A Few Days R&R in a French Village

My dream becomes reality.

After a few days of rest in Frayssinet-le-Gélat — well, not so much rest as staying in keeping the home fires burning which required bringing in the logs (at least they don’t need chopping) and buying meat at the travelling butcher (not an easy task). I wound up with three beef steaks, which Lorelle cooked to perfection.

The Millau Viaduct

One day, Kiryn drove us down to see the Millau Viaduct, the tallest in the world, and we didn’t arrive back until 7 o’clock. It was much further than we had estimated. After dinner, I stayed up and finished reading Friends, Lovers, Chocolate, one of the books in Mary’s extensive library here, so I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight but I was first up next morning as I always am — apart from Lorelle waking up in the middle of the night to stoke the fire. It must be kept burning at all costs!

The prehistoric cave paintings

The weather was not looking too bad so we decided to head off to Lascaux to see the prehistoric cave paintings. Alas, the weather closed in and we arrived at the caves in the pouring rain, and wouldn’t you just know it? This was the last day that they were closed for renovation! Not even the shop or the toilets were opened! Kiryn picked up a little book and looked for an alternate tour but every single one of the caves and chateaux listed in the book was closed on this particular day — many are closed for the entire winter period!

Sarlat-la-Canéda

So we decided to return to Sarlat-la-Canéda for a coffee. It was pouring rain so I opted to stay in the warm, dry coffee shop while Lorelle and Kiryn braved the elements to take a look at the old medieval city. The coffee cured my headache (plus a couple of Nurofen) and after an hour or so, we headed back home.

On arrival, I devoured the quiche I had been nursing the whole way and had a vodka and pineapple juice to wash it down and went up for a lie-down. I must have been tired because I fell asleep almost immediately and woke up just in time to venture out to Le Relais for my duck dinner. I was going on my own. Lorelle and Kiryn are non-duck eaters and non-French speakers. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten duck, neither have I ever been anywhere where no one speaks English. But this is what I want to experience — French village life!

The Duck Dinner

The invitation said 8am dinner so I headed over about 7.30pm. The bar was filled with locals, chattering and laughing loudly. I walked up to the bar intending to have a glass of wine, but most of the women were drinking punch, which I later (after a few glasses) found out was a rum punch.

Genevieve was the first one I met and I introduced myself and said, in very halting French, I was staying at Mary Moody’s house. Ah, she replied, I am Mary’s cleaning lady, in French of course. A small group joined us: Ilona from Germany and her husband Hervé, and their friends, Roger, Patrick and Francis (who couldn’t keep his hands off me!)

These Frenchmen are not backward in coming forward but it was all in good fun, well, for me it was; I think he was a little disconsolate when I didn’t go home with him. Ilona was wonderful in speaking to me and I very soon understood everything (well, most) of what she was saying. French is not her first language so she spoke much slower than everyone else. I couldn’t understand Hervé at all, and when I mentioned this to her she laughed, he speaks French in a local dialect or patois. I didn’t feel so bad! Eventually, after 9.30, I mentioned I was a little hungry, actually, I said J’ai faim (hungry), I forgot to say un peu. That seemed to be the cue for our little group to troop upstairs to the eating area. Five of us sat at the table: we lost Genevieve and Patrick along the way, maybe they went outside for a smoke. Everyone smokes here! Our first course arrived — duck soup, followed by the second — duck meat and tongues done in a salad, then a third — duck bones which you pick up and eat with your hands, then the cheese — oh, the cheeses — followed by a dessert of waffles and ice cream as well as assorted sweet biscuits and cakes.

As soon as we finished one bottle of red, another appeared on our table. The wine here can be diluted with water — quel sacrilège — but I did have a glass of water in between wines. The more I drank, the more French I spoke. By the end of the evening, I wouldn’t shut up and was complimented on my command of the language to which I replied thank you and laughed just as uproariously as the locals.

Oh, this is what I’ve been dreaming of for forty years — being immersed in the French countryside and speaking nothing but French. I made my exit just before the witching hour which was fortunate as I no sooner walked through our front door when a loud argument broke out, but I couldn’t hear what it was about. I was too pumped to go to bed so stayed up for an hour or so before heading to bed but I still couldn’t get to sleep. I finally crashed after 3am but was awake again at 7. I am blaming that afternoon nap I had! As you can imagine, I needed a day to recover.

