Slept well in Le Clos de Bourgogne. Suitably refreshed we had a nice breakfast although it nearly became a disaster when Gerry went to crack open what she thought was a hard boiled egg. The eggs were in fact raw which is why they were sat in a basket by the egg cooker. Luckily a member of staff spotted what Gerry was about to do and interceded, just in time.
Straight after breakfast we set out for our next stop, the delightful town that is Troyes. We had stopped there before, in fact we were returning to the hotel we had stayed at previously.
The drive was event free and we soon arrived the Hotel Relais Saint Jean. Once again we checked in, had a cuppa before heading out for a walk around Troyes.
I wish I could say that everything about Troyes was as good as it had been on our previous visit. The town and our hotel were just as we remembered. Unfortunately, our evening meal was mediocre. We chose to eat in a restaurant that we had used before. Back then the meal was superb, not this time. I had opted for a burger which, according to the menu, was made from boar. It was actually pulled pork. The bun was soggy, caused by the excess liquid in the pulled pork. The menu said home made buns so I was expecting a rustic bread. What I got was a bloody brioche. So sad to say the meal was a sad end to what had been a great day.
We awoke to yet another glorious, sunny morning. Needless to say, we were sad to be leaving the gite which had been our home for the last three weeks. Settled up with our host, had to pay an additional 11 euros for electricity. We had a couple of cold days during the first week and during the second week, one of the electric heaters was inadvertantly left on over night. Oh well, it could have been worse.
With our car fully loaded and one last check around the gite, we set off, leaving Badailhac and travelling up through Vic sur Cere to Le Lioran. Here we entered the tunnel. On exit the sun had gone and the temperature , according to the car, was 8 deg C. Everywhere just looked chilly and grey.
We had a trouble free journey to Moulins. The temperature slowly rose and with the sunshine reappearing the day carried on as it had started. We had made good time and checked into our hotel, Le Clos de Bourgogne, early. We had a refreshing cuppa before going for a stroll through the old town.
With the sun setting we made our way back to the hotel where we made a couple of FaceTime calls back to the UK and family. This was the first time we had any WiFi in three weeks. It was so nice to hear and see our daughters and grand-daughters.
We had opted to eat at the hotel but what wasn’t made clear at check-in, was the fact that there was to be no menu choice. Apparently, on Mondays the hotels restaurant only caters for residents. I have pretty broad tastes when it comes to food. However, Gerry is a little more selective. As it happens, we needn’t have worried. The food was very nice. To start there was Pate En-Croute, followed by a Duo of Fish (Salmon and Monkfish?) in a white buttery sauce with vegetables. The dessert was a fruit crumble (Figs, Raspberries and Apple). An unusual ingredient, for us, in the crumble was Mint. It did seem to work but for me the one thing that was missing was the custard.
Our last day at the gite, before heading up through France to visit family in Achiete-le-Grande. Time to tie up a few loose ends.
On numerous occasions, when heading out to visit places of interest, we had passed a sign with the name “Calmejane”. We always referred to it as Call Me Jane. Never having been down that lane we decided to explore. Turns out that the sign post indicated the name of the family that lived at the end of the lane, a dead end or should I perhaps use the French cul-de-sac ?
Similarly, we had passed this field with donkeys. On this occasion we stopped to say hello. They were very friendly and curious. Sad to say they were expecting treats and we had none. They were quick to snort their disgust and soon lost interest in us. They were very cute.
Having disappointed the donkeys, by turning up without any treats, we decided to follow road past the donkey field. Just to see where it led. After a couple of kilometers, we found that it led to a small group of private houses. Another dead end, a cul-de-sac. There were some great views en-route though. Disappointed, we enjoyed the same views on the way back to the donkeys.
We then drove down to Vic-sur-Cere to get fuel and cash in preparation for our journey north, this being our last day at the gite.
We had cleaned and packed earlier, so we were basically killing time until we could go to a restaurant for an evening meal. Big mistake….
We should have found somewhere to eat at lunch time. Waiting until 19:00 before approaching our restaurant of choice was a huge fail. No only was the restaurant closed but the hotel, Hôtel Restaurant Beauséjour, seemed to be too !!! Our second choice, Casino de Vic Sur Cère, was open but there was a private function in full flow complete with live band. The restaurant itself was shut. Similarly, several other local restaurants were closed. The only viable choice seemed to be to travel into Aurillac, a thirty plus minute drive. Not far but neither of us really wanted to do that. So it was back to the gite.
In anticipation of our departure, we had run our food stocks down. We had bacon, eggs and cheese and bread. So our Sunday meal consisted of eggs and bacon on toasted french baguette. It was actually very good, but was the cheapest sunday meal and I didn’t even get a tip.
At some point, it occurred to us, that we hadn’t explored the local area surrounding La Calsade. So we decided to go off on a bit of a mystery tour, take a look at where the myriad narrow lanes would take us.
Before we set out we were treated to a pretty display of localised mists in the valleys south of the gite.
