Le marche Le Bugue.......tres magnifique!

Tuesday 3 September
Lady P has slept for 10 hours which is always dangerous so after enjoying a full English breakfast in our kitchen she decides we should head to Le Bugue markets, famous as they were decreed by the King 700 years ago to always be held on Mardi and today it is Mardi. We arrive just after 9am and already the town is buzzing. With daylight saving, the sun is still not high in the sky so it is still only 15 degrees. We warm up with coffee and then meander for a couple of hours. Eventually by 12 noon our back pack is bulging, our arms struggling under the weight of extra carry bags and we have lapin, nougat, vegetables and amazing fruit and cheese as well as a pot plant of thyme (€2) and three baby sole (tonight’s dinner).

While wandering the market, Flashy was pondering the comment of our host Cyrille, about the number of English people living in the region. After all, a couple of the Henry Kings were here for a few years and the odd crusader raped and pillaged on the way to Jerusalem. This partly explains the large number of churches, castles and walled villages. Anyway, “We finally kicked them out and now they're back!” remark attuned Flashy's ear to those dulcet tones of a Midlands accent. The big union Jack, a pile of books titled “How to speak French like a Frog," and a hearty “Where are you from mate?” gave the game away. Derek (as we discovered later) been here 30 years and still has his distinctive accent and you know what? A dodgy Pom  is still a dodgy Pom. We declined to buy his book but the rays of sunlight warmed us through while we listened to him rabbit on.
 We get home and unload before relaxing in the 32 degrees by our delightful piscine.
Having let our step count lapse for our two travel days we set of this afternoon to walk the canal path from Lalinde west and back, a 7 km walk. G n T's by the pool follow, then Sole Meuniere, baby new potatoes and field fresh beans. Mmm mmm...

Relaxing doesnt get better than this....

Monday 2 September
We had arrived and for that we were grateful. Our ‘Maison de boulangerie dans  le hameau d' Auriac ‘ – that’s a bakers cottage in the Hamlet of Auriac, is  the quintessential French Cottage in the country. It is on three levels, one enters at the front door to a small hallway with le bain and le toilette, one of two all up, neatly packaged under the stairs which head to the attic bedrooms, one double room and one with 4 single beds for the children with tiny gable windows to provide light and ventilation. To the right of the quaint front door is another set of stairs that lead to the main bedroom, more little gable windows and a discreet shower and basin (a la an ensuite) behind a screen printed curtain. Chef Roger focused all his attention on the very small dimly lit, low ceiling and large dark beams, kitchen. A small built in tiled table and bench seats with lift up lids, completed the picture. Apart from the lack of sharp knives he was happy and could manage, even with only a toaster type oven for serious cooking. At least there was a full size fridge to keep the beer cold. And finally on the lower level was a dining room and small lounge area also opening onto the large rambling garden. A stunning large pool completed the picture outside alongside the outdoor table setting and designer style wood fired BBQ. Walls 1 metre thick kept the hot midday sun at bay, and Wi-Fi is limited to the lanai overlooking the pool but hey, there's no mistaking the countryside we’re in and we are as far from the madding tourists as one could be.

There was absolutely no need to travel far today so instead a lazy day of unpacking, staking our territory and eventually a small explore of the nearby town of Lalinde was more than enough of an adventure. We discovered the local market square where we had a cooling beverage and a couple of croque madames for lunch and had a slow amble around the tiny town before collecting some serious supplies at the local Intermarche just on the outskirts of town. Back at our farmhouse it was now gin and tonic time so we partook by the swimming pool in 32 degrees and Flashman bravely entered the 26 degree water. Pussies I know, but our thin tropical blood is only just starting to thicken. A home cooked warm beef salad and a Dordogne red saw Lady P to bed early while Flashy tried to follow a French movie on TV. He made it to 10 pm a little confused. He has been a little confused a lot on this trip, but reckons he now knows where north is.

