créancey. We finished our packing and loaded our little station wagon—this time we folded two seats down in the back seat next to Kelly, and Charley loaded in the big bags next to her. This is better than piling small bags on the seat beside her—on the trip from Paris, stuff fell on her every time we turned a sharp corner. Kelly wrote a long entry in the guest book, and I added a note about the restaurant La Ferme de Rolle that we’d enjoyed so much yesterday.

Fiona de Wulf walked down from the château to say goodbye, and Kelly hugged the dogs Bob and Brock one last time. Fiona said a couple on their honeymoon will be arriving to stay in the cottage this afternoon—they’ve made a great choice. We left the Château de Créancey with some regret… what a beautiful place! But we were excited to be heading for new territory in the Corrèze and the fact that we were continuing to work our way southward to Provence.

After we had discussed possible routes with Fiona and Bruno de Wulf yesterday afternoon, we decided we’d head south to Lyon and then cut to the west into central France. Much of the drive was on toll roads… we made good time and there wasn’t much traffic. We drove first to Dijon and then to Lyon, passing through the wine region on our way. Lyon was a big, busy place with more traffic. We went a ways through a long tunnel and then crossed the Rhône River. Our route took us just southwest of Lyon to St. Etienne, then northwest again to the larger town of Clermont-Ferrand. It was very difficult to follow our planned route at Clermont-Ferrand. We were a bit lost for a while, but kept following signs to Bordeaux and ultimately got on the road we were looking for. Driving in France can be tricky… we have learned to rely less on the road numbers and more on the signs pointing to the next town or the next big place. It’s important to always know what big place your route may ultimately be headed to. The small road west of Clermont-Ferrand intersected with another good highway. My map book (a couple of years old) said there was just a short section of highway, but we ended up being able to take the newly constructed A89 almost all the way to Brive. The scenery was absolutely beautiful… unexpected mountains and lush countryside. There were very few cars on this road, and we could easily go 80 miles an hour. We made much better time than I had expected. This was an expensive trip though—we spent about 30 euros on the tolls!

The A89 ended just one exit short of Brive-la-Gaillarde, though we could see where the construction was still underway to connect the two highways. We took a short detour before reached the A20 heading south. The exit for Turenne was just one exit south of Brive and then we drove about six miles on a curvy country road. I spotted the village in the distance—just beautiful… like some kind of fairytale village, complete with a castle and tower on top. Up close, the village continued to exert its magic. Turenne is very deserving of its designation as one of the “plus beaux villages de France”—one of the most beautiful villages in France. The Michelin green guide says there are 742 residents.

I had directions from Penny Stenning, one of the owners of our cottage, and turned left into the village, following a tiny steep road that curved up the side of the hill and then around again. Once near the top we circled around the massive rock that supports the castle, came around a corner and then down a bit… I spotted our crooked little cottage immediately—just like the photo on the website. We parked in a grassy parking area (La Carrière) just above the cottage and beneath the big castle rock. A man was standing nearby and we eyed each other.

“Are you… Kathy??” “Are you… Kevin??”

Kevin is the other owner. His partner Penny (the nice woman I’d coordinated with on e-mail about the rental) was down at the cottage, in the process leaving us a note. They had been about to leave. She and Kevin are English and have done all the restoration work on the cottage. They live about 15 minutes away in a neighboring village. Penny and Kevin showed us through the cottage and explained all we needed to know for our two-week stay. They’ve done a great job with the restoration—it’s even better than the photos on the website. Charley and Kelly were both enchanted too.

Penny and I had made some tentative plans to have a drink together this evening. I was a little worried about timing, since we were potentially expecting Becky & Friends tonight. Today was my birthday and at some point in our e-mailing, Penny had told me that Kevin’s birthday was tomorrow, so it seemed we might do some joint celebrating. It turned out (rather fortunately) that Penny and Kevin had family visiting from England and needed to head back to their house. They left a bottle of champagne for my birthday celebration and also a big bunch of flowers. We noticed (some activity at the old building across the tiny street from our cottage—Kevin and Penny told us that this was the old chapel (built in 1644) and that there was a “cabaret” being held there this evening… a community event. They weren’t quite sure what a cabaret in Turenne would be.

Our cottage is enchanting. Every time I see it from up on the hill, I think about the little nursery rhyme “There was a crooked man and he had a crooked wife… and they all lived together in a little crooked house.” This is indeed the crooked cottage! The entrance to the cottage is through a little courtyard, enclosed by a wooden fence. Three different doors lead from the courtyard into the house—one to the kitchen, one to the living room, and one to the master bedroom. The courtyard has a table, chairs and a bench built into the fence—the fence is quite high down at this end to provide privacy from the street. It’s nicely landscaped with flowers and herbs. I can use the rosemary and chives in my cooking while we are here. On the other side of the fence, the little steep little street heads down the hill, passing underneath an archway that’s actually part of our building. The archway—and the back of our building—seem to be part of the old village ramparts. The backside of our house is part of another dwelling that I think includes the archway and part of the building across the street. This is an extremely unique place to stay!

