Our Grand Tour of Europe

Saturday, September 25

I was up very early… slipped downstairs, fixed a pot of coffee and made a fire in the living room fireplace. I worked on the final installment of my Coast-to-Coast blog, and had just finished my last edits when Charley and Kelly came downstairs.

The day was very clear in the morning, but quite cool… it was only in the low 50’s when we left about 9:30. The view from the top of Turenne down across the valley was beautiful. It’s so interesting—some days it’s crystal clear and other days we’re totally enveloped in fog up here.

We drove into Brive, where we were headed to the big Saturday morning market, supposedly one of the best food markets in all of France. We arrived about 10:00 am. The market was partly under cover and partly outdoors… on top of the underground parking lot where we’d parked last week and where we parked again today. This was an incredibly busy market with a few hundred sellers. Most of the focus was food, but there was also a large flea market section with clothes and other household items. We carried a straw shopping basket we’d found in the cottage and planned to buy several things for the coming week.

The food market was just wonderful—vegetables, meats, cheese, bread, fish, honey, wine, walnut oil, and of course-- foie gras. We saw several big flower stalls, selling cut flowers and also pansies and other potted plants for the autumn. One area of the market was filled with crates of live chickens, ducks and rabbits—that Kelly wanted desperately to rescue! One man was selling truffles, lined up on his little card table. One truffle—about the size of a walnut—was 30 euro! Another section of the market was dedicated to food trucks—little stores operating out of the sides of trucks. These people apparently make their living traveling around to the various markets on some type of weekly circuit. There were trucks selling freshly-baked pizzas, roasted chickens and ducks, giant pans of paella… the smells made me want to buy (and eat!) it all.

We had fun wandering through the busy market. Charley wanted to look at the flea market, hoping to find a great deal on a new pair of shoes, as his are wearing thin. Kelly was interested in bedroom slippers. Everything in the flea market section looked like it had been traveling around the markets of Europe perhaps for years. The Saturday morning market in Brive was definitely not a tourist market like some we had seen in Provence last June—this was a major market for people who live in this area. I suspect a lot of restaurant owners did their shopping here.

We bought several different kinds of vegetables, pears, cheese, and a baguette. We also bought a roast chicken and a big serving of potatoes, sautéed I think in goose fat. After last weekend’s shopping fiasco, we made sure we had plenty of food to get us through until Monday.

Kelly and I made a quick trip over to the internet place so I could post my blog, while Charley carried our purchases back to the car. We walked back through the old downtown area of Brive after we finished on the internet. Most of the shops closed at noon, but Kelly and I found a gift shop still open and bought a couple packages of brightly-colored paper napkins.

We had our roast chicken for lunch back at the cottage along with the good sautéed potatoes, cheese and bread. It was a great meal.

After lunch we drove over to Meyssac, a village just beyond Collonges-La-Rouge. I had read that Meyssac was known for its pottery. We stopped in a poterie with a lot of different items for sale. The potter’s workshop was off to the side and we could see other pieces in various stages of completion. We bought three individual soup tureens, one for each of us.

We decided to continue on out of Meyssac and do a little exploring. We’re enjoying just driving through this beautiful part of France. Kelly enjoys the driving so she can read away in the back seat. She’ll occasionally look up when we say, “Oh Kelly, look at that!!!” But she much prefers to read rather than look at the scenery.

We took a steep road out of the Meyssac and drove up and then around on a plateau of some sort. At Roche de Vic we parked our car… according to my map, there was a belvedere or viewpoint. The hilltop was covered with big rocks, similar (on a much smaller scale) to the boulders we’d enjoyed at Brimham Rocks in Yorkshire. Kelly got Charley to climb to the top with her on the rocks, while I took the safer path. There was some type of religious shrine at the top. It was a gorgeous view with another 360-degree perspective, though a bit cool and very windy. This part of France seems to have many gorgeous views.

We had leftover beef stew for dinner… proving my theory that beef stew (like chili) is always better the second day!

Sunday, September 26

We decided to be leisurely today and didn’t set the alarm. It was extremely foggy in the morning—the fog totally enveloped the top of Turenne. Charley walked down the hill to get the Sunday Times. We had breakfast, read the paper, and then poked around the cottage until the early afternoon when the weather cleared.

We decided to drive over toward Sarlat and visit Castelnaud Castle. I read a book last year about a couple of college professors from America who had bought a house just beneath this castle, and I was interested in seeing the village and castle. We took a meandering route through the countryside heading in the general direction of Sarlat. We stopped to admire the view over the Dordogne River near Montfort.

On the way to Castelnaud, we detoured unexpectedly to the village of Domme—another of the designated Plus Beaux Villages de France (most beautiful villages). I was reading the Michelin Green Guide as we drove, and realized that Domme sounded interesting too. We were almost right there. We bypassed the parking lots at the bottom of the village—we’ve now learned that it’s better to keep going to the top if we can… and avoid the walk up the steep hill! We drove through the old town gates and wound around the village to the top. Domme was founded by Phillip the Bold in 1283, selected because of its site high on a rocky crag. We parked at a long belvedere with an absolutely beautiful view of the Dordogne River and the surrounding farmland… fields of maize, tobacco and cereals. It all made such a peaceful, pastoral scene-- pretty, pretty, pretty.

