Prior to planning my trip to France, I had never heard of the region called Dordogne. Provence, the Riviera, Normandy, Burgundy, and the Loire Valley were all well-known in my mind and probably to everyone else as well. It wasn't until I saw a television show that Rick Steves had produced on the Dordogne that I knew I was definitely going to go out of my way to ensure I would visit. The picture-postcard scenes I saw of people lazily paddling down a serene river with a golden-hued stone village as its backdrop captured my attention immediately. As I drooled over the images, it appeared as though it would be a photographers dream setting, so I was quite looking forward to photographing it myself!
The Dordogne is an area of Southwest France that is located within the region of Aquitaine, between the Loire Valley and the High Pyrénées. It is well-known throughout France as a gorgeous river valley with both natural and man-made beauty including rock-sculpted villages, quiet back roads, 1,500 castles, amazing panoramic vistas, foie gras, prehistoric caves art, and cliff-side villages that reflect perfectly upon the calm Dordogne River. For some strange reason, this region of France is not well-known amongst most visitors, but I was determined to find out more, so I decided to spend four nights in the area. This was definitely the part of my trip that I was most excited to see and experience!
Day 10 (Sunday, September 6, 2009)
I left Chinon and the Loire Valley bright and early in the morning, and began the long drive south towards the Dordogne, where I planned to spend four nights in the small village of Beynac. Prior to my arrival however, I had two stops planned along the way in order to break-up the long drive.
The first of these stops was the town of
Oradour-sur-Glane. The first two hours and 15 minutes of the drive went smoothly, until I was about 15 minutes away from reaching the town. Although I was hesitant to do so, I listened to my navigation system when it instructed me to turn down a gravel road. Considering that I hadn't yet driven down a non-paved road in France, it seemed slightly peculiar, but I figured that the navigation system knew what it was doing. Unfortunately, it did not. After having turned down the road, I was soon greeted with some of the worse driving conditions I have ever seen. The road literally appeared as though it hadn't been driven upon in 40 years. There was so much brush covering the "road" that I wasn't quite sure if it was actually going to lead me anywhere but the woods. There were massive ditches and huge boulders that I had to drive over; remember, I had rented a very tiny little car, so I was absolutely panicked that I was going to either get stuck as I bottomed-out or that I would do so much damage to the underside of the car that it would stop working.
In addition to the problems described above, the road was so unbelievably narrow that even if I had wanted to turn around (which I did!) I wouldn't have been able to; I would have had to reverse, which I didn't think was much of a better option than if I continued to drive. I just kept envisioning getting stuck, or the paint job getting so scratched up from the amount of trees and bushes that were brushing up alongside it. I kept telling myself that there was no way this road could continue on for much longer, but of course, I was completely wrong! Nearly 15 minutes after I had initially turned down the road, I finally saw a "real" road (i.e. paved) in sight! I was so stressed out by this point that I could barely breath; thankfully, I was only minutes from Oradour-sur-Glane, so I had some time to try and relax in order to prepare seeing what I knew would be a very emotional visit.
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| Sign to Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Entrance sign to Oradour-sur-Glane. |
For most people, hearing the town name of Oradour-sur-Glane holds no meaning. However, I guarantee you that every single French citizen knows about this place. Prior to World War II, this little village was like so many others in France; it had less than 1,000 inhabitants and its people lived a very simple life. However, that all changed after a fateful day on June 10, 1944.
After the D-Day landing in Normandy several days prior, the German Army had been ordered to make its way across France to stop the Allied advance. Along the way, some of the German soldiers had come under attack from some of the members of the French Resistance who were attempting to disrupt the army in order to hamper communication. It has been said that on the morning of June 10, 1944, a commanding officer of the German Army indicated that he had been approached by two French citizens who stated that a German Officer was being held by members of the Resistance in the town of Oradour-sur-Vayre. In retaliation, the Germany Army decided to seal off the town of Oradour-sur-Glane. Unfortunately, what the Germany Army had not realized was that they had fatally confused Oradour-sur-Glane for Oradour-sur-Vayre, which were two completely different towns.
Once Oradour-sur-Glane was completely surrounded, the German Army ordered all the townspeople to congregate in the village square, and informed them that they would need provide their identification paperwork so that it could be examined. Unfortunately, this was just a ploy to get all of the townspeople out of their homes and buildings, because as soon as everyone had gathered, the women and children were led and then locked inside the village church, while all of the men were led to several different garages and sheds. Unfortunately, the men did not realize that these locations had machine-guns that were waiting for their arrival.
As soon as the men entered the garages and sheds, the German soldiers began shooting at them, although not at places on their bodies which would have killed them instantly. Instead, they shot at areas such as their legs, so that the men would not die immediately but slowly. Once most of the shooting had finished, the men (majority of whom were still alive) were doused with fuel and then set ablaze. During this horrific incident, only five men managed to escape, while the 190 others were murdered.
Meanwhile, while the men were getting shot at and burned alive, the women and children were waiting in the locked church in complete confusion and panic. They soon found out however, that the soldiers also planned to burn them alive. After a fire was started within the church, the women and children tried to flee the church by escaping through doors or windows; unfortunately, most of these people were met with sudden death as they were machine-gunned down. In total, 247 women and 205 children were murdered in the church or as they tried to escape. Only one women was able to survive, having somehow escaped through a small window of the church. She manged to hide in the bushes overnight until the Germans had left.
After the Germany Army had murdered everyone, they lit the entire village on fire and then left. The surviving family members were not able to bury their dead until a few days after the horrific incident had occurred. In total, 642 inhabitants of Oradour-sur-Glane were killed in just a matter of hours and an entire village had been left to rubble.
The tragedy of this event was not lost, however, as years later, the French Government decided to create a memorial museum in honor of the lives that had been lost in the massacre. As the surviving townspeople had a new Oradour-sur-Glane completely rebuilt away from the ruins of the village, the creation of the museum and memorial began.
