Toulouse....

It is Sunday and it's going to be a scorcher!

Today we head to Toulouse which we bypassed yesterday on our trip down to Mazeres.

Our first stop is at McDonalds to check on the internet and the election results. At eleven-ish we pretty well have the place to ourselves. The internet connection is free and lightning fast. The store itself is on the outskirts of the city and almost band new; like most of McDonalds we have seen so far. Yesterday and today are the first time we have used the free WiFi at McDonalds and it is excellent.

While John updates the blog online, Jenelle goes looking for groceries at what appears to be a supermarket just across the road. It is a supermarket but she discovers that it only sells frozen food. The chain of stores is called Picards. We saw one of their stores in Tours but never went in. Twenty minutes later Jenelle is back, very excited about her discovery, with none of the groceries on the list, but has brought a box of crème brulee.

Like McDonalds the large supermarkets/shopping centres are mostly on the outskirts of the towns and cities. We use our GPS to list the supermarkets in the area and then we select the one we want to go to. This is a very useful feature of the GPS which we are starting to use more and more.

We drive to a few different major shopping centres and they are all closed. Maybe we will find a smaller supermarket open in the inner city.

Toulouse is a grand old city, steeped in history. After Paris one of the most vibrant cities in France, the guide book says. Well not on Sundays. The inner city is shut up tighter than a drum. We are talking about an inner city (CBD) area about 4 times bigger than Brisbane. We wander the streets of Toulouse, along the river front, through huge gardens and parks, up the alleys for nearly four hours. In that time we see precisely one Boulangerie and one 7Eleven store open. That's it!


Toulouse is the biggest university city outside Paris, with over 100,000 students. The university campus is integrated into the heart of the city. The uni holidays may account for the lack of vibe in the city as well.

Apart from a few hundred, confused and bemused tourist like us and a few local homeless people, the streets are deserted. There is the occasional cafe or hotel restaurant open but even they are subdued. Apparently it is common in southern France that there is NO Sunday trading and during the week shops are closed for 3 hours in the early afternoon. We will need to be more mindful as we are planning shopping sprees.

With no people and only a few cars driving in the city it was easy to get around.

Apart from the Tourist Information Centre the cathedrals and churches were the only major buildings open.

Note giant mirror around pillar to reflect the ceiling.

The Cathedral St. Etienne has a magnificent baroque style, carved marble altar dating from 1670.




In the centre of Toulouse, the Place du Capitol is a huge open, paved square. The design of the buildings surrounding the square complement the main facade which is the Theatre du Capitol. Very impressive architecturally and aesthetically.



The city buildings reflect the wealth and importance of Toulouse through the centuries,

The Palace

The medieval section of the city is well preserved.



The heart of the city is bounded one side by the River Garonne....




and on the other by the Canal du Midi. This canal runs from the Atlantic coast right though southern France to the Mediterranean Sea. We have crossed paths with this and other canals from time to time in our travels so far and have been surprised by the lack of boats. Apart from our time in Rennes we have not noticed very much, if any canal traffic; you'd think with everyone on holidays, the canals would be as busy as the roads.


By mid-afternoon the thermometer has hit 40 degrees in the shade. The sun is burning. We stroll though the huge gardens and parks that occupy one corner of the city. There are a few locals sprawled out on the grass in the shade of the huge old trees.



and a few little kids playing in the fountain to get cool...

We keep walking down the main avenue, passed the war memorial, staying in the shade of the buildings and trees as much as possible.


Scattered throughout the city in addition to the standard founding fathers and warrior statues we see a surprising number of very attractive modern sculptures.

To Mazeres...

Today Saturday 21st August. It is moving day for us and the Federal Election day in Australia.

Our next port of call is in a villa on a farm ( Quinquet) just outside the small village of Mazeres in southern France, only 100km or so from the Spanish border.

The online Michelin Man says the trip from Chauzanaud to Quinquet will take 4 hours (3.75 hours on motorway) and toll will be 21.50 Euro. The city of Cahors is conveniently halfway and has a Saturday market. This is ideal.

In the early morning light the River Lot at Cahors is a picture.



There is only one fisherman casting his luck in the river. We can't understand why we don't see more fishermen when everywhere we go we see big, juicy trout just lolling around in the rivers and streams


The old part of Cahors is typically charming. We never seem to get tried of sightseeing around the old city lanes and streets.


