Vive la Revolution!

Bastille Day, July 14, marks the birth of the French Republic in 1789. This year, the national day fell on a Saturday, so it has been a weekend of celebration. On Friday, we watched the setting up of two massive marquees. In a medieval village, with no access for trucks or trailers, this involved an inordinate number of men, 16 at least, carrying the top section of each marquee down to the Port (the riverside area). On arrival, and before the rest of each marquee was assembled, there was the obligatory greeting, each bloke kissing the cheek of the others (you know, mwah mwah). Some time later ...

By Saturday evening when we wandered down the hill from Limeuil-haut, the party was well under way. We joined others in the heavy rain, bought our tickets then exchanged them at the catering tent for moules, a steaming bowl of mussels in their shells, cooked with onions.  Mmm, yes. And frites with mayonnaise, double yes! There was a DJ lined up for later in the evening. Sunday evening's tent meal was described as a banquet of local delicacies. We stayed with chez Richards for chops and salad but kept ourselves awake for the evening's highlight, the fireworks display, at 11pm.

What a spectacle! Because Limeuil is at the confluence of two rivers, the two arched bridges nearly abut at right angles. These bridges were lit as part of the display, which lasted a good 15 minutes. Then it was time for families to gather rugs, wine bottles, chairs and babies, and take themselves home.

It's so tempting to draw conclusions and make generalisations about other cultures when you're travelling - based on only small glimpses of those other lives - but I was struck by the family atmosphere evident during both evenings. Celebrating one's national holiday is treated seriously; small children were formally dressed, and were very much a part of the occasion.

Funnily enough, there were no signs banning alcohol consumption in public places, nor was there evidence of law enforcement officers ... or of drunkenness.

Just families celebrating their national day .

The highs and lows of the Vezere valley

Limeuil is at the confluence of two rivers: the well-known Dordogne and the smaller Vezere (wish I could do French accents!). Both rivers were important transport routes in the past. Hence those drunken boatmen who were dragged up the hill to la Maison de la Justice to face the consequences of their revelries. (I think of this every time I venture into the cave under the house to do battle with the washing machine. This cellar was the lock-up.) Tomorrow, we will be investigating the Vezere from the water (hiring a double kayak for a 2-hour trip).

Yesterday, though, we explored above and below ground.

The Vezere is a UNESCO World Heritage Site because of its numerous prehistoric caves. There was a flurry of activity in the area after discoveries of cave painting and humanoid remains in the 19th century. The best-known cave system, Lascaux, was closed in the 1960s after they realised the thousands of tourists passing through had brought in bacteria that threatened the 17,000 year old paintings. Lascaux II is an exact, hugely popular reproduction of the original cave. People book tickets months in advance or queue early on the day to get in. Organised people, that is...

We always prefer the road 'less travelled by' so first stop was in the little hamlet of St Cirq. Five of us crammed into the small cave to listen to a 30 minute explanation of the cave drawings. We got the gist. This cave contains one of only two prehistoric drawings in France of a human figure: 'Le Sorcier', a very well-endowed chappie of some spiritual significance.

la Madeleine

Both the Vezere and Dordogne rivers meander in great loops throughout the countryside. The French call these meanderings 'les cingles'. One consequence of this randomness is not knowing which side of the river you're on at any time...I THINK we may have crossed the river to visit la Madeleine, our next stop.

the river from medieval vill

age

Another pleasingly quiet spot up in the cliffs above the river, Abri de la Madeleine is the site of both  prehistoric and medieval villages. With a good English language booklet, we were able to meander happily, building up an appetite for lunch.

The impossibly pretty village of St Leon sur Vezere was our lunch destination. Some intense research on my part (reading the guestbook recommendations as well as the hosts' own suggestions) had revealed that most visitors to this region take a gourmet's interest in what they eat. All of the suggested restaurants would be very popular, they warn, and must be booked days or weeks in advance. Peasants at heart, we bowled up to the Auberge du Pont and enjoyed hearty peasant fare from the menu de jour (15 Euros each).

St Leon sur Vezere

That just left the biggest and most impressive village troglodytique: Roque St Christophe. This is massive! Over 1km of caves have been carved out of the limestone bluffs above the river, over 5 levels, providing shelter to man since prehistoric times - or,as the advertising claims, for 55,000 years. Certainly during medieval times, from around 900AD, it had been a fully-functioning fortified city. With some ingenious use of machinery to lift and pull loads, as well as to eject unwanted intruders, this was a much-prized piece of real estate. So much so that said intruders, especially the English, were a regular nuisance. As they were throughout much of France during the 100 years War. Apparently, there was a successful English attack  in 1401 - by starving the inhabitants out - but they managed to hold it for only 5 years.

Coincidentally, France is under attack again: Bradley Wiggins seems to have an unassailable lead on the Tour de France, and David Miller today was the fourth Brit to win a stage of the 2012 Tour. Vive les Anglais!

The view from the fortified city

Most beautiful

We are awash in beauty. Limeuil, a living, breathing medieval village of about 300 permanent inhabitants, is stunning. But it is not alone. Each village, small town or bastide (fortified town) in the Dordogne region seems to be vying for the title of THE most beautiful village in France. 

Almost overwhelming at times. And there's always that antipodean sense of awe at living in a 500 year old cottage and visiting a 1000 year old abbey (on this evening's walk). 