The entire village has been left exactly as it appeared on that fateful day. As soon as I read of the village and its memorial, I knew that I would have to pay a visit. When I arrived in the town, I parked in a lot, and then walked about five minutes down to the
Oradour-sur-Glane Memorial Center. This excellent museum provided a very detailed history on the events leading up to the massacre, including the different opinions as to why the German Army did what they did. They also had home-video footage of the locals that had been filmed a year before the attack occurred, which was quite surreal to watch. There was also a 12 minute film that showed disturbing footage that was filmed immediately after the event. In addition, the museum had a great display on victims of September 11th, including some of the wreckage from the buildings and personal relics from those who died.
After I finished touring the museum, I walked towards the entrance gates of the village, where I saw a sign that read "souviens-toi" (remember). As I walked along the eerily silent main street of the former village of Oradour-sur-Glane, I saw unbelievable destruction. Many of the gutted-out buildings were left with only their front facade and the occasional side or back walls. There were plaques on each one of the buildings, explaining who had lived there and what occupation they held. Many of the homes had personal relics still sitting inside, such as rusted bicycles, sewing machines, bed frames, and cars.
Seeing those personal items left exactly in the same spot for the last 65 years really hit it home for me. To even contemplate the massive amount of tragedy that had occurred in this tiny village was nearly impossible. I cannot imagine the confusion, anger, and fear that the residents had when the German soldiers began ushering the women and children to the church and the men to the different garages. How could they have been so unlucky and how was any of this even remotely fair? Unfortunately, as I have learned throughout my life, life is not always fair and just. Horrific things happen every single day to those who deserve it least. Tragedy never makes sense, especially when an entire village is decimated in one single day for something they had absolutely nothing to do with. I believe that we must learn from all tragedies that occur in life; society must never forget so as to not repeat the same mistakes again. We also need to allow ourselves to realize that life is short, and that no one truly knows when it all might be taken away.
I highly commend the French for leaving this village open for all to see; while some might think of it as walking through an open graveyard, I believe that seeing these sort of tragedies first hand is necessary in life. People have to realize and see for themselves that bad things really can happen, and that we, as a human race, are the only ones that can prevent these types of tragedies from happening again. Any visitor to France who is within a few hours driving distance of Oradour-sur-Glane really needs to make an effort to visit this sight.
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| Street scene in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| A former home in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Rusted bed from a home in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Rusted car in a garage in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Church in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Mechanic's garage in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Street scene in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Butcher's shop in Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
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| Oradour-sur-Glane. |
From the emotional visit at Oradour-sur-Glane, I began another long drive to the village of
Collonges-la-Rouge. In French, rouge means red, and this tiny village is famous for its buildings made of deep-red sandstone and its slate-covered roofs. The thought of photographing an all-red village excited me greatly, especially if contrasted against a bright blue sky.
After driving for about one hour and a half, I finally reached Collonges-la-Rouge. For some reason, I told myself to peer at the gas gauge, and when I did, I noticed that I didn’t have much gas. As bad as an empty gas tank is in the middle of nowhere, it's even worse when it happens to occur on a Sunday. Sunday in France = very few gas stations open; not a good thing for me! All of my guidebooks had warned me that if you have a car rental, ensure that you have enough gas to get you through a Sunday as open gas stations are truly few and far between, especially in the countryside.
Instead of parking at Collonges-la-Rouge and touring the village, I first thought it would be a much better idea to attempt to find a gas station. According to my navigation system, there was one about a mile away from Collonges-la-Rouge, so I hoped it was correct and would not lead me astray. Fortunately, the gas station did in fact exist, and it was even open! However, it was not staffed by an attendant, so I was required to use my credit card to purchase the gas. Unfortunately, the machine wouldn't accept my credit card; I can only assume this was because it wasn't a French credit card. I started to panic at this point considering that I was truly in the middle of nowhere and that I couldn't imagine why there would be more than one gas station in the immediate area.
I then decided to drive and find as many gas stations as I could. I was able to find several, but most were either closed or my credit cards didn’t work (there was no attendants at any of these stations). Finally, I pulled into a station that happened to have a few customers purchasing gas. My credit card still didn’t work. As a last resort, I asked a man for help in French (aidez-moi s'il vous plaît?). Using my minimal French, I attempted to ask the man where another gas station was. The man spoke about as good of English as I did French, so he couldn't answer the question for me. However, while the man was attempting to answer the question, a bright idea formed in my head. I asked the man if I could charge the gas on his credit card, and then I would give him cash back. Thankfully, the very nice French man agreed to help me out. Had he not, I would have been in a world of trouble as I was literally driving on fumes by that point. That kind man did not have to help me, but he did so out of the goodness of his heart. Whenever people make that awful assumption that all French people are rude, I'll make sure to tell them about this interaction!
I drove back to Collonges-la-Rouge but only spent about 20 minutes photographing the very beautiful and unique town since I had wasted so much time getting gas. It's definitely a peaceful little place that one should spend an hour or two wandering through.
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| Pretty building in Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Red brick of Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Church in Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
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| Collonges-la-Rouge. |
Afterwards, I got back into the car and typed the address for my hotel in Beynac into the navigation system. After punching in the address, several cities called Beynac came up. I choose the one that sounded the most correct. Unfortunately, I would soon learn in a few hours that this was a huge mistake.
My navigation system had indicated that the hotel was about two hours away from Collonges-la-Rouge, which was about right according to the research I had done beforehand. However, as the drive went on, I thought it was quite strange that none of the cities I passed by sounded familiar or were located on any of the maps I had.
When I finally reached "Beynac", I knew immediately that I was in the wrong Beynac. Although the Beynac I was planning on staying at was a small village, I knew that it would have hotels and restaurants. The Beynac I had arrived at couldn't have had more than 20 buildings, all of which were private homes. I looked at several maps, but still had absolutely no idea where the hell I was. After pulling over to the side of the road, I reentered the address in the navigation system and was able to find the correct address. Unfortunately, the navigation system indicated that the correct Beynac was more than TWO HOURS AWAY! Not only had I just driven for two hours, but I had done so in the complete opposite direction that I should have, and now would have to drive for another two long hours!
