Rocamadour and Cahors

---

How beautiful it is to wake up in the Dordogne - breakfast being served on the large refectory table in the lounge/dining room area. Our friends at the table this morning were two American families. The first a mother and father visiting their daughter a nun in a closed order of nuns in Avignon. The second family were on a tour of Europe at breakneck speed. 5 mins in Paris, 10 in Disneyland and a week in the Carmargue. No time to stop or stare as the words of the poem came to mind. They would go home having visited Paris, France but only scraping the surface.

Conversation flowed over the treacle tart, the sweet cakes, yoghurt and fruit. Politics and the Obama regime, the lack of a health service in the USA and any other topic that came to mind. They say travel broadens the mind and that is certainly true.

Fed we headed out to Rocamadour clinging to the side of the hill the religious city sandwiched between the medieval streets below and the chateau above. Tourists pour into the town and park near the chateau using the lift to travel down to the streets below. Music wafts from the church as mass is celebrated and visitors crane their necks in to see the service. We sat in the town square quietly watching the Sunday world go by drinking coca cola. Life is so peaceful here.

We spent lunch in Cahors joining the French families celebrating Sunday together. Lunch is a very important thing to the French the ability to eat together important something we have totally lost here in Britain. Couples laughing and chatting, families smiling, children well behaved. Old fashioned manners seem to apply here and polite conversation important.

We ambled after lunch to the Pont Valentre a medieval fortified bridge spanning the river Lot. The old bridge originally had gates and portcullis to prevent access to the town. The place although famous felt strangely quiet. Sunday seems a good day to visit.

After such a lovely day we drove home. Sitting outside we ate tea, played cards and Scrabble and listened to the frogs on the lily pond.

We envied our hosts who had acres of garden devoted to flowers and vegetable plots, a heated swimming pool, hidden corners to the garden. An idyllic life one that we would have loved to have.

---