Domme was a busy tourist town, even at this time of year. We walked down the main shopping street, stepping into several stores and actually buying several things. Kelly and I enjoy shopping, and we haven’t bought much besides books since we’ve been on the trip. We were very limited in England in what we could buy, since we had to be able to consolidate our luggage into three duffel bags and three backpacks for the Coast-to-Coast walking trip. Now we’re in France, the “rules” have relaxed and we’re buying things—too many things! And we’re buying things that could even possibly break! We don’t need to consolidate our luggage again until we take a train to Rome in early May. Kelly and I have decided we’ll figure out what to do with breakable things later… in the meantime, we can even use them. In Domme we bought four pottery napkin rings in the shape of cicadas. Charley and I also bought some gourmet food items unique to the Périgord region—some foie gras, walnut oil, and cooking sauces. I’m not quite sure what we’ll do with these gastronomic purchases… hopefully we can serve them to just the right kind of guest.

We had big bowls of ice cream at a café overlooking the countryside… I had a scoop of fraise (strawberry), a scoop of framboise (raspberry), and lots of chantilly. Yum! We enjoyed Domme so much that before long it was 5:00 pm—an hour away from home and too late to go to Castelnaud. We headed back to Turenne and decided to try Castelnaud another day. We took another route this time, passing through the villages of Cressensac and Hôpital-St. Jean up above Turenne… this plateau was very isolated with lots of pretty walnut groves, though Hôpital St. Jean seemed to have some kind of vacation condominium development. We wound our way down the hill to the lower village of Turenne, then wound our way back up to our house near the castle.

I fixed pasta bolognaise for dinner, and it was good this week! Too bad Becky, Sherry and Janie weren’t here to enjoy my “good” pasta bolognaise! I’m enjoying pasta more now that we’re not having it quite as often.

Monday, September 27

This morning we went to the Carrefour in Brive for our major shopping expedition of the week. The Carrefour is a huge grocery store—almost overwhelming. We took our time browsing through the store. I’m trying to understand what French people eat, what’s available in their supermarkets, and what I might be able to cook for the next 6-1/2 months. I don’t want to fix only the same food we would eat at home. I’m looking forward to cooking dinner for my family every night… something I haven’t done at home for years—if ever. Since I normally didn’t get home from work until 7 pm or later, Charley fixed dinner during the week. We always ate out on Friday and sometimes on Saturday… well, sometimes on Sunday too. Maybe I fixed dinner one or two times a month—maybe five times a year for company. And I like to cook—actually, I love to cook! On this trip I’ve taken over responsibility for fixing dinner… and I’m enjoying it a lot.

The French grocery store has a lot of things we don’t find in our Kroger at home. In this store there is a large separate section with hanging braids of garlic and shallots. The selection of cheeses is enormous—fresh cheeses and packaged cheeses. There are two aisles of yogurt. In the meat section I saw goose, rabbit and even horse meat. There’s an entire liquor store… mostly wine… in this store.

We spent 117 euro today, which seems a lot, but it’s so much cheaper than eating out. We can easily spend 40 euro for lunch here, and it’s much cheaper to eat out here than it was in Paris.

We had “brunch” when we got home, pouncing on the fresh breads we bought at Carrefour. We enjoyed some quiet time at the cottage in the early afternoon. Charley saw our neighbor next door—James, the retired man from Scotland—and invited him over for a glass of wine. Then he saw the other neighbor down the street—Michel—and invited him and his wife Virginie down also. All of a sudden we were having a party!

In the meantime we decided to walk over and tour the Château de Turenne… we wanted to do this on a clear day so we could get the full advantage of the view from the tower. We were the only people at the castle, which I thought was interesting. We’ve observed a steady stream of people climbing the hill to the top of the village, but no one else was at the castle during our visit. I do like the fact that Turenne isn’t as much of a tourist village as other villages we’ve seen here. I think its just as unique and beautiful, but there’s very little tourist infrastructure like restaurants and shops. In my opinion, this only adds to Turenne’s charm.

In the 15th century the castle was the center of the Viscounty of Turenne, a very powerful group that ruled over 100,000 people and 1200 villages. This power came to an end in 1738 when Godefroy de Bouillon sold his holdings to King Louis XV of France to settle his enormous gambling debts. The King ordered that the castle be dismantled, and today only a few ruins remain. Three areas of the castle ruins are open for visitors—a guard room, the garden (designed in the 1920’s), and then the ancient tower. We saw the house at the end opposite the tower where Camille (who Charley had met last week) and his wife must live, and I saw the top end of the little dumb waiter where they hoist their groceries up from the parking lot.

