A Mediaeval village or two

After our circular drive last week, which took us back to the duck farm for a second night, we found that our appetite for Mediaeval towns and villages had been whetted, and we wanted more. Last week we visited Castelnau-Barbarens, Lombez, Lilhac and Ciadeux, all of which were ancient and extremely attractive with their flower-boxes full of geraniums and roses. This week, on the advice of the campsite owner, we went to Lauzerte and Montcuq.
Perhaps I should mention what Bastide towns are, as all the following places fall into that category. They were towns which were built rather hurriedly in about the thirteenth century, (just before the Hundred Years War) by both the French and the English, to encourage people to settle in otherwise unpopulated areas. They all have a similar town plan, with a central square containing a market hall, a church which was strongly built in order to double as a fort if necessary, and stone houses forming the perimeter of the town. In some cases there are town walls as well, but not often. These towns have now become highly sought after by property buyers, and we have to admit that they are doing all the right things. Everywhere is spotlessly clean and tidy, while gardens and flowerboxes glow with a multitude of colours. Around every corner is the ‘perfect picture postcard’ and as the camera operator, I had great difficulty in restraining myself from taking hundreds of photographs
Lauzerte is an absolute gem. Perched on the top of a hill, with the church right at the very top, (of course) it is a fine example of a Bastide town and is still a stop on the route for pilgrims going to Santiago de Compostella. We saw a great number of people with their rough walking sticks with the shell attached, marking them as pilgrims. One can only admire their faith and dedication, because, for me, just getting from the van parking to the church was a major mission. The van parking was at the bottom of the hill (of course). The old stone and timber buildings have been well restored and many original features left in place so that one really gets the feeling of walking around a centuries-old town.
Montcuq, by comparison, is fairly modern and lively. The buildings are still the ancient stone and timber, but satellite dishes on the roofs indicate rather more modern interiors. There is also a well-attended school there for what looked like ten to fourteen-year-olds. The whole village had an air of activity about it that set it aside from Lauzerte which was definitely calm, quiet and serene.
Our next village was St.Antonin-Noble-Val in the Aveyron Gorge, and this was different again. Also a Bastide town, it has the river in front of it and a huge cliff behind it, up which the houses climb. I think this one may well be my personal favourite. It is full of passage-ways no wider than a metre; alleys that duck underneath houses to reach the next street; little unexpected nooks and crannies; strange little architectural details such as a carving over a door or on a street corner. I’m not sure what it is that I liked so much about it – perhaps the fact that it was such fun to explore. We had picked up a walking tour of the town map from the tourism office, and although we didn’t quite finish it, we walked ourselves silly! So when we found ourselves almost back at the parking place with still two more sights to see, we called it a day.
Our second-last village for the week was a tiny hamlet called Castelnau-Montratier. Our newly made friend from the duck farm had tried to explain to us why there are so many towns that start with Castelnau in their names. He said it means ‘New Castle’ and referred to castles that had been built either on top of ruins, or on the remains of a destroyed castle. It has nothing to do with the age of the building as this can be anything from 300 to 800 years!
Castelnau- Montratier dates from about 1250, and differs from a lot of other surrounding Mediaeval towns in that it is built entirely of white stone found in the area. The whole village appears to gleam in the sunlight. The huge church, once again perched on the hill-top, is built of the same stone and is hardly decorated inside at all. What one does notice is the extraordinary lightness and airiness inside, instead of the normal gloomy interior. It has an unusual triangular village square which must have made access to the town quite tricky in the old days.
Another feature of all villages both old and new, is that they all have a village square. Around the square are planted trees which are pruned year after year to encourage the new branches to form a canopy over the perimeter of the square; a canopy that gets thicker and thicker each year. It is on the benches under this canopy that one finds the old gentlemen of the village congregated each day between twelve and two when all of France shuts down for lunch. Here they sit and discuss the ways of the world and probably wonder what on earth that enormous camper-van thinks it is doing in their square!
