Europe 2006                                           

Page 3


To Homepage I Page 1 I Page 2 I Page 4 I Page 5


             

Day 7 - Je Ne Regrette Rien      

If ever we make a list of things we've regretted, then deciding to stay at La Roque for just 2 nights will be near the top of it. Despite the slightly touristy feel and the dubious hotel room, it's an incredibly captivating place and a few more days here would have been nice. Another day would have allowed us to hire a couple of canoes for a few hours and go paddle the Dordogne but alas time wasn't on our side! 

The thing I'd like to know though is who was the first person to come along here, look up at the bloody great overhanging, crumbling monolith of rock and say, "This is a great place to build a house Pierre, go fetch me some bricks and a few planks of wood! Oh!  And while you're at it get me a ladder, it looks a tad high"   To be perfectly honest it's the last place on earth you'd ever build anything........Well, unless you're Barratts of course, they'll build anywhere!  With all that crumbling rock looming overhead, I couldn't sleep at night, these people are surely living on borrowed time.  Nope, I'm afraid this isn't one of the smartest places in the world to make a house. 

Anyway, 2 nights here gives us just one full day to go see stuff. We just have to take a wee float on the river and and as we don't have time for a canoe, we do the next best thing and climb aboard an odd looking craft called a 'Gabare'.  This one is rather gaily named the 'Norbert'  and a cruise down the Dordogne on one of these boats is a great way for the 'Cruisee' (well what else do you call someone on a cruise?) to see some great views of the Village. 

The boat ride is followed by an open top ride in the car to the lovely little 13th century Bastide (fortified) village of Domme, which is just upriver from La Roque.  This really is a beautiful part of France,  most of the villages and towns around here are straight off a romantic or historic film set with Domme probably one of the most attractive. Again a wee bit touristy but not in a tacky way, the few shops are very tasteful and apart from the odd street artist there's little else here to suggest it's one of the main tourist attractions in the area. Happily, the people who come here seem to just want to stroll the narrow streets and get a feel for the place, rather than take the kids for a Big Mac! It's a very unspoiled place despite it's attraction for day trippers.

We pull up a table at an outdoor restaurant in the village square, order lunch of a Double Zinger Tower Burger with large fries, extra cheese, chilli sauce and a gallon of Coke! We then sit and watch the world go by in the glorious sunshine of yet another exceptionally hot day.

 ...............Actually, I lied about the Double Zinger Tower Burger - we had a very good omelette with French salad and a bottle of  ice cold Leffe Blanc to wash it down with, t'was all very nice!    

 

 
From our table at lunch in the village square we watch the world go by in bustling downtown  Domme!

 


The entrance gate of the Bastide, the towers were once used as a prison

 


Domme is is built on top of a high rock outcrop, from the northern side of the village a superb 
view over the Dordogne valley emerges. La Roque Gageac can be seen in the top right of this shot




Just inside the Village walls. The medieval heritage is apparent in the old buildings here


 


Don't know why I included this really other than I like it!  Makes a nice end to the Domme photos though

 

We're back at the hotel for an hour, just to get out of the heat for a while, it's getting uncomfortable now. I may even have to endure the smelly bathroom to go and have a cool shower, but in reality I'd rather chuck myself in a rat infested sewer, that smell is terrible and seems to be getting out of control !  Bugger it, we're out of here - on our way to Sarlat en Caneda.

It's now early evening and we're strolling around the town of Sarlat.  This is a lot more touristy, a profusion of shops, pavement cafes and bars, but still it manages to exude a natural charm despite the large influx of tourists that seem to have landed here today. You just can't help but like this town. 

Wee Jimmy and me stray off the main streets away from the shops and go for a mooch around some of the back alleys - there's history here - in spades, and you can feel it oozing from every wall of the place. Like most towns that lie on borders, Sarlat's history is one of change. Situated on old, hard fought for boundries between Kings of France and England during the 100 years war, Sarlat came under English rule in the mid 1300s. 10 years later it was released back to the  French.  Today it prospers well from tourism and as capital of the Black Perigord, it's also a favourite location with many film makers, and you can see why. 
                                