Again in Cahors the Pride of India are in full bloom making a spectacular show. The range of vibrant colours is amazing.



We have learned to follow the shopping bags to the markets. By late morning the market has reached a crescendo. The French shop and talk and shop and talk. Kissey kiss here, kissey kiss there. These markets are such a social occasion.

We taste the wares of the lady with the huge slabs of cakes ( and buy some of course)....



We love walking past the spice stalls just for the smell.



We take the scenic route from Cahors to Montauban. It is 8.00pm in Australia and we are desperate to know how the election result is unfolding. We find a McDonald's and log on with baited breath. So far so good. Check our emails and resume our journey.

Back on the motorway and passed Toulouse where we encounter our first traffic jam of the entire French trip. We have seen a few going the other way, but now it is our turn. We inch forward for 8km until we exit towards Spain. The congestion is due to merging of two major motorways full of holiday makers. A bit like the road to the Gold Coast on the afternoon before a long weekend.

As we hurtle south still on a motorway but almost alone, we come over a ridge line and there before us is a wide open plain and beyond that the Pyrenees Mountains jump up into the sky. It is about 40 degrees outside, and the sky is cloudless.

We roll into the rural Bastide village of Mazeres at the end of a wedding convoy. In France the guests decorate their cars with tuile and drive around in a convoy blowing their car horns as they go. They also “decorate” the bride and grooms car.




A quick walk around town mainly to see if we can see the bride but she disappears into the town hall just as we turn the corner. In France all weddings are conducted in the town hall by the Mayor. The wedding party then moves on to the church for a blessing and then moves into party mode (or series of parties) that last all night and all the next day.

Now to find Quinquet, which is supposedly just a few km out of town.

We check it out on Google earth (with street view) and Google maps. We have this one pegged out.
We turn up a narrow road between two fields of fully grown corn.



The conversation in the car goes something like this;
“Oh look honey they have a ruin on their property, as well as a holiday villas”

“Oh that's soooo derelict”
We go by the “ruins” and a kilometre of so later we arrive at a farm house complete with ramshackle sheds and chooks having a dust bath.

We do a Uey and by then the lady of the house is at the farm house door. With a big smile she directed us back up the road in her friendly sign language.

“Oh silly us, must have missed the turn-off in the cornfield.”

We retraced our route passed the ruin.

“Oh there are people living in the ruin babe”. “What a dump, look at all the rusting bits and pieces, the place is a disaster”. “Must be pretty rough”. As we passed by a man not unlike Santa Claus in his undies gave us a wave. How friendly, maybe he can give us better directions.

“Hi, I'm Tom” he said in a broad English accent. “Oh, G'day Tom, we were looking for your holiday villa”. “You're here” he says with a big smile; “welcome”. Oh My God!! we think in unison.

The view from the road

Reception...literally

There is a pool in there...they assure us!


Inside...

Downstairs...

Our photos are not dissimilar to those on the website. What you can't see is the dust, grime, mildew, dog hair and lack of maintenance. Jenelle's fingers are itching.

Bedroom

We were looking for the authentic French farmstead experience, but this is a little too “authentic”.

We move in trying not to touch anything and wonder what we have got ourselves into. We have a quiet beer and consider our options. With no internet, no washing machine and a seemingly hung parliament, we are a bit depressed.

Bergerac....

We are still to get our first taste of Truffles and Foie Gras. Yesterday we stopped at a speciality shop and purchased the real thing. Three small Truffles were $22 and 130 g of Foie Gras was $36.

This morning Jenelle made us an omelette with Truffle. The verdict; omelette 10/10 and the jury is still out on the Truffles. If this is the real flavour of Truffles we don't know what all the fuss is about. Maybe we should be looking for fresh Truffles or at least a restaurant meal with Truffles. Our truffles tasted like light soya sauce.

Monpazier is our first port of call today. An ancient bastide; a fortified town.



The whole town was built in large solid blocks around a central square.



Around the perimeter of the central square many of the buildings have arched porticoes.



It is late morning and already the thermometer is well over 30 degrees and rising. Walking under the porticoes and into the stone buildings is like walking into air conditioning. Quite remarkable.

Monpazier is almost exclusively an art and craft market town along the lines of Maleny and Montville.

Today is about scenic towns and scenic drives along the roads less travelled. Around every bend is another photo opportunity...