My walk to St Caprais

The next day, the skies looked like they were clearing so Lorelle and Kiryn decided to tackle one of the walking tracks. As it was 7 km, I decided I would just walk to St Caprais 3.5 km away and Kiryn would pick me up on their return.

I had my trusty iPhone with the blue dot but I still managed to take the wrong turn before I even left Frayssinet. Oh, this is going to be fun! Because of the wet conditions, I decided to wear Keeley’s boots and carry my sandals in case I needed them. Well, my feet were fine, but the rest of me was exhausted before I had even reached the top of the first hill.

I was tempted to turn back but Kiryn would have been searching everywhere for me and with no mobile phone contact, it would make things difficult, so I soldiered on, pausing to take photos (and to catch my breath) along the way. When I finally reached the village of St Caprais, I thought this can’t be it and kept walking for another 2 kilometres before realising that was it — the tiniest village with nothing — not a bar, a cafe, a shop — nothing! It did have a big bell tower (the bells were rung at 12.30pm for 7 minutes — I have no idea what the significance of that is) The fruit and veggie man’s van pulled up and I realised how hungry I was so I bought a banana and a mandarin for 83 cents to eat while I waited for Kiryn. I started to cool down; the sun disappeared and I began to freeze. I put on every bit of clothing I had brought with me, even the orange poncho raincoat, and started to walk back. I thought at least if I am walking, I may warm up a little. As soon as I was out of the village, Kiryn and Lorelle pulled up behind me. Never have I been so happy to get into a car! It was perfectly timed too because by the time we reached Frayssinet, small pieces of ice were falling out of the sky. It would not have been pleasant to be caught out in that! After my huge walk, I was still hungry so ate a foie gras toasted sandwich and a coconut yoghurt and went for another little lie-down. However this time, I didn’t fall asleep but wound up having a sphincter of oddi attack — my first one in months — which I quickly tried to evade with my medication. It worked to a certain degree, but the waves of pain prevented me from falling asleep but I did lay perfectly still for 3 hours.

The aroma of pork roast wafting up the stairs made my hunger kick in, and I ventured downstairs to a delicious repast of roast pork and apple sauce, baked potatoes, carrots, broccoli and zucchinis after which we played euchre and bananagrams.

The famous lunch at Madame Murat’s (Chez Jeanne)

We all slept in (it is Sunday!) and prepared ourselves for the gastronomical delights of Madame Murat’s restaurant at Pomarède, our nearest village neighbour about 2 kilometres away. We arrived at noon and parked in a rather large carpark where many trucks pull in during weekday lunches, but today only a few cars were parked although a bus did pull in later with a load of oldies out for the day (listen to me) — spring chicken that I am!

We were ushered to our table by an English lady who turned out to be our waitress. And now for the first course, a huge tureen of fresh onion soup which we could not finish even though we had second helpings.

Following that was our first entrée: ham and pâté which tasted like Aberdeen sausage — delicious— and then our next entrée: omelette with cepes (the local mushrooms which are very rich in flavour). We couldn’t finish the omelette to the consternation of the waitress.

Next came the juicy roast lamb with a huge platter of beans and potatoes which we did manage to finish. After a short while, the cheese arrived: a brie, a hard cheddar, and a goat’s cheese. We did manage to finish the brie.

Finally, the dessert! Lorelle ordered the fruit flan ( great choice), and Kiryn and I the crème brûlée which was, to be truthful, disappointing. Dare I go as far as to say the worst crème brûlée I’ve ever eaten. The custard was like custard out of the carton not like a baked custard at all. Ah well, you can’t have everything and the rest of the meal was delicious.

We were talking about walking our meal off till we finished the main course and all we could think of was sleep. I came back to my bed, turned the electric blanket on and was asleep within minutes and stayed that way for 2 and a half hours. I should have gone for a walk because now I’ll be up until all hours. Off to Nantes tomorrow and haven’t started to pack……argghhh!