French at heart

As I walked down to the bakery this morning I ran into our dear friend and neighbour MJ. We have so loved spending time with this colourful lady since our return to Goult. We have helped her clear the vineyard where we had a great picnic, visited her ancestral home in Corisca and spent time with her in the Abbaye on Good Friday. The bond that we have with her is precious. Today she told me that she had been thinking a lot about and me and "Gaeton" lately. "You have to come back here, you belong to the village you know." I was touched by her words and told her that I too felt that in some ways we belonged and that I loved it here. "I am French," I told her, "I just don't speak French!!" "Ah, Lili!" she replied, "just try!"

A picnic with MJ after working in the vineyard

This time - with friends!

Our time in France this year has been very different from the last time because it is so much more social. Once again we are having a lot of visitors, (our friend arrived from Zurich on the same train that we then boarded Ethel for Nice), but this time around we also know a lot more people. We have lunches and dinners out, picnics with friends, and lots of people over to our little house. We always run into someone we know when we are walking about the village. Last night we even witnessed our house guest receive a marriage proposal from one of the villagers! We know the names of some of the vendors in the market and I am recognized when I walk into some of the shops that I frequent often - not always a good thing as I do a lot more looking and gathering inspiration than I do buying. We are building up memory banks of visiting the same places with different people or walking past restaurants that are special for the times that we have spent there with friends. It is really lovely and in a small way it helps us feel as though we belong. Don't worry though - our heart remains firmly fixed in Canada with our family and those we love so much, but this place will also always be held very dear.

What I do miss though, in a way, are the days of solitude, even the hard times when we had to rely so totally on each other. At the time it was really tough, but looking back on those days I see now that Gord and I became so much more to each other than we had ever been. Having to be totally reliant on the other was very bonding and we are so much the stronger for it. Our early days here especially were just a time to be, and not to do, and it was a precious time. It is unrealistic and I think maybe unnecessary to relive those days but I am grateful for the loneliness of that time, for the strength that it forged in our relationship. It was truly a challenge and an adventure but also a precious gift.

A lovely picnic spot in Le Thor

L'Isle sur La Sorgue

This morning as we were heading down the hill we stopped to chat with our friend MJ. She asked where we were going and when we told her that we were off to L'Isle sur la Sorgue she gave a dismissive wave of the hand and said, "Oh! That is Lili's stuff!!" (Lili being her name for me.) She is right - this town is my "stuff". It really is just a very special place and filled with all I love so rather than tell you about it, I thought that the pictures would just speak for themselves. Come, spend the day with me in L'Isle sur la Sorgue!

The antique shops

one of 17 water wheels

One of the branches of the Sorgue

Lunch on a table over the river?

Lots of soap to choose from

And the best place for a big cup of cafe au lait! Enjoy!

This morning

I lay in bed and listened to the clock strike eight times and knew that I needed to get up and get breakfast for ourselves and our friend who is visiting from Switzerland. I opened the shutters and let in the fresh scent of the trees in the garden, looked approvingly at the bright blue sky and watched the morning sunshine highlight the golden stones of the chateau. I quickly dressed, picked up my basket and walked down the twisty road to the bakery. I ran into one of our neighbours and had a one-sided but enthusiastic chat in french and continued on down the hill, greeting all I met with a friendly "bonjour." After picking up a baguette and some brioche du chocolat, I walked back up to the epicerie to get some fresh melon and strawberries to have with our breakfast. Once I got home we assembled the breakfast, made some strong coffee and we went outside to sit on the terrace and enjoy the morning sunshine, listen to the distant cuckoo and the sounds of the village coming to life. Ahh!!! Just another morning in our little village.

Our Easter in France

This being France, and a very secular country, the shops don't close for Easter except for the ususal Sunday afternoon, as Sunday is family day and the Family Sunday Lunch is a major institution! I needed to stock up on some groceries after our trip and it was like being in the stores on Christmas Eve. As far as I could tell the groceries available were not much different than usual, just greater amounts in the carts, but the daunting supplies of chocolate eggs that were on the shelves was staggering. Apparently, it is not the Easter bunny that brings the chocolate eggs but the bells which go to Rome on Easter Eve and return with eggs for the children. Naturally, there were a lot of bells as well as eggs and bunnies for sale, all very elaborately wrapped.
On Friday afternoon we went to the beautiful Abbaye de Sennaque for their Good Friday service.