The cottage is called L’Auditoire… it used to be part of a courthouse of some sort… obviously hundreds of years old. Every room is literally on a different level and there are lots of steps all through the house. The main entrance is into the kitchen—a wonderful room and obviously recently redone… stone walls, big wooden beams, red-stained paneling and beautiful cherry wood cabinets. We have all the appliances we need—a full-size refrigerator and freezer, a clothes washer, dishwasher, microwave, stove and convection oven. There’s a generous supply of cooking equipment. The glassware is attractively displayed in a cabinet with glass doors.

The cooking area is separated from the eating area by an open counter, making a big pleasant room. The big wooden table seats six and there’s a cupboard full of dishes. We will enjoy spending time in this pretty room.

A few steps lead up to the big living room—rather dark because of the stone walls. (We are finding that these old houses often have few windows in order to conserve heat.) The living room has a wood-burning stove, a couch and two comfortable chairs, and a pretty blue table where Penny’s laid out travel guides, maps and tourist literature. There’s also a CD player and a small library with several books that we each want to read.

Steep stairs lead upstairs to the second level. On the main landing there’s a bathroom behind a sliding mirrored door… with an absolutely wonderful shower. A nice-sized bedroom with a double bed looks out over the street. A few steps lead down off the landing to an enormous master bedroom that sits over the kitchen. This bedroom has stone walls, wooden beams and a massive fireplace. There’s an antique wooden bed, a wooden armoire, and a couple of chairs in front of the fireplace. A second bathroom is off this room… this one with a tub and shower attachment.

Steep twisty stairs lead from the second floor landing up to the third floor—an attic room. There are two skylights, so this room is brighter than any other room in the house. There are two twin beds up under the eaves, a big wardrobe, a daybed, and a table with some children’s games. One of the skylights looks out over the edge of the village… if you stand on your tiptoes (or very gingerly on the little daybed), you can see the countryside below and a lone medieval tower standing in the yard of the house next door.

We are very very happy with the house—it has so much unique old charm, but also all the modern comforts. I couldn’t wait for Becky, Sherry and Janie to see it. Kelly decided that she’d sleep up in the attic room, and one of our visitors could share with her in the second twin bed. The other two visitors could share the double bedroom. Now, our only problem—when were our visitors arriving? Becky’s last message said they might arrive today, coming from Bordeaux where they have stayed for a few days with friends of Sherry’s. I had sent her the same e-mailed directions I had received and asked that they wait to come until after 6:00 pm on Saturday—if they came on Saturday—to give us time to arrive and settle in. Now we found ourselves in a dilemma. Would they be here for dinner? Should we wait to eat? Were they even coming today? We didn’t have food for a meal, and the village of Turenne was small… we saw a small café when we drove in, but it wasn’t clear if there was a place open for a casual dinner. And this was my birthday… what should we do?

We needed to get groceries, but weren’t quite sure what to do. We understood from Kevin and Penny that there was a small local supermarket about 15 minutes away that was probably open until 6:00 pm. There were big supermarkets back in Brive, 30 minutes away. Some supermarkets were open Sunday morning. All this was also written down in the information book in the cottage, but we didn’t read it closely enough—or didn’t believe it. Kelly and I stayed at the cottage in case Becky & Friends arrived, and Charley drove over to the small Shopi supermarket in the neighboring village of Quatre Routes. I had put together a shopping list during our drive and planned to fix a special meal of Spaghetti Bolognaise—not a classic French meal, but I knew it would work for everyone.

Charley was sure he had the shopping list in the car and set off to find Quatre Routes. Five minutes after he left, we found the shopping list in the cottage. He didn’t come back to get it, so we hoped that he remembered everything we had talked about. I had written down a few things that I didn’t say out loud. I knew it would be interesting to see what he came back with.

There was a phone in the house. I had a phone number in Bordeaux where I could call Sherry’s friends and I also had a cell phone number for Becky, who was carrying a cell phone for her work. I knew the call to the cell phone would be expensive because it was a US number, so I decided to call the people in Bordeaux to see if the three friends were headed our way. Outgoing calls on our phone required the use of some kind of card and code number. There were a couple of telephone cards in a dish next to the phone, but I couldn’t figure out how to use them and couldn’t understand the French instructions when I dialed the access number. I thought perhaps the cards had expired. So much for making a phone call.

Charley arrived back from the Shopi with an interesting assortment of provisions. He said the store didn’t have much to buy… for example, they didn’t have chicken. He hadn’t remembered to get the jars of pasta sauce—he thought I planned to make the sauce from scratch and had some kind of tomato paste or concentrate. We decided we would make do tonight and do more shopping tomorrow.

At this point it was after 7:30 pm and getting dark. Charley felt that Becky & Friends probably weren’t coming since it was getting late. We went ahead and fixed a frozen pizza that Charley had brought at the Shopi. There didn’t appear to be a cake or candles hidden somewhere. So, it definitely wasn’t my best-ever birthday meal, but I tried to remember my morning celebration and the wonderful lunch yesterday in Burgundy.