Enfin, nous arrives a notre maison de boulangerie dans le hameau d'Auriac

Sunday 1 September 
Before heading west we take the car up to the top of a nearby hill to the village of Usson, near the town of Remy-de- Chargnat village to look at an elevated view of the valley. Of course, there is a Medieval church and a giant statue of Madonna  with Child. The view shows a 360 degree vista  for miles and as Flashy explains, is a volcanic plain of columnar jointed basalt. As we enter the church, Flashy notices a statue of Saint Anthony. Now for those heathens who don't have saints, Saint Anthony is the patron Saint of lost causes and fittingly enough, Flashy pays 1.50€ and lights a candle.

We now await the results of the Euro Millions lottery,  We planned to travel on D and N roads south for a while then across the National Park westwards to our farm house on the Dordogne. Many things made this an interesting trip, including but in no particular order, Amelie the GPS trying to take us somewhere completely different, a baguette vending machine, an eclair for guess who, Lady P trying to navigate, drive and argue with Flashy all at the same time and very narrow winding roads with, at times, rocky walled edges. The odd speeding Frenchman and lots of very big RV's  were also interesting life experiences. We made a delightful pit stop on the top of the mountain at about 1200 metres for a cold beer, Aperol Spritz and two bowls of fries – yum! This was a well earned reward for our successful negotiation of another scary French road sign with a large white minus on a red background and the words ‘sauf riverains'. Amelie led us to this junction and as we were somewhat apprehensive about her directions, we reversed, got google to translate the sign (residents only) and proceeded ahead anyway -ignorance is bliss and luckily after descending into a deep gorge across a narrow bridge we came up the other side and rejoined the road we were originally on. Thanks Amelie, that probably took an extra 5 mins plus the stress of being accosted by a private resident!
We finally arrived at our farmhouse later than planned, but well before sunset which in these climes is not generally till after 9pm. Our charming host Cyrille welcomed us, and luckily spoke very reasonable English that determined we could go to nearby Cadouin for some food as we had discovered in the course of our travels that nothing, that means NOTHING, opens on Dimanche (Sunday) certainly after 12noon. We shower and refresh before heading into Cadouin, and after three wrong turns – it’s been a lo.........ng day discover the delightful restaurant opposite the abbey that Cyrille our host has booked us into. It is pumping and we guess the whole population of Cadouin must be here as there’s at least 50 people!. A pizza and goat’s cheese salad fills a hole and we successfully make it home to the Hamlet of Auriac and collapse into bed.

X BARRE continues to plague us

Saturday 31st August
Another glorious Lyonnais day dawned and our first task was to relocate our car from  the  5 star garage into the street near Kelly’s Irish bar for ease of loading. We funincular up the hill again and walk down to our illustrious garage where we easily find the black beast and set off for a service station for fuel. Once more we hit  the big X BARRE  road closed. We go round the block and start again with a revised destination and voila we reach our destination and fuel up. Luckily we return to the street and find a park out the front so after depositing the suitcases in the car, via two traboules ( as the first one led to an underground ?? and we nearly lost Flashy) we meander over the bridge to the local market. Plenty of fruit, flowers, cheese, meat and fish so we pick up some supplies for the pique-nique we plan to have en  route to our overnight Chateau stop. We head down the A7 for St Etienne, sit in a car park on the freeway for 5 kms (I guess everyone heads of town for the weekend) and to keep us amused tag a tiny red fiat decorated with ribbons and flowers forming the lead vehicle in a wedding entourage. Horns tooting as only the French can, it at least makes up for the boredom of sitting stationary on a freeway. Amelie tells us to take route A47 to St Etienne but of course in keeping with our current luck the major freeway exit is X BARRE. We, along with streams of other cars are advised to continue straight for 6kms. Oh well, we say. Can't really argue so we drift further south beside the Rhone river before being able to do a legitimate U turn. We are now destined to return from when we came and Amellie really wants us to get back onto the A7 and repeat said journee. Oh no says Lady P I’m not going to fall for that, so she spies a bridge, two in fact that are crossing the Rhone which she thinks will give us some hope of getting to our destination in the West. Voila, much to Flashy's amazement, she is right and through a series of different address entries we snake away through the French countryside toward the Monts du Forez. And then we climb, through the National park on hairpin bends, passing potential Le Tour de France winners, future LeMans drivers and stopping briefly to observe the  twitchers seeking to ‘observe the migration du Col de Barachuchet'. We have 1 refreshing bier as we desperately needed a loo stop and reaching an altitude of 1200 metres  the temperature plummets to 18 degrees. It was an amazing drive, albeit not planned but ultimately far preferable to sitting in a car park on the freeway. We still have no idea why the road to St Etienne was closed but hundreds of others were in the same boat. Finally after an hour longer than anticipated we arrived at Chateau de la Vernede in the valley where our delightful hostess, Laurence, offered us a refreshing chilled rose in the garden.
Le pique-nique you may wonder. Well, as we are in the country and can hear the sounds of barking dogs and gunshots, we decide we have travelled far enough today so we will, partake of our pique- nique in the lovely rambling garden that surrounds us.