A Chateau....



A stone house with fortified tower (in pretty poor state of repair despite the photo) which was for sale....



A hilltop village.....

Square kilometres of Apple orchards covered with hail netting....


Our final stop for today was the city of Bergerac. A grand old city with the requisite grand buildings, fountains, monuments and statues.





The most famous local of course is Cyrano de Bergerac. Him and his nose scored quite a few statues in town.

We never expected to see so much Pride of India in France. The colours are so vibrant, In Bergerac we come across streets lined with the Pride of India in full bloom.



At the heart of Bergerac is the old city and the characteristic charm that goes along with it.





Bergerac is also the centre of a wine growing region based on the Malbec variety. Many of the vineyards have had little houses where the farmer and workers, who generally live elsewhere, could have their meals and rest during the day. In some cases the houses are less like huts and more like mini chateaus.



Now that the houses are not needed for their original purpose the government is trying to encourage the farmers to recycle the field huts into tourist accommodation which seems like a really good idea.

La Gouffre & Rocamadour...

The alarm went off at 5.00am. By 6.20 we were on the road. At 8.20 we arrived at our first stop for the day, La Gouffe de Padirac.

Our plan was to get there early. The guide books said it was very popular. Today the French beat us; well at least some did. We drove into the small village (a cluster of shops, cafes and hotels really) and parked the car in the shade of a grove of trees. There were not many cars around and there we only a few people walking towards the entry to La Gouffre. John thought we would wander down check out the lay of land and wander back for a cuppa. As we walked the 400m down the road to the entrance gates we understood what the guide books meant when they said popular. Ten minutes before opening time and the queue was already snaking back at least 200 metres maybe 250.

Just over an hour later we bought our tickets. And walk down the 135m into into the giant sink hole La Gouffe de Padriac.





La Gouffe is a massive cave system, with an underground river running through it. In fact the river carved down through the rock for millions of years to create the caves. It is like a mini underground grand canyon. The stalagmites and stalactites were created, at about 1mm per year, by the water dripping through the limestone rock from the roof above.

Aboard a small dinghy type boat we are poled along the crystal clear water of the river (a la Venice style) exploring the enormity and the majesty of the caves. The ceiling of the cave in places is 250m above the river. Some of the stalactites are 30m long (30,000 years of water drips). Part of the tour is by boat and then there is a walk up and down hundreds of concrete steps though the cave.

The are no photos allowed inside so we have to content our selves with photos of postcards. Although for something like this, no photo is ever going to be able to capture the hugeness.



Note the steps going up into the cave. Gives you some idea of the scale.






By the end of the tour we are ready to take the lift back to the surface. No more stairs please.

At the top we step into the hot midday sun. The queue has now grown to over 500m, maybe more. Thousands of people, mostly family groups. From the far end of the queue they can expect at least a 2 hours maybe 3 hours wait, just to buy their tickets. Two hours after that they will be back at the surface blinking their eyes in the late afternoon sun.

We finally get our cuppa and have some lunch. It has been a long time since breakfast.

After lunch it is on to Rocamadour a village built on a cliff face, that has existed since medieval times. One of the first places of Christian pilgrimages since 12th century when the body of St Amadour (Zacchaeus the tax collector from Jesus time) was found perfectly preserved in a cave near by.

We drive through the flat countryside and wonder aloud where the hell is the mountain that this town is built on. First we see the car parks (full of course), then the cafes and hotels, must be close but where is the mountain. Then we see Rocamadour the wall of the “ravine” it is built on. We didn't see that one coming.

The road down the wall of ravine is narrow and very winding. At one point near the top, larger cars and buses have to make a 3 point turn to get round the corner because it is so sharp. Jenelle is not so quietly having kittens.

Since we have been driving in France there has been some sort of role reversal. Jenelle is now taken over the role of designated worrier and John has slipped into some kind of nary a care driver. Jenelle's commentary goes like this “My side John, my side” or “Not too far over to my side” That's because her side is generally on the edge of a sharp drop off or precipice or within an inch of some stone wall and Jenelle can see the potential for disaster. John's commentary is “Breath, Jenelle breath”

Anyway since we are posting this blog you are safe to assume we made it up and down the ravine to bring you these wonderful photos.







Of course along the way we are stop (where we can) to get that panoramic shot.

The viaduct...


The motorway....


The river...