It seems so French – plonking down an open-air museum in the middle of a field; no board, no fee, no attendant. Somebody (perhaps a mason) had cast copies of a plethora of beautiful and often vastly amusing carvings. And perhaps not finding a museum to pay for them (just conjecture) had found a field to place them in.
We walked on raised ‘duck boards’ through two quite long avenues of intriguing bits and pieces of architectural art. Statues, incredibly intricate pillar capitals, slabs and busts – all absolutely attention-grabbing and entertaining. It is discoveries like this that are the rich rewards of DIY touring – because they are so totally unexpected. LUVit!
We have no idea where the originals come from, but some seem incredibly old. Instead of writing a long post about what we found, we felt the images speak for themselves.
Cats HeadHorseman and Child
River Spirit
Fallen Capital
Fallen CapitalRepeat Foliage PatternMadonna and Child
We happened upon Lusignan by accident. If I had not spotted the brown road sign, saying ‘Lusignan, medieval city, .25 klm’ we would have missed this treasure of French History.
ON THE WAY TO SAINT SAVINIEN
In the morning, saying our goodbyes to Brion Les Thouet, we were offered sandwiches to take on our journey to our next stop. We thanked Yvonne and explained that we were not going very far at all – in fact, only about two hours down the direct road. (Only of course, it would take us longer as we would instead be meandering on by-roads to have a quick look round interesting places like nearby Loudun. I’d first spotted it on Google images – a fairytale chateau sitting in a lake, still reached by its drawbridge.)
POTTERING IN POITIERS
From there it was a short ride into Poitiers, visited just for a morning once before, and remembered as ‘a place to go back to’.
We did so, but entering from a different direction we found it difficult to orientate ourselves. Also, to find suitable parking anywhere near the centre. There seemed little point in getting my scooter out. Instead, I used my stick and we took a short walk, but found little of interest in that area. It was too early for lunch, so we decided to continue our journey along the country road D611, which would pass la Fontaine de La Comte before rejoining the A10 highway to St Jean d’Angèly.
WE DEVIATE –DISCOVER MEDIEVAL LUSIGNAN
Luckily I spotted a brown sign indicating a short detour to the nearby ‘Mediaeval City of Lusignan’.
‘We have plenty of time,’ I said to Graham, ‘and it must be important for the sign to point down such a narrow road.’
He readily agreed, and we soon found ourselves in a small town full of interest. Not least the ruined castle, high on a nearby hill, and built in the 11th century. It was decided I shouldn’t attempt to reach it on my motor scooter; in any case, Graham argued that he doubted there was enough time. But I was able to read a bit about it. Its most famous resident was Guy de Lusignan, who on the second crusade became King of Jerusalem through marrying Sybilla, daughter of the leprous King Baldwyn.
Many were the adventures Guy had, and there is evidence of a film ‘Kingdom of Heaven’ about him. It is not Ridley Scott’s best – and it would appear to be not altogether historically accurate. In any case, it is worth looking Guy de Lusignan up – I suggest the very short (but accurate) account in Encyclopaedia Britannica (where it states he was born in 1129 – not 1150, as in some accounts).
This castle was the favourite of the Duc de Berry, and you can see it illustrated (as it was in his time) in his famous Book of Hours.
Chateau Lusignan from our copy of the Les Tes Riches Heures – du Duc de Berry
THE TALL TOWERS – SOLE SURVIVORS
Nowadays there is little to be seen of it in this modest small town. The most striking survivors are the considerable bases of what must have once been two very tall towers guarding the gated entrance to the once-proud and important city.
You will find them in the Duc de Berry’s illustrations. Even today they dominate the main square of the town, where we parked. See them in the Feature Photo at the beginning of this post.
ENTER THE OLD CITY OVER THE ‘DRAWBRIDGE’
They still bear two shields of the House of Lusignan, founded in the 9th century. To pass through this ‘gateway’ into the old city you have to walk ‘over the drawbridge’, although the moat is filled in.
There are considerable stretches of the old city wall still intact, and a lot of houses remain as they were in the 14th century – and people still live in them. There is a beautiful roofed Market Place in the centre of the old town, close to the church.