Kelly and I climbed 64 steps up the spiral staircase to the top of the tower, which dates back to the eleventh century—almost a thousand years! There was a perfect 360-degree view of the countryside, and it was a perfectly clear afternoon. A table of orientation showed what we could potentially see in each direction—the départements of Corrèze, Cantal, Lot and Dordogne.

Charley decided at the last moment not to go up in the tower. He doesn’t like heights. I told him that the tower had been there for 1,000 years, and that it didn’t seem likely to fall to the ground in the 10 minutes he was up there, but Charley still declined to go up. Kelly and I had a great time and took photos in all directions.

We went home to straighten up and get ready for our guests. We hadn’t planned for company and didn’t really have anything to serve with our wine. I had bought a small box of seasoned crackers at the Carrefour—just to try them out—and we also had some pretzels…that was the extent of my food offering. Kathy Wood—Unprepared Hostess once again!

We really enjoyed our visit with our Turenne neighbors. James has lived in Turenne for just over a year, recently moving to France from England when he retired. Michel and Virginie were extremely nice people. She is originally from Vietnam and met Michel when he was a teacher in Vietnam. Virginie spoke quite good English and Michel did quite well with English too. We conversed around our kitchen table in a mix of English and French, interpreting for each other. Virginia brought a tray of wonderful eggrolls and also a basket of figs from their fig trees… arranged on a bed of fig leaves. Kelly tried the eggrolls and the figs and liked them both. They all brought wine, and James also brought some beer.

Virginie has a friend in Knoxville, Tennessee. She said her friend lived on Allée de Papillion in Knoxville, which was the most amazing thing. We have friends—Don and Mary Johnstone—who live on Allée de Papillion in Knoxville…. and I’m pretty sure there are only two houses on this road. Virginie’s friend was also named Don, though definitely not the same Don as our friend. She wrote down our names and other information and said she would e-mail her friend tonight. What a coincidence!

When Charley invited James over, he asked if he might bring his bagpipes and play us some music. After we visited for a while, it seemed time for bagpipes, and so we adjourned to the living room for an impromptu concert. He told us he had once played at the Albert Hall in London. Kelly and I requested the Scottish marching song we’d heard at the Tattoo in Edinburgh… the one that had been our “mantra” during the Coast-to-Coast walk. We hummed a few bars, and James told us the name of this tune was “Scotland the Brave.” He played it for us—bringing back some wonderful memories of the Tattoo and our walk. Charley requested Amazing Grace and then Virginie requested a hymn from the movie Titanic. Now this was amazing—we were in a 500-year old house at the top of a village in France, with a woman from Vietnam, a man from Scotland, and a man from France… listening to Amazing Grace being played on the bagpipes… in our living room!

At one point there was a knocking on the door—I thought it was one of the “Madame” neighbors coming to complain, but it was Michel and Virginie’s teenage daughter coming to get them. About 8:30 James asked, “Would you like to hear a few more tunes?” He seemed anxious to play, and we enjoyed the music. Somehow in our conversation, Charley’s fear of heights came out. It turned out that James is a retired psychologist who specialized in working with people with phobias. He asked if Charley would like to do some work on his fear together, which Charley was open to. Right then—in our living room—James did a little test to see if Charley was a candidate for hypnosis. Kelly and I sat on the other side of the room and watched… I could feel my own hand starting to lift, but the hypnosis didn’t seem to work for Charley. James thought he could work with Charley in another way, and they decided to get together tomorrow evening.

It was good to be with a group of people again, and we all enjoyed this interesting evening. We’d all eaten a lot of snacks (those eggrolls were especially good), so we decided we’d had our dinner for tonight.

Tuesday, September 28

We walked up the hill to our car and saw our neighbor James coming out of the fog… we really didn’t see him until he was right before us. The fog was that thick. He was headed back from a morning walk and we were headed off again to the Vallée de la Dordogne. We started out with one plan for the day and ended up doing something unexpected. We really do like this part of France… so very different from Provence but equally enjoyable.

We headed back toward Sarlat, the area where we’d been on Sunday. It was about an hour from our house, though we extended our trip by taking the back roads that we enjoy more. We wanted to try again to visit Castelnaud, our destination on Sunday which we never reached due to our discovery of Domme. This castle dates back to the 13th century and was occupied at various points during the Middle Ages by both the French and the English.

When we finally reached Castelnaud about 11 am, it was extremely foggy. We parked in the car park and walked through the top of the village to the castle entry. We could just barely see the castle. I looked at the information outside the castle—there seemed to be a couple of museums and the entrance fees for the three of us would be expensive… almost $20. We decided not to go inside, especially since the fog was so dense. I took a few photos of the castle in the fog, and we visited a nearby shop and bought a book and a few postcards. Kelly lobbied to hang around till lunch—she saw a café with pasta on the menu—but we decided to head across the river to the neighboring village and castle of Beynac.