We chose to follow a road which took off at right angles to the main road through the village. This road was signposted Jou sous Monjou.
Jou sous Monjou turned out to be quite a pretty little village although the church, L’Eglise Notre Dame de L’Assomption, being built like a brick outhouse was very robust. More akin to a wartime blockhouse.
The church in Jou-sous-Monjou is a fine example of Romanesque architecture and offers an exceptional array of sculptural work that has survived the centuries. Typical of the area, the church is built in volcanic stone and has a stone slab roof and a comb bell tower.
While walking around Jou-sous-Monjou we had become aware of a loud buzzing, especially behind the church. The reason soon became apparent. Outside one of the houses, someone had placed two boxes of something sweet. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of bees. The noise was quite substantial.
The numbers of bees attracted to these two boxes was large enough to create quite a hazard to anyone wanting access to the house.
Continuing on our mystery tour, we stumbled across Chateau Cropieres
From the 13th to the 16th century, the castle was lived in by the Cropières and Montjou families. Today the castle looks very different from how it did when originally built, that is more military and feudal in design. The original fortress was completely transformed to make a main reception room. King Louis XIV had a very beautiful staircase at the front built for his loved one and this can still be admired today.
Our further perambulations brought us to the village of Saint-Martin-sous-Vigouroux. Here we explored the village and visited the church.
We had a pleasant, leisurely, lunch at the Hotel Restaurant de la Poste before heading out to further explore the region.
We arrived at Pierrefort but didn’t fancy walking around what appeared to be a fairly large town. So we decided to head back towards the gite, but not before taking a couple of photographs on the outskirts of town.
As we travelled towards the gite, I notice a sign indicating a view point. WE had to go and see what was worth a sign. And, after all, it was only a couple of kilometers …… up a very narrow road. So we made the detour to the viewpoint at Videche. Or should I say, BELVEDÈRE DE VIDÈCHE – SITE PANORAMIQUE
Panoramic view on the Valley of Brezons A bird’s eye view of the Valley of Brezons and the Monts du Cantal. 15 min. film about the fario trout swimming up to the head of the river in the Cirque of Grandval. Open from spring to autumn, depending on weather conditions. A 15 minutes video on the life of trouts in the Brezons river (english version).
During our stay at La Calsade, our voyages out into the French countryside would often take us through the village of Carlat. Each time we would say “We really must visit”. So the decision was made to stop and explore this little village.
Carlat is a commune in the Cantaldepartment in south-central France. The “Rocher de Carlat” or rock of Carlat situated above the picturesque commune was once the site of one of the most powerful and impenetrable chateaux in all of France. It was the seat of Jacques d’Armagnac, Duke of Nemours and often the center of intrigue, resistance and rebellion against the kings of France. Completely razed by order of the king in 1604 to alleviate the inconvenience of rebellious and ambitious southern relatives, hardly a trace of the chateau remains. The site is now a park, open to visitors and commanding sweeping views of the Carlades.
Carlat is another of those places where you cannot drive in, unless you are a resident. A car park is provided on the outskirts, and visitors are invited to make the short walk in. There isn’t much to see but it is pretty. There is a school and the children were playing happily in the sunshine. There appeared to be only the one shop and that was closed. So our stay was quite short.
From the gite, part of its fabulous panoramic view, we had discovered that there was a church on top of a flat topped hill (plateau).
Curiosity decree’d that we had to go search it out. So off we set from Carlat. Cutting across country, driving down narrow, single lane roads and tracks that dropped down into, then climbed back out of the tree covered gorges. Directional decision making was dictated by any sighting we made, as we crested the various hills. Eventually we reached a village, Cros Ronesque, and as we passed through noted the folks sat having lunch outside a local hostlery. That set the juices going. Coming out of the other side of the village we found that we were within spitting distance of the church. Soon we were following a winding lane which took us up to the church. Actually, I think we were supposed to park up about 500 metres below. However, I decided to play the dumb Brit and drive right up to the church. We were the only ones up there so I guess nobody really cared where we parked.
Formed on the site of an old peneplain, then covered as a result of volcanic activity and deeply sculpted by vast valleys, this rock is one of two basalt plateaux in the Carladès (part of the Vic-sur-Cère region). You can drive to a tiny chapel from where the magnificent panoramic view takes in the huge plateau, with the monts de Cantal to the north and the Aubrac mountains to the southeast. Below, to the right, stands the Château de Messilhac, overlooking the Vallée du Goul.
What a great
decision it was to search out this place. Fabulous views, 360 degree. Little
church, graveyard, cross, as well as North and South orientation tables. We
tried to see our gite but should have had the binoculars to hand.
After absorbing the fabulous views it was time for a beer. That bar/restaurant, the Auberge de la Sapiniere, that we had spotted earlier in Cros Ronesque was calling, so we set off back down to the village where we satisfied that craving.
After the beer we
headed back to the gite. Amazingly it only took about 10 minutes to get back,
whereas it took over an hour to get to the church. It makes a big difference
when you know the name of the place you are trying to get to.