                                   

One of the maze of little alleyways in Sarlat 



These guys were good, and they added a splash of colour to the town . If they make enough money the guitarist 
on the left is getting a new pair of sandals!  If not it's his turn to wear the fiddlers pair tomorrow 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Day 8 -  Crossroads

We've now reached the crossover point, where we have to get across France to the east to continue our road trip in the French and Swiss Alps. We could have done it in one go but from La Roque to Chamonix is a hell of a run so we've decided to split it up with a nights stop in St. Flour in the Auvergne region and another in Tournon sur Rhone just north of Valence in the Ardeche. The drive to St. Flour will take us near the impressive medieval sanctuary village of Rocamadour, which sits perched high on the cliffs 490 ft above Alzou Canyon. It'd be very rude not to go and see such a wonderful thing, so we divert slightly from our route and go snap some photos for the website and maybe find a little bit out about the place.   

The name of the sanctuary village of Rocamadour allegedly originates from a St. Amadour whose identity has never been firmly established.  A more recent opinion of his existence is that he was a hermit who's said to be buried beneath the rock here, but that story is believed to be a mere hypothesis with no historical basis, so the origin remains a mystery.........Like the Loch Ness Monster - but it's all good for tourism I suppose! As villages go the situation of this one takes some beating, the view of it from the l' Hospitalet road is awesome and is where the shots below   were taken from.  Once again I find myself looking at something built in the most difficult and ridiculous of terrain and have to ask myself, why? 
                      
I'm standing on the edge of what can only really be described as a cliff, there's a good 400ft sheer drop to the canyon floor below. It's a great place to get photos from and as I snap away one of my many "comparison between the English and French" thoughts comes to me.  If I was in England doing this, then I'd be behind a 5ft high fence and have to stand at least 20ft back from the edge reading a sign saying, " For your own safety, we have these measures in place".  Yet here I am, standing with my right foot about 18 inches from meeting my maker and nobody cares if I fall off or not! There isn't the same "Nanny State" mentality here, if I'm daft enough to fall off - then it's my fault, end of story.  Which may certainly be dangerous but there's something quite refreshing about not being treated as an incapable idiot!  The other difference of course is that my cynical side makes me believe that if this WAS England, then I'd be PAYING approximately £10 for the privilege of standing behind the 5ft fence.

 


Rocamadour

 


The road up ( or down depending on your viewpoint! ) from the Village to l' Hospitalet





We also passed through the little town of Figeac en route to St Flour. This was a nice spot but it did stink a bit of dog poo !!

 

We arrive at St Flour mid afternoon, find our hotel for the night,  The Hotel de l'Europe  in the old town. It's not  worth unpacking here as we're only staying one night, so the car is put away in the secure covered car park. Tomorrow we drive across to Tournon sur Rhone in the Ardeche region.  


                               

Day 9 - Heartbreak Hotel

"Leesen verggrry carefully, I weel zay zis only once........"  

"Arrrrrggghhh Rene"........"Arrrrrrggghhh Yvette!!!"   .........."Arrrrrggghhh Rene"

................We found it quite by accident!  Innocently we've stumbled upon it in a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, we were only looking for somewhere to have a sandwich en route to St Flour! Now here we are, sitting in a small cafe that appears amazingly similar to that of Rene Artois'. The woman serving us could certainly be Edith, his missus. Hopefully she won't start singing and if we're lucky Yvette will put in an appearance - she was really quite foxy!  

To explain - for the uninitiated - it looks remarkably like we've found our way onto the set of  the BBCs 1980s sitcom, 'Alo 'Alo.  We're sat at a table, and the place is packed with old French people, It must be pensioners day because most of them are older than Napoleon himself & not one of them speaks English.  Where's Crabtree when you need him?.........."I was jest pissing by your door and thought I heard soom noses"! 