On the main road below Castelnaud we stopped at a big poterie I had seen on the way in… Poterie d’Art du Pont de Castelnaud. They had really wonderful stuff—an outside area with big colorful pots for the garden and a large enclosed shop with lots of beautiful tableware… much of it from Provence. I wished Becky, Sherry and Janie were here, as they would have loved this shop. In their honor, Kelly and I bought several things—an olive oil container with a little metal spout and two little bowls. Kelly likes dipping her bread in olive oil and herbs. I wish I could have bought more—I have a tentative plan to buy an entire set of pottery dishes somewhere on our trip, but since our main stay is in Provence, I’d prefer to make that major purchase in Provence.

While Kelly and I wandered around the big shop and tried to choose between patterns, Charley struck up a conversation with the woman at the counter. She spoke very good English and had lived for some time in Alsace. I caught just part of the story, but she and her husband had also once lived on a boat traveling around South America. They ended up moving to this area due to her husband’s health—his family is here. The woman didn’t like this area much and didn’t find the people friendly. She thought we would find the people much more open in Provence—I hope so! Somehow we started talking about walnut oil (maybe our purchase of the olive oil jug). I bought walnut oil the other day in Domme and have absolutely no idea what I will do with it. She gave us a recipe for a salad using walnut oil… apparently it works best with a certain type of green. I had to go down the road to a wine and foie gras shop to pay for my pottery purchases with a credit card… when I came back, Charley and the woman were still deep in conversation. I felt sorry for her—such an outgoing person, living in a place where she was probably considered an outsider.

We drove across the Dordogne to the village of Beynac, another of France’s most beautiful villages with a magnificent old castle up on the hill. There was apparently a rivalry between Beynac and Castelnaud throughout the Middle Ages—like Castelnaud, Beynac’s ownership alternated between the French and the English. Beynac was once owned by Richard the Lionhearted. Part of the village was at the bottom of the hill, with a number of restaurants on the main street along the river. I saw a dock for a river cruise… the boats looked like some type of old Viking ships. There were also places to rent canoes, which is a big activity on the Dordogne in the summer months. We didn’t see any canoes out today… the canoe season seems to be over.

We parked in a lot along the river, and then walked from restaurant to restaurant checking out the menus posted outside. I like the French way (I think a legal requirement) of posting the menu outside. We finally selected a hotel on the main corner (Hôtel-Restaurant du Château) and sat in a bright dining room at a table by the street. Our meal was really great. Kelly’s “menu enfant” came with a big salad, steak hache and fries, and then dessert. Charley and I had a four-course meal, beginning with a big tureen of garlic soup. Kelly traded her salad with Charley for his soup, and really liked the soup—so did I. I didn’t tell her that I thought there were bits of cooked egg floating in the soup. Then Charley and I had entrées—he had foie gras and I had a salad (described as a salade Périgord) with three different mystery meats. I think one was foie gras, because it resembled Charley’s entrée—I ate some of that. The second mystery meat was little pieces of red meat… I have no idea what they were, but did eat them all. Later I saw a recipe postcard in a shop with a picture of something that looked like Mystery Meat 2… called gesiers. I still don’t know what that is though—some strange part of a duck or goose?? I might not want to know. (I have since looked this up on the internet—I probably ate duck gizzards.. not something I would have voluntarily ordered!) I decided not to eat Mystery Meat 3.

For our main course, I had a breast of duck (wonderful) in a rich brown sauce and Charley had lamb. We shared a carafe of wine. For dessert he had apple tart and I had a prune charlotte, both with vanilla sauce and chantilly. Kelly had ice cream. We had a leisurely, very enjoyable meal—just the experience and ambiance I was looking for.

After lunch we drove up the hill to Beynac Castle. The fog had cleared, and we liked the looks of this substantial medieval castle. Kelly had wanted to visit a “real” castle—with a moat, drawbridge, ramparts, dungeon, and towers. This was it. We decided to invest our money in touring Beynac and enjoyed our hour there. They gave us an information sheet, and we toured on our own since the guided tour was in French. There were spectacular views from several places out over the Dordogne River and the lush valley. Three castles were visible from here, and we could just pick out Castelnaud on the other side. After we finished walking through the castle, we followed a walking path up past the cemetery to another overlook spot on a cliff by a calvary. There we found yet another amazing view of the Dordogne River, and actually saw two canoes making their way along the river.

We had planned to stop in the town of Sarlat, but we’d lingered too long at the pottery shop, the restaurant and Beynac Castle. All in all, though, we’d enjoyed our day very much. We had to hustle back to Turenne so Charley could have his “session” with James and potentially “cure” his fear of heights. James stopped by a few minutes after we got home, dropping off a scrapbook of grateful letters he’d received from patients over the years… some people with serious phobias who couldn’t even bring themselves to leave the house. One woman woke up one morning and couldn’t speak. After she had worked with several doctors over a period of months, her family began to give up on her. Finally her brother found James in the yellow pages, and after just two sessions with James she somehow recovered her power of speech. Some of the letters—like this one—were quite interesting. Maybe there was hope for Charley.