Our last village for the week was Najac. Imagine a very thin, very sway-backed horse, with a castle where it’s ears would be and a village spread out for a kilometer along it’s spine and that is Najac. We had to park at the top of the horse’s tail and walk the rest and I am proud to say I actually got there and back, and even had a bit of puff left to climb up the spiral staircase in the castle to the chapel on the first floor. Once again it was a photographer’s paradise, in spite of us having to wait for an hour or two for a small cloudburst to pass over. It was certainly worth the effort of getting there. Once again, all the views were enhanced by the immaculate condition of the village, and the boxes and tubs of brilliantly coloured flowers all around.
Finally, a few bits of trivia for all of you who think caravanning is just a matter of driving to a nice place and stopping for the night! Have you ever tried to make a double bed while you are sitting on it? It is quite an art and there is a trick to it one has to learn. First, you must decide whether you are going to make the bed from side to side or end to end. Then you make it up bit by bit, moving backwards all the time until the only piece of mattress not covered by nice smooth bedding, is the bit you are sitting on. You then get on to all fours, and as you give a massive leap into the air, you pull the bedding straight beneath you and Voila!, as they say here, it is done! Not really like that at all, but there is a certain trick to getting it all nice and smooth when you can’t reach the other side.
The other thing is that it is quite interesting is that no matter where one stays in rural France, one can nearly always hear a chiming town clock or church bells. It makes one aware of how very close all these little villages really are. We have been marking a map with all the roads we have travelled, and it is amazing to see how we have criss-crossed certain areas without ever going back to the same place twice.
We finally succumbed and bought an English-language newspaper yesterday, mainly because it had news of SA on the front page, and discovered a weather forecast on the back page. It seems that the stormy weather which started in Najac may well be with us for a while as a huge cold front sweeps across Europe. Unfortunately there is no wind with it ( did I really write that!) so it may take a while to move away. Tomorrow we will be in Carcassonne to receive the house keys of our accommodation for the next short while.

A bit of R & R

Three days of R&R! Lovely! On Monday which was hot and sunny, and a public holiday, we packed a lunch and went off to Aignan Lake. Almost all the small towns have ‘lakes’ either natural or man-made, surrounded by an area of woodland. People may camp or picnic in the forest or on the banks of the lake, while sand is trucked in from the coast to form a beach-like strip at one end which is then reserved for swimmers. Other parts of the lake are used for fishing and of course there are numerous walks one can do along the forest paths. We found ourselves almost the only people there, although there was one largish group of people who actually ventured into the water. We settled ourselves at a picnic table quite near to a fisherman and soon became engrossed in watching his method of fishing. First of all, he was using very long rods which had no reels; the line appeared to be attached to the end of the rod. But let me start at the beginning of the whole procedure. First he broke his rod apart into two sections. Then, discarding the thin end with the line attached, he fixed another thin section on which had a small basket, or bucket on the end. Into this he mixed a selection of homemade baits and then very slowly and carefully he pushed the whole contraption out over the water until he could only just control it, at which point he quickly tipped the bait into the water and pulled the rod back again. Then he fixed the original piece in place and dropped what appeared to be a bare hook in the water where he had just dropped the bait. Believe it or not, he caught two fish while we watched! Admittedly they were only about ten centimeters long (four inches for the non-metricated) and he did throw them back in again, but we were amazed that he caught anything at all. I think that it the first time I have ever seen anyone catch two fish in such quick succession and I would love to know what secret ingredient he had n the bait.
On Tuesday, Nicky and Jenny took off for the Pyrenees to go and walk in the mountains. I later discovered that are still some Pyrenean bears to be found there and was quite horrified to think that I had let my baby daughter go off to walk in such a dangerous place. Later still I also discovered that people hardly ever see them and some people think they are a myth! As it was once again a simple stunning day, Neels and I decided to go for a drive in the countryside so we drove first to Plaisance which is quite a bustling little place and then came home again via a road which wound along the tops of the hills giving us wonderful views in all directions. When we got back I realized that I hadn’t taken a single photograph, but quite honestly, one needed a video camera that was running all the time to really capture the sunlight shining through the leafy trees, the masses of wild flowers everywhere and the endless rolling hills of the Gers, all covered in lush green vegetation.
