Sarlat to Bordeaux

Heading south toward Sarlat in the dark, trying to find a place to stay the night, we drive into a village, Nexon, turn the corner and a large group of policemen wave us over. Yikes! But it is just Friday night breathalizer test. The policeman does not speak English, nor we French...so we do understand that David is to take the device with a tube and blow into it. He begins.... the officer says, “Again, again, again, again.” Thinking that he is supposed to start again David proceeds to start again. “no, no, no, no, no!” David was supposed to breath in more, more , more. We thought it quite funny. He thought we were fairly stupid. But the green light went on and he waved us away. The next morning we drove further south to Montignac. Another beautiful little village on a river. We mainly used it as a base to visit the Caves of Lascaux. Painted cave walls done by prehistoric Cro-Magnon man. Wonderful walls of yellow ochre, black, red and white. Animals in motion. Imagine how it would look in the flickering of torch light! All the animals hunted by these men and probably worshipped in some way like our American Indians do. Many were bigger that life. So powerful. Wild horses, ponies, reindeer and deer, bulls, rhinoceros, bear, cow and calf. There was also a repeating symbol throughout the walls that is still a mystery as to what it means. The way to Sarlat was beautiful. High up most of the time. Long luscious views. We dipped down into a small deep valley to buy some Fois Gras...Goose liver pate. We were not interested in watching the dear sweet geese being force fed! Just wanted a taste. Bought a small can worth 16 Euro. Saving it for some celebration. Nice talk with the owner who spoke French only so it was a lot of pantomiming and laughing. He shamed me for being Canadian and not speaking French!

Sarlat! Everything you said it would be Marcia! Instead of climbing a hill to the Medieval village, it is placed in the center flat area surrounded by hills. So you walk down to it. A large space with lots of open squares. It is CARNIVAL time and children are following drummers, dancers and jugglers through the streets... all in costume. Ronald McDonald is even there swinging off the back of a truck. In the early evening people are strolling the narrow streets, looking for the restaurant that suits them, the menu, the price. It is cold and rainy now. People take out their umbrellas. I am surprised that so many are carrying them. Neat French umbrellas. It is late so we will explore more the next day which is also rainy. We check out the indoor market which is behind black steel doors ajar...30 feet tall, shaped to fit the Gothic peaked archway. Really quite a spectacle. To get warm we head for coffee and a croissant and have some good conversations with holidaying Australians and a French woman who tells me that she has been to Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec. She is strongly of the opinion that although they insist they are, the French speaking Canadians are NOT French! At 4:30 we attend a concert in the Cathedral. A local choir sings, a flutist, piano (playing my favorite Chopin), and the organ, loud and strong and reverberating through the heavenly tall arches above. But my favorite was a young contralto. How could this voice come out of her...every bit as loud and strong and reverberating! What a thrill. Tme to move on further south.