The abbey in July in lavender season

The view of the valley on the approach from Gordes

 The abbey is located in a beautiful valley about 10 minutes away from our house. It was built in 1134 by the Cistercian monks and has had a trouble history. Since 1988 it has again been operated by the Cistercians. They hold daily services that the public are welcome to attend and we have been to one service last time we were here but Easter is particularly special. We chose to forgo the service at 4:15 AM but went for the 3:00 PM service instead. Of course it was all in French and also being Catholic a little foreign to us anyway but we thoroughly enjoyed it. The acoustics are amazing and the chanting was so beautiful. At one part in the service they read the whole account of Jesus trial and resurrection, using different monks to read the parts that Christ and Pilate spoke and it was very moving. Even though it was in a foreign language, it was read very clearly and as we all knew the passage so well, it was most moving.
We were invited to our friends G & M for Easter Sunday lunch. Now this time of the week is always a special time for family and friends to get together and linger over a long meal and as the French love any excuse for a feast, Easter is an exceptional excuse for a bigger party than usual. We were invited for 12:30, and fortunately for us they did not follow the custom of not even offering a drink to the assembled party until the last guest arrives. (Talk about pressure on being the last guest to get there!) The traditional meal for Easter is lamb and fresh asparagus, of which there is plenty as the fields around us have it in abundance, both green and the fatter white version. We were not disappointed! The setting (complete with individual chocolate Easter bears!!), the food and the company were wonderful, and Aunt Ethel was a big hit. I don't think that we will be invited again without her! In true form we did not get up from the table until around 5:00 and we left soon after as my dear aunt had completely run out of energy. She thinks that four hour lunches are about her limit.
We visited these friends a couple of weeks ago and the road to their home was through wonderful flowering cherry orchards. This time all the blossoms are gone and they are loaded with tiny green cherries. Judging by the progress, we will be seeing them full of bright red cherries before we leave. It is absolutely gorgeous driving the back roads these days. The vegetation is so lush and vibrant, the trees full again, and the wildflowers, especially the poppies, are delightful. We are so happy to be here in the spring.

Back in our little "home"

We arrived back on the mainland on Thursday morning after a very smooth sail and a good night's sleep. We landed in Savone in Northern Italy and then drove to France but first to Monte Carlo, as Gord can't drive past without visiting. We both love the place and have now visited often. Gord loves the cars and I love the flowers everywhere and the beautiful buildings.

Monte Carlo

My dream hotel - Le Hotel de Paris

The whole place is so incredibly clean that it feels unreal. This time we noticed that the sign on the garbage trucks reads "Monteclean" - how very appropriate! We then drove along the coast to Nice, a gorgeous drive that unfortunately too many other people appreciate. Once in Nice we picked up my Aunt Ethel, who was in town trying to arrange for the sale of the little flat that she so kindly lent to us for several visits last year, and we brought her back with us to spend a little time here in Goult. 

It was good to get home to our little attic room, up the 27 winding stairs, with the beautiful views of the village, the flowering trees in the garden and the chateau across the street. We saw some great places and stayed in some interesting hotels, but we think that right here in Goult is pretty special.

This afternoon we went for one of our favouite walks that we have not been on this year. Because we live on the top of a hill, every time we go for a walk we must first go down our hill and always end up with a steep climb at the end. Down the hill, through Lumieres at the bottom and up the other side we come to a lovely little church that has been hidden in the woods on the side of the hill for over a thousand years. There is a statue of Mary holding the body of Jesus and the expression on her face is palpable. Since we were last here the statue has become a shrine of sorts and there were dozens of prayers written on rocks and pieces of paper, tucked up next to the statue. It was interesting but a little sad as obviously many people were putting their faith in just a replication made of stone instead of a living being.

"Mother Mary, pray for me."

