Dordogne

18-25 May 2011
My first stay in the Dordogne, a place overrun by the Dutch and the English. I had never been here before, only on the edge of the Dordogne, years ago, on our way to Vichy via a detour. Having friends in this part of the world eventually made it happen. This house in which I am staying is indeed a magic place, with beautiful, unobstructed views of the countryside, the rolling hills in the distance, a typical house of this area far away on the opposite hillside. The house is built of sturdy stone, uneven blocks hewn out of a quarry I guess, a mellow golden yellow colour, very warm in the light of the sun. It is a big house, with a lot of land, in fact two old farmhouses facing each other connected by a gallery which was built later. The house is U-shaped. The gallery or passage is now a wide living room with a view of the very sheltered part of the garden in between the two original houses.

The husband of my friend is a very keen gardener, pottering around for long hours every day. The garden is a huge piece of hilly land, with terraces, terracotta pots planted with flowers, herbs, olive trees. Poplars providing the much needed shade and shelter rattle in the wind, like gurgling streams. The swimming pool still has to be filled. There are four cherry trees, their branches hanging down and bending with the weight of the abundance of fruit. I eat them straight from the tree, before the birds do. There is a fig tree too.

The house is at the end of a small hamlet containing some 12 houses, bordering the woods where even during the daytime we find deer on the narrow, one way, winding and steep roads. I love this place and this area, with the picturesque market towns, the caves in the sheer cliffs bordering the two main rivers, the Vezère and the Dordogne, but mainly along the Vezère; the many castles, the ruins, the orchards and vineyards, the small brooks and winding roads, and the people. The French here are not the French of Paris, but much friendlier.

We venture out and do things in the morning, at a leisurely pace, first enjoying a coffee and a brioche or croissant in a café in the nearest village, visit one of the caves which still has original wall paintings, deep in the rock, climb amazingly steep hills to cliff top castles, passing well kept houses, the shutters painted a pale blue or bright red, the stone walls yellow, covered with an abundance of climbing roses in a variety of pink, red and white.

How people bring up their groceries and vegetables every day along those narrow alleys, baffles me. We admire fortified churches, some of them unfortunately closed, some very plain inside. Also old abbey churches, the abbeys long gone, martins buildings their nests in the eaves. But they always have flowers inside, and often there is music, Gregorian chant which starts as soon as one enters the church.

We also visit markets, the stalls displaying their beautiful fruits and vegetables, the small and firm apricots and peaches, baskets with cherries, big juicy strawberries, thick white asparagus bound together, onions, very clean, artichokes, tomatoes in all shapes and sizes, even nearly dark purple ones, peas in the pod, mange-touts, a variety of beans. The stalls with so many local cheeses even truffle cheese, with pâté-de-foie gras, rillettes de canard and geese, all beautifully prepared and packed. This is a country of walnuts, cherries and truffles. There are even special markets for truffles only, starting in autumn. I drink truffle liqueur and taste truffle cheese.

I know that here too people get sick, people divorce, people die. Nevertheless it is totally different to spend one’s life in a village like that, living of the land, using everything it gives, not wasting anything, making jams, pâtés, growing grapes and making wine. I must be hard to live here as a vegetarian, in spite of the abundance of fresh vegetables and fruits, even when herbs almost grow wild in one’s own back garden, as anything which moves seems to be eaten. Frogs, snails, rabbits, geese, all kinds of birds, if there is meat on them they are potential food.

This week has given me a chance to rest and recover after a very difficult autumn and winter; to get some rest, just be, admire the garden, absorb the smells, textures and colours; to be pampered and unconditionally accepted by dear and caring friends – including the dog and the two cats.

I went with them to a service in the Anglican church, taking place in the small Catholic church of Limeuil, the place where the Vezère joins the Dordogne, high on the hilltop; the “congregation” very mixed and most welcoming. The Anglican priest with his young family of four being Dutch, the body of the worshippers mainly retired English speaking people, some tourists among them. The “bring and share” lunch in the Mairie on the banks of the Dordogne a real friendly and nice event.