Onward to Sarlat, Oct 24th

 

 

Our only other, and thus final, overnight excursion from the Gaillac area begins today.  We’ve got our eyes on a loop that begins about two hours from our house.  Three sites that the Michelin Guide gives 3 stars, the old town of Sarlat (technically called Sarlat-la-Caneda), the old hill town of Rocamadour, and the prehistoric caves at Pech Merle.  We’d made reservations to overnight in Sarlat so we pack and head on the road.

We’re less than an hour outside of Gaillac, on the highway, and we see a road sign with distances to other French cities.  Paris is less than 4 hours away.  Both Maxine and I contemplate.  We love Paris, yet haven’t been there since 2006 despite three trips to Europe in the intervening years…

We head onwards, reminding ourselves that this trip is about southern France.

Personally, I’m a bit apprehensive as we pull into town.  I’d been here in 2000 with Bill, but had only arrived in time for dinner and didn’t remember much.  But, what I remembered was favorable and we had the Michelin recommendation.  The outskirts aren’t charming, big box retail, car dealerships, etc.  And further into town, the roads are all torn up.  Our hotel, the Sarlat Ibis is cheap but extremely stripped down (the beds are the narrowest I’ve ever seen).  Across from the hotel is a florist specializing in funerals.  And it’s a 10 minute walk to the old town.  So, I’m worried…

But, when we get to the old town, it does live up to its very favorable press.  Charming. curious old streets.  We head for our lunch, a place specializing in foie gras, but get there to find out that their kitchen isn’t working and we move on.  We find another restaurant, have a decent meal in a pretty courtyard, then set out to explore the city.

 

 

If you get the chance, do it, Sarlat is worth an afternoon.  But of course, it is well known and we see a number of tour busses parked in the area.  In St. Emilion two out of three shops specialized in wine.  Here that same proportion specializes in foie gras and related products including containers of duck fat (seriously).  Mid afternoon, we’re lagging and stop for a coffee.  And a second coffee.  Then we wrap up with a search for souvenirs.  We pick up a small, black truffle (a specialty of this Perigord region) which we plan to use in an omelet which we intend to eat after our return to LA, and with it to toast a month in the south of France.

 

 

Then I set myself onto the most unrealistic souvenir possible.  A Laguoile knife.  It’s irrational because I have no need of a pocket knife.  None at all.  But, it’s certainly a French souvenir.  I’ve seen a number of shops on our various excursions displaying them.  And this shop in Sarlat has the largest collection of them all.  I tell myself that if I am going to buy one, here’s the place.  And, I do. 

The sales guy speaks no English.  And the descriptions that I need are all about technical words.  Most of the knives (there are several thousand) are in a display case in the front window and he has to push other cases, the size of small bookshelves, out of the way to get to them.  But, eventually, I find a knife I want, with a cork handle, and we conclude.  He gives me a stamped certificate of authenticity (unlike with the word champagne, which the French have managed to restrict, they have not succeeded with laguoile) and carefully wraps my purchase in an intricate paper bag with ribbon.

 

You’re free to wonder why you’d want to carefully wrap a very sharp knife with a 3 inch blade in a ribboned bag, but eh….

Dinner is my choice.  And, I’ve wanted to, just once, go to McDonalds on this trip.  So, we do.