 The walk up to the chapel is very steep and I was discouraged with how unfit I now feel, compared to how I felt when I was last here, too much city living and not enough hiking. Gord used to call me his mountain goat (affectionately I am sure!) but this time I felt more like a mountain elephant. He immediately pointed out that those were a lot more rare and precious. (How wonderful to have such wholehearted, totally biased support.) The other change was that we had not done the walk so late in the season and it was so fragrant! There was broom in bloom, a wild lilac and something that smells like jasmine and looks a bit like it too, the thyme was out and another flowering herb that I could not identify. It was delightful. When we got to the top of the hill we had a wonderful view over the whole valley and we don't think that we have ever seen the place so green. It was really worth the climb - and it will get easier next time. The one trouble is that this place is really getting under my skin and I am falling more and more in love with it all. Any place where we can run away from the routines of life is great but this place is really very special.

The view of our valley this afternoon

Finishing in Corsica

Corte, the 'heart' of Corsica

On our last night in Corsica we stayed in a village outside of Corte in the centre of the island. We stayed in a lovely old family run hotel that was in a splendid location looking down over the valley, and we had a wonderful view from our room. We spent the last day driving through the heart of Corsica, visiting Corte, the birthplace of the independence movement. Napoleon was also born in Corte and there is a little sign outside his house but it is a very rundown place and is just rented out. Imagine living in the house where Napoleon was born and it being no big thing! 

Napoleon's place - now looking a little rough

We then went through some of the most twisty roads yet. We really did see more animals than cars. We would come around a bend and there would be a bunch of pigs lying in the sun or a cow enjoying the warmth. They hardly even looked up when we approached. There was often a white line running down the middle of the road but it was really a joke as the road was barely wide enough for one car, much less for two to pass. When we did meet a car one of us had to back up, being careful not to go to close to the precipice. Sometimes a part of the road would be washed away and there was just a little string around the missing part - no warning. It really was quite amazing. We passed through dozens of villages which are now mostly abandoned and while there was little sign of life, there was no commerce at all - not a bakery or a cafe to be found. We did stop in one town at a bar and asked for coffee but they were not in the mood to serve us and sent us to another place down the road. I guess they weren't in the mood either because when the bill came it was twice what we had been paying for coffee in town. But if you read my last blog you would see that we did not care to discuss any slight discrepancy like a 100% increase in price. We were just happy to have our mediocre coffee and go.

MJ's now abandoned family home

One of the reasons for being in this area is that it was the area that our friend MJ (who lives here in the village) is from. We went to her family's village and took lots of photos, picked wildflowers from the village for her and paid respects on her behalf to her Corsican roots. It was fun to see the place but also a little sad as, the others, it is in such disrepair. We bought her some Corsican treats, including the smelliest cheese we could find. She told us the smellier the better! Then it was time for us to head back to Bastia and take the overnight ferry back to the mainland.

We had a wonderful time in Corsica, fell in love with the Island, marvelled at the scenery and were delighted to make it back on the boat with our very dusty car, not to mention ourselves, in one piece!

A violent history

Corsicans have a reputation for being a tough lot and no wonder, they have had a rough past, being fought over for centuries by everyone from the Carthaginians, Visigoths, Saracens and more recently France and Italy, they have had to learn to defend themselves. For a short time they had a valiant advocate by the name of Pasquale Paoli who after 26 years of struggle managed to establish an independent Corsica in 1755. That short lived stage came to an end in 1769 when they were taken over by the French but it seems as though many of the Corsicans didn't hear about the new rules and they think that they still run the place. All the town and village names are in both French and Corsican but some independent minded people have been methodically spray painting out all the French. Paint is not all they use as I did not come across one sign outside of town that has not been sprayed with bullets. Literally every sign that we saw was pockmarked and many times the bullets had made a hole through the sign.

The wild animals on the island must be very safe because apparently the hunters are too busy shooting the signs to bother with game. We have heard that these patriots have been a little off putting to the tourists but suspect that has diminished as more of the national economy rests on tourism. But still when we were travelling roads where we literally saw more animals on the road than cars, it did cross my mind. We stopped one day for lunch at a magnificent spot overlooking the ocean and we went to find an appropriate place for our picnic lunch. There, in the choicest of locations was a pretty shelter, complete with a table and benches.