After dinner Charley suggested going for a walk. Kelly wanted to stay at the house, so Charley and I went out for a stroll together. It was just dusk… maybe around eight o’clock. We walked up the hill by our cottage and then around the base of the big rock at the top of Turenne. The ruins of the old castle sat above us on top of this enormous rock. In the 15th century Turenne was the center of a separate and very powerful viscounty that controlled 1200 other villages.

As we completed our circle and came back toward our house, we could see a few villagers arriving for the “cabaret” at the chapel across the street. A couple of cars were arriving to park in the grassy lot where we had parked our car, one of them a rather large station wagon. We looked up at the car… and there were three familiar faces—Becky, Sherry and Janie. They did come today! We were so glad that we happened to be outside just at that moment, as we’re not sure they would have found the cottage otherwise. I’d given Becky the link to the website, but I don’t know if she would have recognized the unique little cottage.

Becky, Sherry and Janie had gotten a bit tangled up with their directions coming from Bordeaux. They had also stopped at the big Carrefour store in Brive and had all kinds of shopping bags. We decided to surprise Kelly: “Look what we found outside!” Kelly was so excited to see these special friends… and so were Charley and I. We helped them carry in all their stuff—they really needed the big station wagon and will have a challenge consolidating all their things back into carryon luggage for the trip home. Kelly led the tour of our cottage, and they decided that Becky would sleep in the attic room with Kelly while Janie and Sherry will share the other bedroom.

For a first real trip to France, Becky & Friends have seen a lot in their two weeks—Paris, the Loire Valley, Bordeaux, and now the village of Turenne. This is the only real traditional French village they have visited, and we’re excited to share this aspect of France with them before they fly home on Tuesday.

And they brought a birthday celebration with them—flowers, champagne, even two cakes. After we carried in their luggage, we opened champagne and wine. Becky called Kelly into the living room and they came back in with candles on a cake, singing Happy Birthday. We had a white cake loaded with raspberries and then a chocolate cake.

“Did you do any shopping?” I asked Becky.

“Actually yes,” she said. “I bought this.” She pulled out a flat package and handed it to me. It was the beautiful gold and red Van Gogh sunflower scarf I had admired for so long at the shop at the Musée d’Orsay. I was in shock.

“And we bought this,” said Janie. She handed me a pretty little bracelet in the same colors that they had bought at the market in Bordeaux. Janie had also brought Kelly beads and other supplies—even a little pair of pliers—to make bracelets. (They had talked at length about making jewelry back in Paris… Kelly loves crafts, which I’m absolutely no help with.) Janie took Kelly into the living room to give her a crash course in jewelry making.

We sat at the table until after 11 pm, drinking wine and champagne, and catching up on the past week. It turned out to be a great day. Despite the sound of it, maybe I like being 49.

Sunday, September 19

Charley and I were up early to try to arrange a special breakfast for our guests. This is the first time we’ve had guests in over three months. Charley walked down the steep hill to the village shop (an extremely strenuous walk back up), but the shop wasn’t open. We would have to figure out breakfast with what we had on hand. Fortunately, Becky & Friends had brought some additional provisions… picnic food they had on hand… so we had a little more to work with than what Charley had bought at the Shopi yesterday.

I crept upstairs with my cup of coffee to finish getting ready… not turning on any lights for fear of waking our friends. As we are finding with most of the old houses we’ve stayed in, when you close the shutters on the few windows that exist, the house is very dark. I stepped down the two steps into our master bedroom… and went crashing to the hard floor on my knees, somehow managing to keep most of the coffee in the cup. There were three steps. I skinned my knee and it was actually bleeding. I used the first aid kit and went back downstairs. Somehow everyone had slept through my crash, though Charley said he heard it through the kitchen floor. Later Kelly was very impressed—almost jealous—of the crusty scab on my knee.

We managed to assemble a very nice breakfast—a goat cheese tart, a warm baguette and croissants (refreshed in our oven), an assortment of cheeses and jams, juice and fresh strawberries.

This was a big day for Kelly. Becky & Friends had invited Kelly to go with them to Limoges for the day. They were interested in porcelain and wanted to learn more about how porcelain was made and also buy some porcelain. Kelly was thrilled to be included. She now had her own “day off” without us… like Charley and I had each had in Edinburgh. They set off about 11:00 am, and Charley and I walked up the hill to the car to wave goodbye as the group set off on their adventure. Kelly hugged us goodbye and told us she loved us… several times. I let her take my digital camera, and Becky promised to help her take care of it.

At this point Charley and I made a major error relative to shopping. We needed to shop for the big feast we planned to fix for dinner… the spaghetti bolognaise extravaganza. Although we vaguely remembered Kevin and Penny saying something about the supermarkets in Brive being closed on Sunday—and also perhaps seeing this in the information book in the house—we just didn’t believe that a big grocery store could possibly be closed on Sunday. We drove the thirty minutes over to Brive to the big Carrefour, arriving around 11:30. The store was closed—not a car in the lot. The sign on the door said it would be open again on Monday morning. When we tried to buy gas at the automated pump, our credit card wouldn’t work—and we couldn’t understand the electronic messages. We drove toward Brive, stopping at a couple of other grocery stores—they were all closed. We tried another automated gas pump—the card wouldn’t work. Finally, we did find a little gas station where you had to pay inside. They even took American Express. But they didn’t sell groceries.