At this point, I was about ready for a full on freak out incident, but prevented myself from doing so after realizing that I had no other option than to continue driving. I was immensely concerned that my bed and breakfast wouldn’t be open, so I figured that I needed to call them as soon as possible to let them know that I was going to be arriving very late. At this point, it was around 19:30, so I wasn't even sure if I was going to be able to find a place to make a phone call, considering that I was once again in the middle of nowhere.
Luckily, I found a city shortly thereafter that happened to have a small convenience store. As I approached the store, I noticed it was closed, but I thought I would go ahead and walk up to it just in case someone might be inside. Fortunately, there were two people standing behind the cash registers counting down their tills. I banged on the door, and I can only assume that the sense of panic and urgency on my face must have made them realized that I needed help. After letting me in, I immediately asked in French if they spoke English, as I figured that the conversation I was about to have would be difficult for me to communicate in French. With my continuing luck, they stated they spoke no English. I took a deep breath, knowing that what I was about to do wasn't going to be easy for me.
Unfortunately, I let my emotions get the best of me, and as soon as my voice cracked, tears began rolling down my checks. I attempted to communicate in my broken French that I had been lost, but was no longer lost, and needed to call my hotel to let them know I would arrive late. Unfortunately, my frustration caused the tears to turn into full-blown crying, and I soon sounded like a blubbering idiot. The man and his wife looked at me, and then each other, and probably wondered what the hell they had gotten themselves into by allowing a crying American to walk into their store. Eventually, even with my huffing and puffing, I was able to communicate that I needed to use their phone. The man led me to an office in the back of their store, and dialed the number for me. I was able to calm myself down much better as I knew I really had to focus in order to speak to the people at the bed and breakfast. Unfortunately, they spoke about as much English as I did French, so our conversation was an interesting mix of the two languages. The man couldn’t seem to understand how I had gotten lost; I tried to explain my story, but it just wasn’t coming out right. I kept saying "I am lost", when I really wanted to state that "I was lost", but, since my mind wasn't working correctly, I had completely forgotten how to state something in past tense in French. I truly wanted to either scream or pull my hair out in frustration. Even worse, the store owners looked irritated that I was taking so long. Eventually, I gave up trying to explain the situation to the B & B owner, but was able to get the message across that I would be late.
I will be forever grateful for that French couple that allowed me into their store. I'm sure that they have told everyone about the crazy, crying American who walked into their store after closing and needed help but couldn't explain why. Again, just as with the man who purchased gas for me on his credit card, that couple didn't have to go out of their way to help me, but they did and to this day, I am still so thankful.
When I finally reached the correct village of Beynac, I followed the directions listed in Rick Steves France book in order to reach the bed and breakfast. The book instructed me to turn left at at Hotel Bonnet. At first, I didn't see the hotel nor a sign for the hotel, so before I knew it, I had passed Beynac. Knowing that I had obviously missed the turn, I turned around and tried again. This time, I saw a sign for the hotel, and turned left as indicated. The tiny little gravel road was very dark and did not have any signs for the bed and breakfast; however, since the book had instructed me to turn left at the hotel, I figured I just needed to continue driving until I reached it. Well, after driving for about 30 minutes up and down this very bumpy road, I realized that I probably wasn't on the right road. By this point, I was beyond exasperated with my lovely driving experiences of the day. I finally drove all the way back down to the main road in town. When I did so, I realized that what I had seen was only a sign for the hotel, not the actual hotel. DUH! So, I continued driving down the road, and about 30 seconds later, I saw Hotel Bonnet, and shortly thereafter, finally saw the bed and breakfast,
Le Petit Versailles, at 10 PM.
After parking, I reluctantly walked up the entrance. The owners of the bed and breakfast appeared not to be irritated, so I was quite relieved. I was able to communicate in French that it had been a very horrible day, and then I was also able to explain how I had gotten lost. He told me it wasn't a problem and to go to bed so that I could start fresh the following morning.
Once in the room, I crashed. It had literally been the Worse.Travel.Day.Ever.Period. Driving along several terrible roads, getting lost multiple times, plus not being able to speak or communicate well enough in French equates to a horrible day that I hope to never again repeat.
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| My room at Le Petit Versailles. |
I have two pieces of advice to offer from this very stressful day:
The first is to always enter the exact address of the destination in your navigation system; if there are multiple cities with the same name, make sure to choose the one with the correct zip code. Otherwise, you might end up like me and drive two hours in the wrong direction.
The second is that if your navigation systems instructs you to turn onto a dirt or gravel road, don't do it. Period. Unless you have a 4WD vehicle and unless you enjoy stressful situations, it's probably not the best idea. Just continue along the road that you are on and I promise you that the navigation system will eventually find an alternative route. Too bad I didn't learn these things sooner!
Day 11 (Monday, September 7, 2009)
After a very rough night, I woke up feeling determined that today would be much better than the day before. After getting ready, I headed downstairs in order to eat breakfast. I was excited for breakfast at Le Petit Versailles as I had read that they offered a full English breakfast instead of the common bread and jam one that everyone else served in France. Fortunately, the reality lived up to the hype as there was quite a few options to choose from; I had hard-boiled eggs, cheese, a tart of some sort, a sweet thick cream (similar to crème brulee), strawberries, freshly-squeezed orange juice, and of course, bread, jam, and butter. While I was eating, I asked Jean Claude (one of the owners) if he could help me make a reservation for an 18:30 foie gras tour later that evening. Thankfully, he obliged as I had no desire to be speaking French on the phone again after the debacle the night before.
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| View of Le Petit Versailles. |
From the hotel, I drove about two minutes into
Beynac. I was running slightly behind schedule, so I was only able to walk around the city for a few minutes and check out their very small farmer’s market. All of the buildings within the town were made of the most beautiful warm honey-colored stone that lit-up gorgeously when the sun shined against it. I had also wanted to tour Beynac’s Château, but I figured I would have to fit that in on another day as there wasn’t enough time that particular morning.