 We were delighted with our luck and spread out our lunch. While we were eating I noticed some unusual graffiti on the railings.

How exciting! I thought that we must be sitting in the clubhouse of some exclusive Corsican gang! Gord thought nothing of the sort of course but it was an interesting place to put a shelter, such as none we had ever seen before. We are not sure who put it there but we didn't stay long enough to find out!

Even the most unusual Corsican flag shows the history of the violence, with a black warrior wearing a white bandana. At various times and for various reasons the bandana has been either above the eyes or covering the eyes, but either way, I have never seen a flag like it, but it does speak volumes about the people and their past.

Driving in Corsica

Porto

We woke this morning to another perfect day in Corsica. We have been so fortunate with the weather here. Corsica is effected by winds from every direction and the weather changes according to the direction of the wind. Where ever it is coming from it is great! We have clear blue skies, lots of sunshine, little wind and temperatures in the high teens. It is not as warm as it was in Provence but the flowers are further along and the place is just blooming. Apparently the tourists outnumber the Islanders 6 to 1 in the summer so again we are happy to be here slightly out of season.  

Corsica is about 114 miles at its longest (minus the Cape) and about 83 miles at its widest. It is very mountainous, its highest peak is 2706 and there are 20 other mountains that are over 2000M packed into this small place. The mountains go straight down to the sea so no matter where we drive we are skirting the mountains of the sea. We have driven about 400 ams by now and I think that Gord has hardly been above 3rd gear. Except in the big cities, we absolutely NEVER go more than 100 yards before a bend. This is not a good place for those who are car sick or nervous drivers. Actually the driving has been quite fun as I have full confidence in my driver and our car is a pleasure to drive, a convertible would be more fun but with all the windows open and the full roof being glass, it feels almost as good. The roads are very quiet, other cars are far between and the roads have certainly not seen a repair truck in a very long time. Besides the curves, the steep drop off to the ocean, we sometimes have to contend with obstacles such as these on the roads.

There are no guard-rails, sometimes there is a low wall but more often it looks like this. Gord says that it is just to scratch your car before you go hurtling to your death.

Sometimes we get a visual reminder of the price to be paid for not taking the turn correctly.

Anyway, it is an adventure and we are loving it!

Yesterday we arrived in the little town of Porto. We checked into our hotel and immediately went out the back door and climbed onto a boat for a ride to the calques - amazing rock formations causes by the sea. It was so much fun to see the view from the water side and the rocks were amazing. 

Now we are off to Conte in the very centre of the Island. We have more mountainous passes and twisty roads to cover so we had better get going. I will let you know how it goes.

When in Corsica...

St Florent

Until 1769 Corsica was owned by the Italians, (they sold it to the french for  4000 francs and the recipe for a great cup of coffee) so it is no wonder that the Island feels so Italian.  Sixty percent of the population speak Corsican and the rest speak French with both an Italian accent and the accompanying hand signals. The Corsicans are tough, passionate, and (according to the guidebook) extremely 'stubborn and aloof'. I had a interesting encounter with a Corsican man this morning. Gord and I were visiting the lovely harbour town of St. Florent, the Corsican equivalent of St Tropez. It was a busy Sunday morning and parking was particularly difficult so Gord dropped me off to pick up a ticket and then started circling the lot. Suddenly, I noticed a little car pulling out of a space and I ran over to save it. About the same time a man in a smart little black sports car also noticed it but by the time he arrived I was standing in the space. He motioned for me to get out of the way but I said "No, I am waiting for my husband." He may have thought that I said I was waiting for "a" husband and by the way I was dressed in my running shoes and sunhat, he probably thought that I would be waiting until they repaved the parking lot. He threw his hands around and yelled a bit more and I don't think he was saying "Welcome to our island, you lovely visitor!" but I stood with my arms folded, Canadian for saying "I'm not budging!" and eventually he threw his hands up in disgust and took off. Fortunately Gord arrived very soon after for I am not sure I could have gone another round with a Corsican car and driver. However this morning it was