We drove back toward Turenne to another village called Meyssac, that supposedly had a small grocery store like the Shopi in Quatre Routes. We got to Meyssac about 12:30 pm, found the grocery store… and found it closed. It had closed at noon—just like the information book in our house said it would. I couldn’t believe it—we were having friends for dinner for the first time in over three months, and we didn’t have any groceries! On the way back to Turenne, we drove by the village of Collonges-la-Rouge, another of the “plus beaux villages de France.” It really was pretty with its unique red stone—perhaps we would be able to bring Becky, Sherry and Janie back tomorrow.

We talked about going to a restaurant for dinner. However, we would need a reservation and we didn’t have a phone card with which to make a telephone call. We could perhaps buy one at the village shop… if it was open. And we didn’t know when the group would be back from Limoges. And then there was Kelly and her limited menu… she was so psyched about this wonderful pasta meal we would fix at home. We continued to forge on with our plans for a home-cooked meal.

We decided to go back to Turenne and survey our supplies. We also hoped the little shop in the village might be open at some point during the day. It wasn’t open when we drove back through the village, but the little clock sign on the door said it would be open at 3 pm. Promptly at 3 pm Charley and I walked down to the bottom of the village. The shop wasn’t open. We went to the café next door, sat at one of the outdoor tables, and ordered two beers. I bought a couple of Turenne postcards for Becky & Friends. We asked the waitress about the hours of the shop—she said the shop would open at 3:30. At 3:30 the shop wasn’t open. We walked to the Tourist Information office and talked to a nice lady there. I bought a little Turenne print for each of our guests. The Tourist Information lady said the shop should open at 4 pm. We sat down on a doorstep across the street from the shop to wait. We waited until about 4:15 pm, but the shop never opened. An elderly lady from the village—missing most of her teeth—walked by and talked to us about something in rapid French—she even showed us a photo that I believe was of her during World War II. Was this someone Charley had met when he was out in the village this morning?? Why was she talking to us??

Charley went back over to Tourist Information and talked to the woman there again. She said was a small shop on the other side of Brive that would probably be open—the woman usually opened up on Sunday afternoon. We decided not to make the hour-long round trip… given our luck today, she would be taking the afternoon off. Charley asked the little café if they would possibly sell us a loaf or two of bread. Not possible!

We trudged back up the steep streets to our cottage. We will remember these important lessons about shopping in France:

· Even big stores are closed one day a week (normally Sunday)
· Small stores close for a long lunch
· Sometimes stores don’t open when their sign says they do
· Don’t procrastinate buying groceries
· Always plan ahead for Sunday.

We’ve clearly been spoiled by America, the land of plenty where stores are open continuously morning till night (sometimes even 24 hours), there’s no break for lunch, and there’s never any variation from the posted hours! Even on Christmas Day, we could find a few places within five miles of our house where we could buy a few groceries—maybe even a turkey! Charley was especially frustrated by the problem with the small Turenne shop… how dare the shop owner not be open at 3 pm like her little clock sign said! I suppose when you’re the only shop in town, you can make a few of your own rules….

It was obvious we’d have to create dinner from what we had on hand. I once saw a show on the Food Network where two celebrities each went to the store and bought a few unrelated ingredients of their choice—for example, two lamb chops, some brown rice, an eggplant, a container of yogurt. Each celebrity was paired with a famous chef, and the chef had to create a three-course meal using the ingredients provided by his celebrity. That’s how I felt today—except that the famous chef somehow managed to create a gourmet meal. We didn’t fare so well. I did the best I could to make a decent pasta sauce—we had some hamburger meat, onions, seasonings, red wine, one tomato, and a lot of tomato paste. The tomato paste was the problem—thick and heavy… really quite awful, even with the addition of red wine. I sautéed my few mushrooms and onions as an add-on for the pasta. (Kelly wouldn’t like the mushrooms in the sauce.) Charley made a salad—the best part of the meal—with lettuce, green beans marinated in vinaigrette dressing, onions, and bits of mushroom. We created a dessert from pieces of yesterday’s desserts—chocolate cake, strawberries, raspberries and ice cream. We didn’t have any bread, but we did have lots of wine. And we managed to set an attractive table.

The group returned about 7 pm—they had a really great day and lots of stories to tell. Kelly was giddy with excitement. She loved being with the women and had been a big help to them with her French language skills. They had been to a porcelain museum in Limoges and to a pretty nearby village with a big porcelain store. Everyone had purchases to show, and Kelly had gifts for Charley and me—an expresso cup, saucer and tiny spoon for Charley, and a little butter dish for me. There had apparently been a very exciting time at a Quick restaurant drive-through—Kelly’s recommendation for a great French meal, of course. I never could quite understand what happened at the Quick, but they were all still laughing. I think it was one of those situations where you had to be there.