Bouchons, bullshit and brilliance

Friday 30th August

Another beautiful summers day in Lyon and a petit dejeuner at a local cafe is a perfect start to our funicular ride up the hill to the Church of our Lady, La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourviere and the Roman Amphitheatre. Just to be on the safe side, Flashman lights a votive candle, says a quick Hail Mary and wanders about this magnificent, gilded mosaic interior. I’m sure the €2 donation will help the poor, struggling Catholic Church maintain the building. Eschewing a glace, crepe or croquet monsieur on the way down we retire to the apartment in preparation for our lunch at Paul Bocuse, ‘Nord Brassiere’. Bocuse is still famous, despite his death 2 years ago as the rock star of Lyonaisse cuisine. Lady P reckons that Flashy should enrol in his cooking school – only €25,000 a year for three years. So while Paul won’t be in the kitchen, his spirit will we think; when the Michelin inspector asked him once, ‘who cooks in your restaurant when you are wandering the world doing TV appearances?’  he replied ‘The same people who cook when I am there!’

Lyon is regarded as the culinary heaven of France and the patron Saint is of course Paul Bocuse. So as we are ensconced in the Vieux Lyon surrounded by restaurants we expect to be with the angels. Firstly to Bouchons. These were originally simple homes opened to poor workers (probably building the churches) providing simply cooked meals from cheap cuts. The bouchons were run by the women cooks of the house and there are many famous ‘mothers of Lyon. Unfortunately many of the very average bistros brassieres and restaurants have attached the word bouchon to their name and provide a typical three course fixed price meal of very average food. This has led to an association of proper bouchons with plaques and all that fanfare. Lady P's research has found one such proper bouchon. It’s closed! Flashy calls out ‘chef where are you mate and is greeted by the owner having a pastis at the neighbouring bar. Sorry I am closed for renovation. Long story short he recommends his favourite bouchon around the corner and we obtain a reservation  for the next evening. If you like big portions of crappy offal, dry fish and sloppily presented peasant food, then  the bouchon is for you. We were disappointed and quite frankly were wondering if only Lyons 3 star restaurants would meet the standard. So that’s the bouchon bullshit.

    

Now for the brilliance. 

Ironically, almost directly opposite the forgetable bouchon mentioned above, on the left was our lunch venue for today, one of the late Paul Bocuse's  Lyon restaurants, Brassiere Nord. Well you could have knocked us down with a feather! Proper waiters in now ties, a formal dining room full of locals. We were treated to an aperitif. We used our excellent restaurant French to guide us through the menu, avoiding ears, nose and guts, to enjoy a brilliant three course lunch of escargot, quenelles of pike in lobster sauce, a perfectly ripe brie, and a shared poached peach and Lyonaisse praline tart.

Absolutely brilliant for €39. We accompanied the meal with a provincale rose of excellent heritage. The restaurant interior was ‘regal, railway carriage’ of the 1930’s with a stunning mosaic floor. Bespoke napkins and crockery, excellent service beautiful plating and proper portion control just added to the exquisite flavours of the meal. At last Lyonnaise cuisine to write home about, our faith in the French kitchen has been restored. Not to mention the flirtatious waiter who with a subtle wink ( well Flashy missed it ) allowed Lady Penelope to place a clean Nord napkin in her bag. Oui oui monsieur.  

We finished the day with a stroll across the Rhone for two positively pink cocktails in the Dome room bar of the Intercontinental Hotel. A last toast to our bourgeoisie lifestyle in the big cities. Tomorrow we are off to the country, for the start of our French provincial adventure.