We've ordered our meal - not too difficult, it's a set menu thank God!   Hang on, Edith's back with our dinner, that was quick......She's saying something, but she's going at it like a battering ram on acid, wittering away to us in French but on double speed and we can't understand a word of it. We just sit here looking gormless!  Eventually she shrugs her shoulders and walks off back to to her compatriots - and now everyone's staring at us, we feel like the entertainment - which given the circumstances, I suppose we are!

There's a guy walking over to our table now - Good grief, that's all we need another Froggy babbling at us - maybe he can shout louder than Edith so thinks we'll be able to understand him.  Now I know what Zorba the Greek, the guy who ran a chippy near my old house felt like, he couldn't speak English - never did pick it up in all those years.
                                      
............."She was telling you that if your steak isn't done enough, to let her know".  Blimey! French guy speaks perfect English. It turns out he's French but lives in L.A. and is here on holiday visiting family.  Well, that clears that little mystery up, and we thought we'd done well asking for our steak to be cooked "Bien Cuit".  We eat up, pay up and clear off smartish,  pity we never got to see the 'Fallen Madonna with the big boobies' but Christ on bike, that was embarrassing - I think some of them were taking the piss out of us as well you know!   Steak wasn't bad though.   



                                      

The Hotel La Chaumiere, Tournon sur Rhone 

 

Just when we thought things couldn't get any worse for today after the Cafe Artios incident, we arrive at Tournon sur Rhone and find our hotel, the La Chaumiere.  What an absolute crap hole!  I'm ready for walking out and going to find somewhere else but Wee Jimmy talks me into giving it a chance, "You're tired after driving all day" she says, "It'll look better after you've had a sleep"...... It doesn't.  It doesn't smell any sweeter either, we thought the bathroom stunk in the La Roque hotel but here the whole place has a nasty, permeating, bile inducing odur.  Pity is, we've 2 nights of it to endure !  Do all French hotels stink? Seems we're having more than our fair share of them on this trip.

I decide to have a shower to cheer myself up, the bathroom's a bit past it's sell by date but, as least I feel cleanish .... until I grab a towel!  It's disgusting!  Apart from the fact it's so old, and stiff - rigor mortis set in on it a long time ago,  sometime in the mid 1950s at a rough estimate - the smell from it as it gets wet is goddamn awful. It makes me feel quite nauseous just being in the same room as it.  Wee Jimmy comes in for a sniff,  pulls a face of repulsion and mutters something about maybe they should use soap to wash them in.  I end up getting dried on a small hand towel which also stunk but not as bad as the big ones. The only hotel I've stayed in where you come out of the shower smelling worse than when you went in.
                                  
Then I have the pleasure of the lav!  It's one of those electric macerator things that the French seem to love,  but this one is ancient.  When we flush it the whole rooms shakes like Han Solo docking the Millennium Falcon to the Mother Ship - not good in the wee small hours!  The tariff here includes breakfast but  I've just informed Wee Jimmy that I refuse to put anything in my mouth that has come from this place!

 The only good thing about it is that we have a fan in our room, the weather is still seriously warm and incredibly humid.   If it wasn't for the fan I'd leave........The fan is now my new best friend ! 


Day 10 -  Lost in France


Tournon is a pleasant little town, which is not in the slightest bit touristy. There are quite a few bars and restaurants to choose from and a nice little old town area with a few narrow streets and quaint shops. The Rhone river is wide here and is spanned by an attractive footbridge and also a road bridge. There are a lot  of travellers around, I think they're harmless enough but their begging could be a bit of a problem.  Earlier a few of them were walking around the restaurant area with an old accordion "playing" for money, the fact they couldn't play a note on the bloody thing didn't seem to bother them, just everybody else!  