We muddled our way through our sad little dinner, though Becky, Sherry and Janie were all complimentary. Charley’s salad was quite good actually. At one point, Kelly looked at me and said, “This pasta isn’t very good, is it Mom?” I know she had bragged about my great pasta bolognaise.

After dinner we told about our Coast-to-Coast walking trip and showed the digital photos from the walk on our laptop. We looked at photos Becky had taken at the chateau where they stayed in the Loire Valley. Becky transferred the photos she’d taken at the Musée d’Orsay onto a disk for Kelly, since Kelly had lost her Orsay pictures on the defective memory stick. Charley went on to bed, but the rest of us stayed up talking till almost midnight. It was really fun to be with friends.

Monday, September 20

When I looked out the door this morning, a little cat was sleeping outside in the courtyard. The local supermarkets in Quatre Routes and Meyssac were closed today—by now we were very clear on the schedule. Charley walked down to the bottom of the village to try to get bread for breakfast, but—as might be expected—the little shop wasn’t open. We decided it didn’t make sense for him to make a one-hour round-trip to the Carrefour in Brive. That meant we really didn’t have anything to offer for breakfast. We made coffee and put out cheese and chocolate cookies. I felt really bad—I had really wanted to do something special for our friends.

Becky, Sherry and Janie needed to get to Paris for the night—they fly out tomorrow morning. They planned to stay somewhere near the airport, but thought they could stay with us until mid-afternoon. They did most of their packing in the morning, bringing us various things that they’d decided to leave behind… three little juice glasses, a couple bottles of wine, a neat wine carrier. We decided to drive over to Collonges-la-Rouge, the village Charley and I had scouted yesterday. It was about 20 minutes from Turenne, and I thought they would enjoy seeing another unique country village. Kelly rode with the three women, excited to still be part of their group. They all really make her feel special.

It was an extremely foggy morning. We saw a group of people (probably off a tour bus) struggling up the hill past our house to the castle. The castle was barely even visible from our house this morning, and from the bottom, you couldn’t even see that there was more of the village up on a hill. We couldn’t see the countryside from our perch up near the top. On a clear day we can see for miles and miles.

Collonges-la-Rouge is definitely a “tourist” town—the buildings are all made of a local red sandstone, which gives the village its very unique appearance. The oldest part of the village dates back to the 8th century and by the 16th century it had developed as some kind of vacation resort for the officials of the Turenne viscounty. The village wanders down from a parking area up on the main road. There are several shops and restaurants, an old church, and a covered market—all in the red stone and many decorated with flowers. We meandered down the main street, browsing in the shops, taking photos, and admiring various beautiful buildings. Becky and Sherry—and Kelly—especially enjoyed the shopping.

We definitely needed a good meal, and I was hoping to find an interesting place that was uniquely French. We planned to treat our friends to lunch. I found a traditional little restaurant at the bottom of the village called Le Tourtou. This place specialized in some type of buckwheat crepe (a specialty of the Corrèze called a “tourtou” but had a varied menu that I thought would work for everyone.

Becky and I ordered the three-course meal that included a good salad, a tourtou of our choice, and dessert. Sherry had a tourtou, Charley and Janie had omelettes, and Kelly had a kid’s meal with steak hache and excellent potatoes. She didn’t like her potatoes, but everyone else did, and we all picked them off her plate. We shared a pitcher of wine. We were the first ones there when they opened at 12 noon, but the restaurant really filled up… inside where we were and also out on the terrace. I think our friends really enjoyed the experience.

I ordered a mushroom tourtou. Once I started eating it, I found it also had ham and then—horrors!—a runny fried egg rolled up inside. I tried to eat around the egg, and then all of a sudden the yellow yolk part just kind of slid out on my plate. (I have a few food aversions, and fried eggs are at the top of the list!) At that point I set my tourtou aside, grateful that I’d had a salad too and it was so good. Sherry offered to swap tourtous with me (her egg was well-done), but at that point I’d had enough. Several of us had crepes for dessert—Kelly had some of Sherry’s chocolate crepe and found another new food that she liked.

We headed back up the village. Kelly and Janie stopped to buy ice cream cones, and I was proud of Kelly’s French skills (and confidence) when she helped Janie order. Kelly had one last ride with her friends, and then we wound our way back up the steep, twisty little street to the top of Turenne. I much prefer Turenne to Collonges-la-Rouge… it’s equally charming and unique, but doesn’t attract near the number of tourists. Turenne has a café, the infamous shop with irregular hours, a woodworkers studio/shop where you can watch the craftsman work with walnut wood, and two restaurants that we’ve yet to see open. A few individual tourists find their way to the village and there may be a tour bus or two a day. The hill really is steep and no way a bus can make it to the top—often the people on the buses aren’t in the best physical condition to make this tough hike. They pass our house huffing and puffing. They come for the view and to visit the ruins of the castle. If it’s a clear day, they’re richly rewarded with a spectacular 360-degree view of the countryside for miles.