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| Quiet street in Beynac. |
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| Beynac. |
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| Beynac. |
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| Beynac. |
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| Beautiful building in Beynac. |
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| Beynac. |
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| Market in Beynac. |
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| View of the river from Beynac. |
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| Homes in Beynac. |
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| View of Chateau de Beynac. |
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| Beynac. |
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| Beautiful Beynac. |
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| Beynac. |
Next, I drove to
Domme, which although larger in size and population than Beynac, was still quite a small town on its own accord. I had read that it was best to visit Domme either early in the morning or in the evening in order to take advantage of the beautiful views from atop the viewpoint. Another thing that my books pointed out was that Domme tends to be frequented by tour groups, so after 11:00, the small town is usually inundated with people.
The views from the viewpoint were amazing, and spanned a great distance over the river and the surrounding farmland. I also walked through town for about 30 minutes, enjoying the quiet backstreets and the small but beautiful details, such as flowers dangling from baskets or stone facades slowly crumbling away.
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| Chamring village of Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| Building in Domme. |
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| Foie Gras for sale in Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| Amazing view of the surrounding countryside from Domme. |
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| View from Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| View from Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| Domme. |
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| Cutest flower container ever in Domme. |
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| Domme. |
After Domme, I headed to Castelnaud, where I planned on touring
Château de Castelnaud. I was able to see the gorgeous chateau as I drove up into the city and I pulled over at one point so that I could get a great shot.
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
The château is a medieval fortress that was originally built to face its rival, the Château de Beynac. While I found the exterior of the château to be beautiful, especially when the creamy stone contrasted against the bright blue sky, I found the interior to be rather dull and uninteresting. I did find it odd however that while none of the exhibits had English listings, all of the videos that were playing throughout the many rooms (I saw at least three videos) had English subtitles. During my time at the château, the temperature really began to increase, and by the time I left, it was scorching outside.
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Pretty building near Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| View of Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Village below Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| View from Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| View from Chateau de Castelnaud. |
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| View from Chateau de Castelnaud. |
Next, I drove to another tiny town along the Dordogne river called
La Roque-Gageac. This was probably, in my opinion, the most picturesque village of all those that I visited in the region. While it had a good number of tourists, plenty of charm was still oozing from its stone walls and narrow back alleyways. I had hoped on renting a canoe from a company in this town, having them drive me up to a village called Vitrac, and then paddling the canoe back downstream to La Roque-Gageac.
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
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| Cute home in La Roque-Gageac. |
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
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| La Roque-Gageac. |
Before heading off and finding this company however, I decided to find a place to eat lunch at, as I was quite hungry. I found several cafes, but ending up selecting
La Palmier due to its reasonably priced entrees. I ordered Croque Madame (hot ham and cheese grilled sandwich with a fried egg on top) which came with fries and salad. When the food arrived, I was shocked at the large portion sizes; I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to finish all of it. All of the food was great, especially the delicious salad dressing and the very crispy but not so greasy fries.
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| My delicious lunch from La Palmier in La Roque-Gageac. |
After finishing lunch, I went out in hopes of finding a canoe company called
Canoe-Dordogne. Initially, I looked in the wrong area, but eventually I found the company. Unfortunately, when I asked them about the possibility of having them driving me up to the town of Vitrac, and finishing in La Roque-Gageac, they explained that their route was from La Roque-Gageac to Château des Milandes; no other options were available. I was also informed that on average, it took most people about two hours to paddle to Château des Milandes. I was very disappointed to hear this news, as I had only wanted to spend an hour maximum on the canoe ride since I had several other things to do that day, one of which (the foie gras tour) was at a specific time.
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| Canoes for rent in La Roque-Gageac. |
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| Canoes for rent in La Roque-Gageac. |
Instead, I turned around, and decided to buy tickets for a gabarre boat ride though a company called
Gabarre Norbert. A gabarre is a flat-bottomed boat that was once used on the Dordogne for transporting goods between the Massif Central and the ports of Bergerac, Libourne and Bordeaux. Even though I was very sad I wouldn’t be able to participate in a canoe ride, I knew that I would be able to obtain at least a few great shots of the villages from the seat of the gabarre boat.
After purchasing my ticket for the boat ride, I had to wait about 30 minutes until the next boat departed. As a result, I had to wait outside in the very hot sun. Since I was first in line and didn't want to lose my spot, I had to stand in the direct heat of the sun instead of standing in the shade as so many others did.
When the boat finally arrived, I was beginning to sweat, but was happy that I got a somewhat decent spot on the boat with partial shade. The ticket price included the use of an audio-guide in English, as there was live narration in French. When the boat ride began, I attempted to listen to my audio-guide, but it was much too difficult to listen to with the French commentary blaring overhead.
After I sat down, I noticed that the boat was filled with mostly older people, which felt very strange as I was definitely the youngest person. While most of them were probably not physically capable to paddle a canoe, I obviously was, so I felt a bit embarrassed as I wondered if they thought that I was just lazy. As the boat made its way down the river, I saw many people in canoes and thought to myself that I should be out there with them; I was still very disappointed that I hadn't been able to rent a canoe.
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
On the bright side however, I was able to get quite a few awesome shots of the passing scenery and of La Roque-Gageac and Château de Castelnaud in the distance. As I sat there in my seat photographing the passing sights, I literally began to sweat my ass off. In fact, it got so bad that most of my lower half was drenched in sweat, which was quite obvious with the shorts I was wearing; it was beyond disgusting and mortifying. I just hoped it would all dry before I got off of the boat!
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride of La Roque-Gageac. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride of La Roque-Gageac. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride of La Roque-Gageac. |
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| View from the gabarre boat ride of La Roque-Gageac. |
Thankfully, my shorts were nearly dry by the time I arrived back in La Roque-Gageac. I took a few more photos, and then headed on my way.