We were also approached by a girl near the river who asked us directly for money. I have no problem with their lifestyle if that's what they choose to do, in fact I quite envy their freedom but if they want money then they should work for it like everyone else. A wash wouldn't do them any harm either!  Anyway, here are a couple of photos of Tournon..................

                            



The footbridge over the Rhone at Tournon

                      

       
 

 
Entrance to the old town

 

This morning's been spent strolling about the town and over the bridge to the little town on the opposite side of th eriver to Tournon, Tain l'Hermitage.  We've now decided to take off in the car for a little run into the Ardeche countryside. We rode through this area last year en route to Villard de Lans on our Euro 2005 bike tour, and it kind of stuck with me as having the sort of roads I'd like to drive in the Eunos. If I'm to be totally honest that was one of the chief deciding factors in visiting the area this year.

It's 1 pm and I'm walking across to pick up the car from the public car park opposite where it's spent all night (no private parking at this hotel,  although I was told they did have it when I booked!)  I look up at the the temp gauge over the chemist shop, it shows 38 deg and that's in the shade!  If it had a humidity gauge as well it would be off the scale by now, we're becoming weary of being in sweat soaked clothes!  

I start up the car and we head out over the bridge to Tain l'Hermitage on the opposite river bank, then follow the river north as far as Gervans. It's only a few miles but by the time we get there the car seats are once more wet with our sweat. Nevertheless this is a nice run so I'll describe the first few miles in a bit of detail in case anyone actually reads this rubbish and finds themselves in  this part of France with an afternoon to kill!  This is all being done by map today, because we'd given GPS man the day off to rest his voice........Or more truthfully to give us a rest from his voice! He sounds like Stephen Hawking with a belligerent attitude.

At Gervans we turn left over a bridge that appears to go over to an island in the middle of the river. The road then continues and eventually emerges at another bridge and we find ourselves back on the west bank of the Rhone, but still heading north. We continue as far as Sarras where we turn left onto the D6 and start to climb into the hills above the Rhone and stop to take some photos.  From this point it doesn't really matter where you go, in fact we just made it up as we went along, heading in the direction of Jeure d'Ay but all the roads here give a tremendous view out over the superb Ardeche countryside. 

                              

Climbing into the Ardeche hills above The Rhone River      


                       
 
 
Wee Jimmy fills in for a resting GPS guy....Erm, that's a map of Manchester there Wee Jim!

  

                                

       
Up in the Ardeche

 

We arrive back at the hotel, I shower but skip the towels and stand in front of the fan to dry instead.  Not a pretty sight, an aging old duffer with all his bits hanging out and swinging in the wind of a fan - but it has to said it isn't an altogether unwholesome experience. Wee Jimmy enlightens me to the fact that it's the only blow job I'd ever be getting so I had to make the most of it!  Women can be such bloody ungrateful creatures sometimes.  Maybe I shouldn't have run over her foot on the boat after all.

Sat in a restaurant (well at a table outside a restaurant to be precise!) waiting for our dinner to arrive, the temp gauge on the chemist shop is switched off now but it must still be around the mid 30s and it's almost 8pm. Everyone appears to be wilting in the heat, it's going to be a hot sticky night.

While we're sitting here at our table, another thought occurs about the difference between the English and the French. One very major disparity is that the Frenchman sees nothing at all wrong or weird about taking his pet rat along for dinner at a restaurant!........  Which by the way is what the guy sitting behind us seems to have done.  He's waiting for his order and sure enough, that's definitely a rat running around his table. The thing is that everyone here is French and not one of them is bothered.  To be honest it doesn't  particularly worry me or or Wee Jimmy - apart from a hygiene standpoint.  But, that is a very basic distinction between 2 races of people, can you imagine doing that in a English eating establishment? You'd be out of the door with a boot up your arse in 10 seconds flat and ratatouille would be on the menu! I suppose that's why the 'English and French will never live in perfect harmony - the void is just too great between us. That and the fact that they actually eat snails!


To Homepage I Page 4 I