Saint Emilion under the sun

Sometimes you have to be a tourist. We don't do it very often, but on an extremely hot day when every step on the cobblestones resulted in a burst of perspiration, we decided it might be a good day to conserve our energy.

We bought tickets for the St. Emilion wine tour at the tourism office. For just 10€ each we got a wine tour of the famed chateaux, a tasting later at the Maison du Vins, and complimentary macarons at a village bakery. Fearing  that it might be a little cheesy-- like a tour of celebrity homes--we put on our headsets, tuned them to Anglais, and we were off for a very pleasant hour.

The tour narration was far from cheesy. In fact we both learned a lot about how the region evolved geologically, geographically, politically and economically. Religion also played a huge role in the formation of St. Emilion as there were five different monastic orders with roots there.

Ultimately, putting the heady topics aside, it was all about the vines--million of vines with billions of berries sitting in the sun and soon to be the 2015 vintage. The neat rows make me feel calm--everything in such order.

When the tour was over, we headed into the village and enjoyed a pleasant lunch of gazpacho and crepes under a big, white umbrella that protected us from the Africa-like temperatures. With low humidity and a nice breeze it was quite comfortable.

We walked into the tasting rooms of two wine producers and explored the chilly, dark caves, then went into the wine museum where we had a tasting of two wines from La Greniere, a vinyard in Lussac. The owner/winemaker was doing the pouring and he was happy to share a lot of information about his wines. We picked two, the I asked him if he had any favorites among the wines of his neighbors and he was very accommodating and showed us some of his personal favorites from among the racks.

Back home to the Clocktower Cottage, we turned the key thinking that it would be stinkin' hot in there--but no! It was cool and comfortable--stones are a natural form of air conditioning.

Day market/ Night market

There's nothing quite like a French market for a total sensory experience. The heat and light of the summer only enhances the sounds, aromas and colors of the items for sale at the vendor booths.

Today we did a market double header--going to Monpazier for the marché traditionel today, then taking full advantage of the marché du nocturne in Duras this evening.

Monpazier is one of the Plus Beaux Village du France and so, when it's market day there the village is not only beautiful, it's lively and festive too. We bought cheeses, tapenade and olives. I found some other gift items in the local shops. We sat down for two café grand crème at a sidewalk café and watched the multi-colored, multi-ethnic, multi-generational crowd mill about the stalls.

On the way back we stopped in two new towns for us--Villeréal and Lauzun, both in the Lot-et-Garonne department a little south of Duras.

Tonight, we invited my pen pal Mimi and her husband Ken to come join us at the night market. We started with appetizers and aperitifs at the Clocktower Cottage then, after we'd finished nearly two bottles of rosé, we headed down to the market square to find dinner.

We all made a sweep of the dozen plus food booths and everyone chose which vendor they would buy dinner from. Mimi volunteered to save four spaces at a dining table while the rest got our dinners, then she got up and headed to her preferred vendor. I ended up with Spanish-style calamari with rice, Joe got a half chicken with potatoes and veg, Ken got a heaping plate of ham with sides and Mimi found grilled sea bass. We sat at the Café de la Paix tables and ordered a beer from them and had a good table close to the excellent jazz combo. I'm not exaggerating when I say that there might have been over 1,000 people at this village event. Duras was truly the happening place tonight.

Mimi and Ken left us after ten o'clock and we sat on our terrace with the last drips of wine listening to the last set of the jazz band playing in the square until the clock above our heads told us it was time to call it a night.

Allemans du Dropt

I've seen the signs for Allemans du Dropt several times, as it's on the way to Eymet, but never had a reason to stop. Sue, my caretaker, once told me there was a good hotel restaurant there, but otherwise I knew nothing about it. 

First, it's right on the river Dropt and has a beautiful stone bridge that you must cross to enter the village. Second, it has two postcard-perfect waterfalls that rush beneath an ancient stone mill. 

We didn't try the restaurant on this visit as it wasn't lunch or dinnertime, but we will in the future.

Third, there is a tiny, ancient church from the 11th century with frescoes that are lit by putting one euro in the light box. The frescoes are from the 15th century and are like cartoons when compared to the Signorellis and Giottos in Italy, but they are nonetheless a work of passion that has endured for some 600 years.

An artful lunch

Just next door to the Pizzeria Don Camillo, where we had a lovely outdoor lunch today, was a sculpture and painting gallery that had not been there before. We discovered that the artists were doing a two-week "pop-up shop" in a busy Duras square and we poked among the paintings and ceramics for a bit before we sat down to eat. One painting caught my eye and continue to speak to me while I was working on a bowl of garlicky moules frites. So, I bought it.

Les fleurs sont beaux

July in France is a riot of colors. Voila! Sunflowers fill acres and acres--almost too much for the senses.

Hollyhocks stand in straight rows along roadways, next to barns, alongside streams.

Pots in every village enthusiastically wave a rainbow bonjour.

