WINE, GLORIOUS WINE...ON TO THE DORDOGNE

Back over the border to France where no one cares about forms, masks or vaccination cards. Our first stop is St. Emillion, prior home of a Saint (Emillion), a sprinkling of assorted medieval religious fanatics and macaroons.  The chocolate macarons are fabulous.

The hill towns of Italy have nothing on St. Emillion. In fact the whole Perigord region features upper & lower towns best suited to agile youths and donkeys. Driving into St. Emillion you are surrounded for miles by vineyards.  From Bordeaux to Bergerac is a HUGE wine area --- and it is good. We bought a bottle of Bergerac red today for 2.99 euro and it was excellent - well at least very good. Back to St. Emilion. Due to a miscalculation, we hiked to the lower town to find the Tourist Office, which was in the upper town. Then to reach the entrance to the Monolithic Church, yes, down we go. Then, to leave, yes, up we go. This is not a few steps - more like hundreds. Panting for breath and dying for a glass of wine, we depart for our B & B. 

Before touring the Monolithic Church & St. Emillion, we went to lunch in Montagne. Arriving early for our reservation, we toured the local cemetery. Having lived in Mexico, we have come to appreciate what cemeteries say about the culture.

The ruined wall of a former church stands outside St. Emillion.

Part of the Monolithic Church carved out of the limestone. Unfortunately no photographs were allowed within the church itself.

Looking down on St. Emillion gives you a sense of its up & down nature, as well as the fact that the vines for the wine are even planted within the city itself.

Looking back at the gate that leads to the St. Emillion Cloister.

The ornate stone carving on the Church entrance &, even after all these years, some of the original color is still visible in the center.

This WW I memorial was in St. Emillion...

and this one was in Montagne. We didn't see any WWII memorials.

Far from welcoming, our confirmation has informed us that if we have the temerity to arrive before 4:30 or even try to leave our bags early or even park our car before 4:30 we will be fined --- and perhaps thrown in the stocks. That's French hospitality!? So fearfully we approach (at 4:59 exactly) to find a very sweet & welcoming host who can't do enough for us. We can only assume he was the victim of a British hen party or hosted a New Zealand rugby team and was greatly traumatized.

Oh. The Monolithic Church. It's a very large church carved out of a single rock formation over many years by many peasants. The whole town was so into carving into the foundation of the town's limestone base and using the stone for building projects that they finally realized they were going to sink the town & stopped. Whew! Not before they damaged the church, but they are remediating the damage.

After hauling ourselves out of the "pit" of lower town St. Emillion, we provisioned with wine, cheese, sausage & macaroons and dined under the wisteria laden pergola of our B & B.

Looking at the La Gomerie pond while dining under the wisteria.

Our wisteria dining location at La Gomerie.

Cyrano de _____________

Come on...I gave you a hint. Cyrano de Bergerac, yes! But no! Despite the fact that there are statues pertaining to him, wine stores named after him and pictures of him slathered throughout the town, old Cyrano had nothing to do with Bergerac. He was not born there, did not live there. Did not die there. Much as the Beach Boys boosted Huntington Beach to fame as Surf City USA, the town fathers of Bergerac just as eagerly co-opted Cyrano as their mascot/bread & butter. But, having exposed that duplicity, we shall press on to the Dordogne.

One of the more plain statues to Cyrano in Bergerac.

A rarer, but not unknown site, is a "Protestant Temple", which we spotted in Bergerac.

Bergerac has adopted the Mexican custom of putting the name of the city in a scenic spot for tourists to take selfies to prove they have in fact been to the town.

This statue of Cyrano was much more colorful than the first...

and we even spotted this Cyrano puppet.

This was our view of the Dordogne River as we had lunch in Bergerac.

Even in Bergerac this young couple demonstrated the universality of love & pizza.

This statue is not a Cyrano!

Paradise in the Perigord

We rented a gite in a town called Peyzac-le-Moustier - a thriving urban center of 167 persons. We decided (in deference to our age, Covid & loathing of packing/repacking) to stay 2 1/2 weeks in one place and day trip. Good choice. What a marvelous place! Set on 10 hectares (24.7 acres), overlooking a valley and rolling hills, it slows your heart rate and cures your sleep disturbances. Spring is fully engaged in this part of the world - so much so that we may just do a photo blog of all the amazing flora we are surrounded by. We settled in, seriously unpacked and fortified ourselves for upcoming adventures.

The irises were in full bloom throughout the Dordogne. These were on the walkway at La Cipiere, where we were staying.

This was the entrance to our gite.

All the irises made Deirdre regret the fact that we cannot grow irises in Mexico. I will just have to take lots of photos of irises to bring back to Mexico for her.

The view from our window at La Cipiere...

and the outside views of the countryside...

that greeted us every day at La Cipiere.