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| Me in La Roque-Gageac. |
My next stop was the market town of
Sarlat, which is known throughout France as being one of the most beautiful and charming towns. It is also quite famous for its markets, which are held on Wednesdays and Saturdays (I would visit a few days later). Sarlat is currently on France's tentative list for future nomination as a UNESCO World Heritage site, and I have no doubt that it will eventually be placed on that list. As I drove into town from La Roque-Gageac, I was surprised to see the amount of commercial buildings that spread away from the historical city center of Sarlat. For some reason, I had envisioned Sarlat as being a small little village, but with a population of nearly 10,000, it truly is a full-blown city.
After parking the car at a meter along the edge of the historic core, I walked into town and completed Rick Steves "Welcome to Sarlat" tour. Sarlat isn't a city full of major sights, but I did see everything of importance on my walk, including Place du Peyrou, the Cathedral of St. Sacerdos, Lantern of the Dead, Place de la Liberte, Place des Oies, and Rue de la Republique. The real allure of Sarlat is its traffic-free cobblestone lanes that are anchored by the most beautiful honey-colored stone buildings. Sarlat is truly a photographers delight, especially immediately after sunrise and during sunset, as the sun lights up those warm-colored buildings gloriously. Nearly every single building was in amazing condition, thanks in great part to a former Minister of Culture named André Malraux who initiated massive restoration programs throughout the town during the 1960's. So many of the streets in town were lined with gift shops, of course, with the most frequent being stores that specialized in foie gras. Sarlat would be the perfect town to base yourself from if one was relying on public transportation.
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| Sarlat. |
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| Beautiful building in Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Church in Sarlat. |
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| Picturesque Sarlat. |
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| Inside Sarlat's Cathedral. |
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| Square in Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Looking up at a building in Sarlat. |
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| Gorgeous Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
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| Sarlat. |
From Sarlat, I quickly drove to the bed and breakfast, where I freshened up and then headed right back out in order to arrive on-time for my 18:30 tour at a foie gras farm called
Elevage du Bouyssou.
Unfortunately, I ended up getting lost on my way to the farm as I did not have a real address with me, just simple directions listed in Rick Steves guidebook. After attempting to rely on a lack of signage and the books limited directions, I stopped in a small town and asked for better directions from someone working at a bar. Thankfully, the guy who helped me knew exactly where the farm was, so I was able to find the place less than five minutes later.
Although I had arrived ten minutes later than my 18:30 tour time, the lady made it seem as though it was no big deal. Thankfully, I was the only one on the tour, so I was happy that no one had been standing around waiting for me.
Foie gras is a French delicacy that is made made from the liver of a duck or goose that has been purposely fattened. The production of French foie gras is viewed by many around the world as being highly controversial due to the force feeding procedure. Several countries have gone so far as to enact laws against the force feeding or even sale of foie gras. Many of the foie gras farms in the Dordogne region use a process called la gavage in order to force-feed the geese, which generally takes two to three seconds to complete. Enthusiasts of this technique say that the animal is in absolutely no pain when the force feeding occurs, because their large gullet and expandable liver is naturally designed to take in a large quantity of food at once. Also, the geese apparently do not have gag-reflexes and the lining of their throats are very tough, so much so that they sometimes naturally swallow rocks in order to help break-down and grind food that they have consumed. That being said, however, many people view the entire process as cruel and inhumane. Prior to my visit, I wasn't quite sure which viewpoint to take, but I was sure that I would be better able to form an opinion after visiting a farm myself.
My tour guide was named Nathalie, who happened to be the wife of the goose farmer. The business had been passed down through the family for several generations, and it was plainly obvious that they were both immensely proud of their work. Nathalie took me all over the farm and explained in great detail the different stages and processes that are involved with having a foie gras farm. I found it fascinating but also highly respectable that they they use every part of the goose except for the heads and feet.
I was eventually brought into one of the barns to witness the nightly feeding. There were several hundred geese in the barn, but they each had a relatively decent sized pen to walk around in (and definitely 1000 times better conditions than most chickens in the US have to live in). The geese were making all sorts of noise in the barn, but Nathalie explained that it was because they did not know or recognize me, and that the presence of anyone else other than her husband made them nervous. She stated that when her husband completes the la gavage technique that all of the geese are very calm and quiet; however, based on how the geese were reacting when I was there, I wasn't sure whether or not to believe that.
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| Geese at the foie gras farm. |
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| One of the geese getting force fed at the foie gras farm. |
She also showed me other pens dispersed through the property where younger geese are held until it is their time to go into the barn. Prior to arriving at the barn, the geese are allowed to walk, run, or do whatever they want within their penned-in area, which was huge. I'm not a vegetarian, but I struggle everyday with the fact that I eat meat. It's always made worse for me because I know that the majority of animals raised for food in the US have a terrible quality of life and live in horrific conditions. However, seeing that these geese were at least able to enjoy complete freedom for the majority of their short lives made me very happy.
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| Cute baby geese at the foie gras farm. |
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| Apparently this guy was quite upset. |
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| Foie gras farm. |
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| Foie gras farm. |
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| Foie gras farm. |
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| Foie gras farm. |
At the conclusion of the tour, Nathalie brought me into her shop, where I was shown the different type of foie gras that her farm produces. I wasn't required to purchase anything, although common sense implied that I should. I had never tried foie gras, and although I had heard nothing but wonderful and amazing things about it, I was hesitant to buy any because of the expensive cost. In the end, I settled on buying the smallest can (smaller than a can of cat food) of the highest quality foie gras, which cost 18 Euro ($27 USD). I never tried the foie gras until a few months after I was home; the verdict? It was ok, but nothing I would probably eat again!
Afterward, I drove back to Beynac, where I once again proceeded to get lost. Considering the number of times I had had driving issues over the last two days, I wanted to blow my brains out. Luckily, I found my way before I had to take action upon myself!
Once back in Beynac, I headed into town in order to find a place to eat at for dinner. After consulting my guidebooks, I settled on a place called
Hotel du Chateau due to its positive recommendation and decent prices. After being seated inside, I conferred with the menus for a bit before making any decision. I decided to order the menu (soup, appetizer, entree, and dessert). I figured this would allow me to try several items on the menu. I chose a plate of local ham and melon as an appetizer, Tagliatelli Pasta Perfumed with Basil Oil as the entree, and Caramelised Upside-down Apple Tart with Vanilla Ice Cream for dessert.