                            Cool Corsican with chic car - 0

                            Stubborn Spouse with sensible shoes - 1    

The beautifully clear water in St Florent

Last night we wanted to have a truly Corsican meal (not sure how it could be anything else when we are in Corsica but anyway). My trusty guidebook tells us never to go to a restaurant with English translations as this means that the food will be more expensive and less likely to cater to the savvy locals. It also means that the food is nearly always a surprise to us when it is served. Last night was one such example. I ordered my three courses and the appetizer was delicious, crispy calamari with a wonderful sauce. Then I eagerly awaited the fish course. As we were sitting not 10 feet from the sea I figured that it would be exceptional. I had asked the waitress about the fish and she had said that it was the fish from around the cape, sounded good to me. What I didn't understand was that it was ALL the fish from around the cape, a plate of dozens of little swimmers, all with their eyes popping out of their heads and a rather unfortunate occurrence around their middle. That was my dinner. I should have know that I was in for trouble when a cat appeared right about this time and would not leave my side until my dish had been returned to the kitchen. I did what I could, I ate about half of them but they not only tasted like bugs but they were gritty too. I consoled myself that it was sand and not dirt but it was truly a small consolation. It was really bad - even Gord wouldn't eat them and he eats everything! The chestnut dessert was not a great finale. I had to eat it because it is what they are famous for but I don't really like the taste of chestnut and I guess a chestnut pudding is going to taste a lot like a chestnut. Ah well, now I have got that experience over with I can go back to eating whatever I like.

Only recommended for felines

Off again! This time...

Just when you thought that we were settling down in our little french heaven, we are off again. Early this week we took a look at the calendar and saw that we had a small window of opportunity before our company starts to arrive and we decided to go to...

that's right - we are in Corsica! We took the overnight ferry from Toulon to Bastia, nothing like any ferry we have ever been in but more like a cruise ship. They had eight restaurants and bars, a movie theatre and even a swimming pool. We had a wonderful dinner while still in port, a good night in a little cabin (first time for us in bunk beds for a very long time,)  and then arrived early this morning in Corsica on a glorious day. The island is shaped like a fist with the thumb sticking up and we arrived in Bastia (at the base of the thumb) and drove all the way around the cape (the thumb part) and then to Bastia for the night. This place is AMAZING! It is so beautiful and rugged with a tremendous variety of terrain. There are ranges of magnificent green mountains that rise straight up from the sea, tiny hill top stone villages, waterfalls and all around the crystal clear sea that is sometimes a beautiful royal blue and sometimes turquoise. As it is springtime the place is amass in wild flowers and they, along with the scented myrtle that is everywhere, give the place the most beautiful aroma. It really is wonderful. We drove to a perfect little harbour at the north end of the Cap called Centuri. It is probably just as it was 100 years ago and it is quite lovely. We sat in the sunshine and had a coffee, watched the fishermen, and marvelled at the place.

Of course we had to have a coffee here!

I thought that the glorified mule track that we had been driving had been interesting enough on the east side of the Cap but on the west side it now ran at 500 to 700 feet above the sea with next to nothing to keep us from going straight down to the water. The guide book called it a 'vertiginous trail' and they were absolutely correct. The Corsicans drive like their forefathers the Italians and it is a bit of a nightmare. I just closed my eyes every time we met another car and when I told Gord this he said "Well, it seems to work out OK, maybe I should give it a try too?" It was a marvellous route, though very poorly maintained, and we stopped many times to get out and look, take pictures and make sure that the front tires were still on terra firma! For those of you who have been to Italy's Cinque Terre, the whole Cap felt like that, only there were dozens of villages instead of just the five in Italy. It was a wonderful day, amazing scenery, brilliant driving (!!!!!) and a bright blue sky and sunshine. We have five days here and we are back in Bastia for the night and although there is so much to see, we are tempted to just drive around the Cap Corse again tomorrow!