During our earlier foray to Entraygues-sur-Truyere, whilst stood on the dam watching an otter fishing, I had bumped into a pair of cyclists. British as it happens. We had a chat and about each others holiday destinations etc. During this conversation I had mentioned the light show we had witnessed at Chartres. In response they mentioned visiting Conques and the Abbey, that the town was doing something similar every night until the end of September.
I had filed this
piece of information away, as a possible target destination for when our
friends joined us. Unfortunately, time and a brief spell of tummy upset
conspired against us before it was time for them to head back to dear old
So Gerry and I decided we would head off to Conques on our own. The plan was to leave late, spend the afternoon doing that touristy thing, then have an evening meal in Conques before enjoying the light show.
It was, yet another, glorious day and we were soon wending our way through the French countryside. Every turn in the road seems to open up another grand view. At times we would appear to be on top of the world with huge panoramas. At others we would be looking down at small towns or villages, dwarfed by the high tree lined sides of gorges.
Soon we were crossing the border, leaving the Cantal, entering the Aveyron. No passport control, just drive on through. Approximately five kilometers from Conques, we stopped for a beer at Chez Marie in the pretty village of Grand Varbres.
After exploring Grand-Varbres we continued on to Conques.
Conques, listed as one of the most beautiful villages of France, is about 30 kilometres east of Figeac and 35 kilometres north of Rodez, in the Aveyron department in the Massif Central. Conques sits on the edge of the gorge of the River Dourdou, in a beautiful setting surrounded by mountains and forests. The approach from the south is along an especially attractive stretch of river.
Joe Public are not allowed to drive or park inside the town of Conques. There is public parking, for a small fee, just outside the entrance to the town. A gently inclined pathway then takes you up to the centre of town.
That gentle entry is a bit of a con, as deviating to either side results in encounters with steep steps and pathways, all designed to give one a bit of a cardiac workout.
We spent a couple of hours exploring, taking in the quaint streets and houses, as well as the Abbey itself.
It wasn’t long before it was time for another beer. We found a bar and were soon sat, basking in the sunshine, with a glorious view of the Abbey’s twin towers.
At 19:00 we took ourselves off to the restaurant, where previously I had booked a table. We were soon seated at a table on the terrace with a prime view looking down over Conques.
The food was superb, a starter which comprised a mixed platter of charcuterie and fromages. Followed by a delicious tender steak with vegetables served in baskets (Yorkshire puds) and aligoo. Then it was time to head out to the Abbey.
Part of the evenings entertainment was a monk explaining the history behind the tympanum. We sat and listened but, as it was only in French, we had no understanding. So the evident humour was lost on us, but not on the rest of the crowd. Similarly, we were not able to make the appropriate responses when prompted by the monk. Still it was an interesting experience.
As for the light show, well we opted not to stay. Gerry was already wilting and I still had over an hours drive back to the gite.
It was ten o’clock gone when we left Conques, and with tens of hairpin bends to contend with in the darkness, it made for a fairly intense journey home.
So Cephas Williams is fed up with being lumped in with the “hoodie” stereotype.
But he says people don’t see him for the person he is – and are quick to judge and stereotype him.
Perhaps he needs to take a closer look at the CCTV images showing yobs terrorising neighbourhoods, showing the folks robbing local newsagents and betting shops. Take note of how many of the perpetrators are wearing hoodies. Admittedly they are not all black. But the ubiqitous hoodie is there to the fore.
Cephas is right that it is wrong to judge people by their colour and by the clothes they wear. But with, regard to the hoodie, I think he probably needs to remove himself from that stereotype, before society as a whole will change their perception.
I for one, wrongly perhaps, tend to view a group of youngsters wearing hoodies in a totally different way than I would, perhaps, if that same group were wearing jackets and scarves.
“I know so many black men doing great things, as postmen, nurses, city traders and fathers. But when these guys put on a hoodie, their success becomes almost invisible. “I want to live in a society where I can put on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and be seen as who I am: not a thug or a brute, but just a guy going to the gym after a long day at work.”
The same is true of all people, not just black men and women. None of us are carrying signs identifying our achievements, our individual characters or our intent.
It’s unfortunately a fact of life that the hoodie has taken the place of the criminals use of the balaclava / ski-mask and tights.
Personally, I wouldn’t be seen dead in a hoodie. That’s my choice, it seems to much like a uniform to me. Due to my size and the way I have my hair cropped short, people may view me as a thug. They don’t know me and they don’t know how far wrong they are. But I don’t care, I am who I am. If they choose to find out who that is, that’s up to them.
To be quite honest I get a little tired of hearing how society has to change to suit individuals rather than the otherway round.
And finally …
“I am taking the shoehorn out and showcasing a bagga man who are doing great things and – who look like me.”
I had to google the above to understand what Cephas was trying to say. And while I get it, methinks he should know his audience. If he wants to feel included he shouldn’t alienate folks by using Jamaican patois.