 

It's as much about texture as colour: warm limestone walls, faded terracotta tiles, dark, weathered timbers and brightly-painted doors and shutters. Add flowers and shrubs in pots and terraced gardens...et voila!

A musical encore

Our last evening in Paris we trekked the length of the number 11 Metro line - again! -to the Ile de la Cite on the Seine. There, we queued with many other tourists for tickets to Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons' in the beautiful Sainte Chapelle (King Louis IX's Holy Chapel, completed in 1248).

The concert featured an exuberant French violinist, Frederic Moreau. He conducted and played with two other violinists, two violas, two cellists and a harpsichord player. 

After a somewhat frustrating day trying to book tickets (involving queuing in different places around the city) it was just blissful to experience brilliant playing in exquisite, acoustically perfect surroundings. In a venue that just happens to contain pretty much the world's largest collection of C13th stained glass windows ....

The audience was  perhaps the only drawback; mostly (American?) tourists, they took numerous photos with flash ON during the performance - and even committed the concert-goers' cardinal sin of clapping between movements.

Paris, I'm missing you already...au revoir.

Music and parks; music in parks

Successful big cities embrace large green spaces. I was thinking about this while we were in Singapore. Despite the heat, we walked around the Botanic Gardens, including a stroll through the most a-maz-ing orchid section. Recovery involved being horizontal in a shady spot on the impossibly green grass. With kd lang in my ears and gentle snores alongside, it was a great place for a spot of people-watching.

Paris is renowned for its parks, of course. Parisians live in apartments so seem to live much of their lives outdoors. If they're not travelling on the Metro (and most of Paris seems to use our line whenever we do), then they are in cars or on scooters,or cluttering up the footpaths, or conducting business deals at their local corner bar/cafe. Or they head off to their nearest bit of green. We've walked through some impressive, well-populated green spaces in the past few days:

• The Luxembourg Gardens - Paris's 2nd largest - where people religiously observe the Keep off the Grass signs and old men play boules. (Where ARE the old women?)

• The Promenade Plantee - Once a railway viaduct, this is a remarkable garden that stretches about 4km from the Opera Bastille all the way out to the boulevard Periphique. We walked a good stretch of this elevated pathway in the early evening, sharing the space with walkers, runners, nutters,  readers, eaters...and suspicious loiterers.

• The biggest green space: the Jardin des Tuileries, all 25 hectares of it. This is where Parisians go to have serious fun. The amusement park seemed to have all the things that make people scream loudly. Meanwhile, past the grand fountain and pool, we stumbled upon an outdoor stage being set up. We were back by 8pm that night to join the audience for a free concert of original works based on the remarkable images of a Korean photographer, Ahae. Digital photography has created a monster in this young man...Jill, beware! Over the course of two years, he took over one million photos...wait for it...from ONE window of his home. The first half of the concert was a mix of orchestral classics and new compositions based on his photography. All good. By half time, though,we were ready to go home for dinner. The second half was titled 'A Tone Poem in Twelve Parts'. Enough said.

Le Shopping

Being responsible for your own food is good. Apartment living encourages this.Yesterday, our first in Paris, was a day of shopping.
First, The Market Experience:
A couple of train stops away we found the Tuesday market at Place des Fetes. By the time we arrived, the fish, pork, fish,  foie gras, fish, chickens and fish were battling the heat and flies, so we stocked up on just fruit and veges. I'd had the impressive forethought to pack my hessian shopping bag (from lovely Lisa) so felt pretty smug filling it up with market wares before the metro trip home. Mind you, you can only make like a Parisian until you open your mouth...

But where was Brian Lamb when we needed him? The array of cheeses, pate, breads and unidentifiable other foodstuffs were nearly too much for my senses to cope with.
Then, the Supermarket Visit
Following a long afternoon on foot and on a bateau mouche on the Seine, we found (thanks, Google!) a Monoprix supermarket. (Though it took three exhausting, rush hour changes on the Metro to complete the journey home.) Things were more straightforward here, and it was pleasing to note that the French do lower themselves to use frozen veges.I had another Where's Brian When You Need Him moment in the wine section but finally stumbled out of that corner with a 7 Euro sauvignon. Price is all when it comes to French wine...if I don't know what I'm buying it might as well be cheap.
The other good thing to come from finding the Monoprix was that we have finally solved the Great Underpants Debacle. Nothing wrong with MY packing; need I say more?

Bookends

It didn't occur to me until we'd left NZ that our time away would be bookended by stays in luxury hotels.
Singapore's Park Hotel on Clarke Quay epitomized decadent affluence (Caroline Gill and I stayed here while doing IB training last year, thanks StP!). White suited flunkies everywhere - to deal with luggage, press lift buttons, anticipate door openings... And the outdoor pool two storeys above ground level was rather pleasant.

And our final stop on this trip will be in San Francisco at the upmarket (well, it cost enough to be) Club Donatello.

Otherwise, it's all apartments and transit hotels, such as the aptly named Mr Bed on the outskirts of Paris.

Nothing wrong with apartment living though. here's a pic of our home in Paris for the next few days.

PS: I've just remembered the not-so-good bit about luxury hotels: the mirrored elevators. There is NOWHERE to hide...