Exterior of MarketInterior of MarketChurch of Notre Dame & Saint Junien
THE ANCIENT CHURCH IN THE OLD CITY OF LUSIGNAN
The ancient church is quite small, and rather plain now, though the very tall pillars and the vaulted roof give it dignity. I found a few interesting plaques. Unable to read French, I struggled to find the names they referred to. Topping some lower pillars were some amusing, if rather primitive depictions of mythical animals. I particularly admired the semicircle of largely unadorned Romanesque arches and pillars that guarded the tiny stone altar. They contained tall, stained-glass windows to illuminate it.
COULD THIS BE THE TOMB OF GUY DE LUSIGNAN?
There was a crumbling effigy on a heavy stone sarcophagus lid; it intrigued me, as it stood in front of a side-chapel dominated by an arrangement of crossed swords – but there was no explanation.
Church of Notre Dame & Saint Junien Doorway – Detail
I AM ESCORTED ROUND
An organist had come in and was practising on a small instrument, so I tiptoed around. Presently he climbed down from his stool, and escorted me all over the church. This kind gentleman explained all items of interest, like the place reserved for the minister and his servants to sit – and that for the President.
FINE STATUES – AND THE ‘BESTIARY’
There were a few statues – one was of St Anthony of Padua. The finest was a wooden pieta; the expression on Mary’s face was haunting. My voluntary guide was also anxious to show me the ‘bestiary’; a collection of carvings facing the side door.
Church of Notre Dame & Saint Junien Doorway
MANIPULATING MELUSINE
Carving of Melusine at Lusignan Photo by Jacques Mossot
As well as these twisting, primitive, yet strangely sophisticated carvings of allegorical animals, he was keen for me to see their ‘Melusine’. She is traditionally a two-tailed mermaid, but in this case resembled an air sprite, sailing down from her pillar with her mouth wide open. She is said to still fly around the castle wailing whenever a lord or king is about to die – (remember the King of Jerusalem.)
MELUSINE GOT AROUND: FRANCE, ENGLANDCZECHOSLOVAKIA
This is because this well-known creature of legend – half woman, half fish – was said to have founded the two Angevin families. (The ancestors of our English Henry11 and his famously feisty queen -Eleanor of Aquitaine, and their turbulent sons. Were their daughters also turbulent?)
Melusine was also held responsible for this Lusignan dynasty – set in the lands of said Eleanor. Yes: – we were standing in Aquitaine.
LUSIGNAN’S GREAT TREASURE –WOOD TELLS IT’S STORY
My kind guide’s English was faultless. He left me just before I reached what rivetted me – a quite large panel of sculpted wood. It showed the town as it had been in mediaeval times; just before a battle. The castle in the background was intact, of course, and quite impressive. I readily recognised some of the houses that still stand just behind a section of the city wall.
The figure of a knight loomed large just above the centre of the picture – presumably Guy de Lusignan. A few smaller figures were dotted here and there. I cannot find out enough about it.
Carved wooden Plaque
STUDYING THE STORY OF LUSIGNAN IN CARVING
Now I was impatient for Graham to find me. An expert conservationist of all things wooden, I knew he would love this panel with its gleaming patina of centuries.
When he arrived he was full of excitement at having found the medieval covered market hall. The intricate roof timbers had particularly charmed him, and he had taken several photographs. Now he spent a long time admiring and studying the ancient carved wood panel; and of course, took some photographs of that.
I really hope that I can return to Lusignan when we are less hurried; it needs a little time to learn all of the rich history, and the meanings in the symbolism found all over the place there.
Meanwhile, we three carried on down to Otranto, where we had booked two nights with Lucio the hunter. He who, you may remember, we had met when we took Lolly to eat at Peppino’s. (Also, from the information on Lucio’s business card, our new host was quite big in banking.)
We had a very quick look around the town, which was just as well, because we had difficulty in finding the right road for Lucio’s farmhouse. Eventually Graham ‘phoned him for directions, and we found him waiting for us on the ‘main road’ where he hopped into our car to ‘talk us’ to our destination.
The ‘farmhouse’ was quite small, but had a nice, covered area for outside living.