We helped Becky, Sherry and Janie load their car, and they headed out a little before 3:00 pm on their 300-mile drive to Paris. The trip was mostly on good highway, so we hoped they would be checked into a hotel before 9. The house seemed empty after they left and it was just the three of us again. We’ve invited them to visit us in Provence and I hope that they do—I feel certain we will see Becky again on this trip. I really enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with Becky—we’ve known each other 25 years, and this is the first significant experience we’ve had together that didn’t involve other friends in our Cookie Day group. She’s truly a wonderful person. We also really connected with her two friends, Sherry and Janie… now we have two new friends.

After they left, we quickly put together a shopping list and drove to the Carrefour in Brive. We definitely needed to stock up on groceries for the next few days. We learned another important lesson at the Carrefour: always have a one euro coin with you when you go to a big store. The shopping carts are out in the parking lot and are a bit like the luggage carts at some airports. You have to pay to get one unhooked! (The difference is that you do get your euro back when you return it.) Unfortunately, we didn’t have a one euro coin. We tried to stop a woman and give her two 50 cent coins in exchange for her cart, but she acted horrified at our suggestion. We couldn’t find anywhere inside the big store to get change. So, we ended up with three small shopping baskets-- which didn’t require a deposit. Because we had limited space, we didn’t buy all we otherwise would have. The bottles of Diet Coke, juice and wine were also very heavy. At least maybe we saved some money.

The Carrefour (which means “crossroads” in French) is an enormous store, actually surrounded by an enclosed mall of shops. The Carrefour itself is like a Super Wal-Mart—clothes, housewares, hardware (called bricolage here), even auto supplies. The food store is gigantic with a butcher, fishmonger, bakery, cheese shop, fresh produce, wine shop, frozen food, and groceries. This was totally different from Charley’s experience at the little Shopi in Quatre Routes, though there was almost too much to deal with.

We bought food for the next three or four days—as much as we could carry in the three little baskets… about $100 worth. We did buy baguettes and croissants, since it doesn’t seem we can easily get fresh morning bread like we were able to do in Paris and Burgundy. Charley thinks we can freeze the bread and freshen it up in the morning.

We got back to our cottage about 5 pm and decided to have a quiet evening reading. We weren’t very hungry since we’d had such a big lunch. Kelly fixed the instant Maggi soup she likes (poulet et vermicelli) and Charley made French onion soup for us. We had a small ice cream dessert.

Charley met one of our neighbors outside—a retired man from Scotland named James. James owns half of the house next door; the older lady on the side closest to us (known only as “Madame”) has apparently broken a leg or hip and is staying with relatives. Another neighbor—also an older woman known only as “Madame”—is feeding her little cat Bambi. Kelly played with the little cat this evening and her allergies kicked right in. We are going to have a cat—a black cat named Chico—in Provence, and Kelly will need to remember to take her allergy pills every day. She has a quick reaction if she is even around a cat owner.

Tuesday, September 21

We were very unambitious today…. particularly slow in the morning. We fixed a frozen pizza for lunch and then decided to go on a drive in the Dordogne Valley using a circular tour I found in the Michelin Green Guide. We drove south from Turenne into the département of Lot, past Quatre Routes and then to Vayrac. Outside of Vayrac, we took a narrow rural road up to the Puy d’Issolud, supposedly the site of a famous battle in the days of Caesar. There was also supposed to be an excellent view. When we got to the top of the hill, we couldn’t see a thing—were we even on the top of some kind of hill?? Was there a river nearby?? We drove back down to Vayrac and then over to Martel, the next stop on the circular drive. Martel looked like an interesting village known for its old medieval buildings, including seven towers. The son of Henry II Plantagenet and Eleanor of Aquitaine—named Henry Short Coat—met his demise here… “lying in agony on a bed of cinders, a heavy wooden cross up on his chest.” What a way to go.

The weather was very, very foggy. It wasn’t a good day for any kind of tour. We decided to visit Martel again in better weather when we could explore the village. We’d also pick up the driving tour another day. We were glad to have two weeks in Turenne, so it wasn’t so bad about kind of “losing” a day.

We went back to the house for a quiet afternoon of reading and writing. I created a chicken and rice casserole using the much-loved Trois Poivre sauce. Kelly is normally repulsed by the idea of a casserole but really seemed to like it.

Wednesday, September 22

It looked to be a much better day today, so we decided drive the 20 minutes or so back to Martel and shop at the Wednesday morning market. The market is held in the big central square, in and around a covered circular market house. The market was small—maybe sellers—geared at the people in the village and not tourists like us. We circled the offerings and eventually bought cheese, strawberries, raspberries, potatoes, carrots, celery, onions and green beans. Charley bought a bag of walnuts, which is a major product of this region. There are large groves of walnut trees everywhere. I plan to make a big beef stew, so we also bought a good-looking hunk of beef at a butchers shop and then also stopped at a boulangerie for bread. Although we would have liked to continue driving on, we needed to get the perishable food back home. Kelly and Charley had lunch when we got there.

It was such a nice day, and we hadn’t done much yesterday at all, so we headed right back out again. This part of France has a number of major caves—including the most famous caves at Lascaux with prehistoric cave paintings that are almost 20,000 years old! We wanted to visit caverns called Gouffre de Padirac… not caves with prehistoric paintings, but an immense system of underground galleries (13.5 miles!) and its own underground river. (A “gouffre” is an abyss.) I thought Kelly would enjoy the underground tour by boat.