Charley was at James’ house for about two hours. It would be wonderful if he could somehow overcome this fear, which has gotten worse over time. He really hates to fly and starts to get tense weeks before a flight. Fortunately his desire to go to Europe is stronger than his fear of flying. He won’t go up in any high towers. He wouldn’t go to the top of the Zugspitze. He could never ride in a cable car. Last summer while driving in the Gorge de Verdon in Provence, he practically started trembling. (I admit that the narrow road along the cliffs with the steep drop-offs gave me some concern too, but he was the driver!!)

At some point while Charley was gone, I began to get a little worried. After all, who was James and what did we really know about him? We’d seen the letters from his patients, but what if he was some kind of mad doctor? What if he hypnotized Charley and my husband came home a changed man… and not in a good way??

I needn’t have worried. Charley came home with positive reports about his session, and he didn’t seem any different. He and James had talked through the origins of his fears in detail, and worked through some exercises related to his fear of heights. James gave Charley some techniques to follow next time he has to deal with heights. We will see what happens.

Charley and Kelly had leftover pasta for dinner, and I decided to skip a big meal since I’d had such a big lunch.

Wednesday, September 29

Today we headed north toward the city of Limoges. Kelly wanted us to see a few of the places she’d visited on her day with Becky, Sherry and Janie. Our primary destination was the village of Oradour-sur-Glane, the site of a major massacre near the end of World War II. We headed west just before reaching Limoges and drove through the pretty countryside to Aixe-sur-Vienne. Kelly said that Becky & Friends were very enthusiastic about this pretty town, and she also thought I would enjoy the Maison de la Porcelaine, a big porcelain shop. Aixe-sur-Vienne really was a pretty place, and I certainly enjoyed the Maison de la Porcelaine. The store was over 10,000 square feet with supposedly over 100,000 items on display—all kinds of beautiful dishes, some of which were very expensive. We wandered around the store for about an hour and finally bought a couple of things to add to my growing pile of purchases since we left Paris. Charley and I picked out a set of six cheese plates—a major investment. We’re hoping to use these at home when we serve a cheese course before dessert! (We’ll see if this is something we really do.) I’m personally more interested in the colorful pottery of Provence, but I enjoyed looking at all the porcelain items too. I bought Kelly a pretty painted plate with a colorful toucan. She also got little Halloween ghost candle-holder.

Kelly was desperately begging for a Quick hamburger, but the Quick restaurant wasn’t on our way and we asked her to wait until later. We drove onto Oradour-sur-Glane, about 15 miles northwest of Limoges. We drove by the “old” village of Oradour and the entrance to the museum, parking in a large visitors lot. We decided to go ahead and have lunch before we visited the site and walked up into the “new” village. There weren’t a lot of lunch options there, but we took a table out on the sidewalk by a little hotel and had a nice meal. I had a mushroom and cheese omelette with fries, and Charley had a salad plate. We both had beers. Kelly decided to save her main meal for Quick and so she just had dessert. Charley and I each had desserts too. Then it was time to learn about Oradour.

The story of this little village is simply horrifying. Oradour-sur-Glane was a normal French village, somewhat removed from the events of World War II. Then on a beautiful afternoon—June 10, 1944—for a reason that is still today unclear, the Germany army surrounded the village and assembled all the people… men, women and children… into the village square. This was just four days after the Allies invaded France at Normandy. At first, most people weren’t that concerned, but they soon grew afraid. The women and children were taken to the church. The men were broken into several small groups and taken to various barns and garages around the village. Several hours later a signal was given, and all the men were massacred. (A couple of men managed to escape.) A bit later, the Nazis set off bombs in the church, fired machine guns and threw grenades into the terrified crowd, and then set the church on fire. All the women and children were killed, except for one woman who escaped through a window. A group of people who happened to be bicycling through the village were also captured and killed. The Germans then buried many of the bodies and set fire to the village, hoping perhaps to hide what they had done. Some injured survivors were burned alive. 642 people were killed. 90% of the bodies were so badly damaged they could not even be identified.

We first toured the Visitors Center where we looked at various exhibits in a museum and watched a short film. We had headphones to listen in English. Then we crossed through an underground passage to enter the old village. The sign out front said: “Souviens-Toi. Remember.” The old village has been frozen in time as a memorial to those who died… left as it was in June 1944. The streets are lined with half-burned buildings filled with pieces of everyday life: twisted iron bedsteads, tools, kitchen utensils, and a large number of destroyed sewing machines. There were even a few old cars… one stopped right in the middle of the street… just the burned frame. Many of the buildings are marked describing what they were—a family’s home, a butcher’s shop, a bakery, a pharmacy, a carpenter’s shop, a dentist’s office, a beauty shop. At each place where a group of people was killed or where a body was found, there was another sign. Each sign said: “Ici. Lieu de supplice. Un group d’hommes fut massacre et brule par les Nazis. Recueillez-vous.” In English—my translation: “Here. Place of Torture. A group of men was massacred and burned by the Nazis. Stand in Silence.” (I’m not totally clear on the intended definition of “recueillez-vous.”)