We were taken inside and shown to our small but attractive bedrooms, both en-suite, to refresh ourselves and change for dinner. Afterwards, we relaxed in the comfortable lounge with aperitifs. The art on the walls (all depicting a hunting interest,) and the large, solid furnishings, declared that this was clearly a man’s home.
A MEMORABLE MEAL
I must tell you of the memorable meal we all enjoyed.
Lucio’s girl friend was there when we arrived, and that evening cooked some very good pasta with lamb and porcini; but his friends brought the piece-de-la-resistance.
They arrived bearing an enormous dish of delicately cooked seafood, caught by them that very afternoon. We had brought wine; almost sufficient for that company – but enough wine is never a problem in Italy. Everyone spoke English, and that meal was very convivial, with lots of laughter. We have learned that Italian and English people have a similar sense of humour.
MORE SMALL TOWN APPEAL – A MOORISH PALACE BY THE SEA
The once hotel-Mosque
The next morning we found Vivien and Lucio busy weeding in his garden. After we had managed to extract her and have a quick breakfast, we took a trip down the coast. There was something special we wanted to show Vivien. At the small, smart resort of Santa Cesaria Termewe stopped to look at a fabulous hotel on the edge of a cliff, which had been built to resemble a beautiful mosque, or Moorish palace.
When Graham and I first spotted it in 2011 you could see it from further up the coast. On first sighting it was gobsmackingly strange and beautiful, painted in various exotic colours. To our dismay, this time we found that the restoration work had ceased and vandals had helped to wreck it. The lovely colours were all faded. We could have cried, and the surprising impact we’d planned for Vivien was diminished. However, we bought lovely fresh figs and other fruit from a street vendor.
SMALL TOWN APPEAL – IS CASTRO APULIA’S SMALLEST RESORT?
Castro restaurant
A bit further down the road we spotted an attractive bar, just outside the old city wall. The courtyard seating, set within shrubs, had a good view of the water gently lapping the rocks. The enclosure was almost full of happily chatting people, and there were good smells drifting into our car.
‘Time for lunch’, I think’, said Graham, and by mutual agreement we all tumbled out .
We found a table, and upon studying the menu, Vivien gave a cry of delight. ‘They have a great variety of tapas,’ she announced.
That sounded perfect. Three choices each, and we’d all share.
Well – I still remember that lunch as a mini-feast. We were all quite stuffed by the time all the little dishes were emptied.
It was agreed that we could all do with a walk. Of course, I was a bit slow, and tired first, so I took the car keys and left the others to quicken their pace to take them round a bit further. It did not take them long to circumnavigate the whole huddle of dwellings.
Meeting back at the car we discussed what to do next. Vivien said she’d welcome a really good look round Otranto. Graham and I had already previously driven down this coast, so we readily agreed.
Old-defensive-tower
‘Can we stop and look at one of those strange stone towers on the edge of the cliffs?’ I asked. I had been intrigued with them the first time we’d seen them in 2011, and again, that day, on the way down.
Returning up the coast, the sun shining hotly again, we turned off the road onto a rocky outcrop which jutted into the sea. While Graham and Vivien climbed up to look at one of the unique stone towers which line that part of the coast, I returned to the rough track. Looking over the shoulder-high wall I found a hidden cove huddled down amongst the base of the steep cliffs upon which we were perched. Little boats moved lazily in and out, and a small motor boat was circling round and round, while a girl standing on the highest rock tracked it with her camera.
When the others joined me we all became fascinated by a family of lizards. One was quite enormous. They regarded us with the same curiosity we extended to them.
SMALL TOWN APPEAL – BUYING CHRISTMAS GIFTS IN OTRANTO
Otranto-city-walls
It was mid-afternoon by the time we parked on the quayside. Otranto is a very lovely town, full of diamond-flagged grand boulevards, and piazzas of pretty pinky-white stone; also those steep little streets of whitewashed houses. There was a beautiful old castle, which I explored with Vivien while Graham went his own way to take photographs. (He has only just confessed to spending the whole time relaxing in the shade outside a nearby bar, swallowing cold beers.)