The first item that arrived at my table was the massive pot of soup, which was a creamy orange-colored vegetable puree. It was so surprisingly delicious and refreshing; my server informed me that there was ten different vegetables in that soup, so I spent a good deal of time trying to determine which ones they were! The plate of ham was also quite good. Next, my entree was delivered. My pasta was yummy and the pesto-cream sauce really hit the spot with my craving, although I was quite full afterward. Finally, nearly two hours after arriving at the restaurant, the dessert was placed on my table. This is the one dish that I can't remember raving too much about, although it was good. By that point though, I was truly too full to really enjoy eating anything.
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| Vegetable puree soup. |
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| Appetizer plate of melon and prosciutto. |
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| Pasta with basil sauce. |
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| Apple dessert to finish off the meal. |
I was so ready to hit the pillow after yet another two hour dining experience in France. While I know the French enjoy their long dinner meals, when you are traveling for a long period of time, those long meals tend to get become quite annoying very quickly. I think that is one of the reasons why I so often buy just materials to make sandwiches with; there are just some nights when you have absolutely no desire to spend two hours sitting in a restaurant! Luckily for me though, this night wasn't one of them and I was very happy to have found such a great restaurant so close to my bed and breakfast.
Day 12 (Tuesday, September 8, 2009)
I awoke to yet another gloriously sunny day in Beynac. I headed down to breakfast a little earlier than the day before. Initially, I sat by myself for the first 15 minutes until four of the other guests arrived. I began talking with the other guests, and found out that the couple was from Ontario, Canada and the other two women were cousins, one which lived in Las Vegas and the other in Missouri. I learned that the cousins had just bought a 175 year-old farmhouse in Indiana and were planning on opening up a bed and breakfast; I found that quite awesome and very interesting. We continued to talk, exchanging our nightmare stories of driving in Europe, and I filled them all in on my night from hell two days prior.
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| The breakfast room at Le Petit Versailles. |
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| View from Le Petit Versailles. |
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| Front exterior of Le Petit Versailles. |
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| Le Petit Versailles. |
From breakfast, I quickly headed out the door and was on my way. Today, the theme was all about prehistoric cave art (more specifically, Cro-Magnon Caves), which the Dordogne region of France is quite famous for. My first stop was the town of Montignac, the location where it was required to purchase tickets for
Lascaux II, one of the most well-known caves in the area. For some strange reason, Lascaux does not actually sell tickets at the sight. Instead, it is absolutely required that everyone visit the nearby La Billeterie (ticket office) in Montignac in order to purchase the tickets. When I arrived, I requested an English tour, and was informed that the next one started at 11:50. I had assumed that I would be able to get in right away, so this slightly threw off my planned schedule for the day. However, I accepted the time as I did not want to pay 17 Euros for a tour I wouldn’t be able to understand (naturally, the French tours depart much more regularly through the day than do the English ones).
As a result, I instead drove to
La Roque St. Christophe, which was located about 20 minutes away from Montignac. La Roque St. Christophe is a series of five terraces that are carved into a limestone hillside along the Vezere River. These natural caves were occupied by cave dwellers for more than 50,000 years. Researchers believe that people initially began settling up in these caves as a way to stay safe from the Viking raiders who would often sail up and down the river. The current exhibit is set-up to appear as it did during the medieval period, so no prehistoric art is on display. I arrived immediately after the monument had opened, so I was one of the first people in the quiet caves. The lady at the ticket counter was nice enough to let me borrow a copy of the English guide booklet, which I normally would have had to pay two Euros to buy. I had a great time wandering through the very narrow but long caves (nearly one kilometer long). It was fascinating to be able to see the many holes placed along the back wall of the cave, which had been carved out of the rock thousands of years ago to be used for placing wood beams into.
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| View from La Roque St. Christophe. |
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| La Roque St. Christophe. |
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| La Roque St. Christophe. |
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| Example of what La Roque St. Christophe once looked like. |
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| La Roque St. Christophe. |
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| La Roque St. Christophe. |
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| La Roque St. Christophe. |
From La Roque St. Christophe, I drove for just a few minutes until I reached the tiny village of
Saint-Léon-sur-Vézère, which is listed as one of the
Most Beautiful Villages in France. I had no plans in this town, except to simply stroll its streets and to capture some of its quaint beauty via photographs.
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| Saint-Leon-sur-Vezere. |
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| Saint-Leon-sur-Vezere. |
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| Beautiful church in Saint-Leon-sur-Vezere. |
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| Church in Saint-Leon-sur-Vezere. |
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| Saint-Leon-sur-Vezere. |
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| Saint-Leon-sur-Vezere. |
Next, I drove over to
Lascaux II. Some of the world’s most famous cave paintings are hidden below the surface from all to see at Lascaux. Lascaux is known for its Paleolithic cave paintings which are estimated to be at least 16,000 years old. These magnificent caves were discovered at random one day in 1940 by a group of teenagers and their dog. It wasn't until 1948 that the general public was allowed to come and visit the caves. However, by 1963, the caves had closed its doors to all visitors. The carbon dioxide produced by all of those visitors over that 15 year period had done more damage to the paintings than 15,000 years of regular life had. As a result, the idea for Lascaux II was born, in which a completely replicated cave would be created nearby which could accommodate thousands of visitors every year. The new cave contains 90 percent of the paintings found at the original one, and is said to appear exactly as though the paintings at Lascaux do. When I arrived at Lascaux II, I was surprised to see the massive group of people also waiting for the next English tour. In all, it appeared as though 40-50 of us were herded into the cave together for the 11:50 tour. In all honestly, while the tour was extremely informative, it seemed a bit rushed and way too cramped for me to be able to fully enjoy it.
In addition, since I knew what I was looking at was an exact replica, it just didn’t excite me quite as much as the real caves did.