Braccolaccia, a hilltop village with its prerequisite watchtower

A market day rescue

 

As I have mentioned  I love going to the Sunday antique market at L'Isle sur la Sorgue. The dealers set up their tables along the parking area that runs between the canal and the main road.  We have been their in the winter when they were huddled over braziers to keep warm, in the rain when they tried desperately to keep their treasures dry under big umbrellas but last Sunday we encountered a new problem. It was gloriously sunny but the ever present wind was making itself known and this is what  happened when a dealer placed a lovely linen nightgown too close to the back of the stall. The kind gentleman was working in the next stall when he came to the rescue, but notice his elegant scarf and beautiful Italian leather shoes that are at great risk of at least being scratched badly if not submerged! He received a standing ovation from the crowd and the triple kiss greeting from the grateful linen dealer. One other thing that intrigued me was the beautiful antique  rake that he used, surely he could have found something else less valuable.

No matter what happens in the market at lunch time the dealers spread our a tablecloth on the nearest antique table, heat up their lunch on a little portable stove, pour themselves out a generous class of wine and sit down and enjoy their lunch while they ignore any potential customers. After all, the French certainly have their priorities right - lunch comes before everything else, including business!

Celebrating our 30th

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I love to celebrate. Our kids have legitimately accused me of making up our own celebrations because I did not feel as though there were enough in the calendar already. So it comes as no surprise that we have to do something wonderful to celebrate our 30th (which was yesterday). Actually the whole trip to France is a 10 week celebration and when Gord and I were thinking about where we would like to be for the actual day we could think of no place nicer than our little home here. So we decided to spend all weekend doing some of our favourite things. I already told you about the great trip that I had to the market on Saturday morning then we had a glorious hike in the afternoon. Sunday we were off to the antique market at L'Isle sur la Sorgue, a delightful little town not far from here that is crisscrossed with canals and waterways complete with several picturesque waterwheels. The canals are lined with little shops and restaurants, some with tables lining the bridges across the water.

The stalls are just fascinating to me, not that I wanted to buy a lot as the prices are quite exorbitant but I could not resist some lovely old keys that I am going to use for a project. Gord was not exactly as thrilled as me, though maybe a little more indulgent than usual, not wanting to put a damper on the weekend. The market was so crowded that we did not last too long before going to our favourite cafe in town, the Cafe de France. It is a classic cafe in the heart of the town next to a lovely old church and they make the best cafe au lait!



After taking as long as we felt like to people watch we escaped from the crowds and went to nearby Le Thor, another pretty village that the tourists seem to miss. We have a delightful picnic lunch by the fast flowing river and not a soul around to bother us.

It was honestly not planned but as there was a vide grenier  in the town (basically a multi stall garage sale - vide grenier meaning to empty the attic) we felt that it was our duty to take a look. We really struggled with leaving a dinner set for 10 of blue and white German porcelain including about 8 serving pieces for only 50 euro. It was an absolute steal but we just couldn't see packing it home and we had to abandon it for someone else to enjoy.
Then is was off to Avignon for my "most favourite" cafe in all of Provence for a coffee, crepe and a lovely walk all around that very pretty walled city. What a full day of favourites!
Monday, the actual day was delightfully low key and lazy. We hung around here, enjoyed a long sit at our local cafe as we watched the world go by, and then out for an amazing dinner in a spectacular setting. Roussillon is a village near us that is built around dramatic ochre cliffs. The restaurant that we went to was perched on a cliff, overlooking the valley in one direction and the colourful ochre in the other.

We had a MUCH better view at dinner but it gives you an idea

We got there just as the sun was highlighting the beautiful colours and as the natural light disappeared, the cliffs were cleverly lit up with spotlights. We had a great meal complete with a very discreet candle on each of our desserts to finish off.
Yes, I feel we have celebrated well..... at least for this year!

What were we doing here in the winter?????

The weather here is glorious! We have three meals a day outside, we have had to use the umbrella for shade for the first time ever and we are visited by sun loving creatures such as geckos and scorpions! Okay so it is not all perfect - but nearly. We cannot believe the difference. The locals say that this is an extraordinary spring but they said that about the harshness of the winter that we endured so we are not sure what to believe. Whatever it is, we are loving it. We went for a walk tonight around the village and at ten o'clock at night diners were still sitting outside the restaurants and we were walking around very comfortably in t-shirts. I finally recognized a blessing in Gord's memory loss as he said that it was difficult to remember ever being cold here. (Oh, dear, it is really slipping! I certainly remember cold!)