Time to wander in Otranto
In the upper town we found many small, whitewashed shops in the narrow lanes. We all saw nice souvenirs, like clothes being sold off cheaply at end-of-season. I bought some more Christmas gifts (mainly jewellery)and again wished we could have found room in our car for some of the colourful local pottery. We may find many more examples of the potter’s art in this area if we are ever able to return.
SMALL TOWN APPEAL – IMPORTANT TREASURE – DON’T MISS THIS – 11thC MOSAIC
But the abiding memory of this town is the vast 11th century mosaic covering the entire floor of the old Duomo, the Cattedrale di Santa Maria Annunciata:
This enormous work was executed by one 11th century monk.
The church is now emptied of pews and altar so that visitors can walk round the edges and marvel at the beauty and detail of this colourful and sometimes quirky depiction of ‘The Tree of Life’. It is a beautiful cathedral with arched alcoves down one side, where we descended to the crypt, where there was a good exhibition about the history – and that of the town, too.
Tree-of-life
BELIEVE ME – WEEDS TASTE LIKE WEEDS
Lucio’s girlfriend had left that morning, and Vivien and Lucio told us that they would prepare dinner. We heard earnest discussion emanating from the kitchen, and wondered what they had in store for us.
I won’t say whose idea it was to serve weeds up for our evening meal – just that Graham and I later agreed (with grimaces) that they still tasted like weeds – somewhat bitter, however ECO-FRIENDLY they may be. Unfortunately, Graham didn’t take a photo; but needless to say, his good description of the vegetables was ‘nappy-green sludge’.
We made sure to stop and explore Ostuni, which was on our way to join the coast road. Another remembered favourite, it is called locally The White City because from a distance its hill is crowned with sparkling white buildings. Once inside, we were enchanted by the steep and narrow, winding cobbled streets in the old town. Unsurprisingly, every house was painted a fresh, glaring white, which set off the pots of geraniums on steps and balconies, and the festoons of bougainvillea of every hue.
Ostuni-alleyway
NARROW LANES – TEMPTING LITTLE SHOPS
Ostuni-visitors-climbing-the-steep-streets
In the upper town we found many small, whitewashed shops in the narrow lanes. We were all attracted by nice souvenirs, like clothes being sold off cheaply at end-of-season. I bought some elegant scarves and pashminas for Christmas gifts on our return, and wished we could have found room in our car for some of the colourful pottery. I fell in love with some intricately pierced white china lamps, and antique terra-cotta amphora, which I would have argued to find room for could we have afforded them.
We may find many more examples of the potter’s art in this area if we are ever able to return.
VIVIEN AND I BEHAVE LIKE TEENAGERS
Vivien and I had great fun trying on hats in one shop. Hats do not suit me, but I was disappointed when she did not buy an immense floppy-brimmed job in bright mustard yellow. She looked fabulously elegant in it, and the colour suited her. There was also a treasure-trove of costume jewellery. I bought some for small gifts for friends when we returned home.
Ostuni is very close to Cisternino, where many Trulli are dotted by the road and in further fields only a couple of miles out into the country.
WE SEARCH IN VAIN FOR A REMEMBERED RISTORANTE –
I was surprised and a bit miffed not to find a wonderful ‘wine cellar’ restaurant we’d visited five years before – but later, when we stayed those two nights with Francesca after taking Vivien to her plane in Brindisi, I think we found it in Ciobica, the next little town towards Cisternino, but on the other road. Sadly, at that time of day, it was closed.
We sped along the toll road to Nemours, our next night’s destination. We stopped at Reims for Graham to take some more photos of the particularly good depiction in bronze of Joan of Arc. She looks so very young and small to be managing her rearing horse outside the cathedral.
Le-Grand-Cafe-Reims with ‘Belle Epoch’ interior – all mirrors and gilt and red velvet seats.
We also found our way back to the wonderful Le Grand Café. We had previously fallen in love with this famous landmark. It has retained its ‘Belle Epoch’ interior – all mirrors and gilt and red velvet seats. This time, because of cold, wet weather, we eschewed the so-French tables outside under the large umbrellas. In the plush interior we still had the waiters with their long black aprons scurrying to fulfil our every wish. I felt on that dismal day that their speciality, the moules, wonderful and plentiful though they always are, were just not filling enough. So I had a small, thick steak instead. It came rare, just as I like it, with a wonderful sauce.