However, in the manner of weather worldwide, it couldn’t stay sunny forever and the next day it began to cloud over with the odd drizzly spell. I had done some washing, and spent most of the day carrying it in and out until it was dry. Nicky and Jenny arrived back simply glowing and raving about the things they’d seen, so we thought it would be a good idea to go where they’d been and at about midday the next day we said our goodbyes and took off south for the mountains. As we went further south, the weather improved and by the time we got our first glimpse of the Pyrenees, it was again brilliantly sunny and the snow which always caps the tops was gleaming. The sun shining on the tops of the mountains lured us on and on. We passed massive hydroelectric power stations and what seemed like hundreds of waterfalls; lakes, big and small, filled to overflowing with what could only be freezingly cold water – in had that slightly greenish tinge to it – surrounded on all sides by endless forest. Valleys littered with colossal rocks that must have rolled down the mountainsides at some time ages ago, alternated with high peaks, some snow covered, some bare rock. On and on we went, and up and up. And suddenly we were at the top of the Col du Portalet and were coasting down into Spain. So went as far as the first little town, Sallent and put some fuel into the van, noting that it was at least ten cents cheaper per litre than in France, just to be able to say that we had been to Spain and bought something there! We noticed a lot of French cars from the area closest to the border were doing the same thing! Then we drove back down the mountains and found a place to stay in the village of Laruns.
Before the sun went down we took a walk around the town centre, which has a lovely old fountain in the middle of the square, and took a few pictures, and we were about to go back to the van when an old shepherd came up the road leading his sheep who were all tinkling along behind him, each one wearing a different-toned bell. When they got close to the fountain they all suddenly rushed past him, and pushed and shoved to get at the water. After a while, one of the shepherd’s two dogs gave a bark and the sheep all broke away from the water, formed into a group and off they all went. I think it is probably regular evening entertainment as there were quite a few people taking photographs. They are such strange sheep too; they have very rounded noses, very Roman, and when they move they put their heads right down with their noses almost touching the ground and take quick little mincing, almost dancing steps. They look very odd indeed.
During the night, the weather broke with a vengeance and it poured with rain. We had hoped, well I had anyway, to go along a road that looked a bit as if someone had stepped on a tube of toothpaste, that wound it’s way over another mountain peak, but luckily we went and asked at the tourist office first and they told us it was closed because of the bad weather. I think Neels probably heaved a sigh of relief as it would have been quite hard driving for very long time. It did mean, though, that we had to backtrack a bit and go another way around to get where we wanted to be, which was at the other end of the ‘toothpaste’ road where there was a farmer who farms lamas, who will let you park on his farm and also tell you a bit about the animals, let you get up close to them and who also sells items made of lama wool. However when we got there, there was no-one to be seen, so we had our own look at the lamas before leaving to return to a caravan park which we had seen a bit down the road. The owner told us that we had missed seeing a beautiful lake just a bit further on, so in the morning we drove back again and he was right, it was beautiful. As it also had that icy, greenish look, we didn’t try the water!
By now we had had enough of being cold so we made tracks for the Gers again, slightly to the north. The closer we got the better the weather became until it was almost warm, and we decided to try another France Passion farm, this time striking lucky. It is a duck farm and produces duck, duck meat products and Foie Gras. As it is open to the public all year round, it is also beautifully clean and tidy with lovely gardens and very enthusiastic owners. They made us feel so welcome that the next day after a day-long scenic drive, we returned to the same spot!
I don’t think I have ever mentioned what leaving or arriving at a campsite entails: well, leaving is a bit like doing the pre-flight checks for a Boeing. All the lockers have buttons which press in to lock, and they all have to be locked or they fly open and dump everything on the floor. And that goes for food too; we know, it’s happened! Nothing fragile or breakable can be left anywhere that it may fall or roll off. Yes, we’ve done that too, and had to buy a new Thermos flask. All books must be tightly packed into the shelf that accommodates them or they, too, come flying out one by one until they are all on the floor – not the best treatment for books. The water pump must be off or it sucks air as we go and then makes the MOST extraordinary noise the next time we use a tap. The fridge has to be changed from either gas or electricity (depending on what we were using before we set off) to battery. And then finally the door must locked, in case it too decides to fly open and the steps must be raised. Arriving in camp is just the reverse of all these things. And if you are wondering why we are so knowledgeable on such matters, it is a simple matter of experience. We have experienced the effects of forgetting to do all of these tasks, although happily, not all at once. And since both of us are at that blissful stage when forgetting is far easier than remembering, we will no doubt repeat some of the experiences!

