driving Into A Fairy tale

a row of tall trees marking the entrance road to town
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Saturday, September 29.

*Sorry if I confused anybody this past week. Some of my pictures are out of order because they were taking too long to load. Today I am leaving Trebes (Carcassonne).

surely Hansel and Gretel live here?

I clean my way out of my cottage and finally meet the owner’s wife, Vicky, who has stopped by to chat. She is an actress and has been driving two hours roundtrip to Toulouse all week for rehearsals. Talk about an overachiever…she is doing a Chekov play, in French!

Bruniquel
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I drive north towards Albi, a Gallo-Roman town that is surprisingly, built of red brick; quite a change from all the grey stone of the Languedoc. The crusade against the Cathars was often called the” Albigensian” Crusade, not because that’s the only place there were Bon Hommes, but because they were very outspoken there. Also the first attempt by the Catholic Church to reason with the Cathars (to renounce their faith) took place in Albi. It was a miserable failure, and increased the wrath of the Church in an attempt to save face (sort of a big “I told you so, and you just wouldn’t listen!”). I really want to stop, but I am having a bike delivered tonight at 6pm in Beynac, and I don’t want to be late.

a marching band in Cahors, dressed like ?
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The landscape is softer up here. The hills are rounder, the valleys dotted with acres and acres of wilted sunflowers whose petals are gone, their brown faces bent over as if they have all bowed their heads and nodded off to sleep. Vineyards are scattered among rectangles of corn, grain and freshly mown grasses, outlined and separated by shade trees. A huge black and white spotted pot bellied pig wanders untended by the side of the road, a knot of fringe at the end of his tail, wagging it like a happy dog. A scooter zips past me, the two teenagers beeping and waving at everyone they see. I think they are showing off their new toy. I pass lots of bicyclers slogging up the hills, mostly men in colorful lycra.

the antique store next to my new house
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On the outskirts of Albi, I cut off toward Gailliac to follow the “route of the bastides” (D964). Bastides were communities that weren’t protected by a castle, and were organized by religious or military leaders for safety and defense. Now I understand why so many towns are built in circles, around a church, without a castle in sight! Most of the bastides sprang up during the Hundred Years’ War from 1336-1453; the borders between France and England were a little fuzzy, and both sides wanted the land. It didn’t help that some of the rulers of France had been English, and some French…they weren’t really sure what belonged to who, so they fought about it for, well, about a hundred years. “Game on”! In fact, where I am going, the castles on the north side of the river were French, (Beynac), and the castles on the south side were English (Castlenaud).

the pretty, and steep, cobblestone lanes, Beynac
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At Montricoux the river cascading down to the foot of an old mill is so perfect, I think I’m in a photograph. With each turn in the road I am presented with another bastide, each more jaw droppingly gorgeous than the last. Castelnaud de Montmiral, Puycelci,Bruniquel…half timbered houses cling to the hillsides, steep cobbled lanes lead up to castles perched high on the bluffs, tawny yellow sandstone houses the color of a golden retriever’s fur spill into the valley. In the Languedoc, the villages seemed poor, as if life were a struggle, the castles were ruins, the houses in disrepair. But here there’s an aura of wealth and well being; houses are bigger, colors are brighter, flowers sprout from the crevices and tumble out of iron planters. Things are taken care of.

more Beynac paths
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My only complaint…there aren’t enough public bathrooms around!

Observation: peeing in France is more satisfying;:by the time you finally get to go it is always with a mix of anxiety and a long sigh of relief!

I’m driving along the Dordogne River now, and the villages are built right up against these soaring cliffs, up and over the edges, peaked roofs covered with thick hand hewn rock and slate, moss and climbing roses. La Roque-Gageac is so enchanting, I feel like I have driven into a fairy tale. Surely Hansel and Gretel live here? It is the town where Johnny Depp filmed “Chocolat”. I’m sad that this is not where I’m staying, but WAIT! Beynac is next, and omigod, it’s even cuter! The river is wide and lazy, there are boat rides and canoes, bike trails and cafes at the water’s edge. And there’s a castle at the top of the cliffs. MY castle! I am practically doing a jig into the Hotel du Chateau to check in to my place.

beynac, the village
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I have to pull my car up to the base of the steep cobblestone footpath to unload my bags. It’s only a little way up, but it’s like, straight up! The path wraps around my cottage on two sides, so I can see people coming and going to the castle from my terrace and windows. They stop and take pictures, it’s so charming. There are dark hardwood floors and thick exposed beams on the ceiling, lace curtains on the windows, and a floor to ceiling stone fireplace. I wish I were staying here longer.

castle Beynac at the top of the bluff
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Observation: a lot of French men shave their heads. They also walk really little Paris Hilton type dogs.

I unpack and settle in. My living room is comfy and I’m too tired to go out, so I scavenge some cheese, bread, fruit, chocolate and some white wine and watch the DVD of “French Kiss”. God I love that movie!