The impression was simply shocking. We walked along the silent street, visualizing this once-peaceful French village and imagining the horror of that day. I walked separately from Charley and Kelly. Kelly occupied herself with reading the signs on the various buildings and using her French dictionary to identify the role of each building in the once-happy village. She had been shocked at the film and some of the photos of the burned bodies. I hoped we were right to bring her to this place—she has shown an interest in World War II, and we wanted her to understand something of war and the atrocities of war.

There were many more people visiting Oradour than I had expected… I was glad there were so many people there. If there were staff members on duty in the village, they were totally invisible. The visitors moved quietly through the streets, some taking photos. I saw many people bring their hands to their face from time-to-time—as I did—unable to comprehend that terrible day. A busload of teenagers walked with a guide, respectful and silent.

We looked in the church where the cross still stands, thinking of the women trying to protect their children. There were 247 schoolchildren… all but one perished… one little boy didn’t go to the assembly point with his class and ran away from the village. We walked together up to the cemetery. Many of the family plots are marked with memorials to those who died on June 10, 1944. There was a big memorial at the back of the cemetery, including two clear coffins of bones. Big tablets listed the names of the dead and their ages—long lists of people, often ten or more with the same last name. There were small memorials to individuals and entire families, some with photographs: the old grandmother, father, mother, five or six children of various ages. There was a photograph of two twin brothers, arms entwined… eight years old. The cemetery—especially the photographs—personalized the horror we had seen in the ruined village.

We visited the bookstore, and I bought a couple of small books in English, wanting to know more of the story of Oradour.

Charley and I have both visited the former Nazi concentration camp at Dachau. We wanted to visit Oradour-sur-Glane to further expand our understanding of what happened in Europe during World War II… and also to begin to give Kelly some exposure. Both the World Wars are much more “real” here in Europe—all these many years later—than they are in America. In France we have where battles were once fought and where ordinary people were killed. Every village has a memorial to its war dead, and many villages have special memorials to members of the French resistance. We’ve seen a marker where a US plane and pilot crashed, and a marker where a group of resistance fighters were executed. And now we’ve been to Oradour.

We didn’t have time to go to Limoges. Although Kelly and I wanted to visit a museum where there are a couple of Renoir paintings, we were all just as glad to go on back to Turenne. Kelly was glad to go—as long as she got her Quick hamburger first. So, we did have to drive into Limoges, a city of almost 175,000 people. We found a Quick restaurant surprisingly quickly (ha!) and turned into the drive-through. They were sold out of the type of burger Kelly had been pining for so we drove on in search of the restaurant where Kelly had been with Becky & Friends last week. Somehow we managed to find the very same restaurant (at an interstate exit), went through the drive-through, and placed our order. Kelly likes her burgers plain (just the bun, meat and cheese… with catsup on the side), which is hard to explain sometimes in America and even harder for us to explain in France. Charley and I decided to share a drink and an order of fries. When we got our bag, we didn’t get the second drink and fries. Charley went inside to get the other food—I was desperate for a Diet Coke. Meanwhile Kelly checked her burger and found it was loaded with sauce… not plain. She went inside too. I’ve decided we need to start going inside these restaurants if we’re going to place a special order—it’s just too confusing and frustrating to try to handle a special order through a speaker system in another language.

The ride back to Turenne seemed faster—as return trips usually do. I was totally engrossed in reading my Oradour books, one written by a survivor who had escaped from one of the garage massacres. I learned that there was finally a trial in 1953 to prosecute various participants for their crimes at Oradour. None of the real leaders of the attack were found. Of the 21 people who were prosecuted, 14 were French Alsatians who had been potentially forced into service in the German army when Alsace was claimed by Germany. (The other perspective was that these French Alsatians knew exactly what they were doing.) Ultimately, due to pressure from Alsace and the desire for French unity, everyone involved was given amnesty or pardoned. No one was ever really punished for the massacre of the 642 people at Oradour. For a long time the survivors of Oradour were extremely bitter toward the French government. They returned some special recognitions the village had received and even erected their own memorial to the dead… rejecting the memorial erected by the government.

I fixed our favorite meal of chicken with pepper sauce, rice and beans. We had a quiet night at home.

Thursday, September 30

We didn’t wake up until almost 8:30 am. James stopped by to see if Charley had an opportunity to check out the status of his fear of heights, which Charley hasn’t yet. Kelly and I wanted him to go over and climb the tower at the Turenne castle yesterday evening, but he resisted this idea. We invited James over to dinner tonight.

I had to finish work on my first Paris blog so I could post it today. I fell behind during our Coast-to-Coast walk and I’m trying hard to get caught up… or at least not to fall further behind.