A Glorious Week

This has probably been the best week to date for a number of reasons: Jenny arrived by train on Monday, from Holland after spending a few days with brother Pieter in Oss; the weather has been simply outstanding, and we were travelling in one of the most beautiful areas of France - the Loire Valley.
In true Ferreira style, the week was not without it's hiccups. Jenny's handbag was stolen in Charles de Gaulle Airport but luckily after she had transferred most of the important things like passport and return tickets to her backpack. She did lose her credit cards and some cash, but was able to stop the cards very quickly. Her plane had also been delayed in it's departure from South Africa, which caused her to miss her train and to have to buy another train ticket, and that was in her handbag so then she had to buy another one, but hopefully she will be able to claim either a refund on those two, or to claim on insurance.
Then, on the day we picked her up in Nantes we noticed that one of the van's back tyres was a bit soft, and by the next morning it was flat and had to be changed. It later transpired that we had picked up a screw which went straight through the tyre. Getting it fixed again took a while but it was fortunate that we had it done right away as, two days later the spare (which was now on the van) also went flat because of a faulty valve and it had to be changed again.
However, apart from those mishaps, the week went well. We visited what we could of Nantes before moving on to Villandry which is a World Heritage Site and famous for it's wonderful formal gardens. Viewed under a blue sky and in bright sunlight, it was really spectacular. the gardens are arranged in three tiers - a water garden at the top with a large enclosed pond, with fountains, and an outlet which cascades down through the other two levels until it falls into the moat surrounding the chateau. the second level is an ornamental garden with everything geometrically organised and everything enclosed in box hedges. The colour arrangement is all symmetrical and when seen from above from the terraces or the chateau windows, is very impressive. Finally the lowest level is a kitchen garden but one with a difference. again, everything is neatly contained within box hedges and rows of red lettuce complement the rows of green herbs and purple cabbages. The rows run in different directions to give more 'texture ' to the arrangement and attention has been given to plants which produce varieties of differing colours. The whole garden covers ten hectares and has to be entirely weeded by hand because of the delicate nature of the roots of the hedges. While we were standing admiring the ornamental garden a youngish man and his son came to stand next to us and we got chatting, during which time he told us that he actually lives on the property. When we asked what he did to be able to live in such a beautiful place he just shrugged and said that he worked on the farm. Later, we thought we recognised his photograph and identified him as Henri Carvallo, current owner of the chateau and grand-son of the orinator of the garden.
The following day we drove a long way north-west and found a convenient campsite to visit Chambord Chateau the next day. Neels and I had both been there before and we were looking forward to seeing Jenny's face when first confronted with the place. It is the youngest of all the chateaux and quite definitely the most elaborate design. Known for it's double helix staircase which links all the floors, it is simply huge with 426 rooms and 282 fireplaces! Imagine the housework! We were lucky enough to be the only English speaking people wanting to take advantage of a short tour of the building so had a guide all to ourselves. She was quite delightful and was full of snippets of information that we would never have heard otherwise.
Our third day along the Loire was spent largely at Chenonceau the third Chateau we had decided to visit. Jenny thought it was much more of a 'manageable' size and far more of a family home, a rather grand one, I think. It is different in that it is built as a bridge across the river and also has some pretty good formal gardens, but not a patch on Villandry!
By then our week was nearly up and we had to start heading south and for cousin Nicky's house in Aignan in the Midi-Pyrenees region. Jenny will spending a few days with her before heading back to South Africa and a after a day or two with her too, we will be moving on again.
No pictures with this post as I am typing it on someone else's computer and all my pictures are on the laptop. You will just have to make mental pictures until I can show you the real things.