We followed the route of yesterday’s driving tour, crossing the famous Dordogne River and stopping briefly in the picturesque village of Carennac on the other side of the Dordogne. We parked the car and walked around the village. It was lunchtime, so of course nothing was open. We seemed to be the only people out and about in the village—a good time to get photographs.

We arrived at the Gouffre de Padirac just before it re-opened at 2:00 pm after the lunch break. There’s a small commercial development of cafes and small hotels in the area around the cave entrance. By the size of the parking lots, it was obvious this is a popular tourist destination during the season. A line was already assembling outside the door, and we quickly joined in. A giant hole (encircled by a tall fence) was right there next to the entrance—we looked over and saw the bottom of the cave… over 300 feet below us.

We rode two elevators and then walked down several flights of steps and through a dimly lit tunnel to a little boat dock even farther underground. The river is 338 feet below ground. We waited a while in the boat line. Finally, one little flat-bottomed boat glided up through the darkness… piloted by a man standing in the back and using a tall pole to maneuver the boat. The boat held 11 passengers… it filled up and glided away. We were on the third boat, the only non-French speaking passengers. Somehow the man helping to load the boat realized we weren’t French and gave us a paper in English to read. We sat in the back near the boat driver, a nice young man who spoke a little English. I was a little nervous about the boat tipping over… on top of my uncomfortable feeling about being so far underground. Not only was I way underground in a cave… I was now on a boat headed down a river in that cave. The driver gave a little talk as he moved the boat along the underground river. At one point, he even shook the boat… several of the passengers (for example, me) shrieked in terror. Kelly thought this was all very funny. We tried to follow along as best we could on the little paper, especially given the very dim lighting. The river’s depth ranged from 20 inches to 13 feet at a constant temperature of 51 degrees F. The air temperature was a cool 58 degrees.

We came into an underground lake with a giant stalactite in the middle. There, we finally came to pulled up to another boat dock and joined up with the passengers from the boat behind us. Another tour guide stepped up to lead us on a tour of this part of the cave on foot. Our boat driver told us to remember his number (11)… apparently we would ride back with him at the end of our tour. We must have passed at least 30 empty boats along the course of our underground river ride… all pulled over to the side of the cave. There must be a steady flow of boats during the busy season.

We climbed up steep steps into other rooms of the caverns, catching a few French words here and there and trying to read the information on our English tour notes. Finally we met back up with our boat driver for the ride back along the underground river. I decided this was something like an underwater gondola ride. We were actively solicited for a tip at the end of our trip—we liked our boat driver and let Kelly give him some money.

We enjoyed the drive back from the Gouffre de Padirac, experimenting with another route. When we got home, I decided to go ahead and fix the beef stew for tomorrow and started chopping up all the vegetables we’d bought at the market in Martel this morning. Beef stew is always better when it’s reheated the next day. We had leftover chicken casserole for dinner tonight.

After dinner Charley and Kelly went for a walk around the village. Kelly had seen a dog up by a house where the road comes up the hill and was anxious to make friends. They met up with the dog—and also its owner. When they hadn’t come back after an hour, I figured they’d gone on a very long walk. They’d actually been invited in to a neighbor’s house for a glass of wine! Charley came back with a report of meeting the friendly neighbor Michel, who lives with his wife and teenage daughter in a big house at the other end of the “castle rock.” Kelly reported that the dog’s name is Whisper. Michel spoke some English and had introduced them to another neighbor—Camille—the gentleman who owns the castle and actually lives in a part of the castle ruins. When they met Camille, he was operating a little pulley system to transport groceries from the bottom of the castle rock (near where we park our car) up to the top. Apparently, they are not able to drive their car up onto the rock. It must be especially interesting if you are buying a major piece of furniture!

Thursday, September 23

We had another low-key day today… seems like we’re having a lot of these this week. We’ve been pressing quite hard since June, especially since the Coast-to-Coast walk and then Paris. It’s nice to be more laid-back on a two-week stay and not feel the need to go/do/see every day.

I worked on my blog and read in the morning. Charley walked down to the bottom of the village for an English paper (the Telegraph today), and we had a late breakfast. In the afternoon we went into Brive to find internet access… we’ve been out of touch now for a week and needed to get caught up on our correspondence.

Brive is a rather large place surrounded by a ring road. Fortunately, I had booklet and map about Brive from the Turenne Tourist Information office, and we were able to navigate our way and find a large underground parking garage. The information book in the house recommended an internet place right on the ring road. It looked to be a copier/printing place with a couple of terminals. Unfortunately, it was 9 euro an hour! I tried to explain to the man that we would need several hours this week and next. Perhaps he had some kind of volume discount, like we’ve encountered elsewhere. He wouldn’t budge from his original price, which was too steep for us. The Brive information booklet listed a couple of other internet possibilities. The first one (the name should have been a big tip-off… Le Joystick) turned out to be a big place for computer games. Rock music was blaring and the place was filled with kids. Not the place for us! The second place—also on the ring road—was hidden off the street… a real internet center with about 20 PCs and a very reasonable price of 3 euro an hour.