We drove into Brive to the internet café. I had lots of messages, including several from our Coast-to-Coast friends. I’d sent them all a link to the blog and was anxious to learn how they responded to my story of the walk. I had a message from Cynthia (the owner of our Provence house) about our arrival in Provence… this Saturday! We’re all excited about finally reaching Provence. We’ll be spending the night in the house—soon to be our house—with Cynthia and Ian so they can show us everything we need to know. Then they are headed for Corsica and ultimately to Mexico. I had a message from my friend Jeanne—she and Fred will arrive next Friday to spend several days with us in Provence. We’ll have a few days to settle in, and then are really looking forward to having these special friends with us. I also had a message from Pauline of Slow Travel—she and her husband will be in a nearby village and we’ll be getting together with them also.

Charley ran some errands in Brive while I worked at the internet café—as always, I didn’t have enough time. Charley was proud of his success in interacting with two women at La Poste… he bought some stamps and a couple of pre-posted mailing envelopes. He really must have charmed them.

We got back to the house about 2:45 pm. Charley and Kelly had rented mountain bikes from the Turenne Tourist Information Office beginning at 3:00 pm and were gone for about three hours. They rode to Hôpital-St. Jean and then over to Sarrazac, a village they liked a lot. Kelly said they had to push their bikes up a lot of hills. They had a good time and came home flushed and excited. It was a good thing they rented today, as the woman at the Tourist Office said today is the last day the Turenne office is open until Christmas.

I stayed at home and fixed the main course for our dinner tonight with James—I made Beef Burgundy which then simmered away for several hours and also planned to serve mashed potatoes. We decided each family member would take responsibility for a course. Charley was in charge of the entrée-- his famous green bean salad (first created for Becky & Friends during our Sunday-grocery-store-crisis meal) and Kelly was responsible for dessert.

I sat outside in the sunny courtyard and read for a while—there are some really good books in this house and I’ve enjoyed “Blackberry Wine,” “Extra Virgin,” and “Driving through Lemons.” Today I finished Blackberry Wine by Joanne Harris (author of Chocolat), a good story narrated by a bottle of wine! Somehow it works. I liked the connection with Yorkshire and also France.

James came over at 7 pm. We sat outside and drank wine and learned about his life. He has a very interesting story… his parents were never married, his father died in the war, and then his mother died when he was five. He was raised in an institution and had what seemed a very tough life… perhaps along the lines of Oliver Twist. He did maintain some ongoing contact with his mother’s family and as an adult discovered he had an older half-sister named Heather. He said he always had a sense perhaps he had a sister. Years later he discovered Heather, in some type of institution run by nuns, done in by a handwashing affliction… perhaps a phobia her psychologist-brother could have helped her with. Charley and I were captivated by James’ story… so different than any experience in our own lives.

We had a very good meal and conversation and enjoyed our time with James. We enjoy meeting people we wouldn’t encounter in our “normal” life at home. I showed James the little book I’d put together about our trip. He asked if he could look at my hands. “You’re very creative…. You could be a novelist,” he said, looking at both my palms. “You’re so well organized but there’s also a lot of emotion.” It was a strange moment. I didn’t probe more, but I have to say I was intrigued. Could I be a novelist? Did he really see something? Or was it just like the Professor at the beginning of the Wizard of Oz… when Dorothy closed her eyes, he looked in her little basket at the picture of Auntie Em—and then he knew all about her?

Friday, October 1

James came by this morning to say thanks for last night and goodbye. He has a lady friend named Collette (he called her his companion) who lives in another town north of here, and he’s going to visit her for the weekend.

We decided to have a quiet day in anticipation of our journey tomorrow to Provence and what I know will be an exciting time. I have sensed us “slowing down” during our two weeks in Turenne… not quite the same mad rush to see and do it all. We’ve been traveling now since June 11, and we’re looking forward to settling down in one place and having a real home for a while. Turenne has been a wonderful place to stay—we just enjoy being in this little village… relaxing out in the courtyard… sitting around our bright kitchen table.

I organized some packages of books to mail back home, and then we went to Brive for one last time. The internet café was busy today with mostly older boys… playing computer games I think. The two computers in the front that we’d been using weren’t available, so Kelly and I went around the back and found two computers together. I had several messages to send and answer and also paid some bills. We will arrange internet access—somehow—at our house in Provence, but it could be several days before we’re on the internet again. Charley went back to the post office to mail our packages and charm his two lady friends again. We had a list of several errands for him. He has spent more time out-and-about in Brive than I have, since I’ve been mainly focused on the internet café. Charley really likes Brive a lot. It doesn’t seem to be a big tourist place… possibly one reason for liking it!

We got gas in Brive for our long trip tomorrow, and drove back a roundabout route by the pretty Lac du Causse. If we were here in warmer weather, this lake would be a great place to sunbathe, swim or rent a little sailboat. When we got home we started work on our packing. I spoke to Penny—the owner of our cottage—earlier today, and I told her we wanted to leave by 9:30 am. We really would like to leave sooner. It’s a 300-mile drive (almost seven hours), and Cynthia and Ian have encouraged us to get there as early as possible so we can spend more time together.