A busy week

A busy week – relatively speaking. We decided that there was more than enough to see in spite of the grey and dreary weather, so on Monday we took off for three tiny villages –Thegonnec, Guimial and Lampaul-Guimial. These three form a rough triangle with the longest side being about 5 kilometers. In spite of their proximity to each other, they, or rather, their religious leaders, decide to compete to see who could erect the finest and most lavishly decorated church. Wonderful, intricate carvings of Biblical scenes and items of local topical interest, all done in the local granite by the Breton sculptors who perfected the art. Topical interest of the 15th to 17th century, of course! Then, inside, there are the glowing stained glass windows to admire. Some have quite obviously been replaced, but there are enough of the originals to make one’s jaw drop in awe. Although it was a hard thing to decide , we thought St Thegonnec was the most likely winner, but we couldn’t find out which one it actually was.
The bad weather had continued to follow us and a light hailstorm accompanied our lunch that day. That was nothing compared to the wind that we endured the following night. Having been caught out, again, by the two-hour closing of shops for the lunch break, we had got far behind in our schedule and ended up in a strange little place called Porspoder which is on the coast of western Brittany. The wind, which had made driving difficult all day, picked up in the evening and turned into gale-force gusts. We had decided to stop in a parking place on the front as driving was getting impossible, which was possibly not the best choice we have ever made. Although we pulled the van in behind a hedge, it didn’t give much protection and Neels got up at about 5 in the morning to turn the van with it’s nose into the wind as he was afraid it would blow over! Then we had to put up with the sound of the front panel of the van being dented in and popping out again, rather like the theatrical sound effects achieved by shaking a sheet of metal. Not much sleep was had by either of us!
So the next night we booked into a proper site and slept very well indeed. It was again a coastal town, Benodet, a little south of Quimper (pronounced Camp-Aire)
The following day was May Day and all of France closed for the day. We took ourselves off to Quimper which has a wonderfully preserved Old Quarter of the town. Lovely old timbered houses, some with the date in the 15th century have been lovingly restored and are probably very modern inside while still presenting an ancient façade. As everything was closed, there were few tourists which was good for us as we could take photographs without always having to wait for strangers to move out of the way.
When we arrived back at Benodet, we discovered a regatta on the go out in the Bay. There must have been at least 150 boats out on the water, in batches of 30 or 50, each batch busy with it’s own race. It was a marvelously colourful sight. I must say we have been amazed at the vast number of small boats moored in simply every estuary, river or cove that we have passed. It seems as if every able-bodied person who lives at the coast has a boat, and uses it.
Our next stop was something I had been looking forward to. We pulled into an ‘Aire’ at a biggish town called Carnac, and for the first time we had loads of company. By the time everyone had settled for the night, there were between 35 and 40 vans parked there. Obviously, I was not the only person with an interest in the ancient megaliths which surround the town. However, after finding ourselves a place to park, we walked into town to go and visit the local cathedral which is dedicated to St Cornelius, the Patron Saint of all Horned Creatures! Had to go and see that one! Also a very old church, it has amazing scenes from St. Cornelius’ life painted on the vaulted wooden ceiling as well as some stunning stained glass from 1645.
There is only one word to describe the megalithic sites though, and that is ‘awesome’. We took a tourist train tour which took us around the town of Carnac as well as down to the sea (where there was another regatta going on and the place was teeming with people, cars and boats) and then drove around the three major sites. I had heard about these stones, but I really didn’t expect to see quite so many of them all arranged in lines as they are. Sadly, one could not walk in amongst them, but even so they are still quite awe-inspiring. And no-one has yet discovered their meaning or purpose. I would like to go back and learn more about them, but I suppose there is always the Internet………!
So we come again to Sunday. We have been on the road for just over a month out of our self allocated six month stay. Have we seen a sixth of what we want to see? The answer can only be ‘No, not even one-hundredth of what we would like to see’ All we can do is look at everything we see; listen to everything we hear; taste everything we eat that is new to us, and just hope that we can remember some of it all.
We are now in Nantes to pick up Jenny when she arrives on the train tomorrow and to start the next phase of the adventure – discovering the chateaux of the Loire.