After finishing at Lascaux II, I noticed that I was quite hungry. Since I had about two hours to kill until my next pre-scheduled cave tour, I decided to find a place to have lunch at. There were several nearby cities to choose from, including Montignac, Saint-Léon-sur-Vézère, and Les Eyzies. I went with Montignac, since I had driven to the city a few hours prior and was comfortable with it, and also because it was a large enough city that I figured would have plenty of dining options to choose from.
After parking the car in the central part of town, I walked through several streets, eying many different restaurants, until I finally selected one called
Les Pilotis for its inexpensive pizza options. Although I had eaten terrible pizza a few nights prior in Chinon, I was hoping that the second pizza experience would be better. When I walked into the small restaurant, I was pleasantly surprised to see that its décor was quite cute (I classified it as being the definition of “shabby chic”). I found a table to sit down at, and then proceeded to wait over ten minutes until one of the very frazzled-looking waitresses finally came over and brought me the menu. I decided to keep it simple and went with the cheese pizza. The pizza came out quickly enough, but unfortunately, it was not the thin crust Italian version that I had been hoping for. On the bright side, it did taste a lot better than the one I had eaten a few nights prior, but it still wasn't all that great. Oh well; at least the meal had been cheap (less than 8 Euro) and had filled me up.
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| Pretty building in Montignac. |
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| Montignac. |
From lunch, I drove to
Grotte de Font-de-Gaume, another cave famous for its Cro-Magnon art. The difference though between this one and Lascaux was that Font-de-Gaume has its original caves still open to the general public. That being said, if you want to tour Font-de-Gaume, you absolutely must make reservations in advance via email or by telephone, since the site only allows a maximum of 180 visitors per day (in increments of 12 per tour), and absolutely no exceptions made. Font-de-Gaume contains paintings of 230 animals which are said to be about 15,000 years old. I was told via email to arrive 30 minutes ahead of my scheduled tour time, but when I arrived I was able to pick-up my ticket in about two seconds, so the 30 minute window was really unnecessary.
From the ticket office, I had to walk up a very steep hill in the blazing heat, which was none too fun. I then proceeded to wait 45 minutes for my tour began (I had arrived extra early). As others began to show up for the tour, I noticed that everyone was English speakers, so I wondered if the tour would be in English (I had assumed it would be in French). Instead of the maximum 12 visitors per tour, there was only six of us, which was quite a nice treat from the massive group I had had to contend with at Lascaux. When my tour guide arrived, the first words out of her mouth were “good afternoon” so I knew I would be on an English tour. Aside from her greeting however, the first thing I noticed was her extremely loud, deep, and booming voice, which completely startled me; her voice was so deep it sounded almost unnatural, for a women or even a man.
The 45 minute tour spanned only 100 yards, but because there was so few of us, the guide was able to point out dozens and dozens of the paintings, which they normally do not have enough time for. The guide was obviously very passionate about the caves and the historical significance they played in this world. Throughout the cave, many of the paintings had been covered by the “white disease” (aka calcium) and were not visible to my eyes, although the guide knew exactly where they were all located.
As I walked through the caves, I thought and wondered to myself that if the caves at Lascaux had been closed over 40 years ago after major deterioration had occurred from visitors, then why was Font-de-Gaume still allowing visitors inside (albeit on a limited basis)? I asked the guide if the small number of visitors each day had had any negative impact on the paintings. She hesitated before answering my question, but in her broken and very thick-accented English, I was able to understand that she personally desired to see the caves be closed permanently. In the last few years, there had been different sections of the cave that had been closed off without notice due to a build-up of calcium. In fact, they have computer systems placed throughout the cave that are monitored on a daily basis by scientists to see if there are any changes with the calcium level. If there is a moderate change, they will request that that certain section be closed indefinitely, until a reversal of change can been seen. She also brought up the fact that many of the paintings we were viewing that day might be completely gone in the next 20-30 years if the caves continued to operate. Although the paintings were truly spectacular to see in person, I personally believe that they all should be closed to the general public so that they can have the possibility of being conserved for many more centuries to come, which will be a large enough obstacle on its own.
From Font-de-Gaume, I drove to my last cave of the day
Grotte de Rouffignac. Unlike the other prehistoric caves of the area, at Rouffignac, all visitors board a small train and ride it down into the cave along the riverbed, seeing only ½ mile of the total six miles of cave. These paintings, while still ridiculously old, are a little younger than the other two, being just 13,000 years old. They were only formally discovered in 1956, but have technically been visited by locals since the 18th century.
I had read that the entire tour would be done in French, so when my guide began switching back and forth between English and French, I was pleasantly surprised. Along my very cold ride, I saw a variety of images, from a woolly mammoth etching made by fingernails to a series of rhinoceroses to a large herd of a variety of mammoths. Again, like at Font-de-Gaume, I wondered why they continued to allow visitors to tour these caves when it was obvious that the curators were continuing to have problems keeping the calcite from covering the paintings.
After my very long day of sightseeing, I began the 45 minute drive back to Beynac. Along the way, I stopped off at a grocery store in Sarlat in order to buy items for my chosen meal of the night; a sandwiche, which tends to be the theme on days when I need to save money. I took my purchased food back to Beynac, where I had an indoor picnic in my room.
Day 13 (Wednesday, September 9, 2009)
I arrived to breakfast about 30 minutes later than I had originally planned, and ended up taking even longer as I struck up another conversation with the same guests I had the morning before.
My first stop of the day was
Sarlat, as I had wanted to visit their famed Wednesday market. Unfortunately, several miles outside of the city center, traffic was at a complete stop, so it took about five times as long to reach the town as it would have on any other day. Luckily, when I finally arrived near the market, I was able to find a parking spot almost immediately.