A walking tour of Vieux Lyon - acknowledging 2000 years of history.

Thursday 29th August
A not so early start today. After a remarkably long sleep Lady P heads out to a famous and popular local  patisserie for croissants and pastries. We soon have our own petit dejeuner in our apartment. Moving slowly we walk up our local rue Saint Jean to the cathedral, which has only just been totally cleaned inside and out, resulting in a gleaming sandstone gothic building with magnificent stained glass windows.

Here in the square we meet Paul, our walking tour guide who leads us on a 2 hour tour of Lyon. We discover that Lyon was founded by Julius Caesar in 43 BC after he defeated the gauls. The old town eventually moved from the top of the hill to the banks of the Saone during the middle ages for better access to water from the river and  building continued through the Renanaisse period. Interestingly, Italian architects from Venice were responsible for much of the 15 C /16C buildings that make up the World Heritage listed Vieux Lyon area including our not so little 1st floor apartment. We also wander through the traboules – passageways through private residences from one street to another, secret short cuts if you like, which the resistance put to good effect, during the Nazi occupation of Lyon in 1943/44. More angels and demons moments! Back in our neighbourhood we buy a jamon, brie and figues baguette to share for lunch and after more friendly franglaise discussions with the ever so friendly local youngsters we buy a Bourgogne blanc Aligote. We have a pique-nique in our apartment, enjoying the unusual wine with hints of marsanne.

We are going to a highly recommended bouchon tonight and Flashman has been translating the menu. Prior preparation and all that he says. There is some concern when items on the menu translate to head, nose, ear, tail and intestines. Anyway forewarned is best. Food photos and more on Lyon gastronomy tomorrow.

Society, stunning Architecture and.........roadworks

Wednesday 28 August
We decided to christen our GPS Amelie. She has a nice English accent and mispronounces most of the French words but she did a good job getting us from Paris to Lyon. But I never trust them completely. At 0730 this morning Flashy is sent on a mission for croissants but finds all shops closed. Instead we settle for a cup of coffee at home then head off to retrieve our car  from the street and take it to Anne's lock up garage on the top of the hill above us in a 5 Star Hotel Carpark.  We start off ok with Lady Penelope driving and Amelie talking sweetly. However, within minutes, the - apparently only road up the hill to our garage is blocked for roadworks. Calls by Amelie to “make a u turn when possible,” when we are on a long one way road are, to say the least, not helpful. Luckily Lady P's sense of direction and Flashy's paper map eventually see us at the entrance to a garage, in which Anne has purchased lock up (number 178). We manage to defeat the security, back into a very tight space and lock up the car. Emerging from the bowels of the garage into daylight, we walk down the road we should have come up and search for food. It's 0930 by now and still not much open so, ever resourceful, we purchase bacon, eggs, mushrooms, tomato and a baguette traditione and take it all back to our apartment for a ‘Full English.’ After some time researching, we book a Paul Bocusse brassiere for Friday lunch and slowly emerge into the cobbled streets of the old town to begin another day of campaigning.
We feel the need to up the steps today as yesterday we only just managed to hit our 10,000 target so we set of for some culture, both society and architecture heading for the Musee des  Confluences.

As the sun was at its highest and hottest, as luck would have it a small  river taxi which travels very infrequently just across the bridge from us to Confluence, pulled into the quai just as weapproached. Lady P ran to alert the Captain and so for €4 we were able to travel in relative coolness to Confluence. This amazing building at the tip of the meeting of the two rivers , the Saone and the Rhone, is a modern addition to what was once a busy Port in Lyon. Fascinating both inside and out with an amazing glass structure it is in direct contrast to Vieux Lyon where we are staying. Lady P embraced all the amazing exhibits including a lot of aboriginal artwork representing the development of societies through the ages and the displays were very inspiring and particularly appealing to the younger audience. It gave a whole new meaning to the ‘school museum excursions’ of the 1960’s. Returning to the centre of town again via the local tram and metro provided even more excitement as we ventured underground so when we successfully emerged 15 mins later in the intended location another celebratory drink was in order. We returned home to shower (and GnT of course) before a late supper and a relatively early night.