Diners sitting out at Le Grand Cafe-Reims
Then it was back on the road. To our eyes, we had found, so far, the top half of France to be rather flat and uninteresting. (Unless you want to visit the graveyards, or deviate to some historic towns).
I’m sure there are plenty more seasoned travellers to defend Normandy and Picardy, who can and probably will show much evidence to prove us wrong.
Try and Take this Road-
We took the A4 and A5 (avoiding the Paris ring road) to a place I’d located when researching with maps and ‘images’ the various possible routes for our trip.
MORET-SUR-LOING – EXCEPTIONALLY ATTRACTIVE
Moret-sur-Loing is a very beautiful small town, with a medieval arched gatehouse astride the bridge. In the past, strangers wanting to enter would be checked (and probably charged.) Off to the left was a charming little turreted house, reached by a small wooden bridge over a mini-weir – perhaps a mill-race. (See feature picture – me crossing bridge.)
The medieval town of Moret-sur-Loing was on our routeDay 3-4 – Google map of our Route
We walked along one bank of the wide river and admired the ancient, half-timbered houses, more elaborate in their designs than most in England. Graham crossed over to the other side to take good pictures of them. Also the cob-and timber ‘offshoot’ dwelling that appeared as if hooked over the side of the bridge. It is visible in our picture above. As is usual in France, the noble old bridge was bedecked with flowers.
Extra Expense -Don’t be Caught Out-
We would love to see more of this place, but we got in our car and drove the 14km on A6 to where I’d booked a room in the Kyriad Hotel – Nemours. It was very difficult to find this hotel, even using Miss SatNav. When we did finally locate it we had to enter a toll road not on our route. In the morning those few yards cost us €6.60; so not such a good deal, after all! Though very comfortable, it was not as nice as staying in a private home, because the staff were impersonal. We declined paying €10 each for breakfast, knowing we could pick up good stuff at a boulangerie along our road.
If you are using that toll road, then it’s a clean, comfy overnight stop.
After finding some breakfast we really started our tour, taking the scenic route from Nemours to Orleans – then Bourges. Some low hills appeared, and we took an ‘A’ road through a few pretty towns. One had a picturesque abbey by a river. Children were bathing in the shallows beneath the bridge. We went through some attractive villages before stopping for coffee at Orleans– a truly beautiful city.
A more ancient narrower street of Orleans
Apart from some romantic medieval lanes it was spacious, and paved almost entirely in white or cream stone tiles – even some of the roadways. The large central ‘place’ was dominated by an enormous statue of Joan of Arc in full armour; her warhorse pawing the ground. Magnificent!
Joan of Arc dominated a large central square – Orleans
BANNERS OF JOAN’S KNIGHTS LEAD YOU TO THE CATHEDRAL
The wide avenue leading to the cathedral had a large banner of one of Joan’s knights hanging from each upstairs window. So – a colourful display before we reached the large circle with the cathedral in it’s centre. Orleans boasts a very clean and pretty cathedral, with sort of open stone ‘lanterns’ flanking the central spire.
Orleans Cathedral – first stop before carrying on our routeJoan-of-Arc-Orleans-stainglass
In the Cathedral.
Orleans Cathedral contains some truly exquisite old window glass.
Inside were two new ‘Rose’ windows on each side aisle. One had wonderful, truly golden intricate designs. The other was a melange of old shards. Both cast their colours onto the flagged stone floor of the aisle.
All around the nave were large, probably late Victorian windows depicting Joan’s life. A progression from humble shepherdess to crowning the Dauphin. The last, rather shocking window depicts France’s heroine stoic amid the flames. All around her British soldiers grin like snarling dogs. This, to a Brit, is very unfair, since a French friend has told us that it was a French bishop who handed her over to the Brits, and he ordered the burning alive.
THE COFFEE SHOPS OF ORLEANS – TOO MANY CUPS?