Once out of the car, I realized that I was directly next to the start of the market, and before my eyes, I could see that the market was incredibly massive, and stretched out along many of Sarlat’s streets. The amount of people that were at the market was beyond ridiculous; I estimated that there had to have been at least 1,000 people crammed into every square inch of the streets. The crowds made visiting the market almost unbearable, as it was difficult to even be able to see any of the vendors or their products, without bumping into or stepping on someones toes. What I did see of the market however, I did enjoy. There was a huge variety of food to purchase, including sausages, fruits, vegetables, spices, breads, pastries, cheese, nuts, wine, and foie gras, just to name a few. As I passed by one of the fruit stands, the most unbelievably delicious aroma of sweet strawberries caught the attention of my nose, so I made sure to buy some, knowing that it might be some of the last fresh strawberries I would eat for the rest of the year. After about 20 minutes of walking around, I had had enough of the shuffling between hundreds of other people, so I headed out.
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| Wednesday market in Sarlat. |
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| Spices for sale in Sarlat. |
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| Delicious strawberries in Sarlat. |
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| Olives at Sarlat's Wednesday market. |
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| Sarlat's Wednesday market. |
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| Wine for sale at Sarlat's market. |
For the rest of the day, I had planned on visiting small towns and villages of the Eastern Dordogne. The first town I stopped in at was
Carennac, which is a small village perched next to the Dordogne Rriver. As I approached the town, my bladder all of a sudden began screaming at me, which I found quite peculiar (as I hadn’t drank that much liquid that morning) but also very urgent. I figured I would have to park the car wherever I could, and then run into the closest restaurant and have an early lunch so that I could use the restroom. For a town of its small size, I assumed that it would not have a public restroom to use.
After parking the car, the first restaurant I saw was
La Petite Vigne, so I quickly walked inside. After relieving myself and feeling about 1000 times better, I sat down to look at the menu. Since it was a small place, they did not have an al a carte menu, but they did offer a three course lunch for 11.50 Euro. I ended up selecting the quiche maison (house quiche), the faux fillet with fries and salad, and the gateau Basque. While the service was very slow, I was quite patient as it was only a two man show. The food more than made up for the long wait time, however. Although it was all simple food, the flavors were perfect and the attention to detail was very evident. I really enjoyed the gateau Basque, which was an extremely dense and moist cake that had an overwhelming (but very delicious) almond flavor.
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| La Petite Vigne |
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| The delicious quiche at La Petite Vigne. |
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| The entree from La Petite Vigne. |
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| Cake from La Petite Vigne. |
After finishing lunch, I walked around Carennac for about 20 minutes, photographing as many of the beautiful buildings as I possibly could. Along the way, I did find some public restrooms which could have come in handy earlier; however, these restrooms had no soap or toilet paper, and they were filled with icky spiders. Thanks, but no thanks!
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| Cute building in Carennac. |
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| A home in Carennac. |
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| Carennac. |
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| Post office in Carennac. |
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| Carennac. |
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| Carennac. |
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| Carennac. |
From Carennac, I headed to the next town of
Loubressac. This small village, just like Carennac, appeared to have also come directly from a postcard. Loubressac was situated atop a ridge that provided commanding views of the surrounding countryside. It was slightly smaller than the first village, so it only took me about 15 minutes to walk through all of its quaint and flower-filled streets. Along the way, I made a kitty friend, which seemed to be a trend for me in France.
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| A quaint square in Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Kitty friend in Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| Loubressac. |
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| View from Loubressac. |
Next up, I planned on touring
Chateau de Castelnau-Bretenoux. However, by this point I didn’t really care about seeing the interior of any more chateau, so I decided to instead just photograph its unique dark red exterior from a distance.
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| Chateau de Castelnau-Bretenoux. |
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| Chateau de Castelnau-Bretenoux. |
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| Chateau de Castelnau-Bretenoux. |
From the Chateau, I drove on to another village called
Autoire. This town could easily compete with both Loubressac and Carennac for the title of most beautiful village in France. Although it was absolutely scorching hot out, I made sure to walk down as many of the back streets as I could, paying close attention to all of the gorgeous details.
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| Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Beautiful home in Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Flowerpots in Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| A home in Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
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| Autoire. |
Next, I headed to the more well-known town of
Rocamadour. Parts of this popular town were literally built directly into the massive rock wall, which sits above a very expansive gorge. Before tourism ever existed in France, Rocamadour was famous during medieval times as a pilgrimage town for its sanctuary of the Blessed Virgin Mary. I had read that the town was most recommended to visit after dark, but unfortunately I arrived too early to see this. Instead, I parked the car high above the church in a free parking lot, and then decided to pay 8 Euros for me to be able to use a very pricey elevator that would bring me down to the entrance level of the church. I was feeling quite lazy that afternoon and didn't want to have to walk up and down several hundred stairs!
Immediately, I was unimpressed with the city. It was filled with tourists, although it wasn’t necessarily overly-crowded. The streets were lined with lots of tacky shops catering to the tourists and many of the buildings lacked the character that so many other towns were normally filled with. I really honestly didn’t see what the hype was about this place; maybe I should have planned my day better and visited after dark when the city was lit up. However, I definitely wouldn’t recommend this place as a stopover for anyone visiting France; it's just really not that interesting nor worthwhile.
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| Church in Rocamadour. |
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| Church in Rocamadour. |
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| Rocamadour. |
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| Rocamadour. |
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| Rocamadour. |
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| Rocamadour. |
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| Lots and lots of stairs in Rocamadour. |
From Rocamadour, I drove about an hour and 15 minutes until I reached Beynac. After quickly freshening at the hotel, I drove into town. I decided to eat dinner at the same restaurant I had two nights prior, Hotel du Chateau, simply because of the delicious food and large portion sizes I had experienced.
On my second visit, I ordered the soup again, tonight's offering being a tomato soup. For the entree I chose the cote boeuf (similar to prime rib) with pan roasted potatoes and vegetables. The soup was absolutely delicious, very simple but definitely tasty and my entree was also delicious. The steak was good and the potatoes rich and buttery. If you find yourself in Beynac, this restaurant is a must!
As I went to bed that night, I was actually quite sad knowing that I would be leaving the beautiful Dordogne the following morning. Aside from the stress I encountered driving into the region, I had had the most wonderful and relaxing time and wished that I had been able to spend more time exploring the region further.
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