I just couldn't believe this two-meter plus tall hedge of lavender growing around a corner and down a lane. The bees, the aroma--just heavenly.

First day musings sans pix

Ahhhh, finally sitting on my couch with a few quiet minutes to savor before I go to bed. 

It's always a long, hard slog to get to Duras, but ultimately it's worth it--always worth seeing the little distant gnome hat of the clock tower as you round the bend near Levignac, coming from Marmande, the rise of adrenaline as the car mounts the hill to the doorstep of the village. The squeezing of the car on the final leg up Rue Caesar Jauffret and then the empty spot in front of the cottage. Same thrill as last time. As always.

We settled ouselves in briefly, put on sunblock and floppy hats, then, like the sensible characters we are, we headed into town for what we now call our "attitude adjustment meal." The Chai and Rasade wine bar was shady in the afternoon so we chose a pair of glasses of rosé along with a platter of local charcuterie and fromage to snap us out of the lousy funk of long-distance travel that was weighing us down and making us cranky. The slippery duck sausage and the salty Pata Negra ham were out of this world and served to pry greasy smiles from our tight expressions. The wine acted as a lubricant, birthing the kinder words that burbled off our tongues. We ate, drank and suddenly the sunny, warm day was actually warm and sunny and breezy too, and all was forgiven and forgotten.

I was disturbed by the unchecked shabbiness of the potted garden upon arrival so found time to water, deadhead and groom the pots back to something respectable--more like me--and I felt much better when the job was done.

After showers, checked emails and some inventorying of the house, we went to the local Carrefour for some basic provisions, then decided to try Le Cabri for dinner, which is the restaurant just a mile outside of the village at the campground.

Our waitress Meghan was charming and kind, spoke both French and English, and was happy to have some American dialect spoken along with the ubiquitous British expat warbling. Her grandparents live in NYC, she said.

I had a salad with foie gras, bacon wrapped prunes and phyllo wrapped local goat cheese. Joe had duck confit with frites. All was simple, inexpensive and satisfying. Le Cabri is a great place to just be yourself. It's a campground so everyone shows up in shorts, with sunburns and cellulite, dogs and all else hanging out. No pretense here. Just casual, fun atmosphere and kind hosts.

It didn't get dark till 10:30, which was a total delight. If there's anything better than a summer day it's getting to enjoy more hours of one. Now I am tired.

Never enough time

It's the Fourth of July and I am feeling very happy to be American today, still I am looking forward to our travels this week.

We only have four full days in Duras on this trip, which seems so short so we are trying to make the most of each day regardless of the (HOT) weather. 

Tuesday, our arrival day, will be provisioning, napping, then nice dinner out--likely at La Terrasse, my favorite local resto. Wednesday we have a morning meeting with our handyman Warren to discuss putting a second master suite in the attic, then our day is open for exploring--or not--depending on how hot it is. Wednesday night is live jazz at the Café de la Paix with a charcuterie and wine dinner on our own balcony. 

On Thursday, I would love to go to the outdoor market in Monpazier, which we have not visited in two years, but is one of the very best in the region. That evening is the Night Market--le marché du nocturne--in Duras. That means we bring an empty plate from home and our own silverware and go booth to booth to fill up our plates. The long rows of tables in the market square will be filled with locals sharing food, ideas and friendship. There will be a live music group and maybe people will even be inspired to dance.

A few months ago I struck up a friendship with an American woman, now living in France,  who is a retired journalist (like moi) from Reno, Nevada. She blogs on her French experiences in the neighboring town of Lauzun. I invited her and her husband to join us for dinner at the night market, with an aperitif before at our Clocktower Cottage. I'm still waiting to hear from Mimi and hope she'll be able to share in the fun with us.

Friday will be our working day. Shopping for things we need for the fall renters, making small repairs, etc. Then Saturday morning we leave. I can already sense my coming sadness that there is never enough time . . .

French toast!

This very colorful seemingly abstract painting is actually a simulation of the weather patterns that are currently affecting Europe, especially Spain, England and France (!) where we are headed in just three days. The purple ribbon snaking across Europe is wreaking havoc with the energy grid, public transportation, and about 3,000 people--mostly senior citizens--have died from the heat.

I have been checking the forecast daily for the past two weeks and have been amazed that our little village of Duras and a whole swath of France has seen temps above 100 F several times. Just yesterday it was 103 in Duras. The day before it was 107. Yikes!! It's like Africa!!

I am still looking forward to our trip, being in my little cottage by the clock tower, but with no air conditioning and no window screens, I must admit I am a little nervous about our ability to be comfortable in these conditions. It will be a good lesson for us-- is this someplace we could actually spend a summer someday? Or not? Let's hope the cottage's thick stone walls help to keep the heat at bay.

The good news is that it is still relatively cool at night, so at worst, we can sleep all day then head out in the evening for strolling and dinner.