Dame Nature sent me scurrying into various coffee shops – one extremely grand; the ‘Ladies’ was worth a trip all to itself. Graham was a bit miffed about the cost of the espresso coffee, though – his third that morning, because of my needs. We explored a bit more and admired the very old timbered houses, taller than in England, with steeper sloping roofs and their often criss-cross exposed beams painted in bright colours. Then we passed over the impressive medieval bridge on our way to Bourges.
Do visit Orleans if you can – it is very rewarding
LA FERTE ST-AUBIN
SCENIC ROUTE TO BOURGES: Charming Chateau – Blissful Bistro
As we left there was a noticeable rise in temperature. Enjoying the sight of several chateaux, some old farms, and rivers bordered by trees, we made our way leisurely along the country road towards our next night’s stop. Presently, we came to Le-Ferte-St Aubin, a very small village. Standing back from our road was its really charming chateau. It was bordered by two straight channels of water decorated with ducks and gliding swans.
This Chateau was literally yards from the main road – so we did not deviate from our RouteThe roadside Bistro where we had lunch -a mile along from the Chateau
Nearby was a small bistro with people eating and drinking on the veranda. We decided to scoot along there, as it was nearly two o’clock.
A mouth-watering aroma assailed our nostrils as we approached:
The board offered a choice of three starters, three mains and three desserts; also cheeses. One of the diners started chatting. His English was good, and after urging us to check out the chateau he insisted fervently ‘Order the chicken – it is VERY good’. And so it was – one of our ‘memorable’ meals. Au Bistro Gourmand in Le-Ferte-St-Aubin– both bistro and village were small but special.
The timber house on the bridge at Vierzon
Afterwards, Graham took numerous pictures of the grand house – also named Le-Ferte-St Aubin, before pressing on.
VIERZON – A REMARKABLE BRIDGE-TOLLHOUSE
Being on the scenic route we did, however, pause in Vierzon(very picturesque by the river, with an exceptionally tall, thin, half-timbered house at one end of the bridge.) We stopped for a drink of citron presse and a walk round the lovely old town, despite the heat (about 35C even at 5pm) Remarkably, the sun had finally shown itself.
My biggest mistake; Booking an ‘F1’ outside Bourges.
I GUESS ‘YOU GETS WHAT YOU PAYS FOR’
This ‘hotel’ was certainly cheap. €29 bought us a tiny cubicle. However, I declined to shower in a stall used by about 400 truckers (our genial fellow guests, it appeared.) There was one lav and one shower per floor of about fifty rabbit-hutches. (Sorry, Graham says there was another lav tucked around under the stairs). The plastic-covered bed was lumpy and there were comings and goings all night. It was so hot we had to prop our door open, like every other ‘guest’. Many passed, giggling, returning from their night out. In comparison, the Kyriad at Coquelles, near Calais (of which more later), was terrific value despite somewhat rude staff.
DELIGHTS IN BOURGES
Heaven & Hell.
However, a quick trip that evening into Bourges itself was rewarding, especially the main doorway to the Cathedral in the picturesque ‘townhistorique’. It had a bas-relief of heaven and hell above the ancient, heavy wooden doors. Hell looked much more fun than heaven, which had saintly figures in faintly-coloured robes just standing about, whereas the inhabitants of hell were all naked and writhing…
Heaven and Hell and many doorways – Bourges Cathedral
There was an absolutely gorgeous garden at the back (see feature image). Though small, it had many statues. It was full of very bright flowers in plantings that were definitely un-British. Instead, we appreciated a French sense of design and unusual colour combinations that worked.
I walked between the beds sniffing the roses, but my sense of smell is diminishing these days. Regrettable, but not so bad as hobbling around in pain.
BOURGES’ EXCELLENT MUNICIPAL CAFE.
We were able to admire this haven while slaking our thirsts in comfort at the outdoor Municipal café (which mercifully provided toilets). The weather was very, very hot even in the evening – about 35C as I recall (95Faranheit).