Charley explored Brive while Kelly and I used the computers. I’m starting to get used to the French keyboard. I’ll be able to bring a disk next time and post to my blog.

We had our beef stew for dinner—really good! Even Kelly liked it, though she picked out the potatoes, carrots, onions, celery, and mushrooms. I should say that she liked the beef and gravy! It was quite cool this evening, and Charley built a fire in the wood-burning stove in the living room.

Friday, September 24

Our owner Kevin came by in the morning to chop more firewood for us. He also brought fresh linens for our second week.

The weather was clear, and we decided to set off on a major adventure to the famous village of Rocamadour. Instead of taking the most direct way by the highway, we took a scenic route through Soulliac, where the Corrèze and Dordogne rivers meet. It was an absolutely beautiful ride winding back through the hilly countryside.

When we got to Rocamadour, we pulled to the overlook at L’Hospitalet to take some photos of the amazing ancient village tumbling some 1600 feet down the steep cliffs. Then we drove up to the top of the hill and parked by the chateau.

Rocamadour was one of the most important centers of medieval Christianity, a place of pilgrimage. The legend is that the perfectly-formed body a hermit was found under the altar of the old church in the 12th century—believed to be the body of Zaccheus, a follower of Jesus. Somehow Zaccheus had made his way from the Holy Land to the center of France. After the discovery of the body, various miracles began to occur and the pilgrims began to come seeking even more miracles. Sinners were sent to Rocamdamour as part of their penance, supposedly crawling up the 216 steps on their knees, draped in chains. They prayed for forgiveness in front of an altar topped by a “Black Madonna. A priest removed their chains and gave them a medal.

The pilgrims and penitents of the 13th century have been replaced the tourists of the 21st century, including today the Wood family. We walked down the hill on a zigzag path that passed a cave with a well-worn Nativity scene and the stations of the cross. The famous Ecclesiastical City is mid-way up the hill, consisting of seven different churches. The way down was a bit confusing—it seemed you could walk… though we couldn’t easily find the path. There opted to pay to ride an elevator that went down through the rock.

We arrived in the lower village about 1:15 pm—lunchtime. The first place we saw looked just right for us—a café called Le Bistrot with an outdoor terrace under shady trees. We checked the posted menu, and the food and the price all worked. Charley and I had a prix fixe meal—we both had entrees, and then he had a chicken dish and I had duck. (Charley selected the foie gras appetizer, one of the specialties of this area. We’ve passed many farms with signs out front advertising their foie gras.) Kelly had a kid’s chicken meal, which turned out to be the same dish—and portion size—as Charley’s meal, but at a much lower price. We had good desserts, and Charley and I shared a half-carafe of wine. We enjoyed the meal and the atmosphere.

After lunch we walked up and town the little village street—there were lots of shops and it was very touristy, a bit crowded even now near the end of September. I can only imagine the crowds in July and August. The old city walls and gates were especially pretty. One of the gates now held a public phone booth.

We rode the elevator back up to the middle level—the Ecclesiastical City—to look at the old churches. The “Black Madonna” was in the old Chappelle Notre Dame, the little chapel where the body of the hermit had been found. The famous statue was very small, blackened by candle smoke—Mary holds a baby Jesus, who has the face of an adult. Outside the chapel, we saw a big iron sword stuck high up in the cliff…. supposedly the famous sword of Roland and the result of another miracle. Two women were restoring old frescoes on the outside of another chapel. The little plaza of churches had a quiet, almost eerie feeling… quite a contrast to the mass of shops and restaurants. There were more shops at the middle level, and I bought Kelly a pewter hedgehog at a shop that sold all kinds of small animal figurines. The older woman running the shop seemed to be simultaneously running three different shops.
Kelly lobbied to take the elevator back up to the top, but Charley and I felt we needed to save our money. We told her she’d be welcome to take the elevator, but she’d have to use her own money. Charley and I started up the steep path by the stations of the cross. About halfway up, we looked down and saw Kelly coming up the hill on foot. It wasn’t so bad after all. An old chateau (the former home of the chaplains of Rocamadour sits at the top of the cliff, but there was a charge for entry—it didn’t look that special, and we decided not to go.

We drove back yet another way, through Padirac. I hadn’t realized how absolutely beautiful this part of France is… mountainous, pastoral… fields of brown cows (a breed called Limousin) and sheep… little farms raising geese and ducks for foie gras… walnut groves. I’m so glad we have another week here.

We fixed fajitas for dinner—not very French tonight! Afterwards Charley went up the hill to work on a sketch of our cottage. Our setting at the top of the village is so unique. There was some type of concert in the chapel next door again… we heard trumpets and trombones… it sounded like some kind of brass ensemble. It was strange to hear “When the Saints Come Marching In” coming out of the 500-year old chapel! Charley and Kelly walked over to peek through a crack in the door… they said that the chapel was full of people, yet we saw no cars in the parking lot tonight. Everyone must have walked up from other parts of the village.