I have been back in France for almost a week and I had not visited a single market so this morning I set out to rectify the situation. (Gord very graciously waited at home, unnecessarily as it turned out, for the fellow to come to fix the phone. We have had no phone and only sporadic internet for a week and we have been going a little crazy.) I set off in the new car, the new car which is scratchless and definitely too wide for our village roads, to go to the market in the local town. It was another glorious day when it felt so great to be alive that I could scarcely keep the grin from my face. I had my market basket tucked under my arm and it was soon loaded down with olives, cheese and a fresh baguette sticking out the side. The flower stalls were wonderful, the fruits and vegetables so beautiful. The fresh asparagus, both green and white, was plentiful as were the tables laden with succulent strawberries. Ahhhhhhh, it was so good to be back. I really didn't mind being alone either as I could look at precisely whatever I chose for as long as I liked. I saw all my favourite stalls; Rita with the scarves, Jacques with the linen outfits, and Henri with the best goat cheese in town. I popped into my favourite linen stores and smiled with delight at the array. It was a great morning!

The wisteria canopy over the terrace

I came back to find a hungry husband so we spread out the market lunch on the table on the terrace under the canopy of wisteria. (I had no idea that wisteria had such a beautiful perfume.) The bees the size of hummingbirds did not bother us at all as they were far more interested in the glorious nectar and we feasted on the fresh products from my morning expedition. Other than the drone of the bees and the singing of the birds there was not another sound. It was a lazy afternoon in the village.  Now if only they had a hammock for an afternoon nap...........

Storming the Castle (well, not really!)

Visitors in the side door please

The grand staircase

Room for all our visitors

We had read a notice in the village that there was to be a tour of the chateau for "Les Gais Lurons" (My translator said that means the "joyful fellows" and we are certainly joyful so we figured that we could join in.)  We were very excited at the possibility of actually getting into the castle that we have to walk or drive by every time we leave the house. Although we are neighbours we had never been invited to stop by. We hadn't really this time either but we met at the appointed time at the school with about a dozen others and started to walk back up the hill to the chateau. On the way we met several people who were planning on joining us but did not want to walk all the way down before walking back up again. Every time we met someone the whole group would stop, the new person would be greeted with the customary three kisses, introductions would be made, health discussed and then we would all start walking again. It was a most interesting experience and it took us about 40 minutes to make the walk that Gord and I had done in less than 5 minutes a short time before. By the time we arrived at the gates our group had tripled in size. Once at the chateau we met our guide Joel, who is the caretaker for the place. I think that the chateau can be rented out and if you are interested you can google Chateau du Goult and you will see some pictures. It has had an interesting history as it dates back to the 11th century, was abandoned by the landowners at the time of the French Revolution, used as a school for the village children for many years, sold to the present French family around the turn of the century for one franc as it was too much of a liability for the village to own, and during the last world war it was taken over by the Gestapo as the local headquarters. It was most interesting to see around it, to see what was inside the rooms that we only looked at from the outside and then to see the view of our little house from the chateau. It surprised me when I asked about the extensive gardens to be told that all the gardens were now owned by an American, (only I cannot reproduce the look of disgust on the face of the lady who told me.)There is another large house on the grounds that I presumed was part of the chateau, but actually the chateau only owns a fairly small garden and the acres on the other side of the chateau walls are not accessible as they are part of this other property. Unfortuately, but not surprisingly, the tour was in French, fast French at that so if you want an exact history, rather than my liberal interpretation, you had better look it up. It was a great experience and we felt very fortunate to be able to crash the tour and to get into the chateau without a single bow and arrow being fired. 


(it is difficult to get a photo of the whole chateau because from a distance all the stone village houses just blend in together. In fact, even in the village it is hard to figure out which part of a building actually belongs to which house because they are all built into each other. Ours is quite a unique village house because it is one of the few that we have seen in the old part of the village which is actually freestanding.)