BOURGES – HUMBLE MEAL – EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD SERVICE
Not very hungry, but quite tired, we decided not to look for a nice restaurant, but instead hurry back and get a snack at one of the ‘Industrial Park’ chains close to F1. After dispiritedly studying the bills of fare we ended up in a pizza-cum-sandwich bar called Patapain. Despite winding down in order to close in 20 minutes the staff obligingly heated us a pizza and said we could eat it there. They did not hurry us. We ended up buying some very healthy-looking pastries to take out. They were stacking chairs by now but were unfailingly pleasant and polite. I gave them a good review on Trip Advisor. Good service should always be acknowledged.
This has to be the day when I found myself eye to eye with eagles.
In bed that morning I said to Graham:
“Remember all those gorgeous small mountains we passed on the way to Pompeii? I marvel each time I see them – particularly a cluster on the left of the road.” He nodded. “Well,” I wheedled, “I’ve just looked up Google maps, and then Images. There’s a really attractive little village called Trivigno. It’s not too far away, honestly – 40 minutes, if you take the main roads… And if we don’t go now, we never will.”
WE TAKE THE ROADS LESS TRAVELLED
Hilltop town
40 minutes? At least, that’s the theory. Of course, we did not go by main road: at least, not once we had left behind the boring bits. Graham is just as fond as I am of diving down side roads (or in this case, up). And up, and up again until, our little Golf quite dizzy, we reached the top. Even from afar off we could see a small town perched atop a high mountain.
A MOUNTAIN TOPPED WITH SILVER
It was dominated by a large dome. It gleamed bright silver, reflecting the sun in quite a dazzling way. (This proved to belong to a large Planetarium). This was not Trivigno, but the nearby town of Anzi, which we visited afterwards.)
Anzi with Planetarium right at the top
To resume: As we rounded each bend the views became ever more breathtaking. Mountains pushed behind more mountains. We sometimes saw down to the now-distant highway. Toy cars passed insect-sized animals in the fields far, far below.
Mountain peaks on the way to Trivigno
And thus it was that we visited what became one of my very favourite places. We could never think to stay there –as it had no restaurant, not even a café. There were just two bars. One was really tiny, run by an elderly couple.
Mountain roads
TRIVIGNO – FULL OF SURPRISES
Once we turned off the main road our valiant little Golf tackled potholes that belonged by rights in the Grand Canyon. Dog-leg curves went round nearly 300 degrees in places, and that on a 45-degree slope. In many places the low ‘safety barrier’ had been stove in, or was missing altogether. Round and round we went, and up and ever up. We declined Miss SatNav’s suggestions of tiny little grass-grown tracks that shot out like arrows. They sped in a straight line (almost vertical, they seemed) directly to the top.
AN OMINOUS ‘PONG’
At one point an awful smell assailed our nostrils. I kept trying to guess what it was.
Graham said, “look down to the left”. I did so, to see a small graveyard – the type with mausolea above ground. A woman completely swathed in black clothes was making her way along one of the paths. We assumed that there had been a recent burial in a tomb in need of repair. This was not surprising in what might well prove to be a very poor mountain-top village.
Main Street – Trivigno
WE ATTRACT STARES
We arrived at 1.30, and found some men gathered outside a bar; but that one was closed. When we asked for a Ristorante, they shook their heads. They pointed to a very small, shabby shop at the top of the steep street by the square where we’d have to park our car.
Only half-believing, we went inside to find a clean and well-stocked little shop. We waited for all the locals to be served first. After all, this was probably their lunch hour. Finally, we asked the old lady who was serving if she would kindly make us a sandwich. But I spotted, in a glass case, half of a freshly made foccaccia. This delicious Italian flatbread was loaded with tomato paste, sun-dried tomatoes and olives.
WE BUY A WHITE CHEESE ‘BALLOON’
We bought a tiny cheese to try with it; one of those shaped like a party balloon. But when we opened our ‘picnic’ this cheese proved to have a wax skin, instead of a length of cleaned intenstine. When we cut it, the inside was extremely creamy and milky. Pure white, it was too mild for our taste. But we decided we must try some of those larger ‘balloon’ cheeses before we left the area. They come in all sizes, and they probably vary in taste according to where they are produced.
A PICNIC ABOVE THE CLOUDS
It was 26 degrees Celsius or more, so we looked for a patch of shade. We chose a thick stone bench overlooking the mountaintops opposite. We brought out the cheese and prosciutto (ham) we’d purchased. It was quite a feast, washed down with bottles of fruit juice.
