The Dordogne, where emerald green fields meet meandering rivers and walled medieval villages cling precariously to cliff edges. A definite stop for us (and it seems lots of other tourists - especially Brits!!) With more “Plus Beux villages” (most beautiful villages) than anywhere else in the country we shouldn’t really have been surprised.
Our wonderfully secluded farmhouse had magnificent views of the surrounding countryside. The owner, has lived in the hamlet for over 20 years and kindly agreed to take us on a walk to explore the surrounding area. Unfortunately this meant that the particularly viscious german shepherd/ husky that she had recently rescued had to accompany us. The only saving grace was that it hated Mike more than me. It is probably wrong to admit that I breathed a huge sigh of relief when it went missing for most of the walk. It was just a pity it showed up back at home.
Our exploration of the beautiful villages commenced at Sarlat-la-Caneda, a picture postcard medieval village with winding alleyways and honey coloured buildings. Rude waiters aside, one of the many pavement cafes in the entirely pedestrianised medieval quarter, is the perfect spot to sit under a parasol sipping a glass of vin blanc and indulging in the local delicacy of foie gras. Even the hoards of tourists do not take away from the charm of the place.
The heatwave that hit on day two (temperatures in the early 40s every day) didn’t deter us from continuing with our exploration but it did mean that we made much more use of the swimming pool in the afternoons than we had originally envisaged. We simply set out early to ensure that we did not miss out on the stunning 180 degree view of the Dordogne Valley from the vantage point at Domme, the meandering riverbank stroll at Brantome and the cruise aboard a wooden- hulled gabarre at la Roque de Gageac.
We spent a peaceful and relaxing week in this gorgeous region and have no doubt that we will head back here in the future.
On our journey from the Dordogne to the Loire Valley we stopped at the town of Oradour -sur-Glane. It was here on 10 June 1944 that one of the worst Nazi atrocities was committed on French soil. The entire town (647 inhabitants) were ordered in to the village square. The men were separated from the women and children and then divided in to smaller groups. At gunpoint they were forced in to garages around the village. The women and children were all herded in to the church. On the giving of an order the church was set on fire and 200 soldiers opened fire on the men. Only 5 people survived. The soldiers stood by and watched as the village burnt and returned the next day to remove the charcoaled remains of the 642 bodies. As a memorial to the people that were killed. The crumbling towns remains exactly as it was left, with charcoaled stained walls, the upturned remains of tables and chairs in the cafes and the rusty remains of cars parked where they were left that day. As a mark of respect, visitors are asked to explore the village in silence a rule which everyone obeys, even the birds. Never have I visited anywhere before where even the birds don’t sing. It was extraordinarily moving.
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