I did take a break to sit outside in the sun… I had a beer and enjoyed reading Driving Through Lemons, a book by English guy who moved with his wife to rural Spain and raised sheep. I fixed a Chinese chicken stir-fry to dinner… we didn’t have lunch so we had an early dinner. Chinese food is not very widespread in France, but I found egg rolls and a Canton sauce in Brive. I used most of our remaining vegetables in the stir-fry. Charley ate way too many potato chips before dinner, and I was disappointed that he wasn’t too hungry—but Kelly and I enjoyed our meal.

As we were finishing dinner, our neighbor Michel came outside our open door and called in to us. He wanted to invite us down for a glass of wine before we left. We told him we’d be down in about 15 minutes and hurriedly finished our meal. Charley surveyed our small collection of wine and picked out a bottle to take—we wanted to be sure we didn’t take the same bottle Michel had brought here the other evening!

Michel and Virginie also live at the top of the village… at the other end of the castle rock. We drive by their door every time we drive up or down the hill, and normally we see their sweet dog Whisper (a black and white collie-type dog) lying just on the edge of the road. Kelly loves Whisper, and we like Whisper’s owners very much too. Michel and Virginie have a grown daughter who is a nurse somewhere and a 16-year old daughter who lives with them and goes to school in Brive. We sat on their front terrace to have drinks—Charley drank some kind of homemade peach wine and I had “regular” wine. Their daughter greeted us with kisses on both cheeks. She was quiet and very respectful and obliged when Charley asked her to play us something on the piano.

Michel and Virginie live in the house where Michel grew up—his family has owned the house since the 1800s. They have a rental house—a gîte—behind their own home. Their tenants from Canada just left this morning, so Virginie took us on a little tour and showed us the gîte—quite large with four bedrooms and a swimming pool. The house has lots of outdoor space with wonderful views. The living room was great, but the kitchen was small and very utilitarian. I liked the inside of our house better, but I liked the outside of their house better… not so much the swimming pool, but the views across the countryside. We really don’t have a view, unless you stand on the little bed in the attic bedroom and look out the skylight! They also have an efficiency rental unit where (I think I understood this) Michel’s mother had lived before she died. They’re getting this second unit ready to rent.

Virginie told us the other night that she had a friend from Knoxville, Tennessee, and based on what she said, I thought this was a neighbor of some good friends of ours. She had e-mailed her friend, and he is indeed a neighbor of our friends Don and Mary Johnstone. Virginie’s friend and his wife had tried to rent her house a few years ago, and it wasn’t available. He rented another house in the village and the two couples met up and had a good time together. The next time this couple from Knoxville visited, they rented the house from Virginie and Michel. She has really made a connection with this man. I plan to contact him when we get home.

We talked with Virginie about her rental program. They advertise only on one rent-by-owner website and seem to be booked most of the season. Michel and Virginie had some interesting comments about British vs. American renters. Michel said the British just want to sit by the pool, barbeque by the pool, read by the pool… the pool is the big attraction for them. They have little interest in the French countryside. On the other hand, Americans want to learn about France, see the villages, visit castles—they could care less about the pool. Charley and I thought about this and decided that if you live in cold, rainy Britain, coming someplace warmer—like France—with a swimming pool is a big deal. We did not see many swimming pools in England—not a very good investment! You can see plenty of quaint villages, beautiful scenery and old castles in England. Americans, on the other hand, don’t come to Europe to be by a pool—we can do that in lots of places at home. When we come to Europe, we want to see old and beautiful things that are not available in America.

While we were there, Michel and Virginie’s daughter had two young men visitors… boys perhaps also 16. They both stopped to greet our group on the front terrace. The first boy kiss-kissed Virginie, then kiss-kissed Kelly. He leaned over—perhaps to kiss-kiss me??—and I stuck out my hand. I think Kelly met this boy earlier in the week, but I had never seen him before! I hope I wasn’t rude. When the second boy arrived, the same thing happened. Both boys were so very polite. As I watched Kelly sweetly accepting the two-cheeked kiss, I had a premonition of things to come. What a grown-up girl she is getting to be. And how naturally she accepts the French customs.

Although we had eaten dinner, Virginie served some hors’ oeuvres and then served us each a slice of warm tomato and cheese tart. Kelly’s eyes opened wide—surprise, she doesn’t eat tomatoes. She gave me a look—“what do I do???—then politely ate about half the tart. I was so proud of her good manners with Virginie

Virginie’s English is very good and Michel’s is better than he thinks. While Virginie and I chatted, Michel and Charley communicated at the other end of the table in a mix of French and English. We stayed about two hours and thoroughly enjoyed our time with them. We hugged and kiss-kissed goodbye and headed back to our cottage to finish our packing.

Tomorrow we’re headed to Provence for six-and-a-half months, another major chapter in Our Grand Tour… really the centerpiece of this whole experience. A year ago when I started researching the possibility of this trip, my first step was to find that special place to live in Provence. Tomorrow we will finally be there!