Courtyard entrance
NOT THE BEST CUP OF COFFEE
Then we walked down to the little bar at the bottom for kaffé. It was manned by a toothless inhabitant of great age. I had a hard time making him understand my need for – you’ve guessed it…
The kaffé was not good, and the little cups less than spotless. It transpired that he was minding the place while his wife (younger and fitter) was out shopping or something. Presently she came down from the hill the other side, clucking at him reprovingly.
We then made our way slowly up that very steep hill. I clung to Graham’s arm while using my stick in my other hand. We passed very old and pretty small houses and the open door of what must have once been the ‘Palazzo’. Looking past the few restoration bits and pieces we glimpsed several arches and wide steps disappearing from a sizable courtyard.
STATUES DRESSED IN SILK AND VELVET
Next came a little building that did not from the street look like a church. However, the door was open and we glimpsed the stained glass and effigies. Was this where some life sized lady saints (dressed ‘up to the nines’ in 17th century fashionable silks and velvets) were enclosed in glass domes? I know we saw several of these, and it is hard to be certain that it was in this little church in Trivigno that there were so many, and so sumptuously dressed. One especially impressed me in a generous gown of dark green velvet trimmed with intricate cream handmade lace. She was wearing a rich-looking ruby necklace.
Alter screen at Trivigno
SO MANY CHURCHES – SO SMALL A TOWN
There seemed a surprising number of churches for such a small, mountaintop town.
One in particular left a lasting impression: It was dedicated to San Pietro (St Peter).
Church organ at Trivigno
We were surprised and delighted when we went inside. We admired a handsome malachite and gold barrier topped by most delicate intricate wrought iron separating the sanctuary. It supported the pure white pottery Jesus on a wooden crucifix. All that wrought iron was studded with lit candle-type lights that bathed the figure in dazzling white light.
MORE JAWDROPPING BEAUTY
As we turned around to leave we were astounded to see a large golden balcony above the main door. Rising from it were the silver pipes of an organ. Such riches for a tiny church in a modest little mountaintop village!
THE GUARDIAN OF THE STEPS
Suddenly, round a steep corner, we were confronted with a long, narrow ‘staircase’ of shallow steps. They led up the steep slope to a facing row of houses like nothing I’d seen so far in Italy. We had just put a foot each on the lowest step when we were startled by fierce barking from a dog; heard but not seen. We paused, uncertainly, and at last a woman came out on her little balcony and led him indoors.
I COME TO A HALT – I GET VERTIGO
She waved us on up. We rounded that terrace to go further up amongst abandoned, if not ruined dwellings. There was still a steep climb until we came out right at the top. There was nothing but a very narrow path leading round the house on our right. It looked out, like us, over a sheer drop. We looked across miles of apparently empty space to the closest mountain of a range. In the clear air I felt that I could almost touch them.
Jackie’s View – closer to the peaks
LOOKING DOWN ON BIRDS OF PREY
Kites and buzzards and eagles wheeled around us. ‘In fact’, said Graham, standing on that narrow corner, ‘I’m actually looking DOWN on birds of prey! And I’m not in an aeroplane!’
As for me; I stepped cautiously sideways, and with quaking legs lowered myself onto a slab of concrete.
ALONE WITH EAGLES SWOOPING ROUND ME
Graham was, of course, enchanted. He took snap after snap, and then noticed some very narrow steps to his left, leading down around the rooftops. He hoped it led to what resembled a short runway and helicopter pad sticking out on a promontory.
Trivigno’s Platform in the Sky
HELICOPTER PAD – SACRIFICE JUMP-OFF
I don’t think it was – we think it was built for religious processions – but it was a unique viewing platform that Graham had to attain. So for 30 minutes or so I sat steadfastly unmoving, gazing over the void to the spectacular mountaintops. An eagle flew over to study me, and when I summoned the strength to stand up and turn around Icould see Graham’s tiny figure far out on the end of the ‘peninsula’.
Jackie on Terra FirmaLocals putting the world to rights
ON THE EDGE OF THE VOID
It looked to me as though the railings ceased right at the end. Visions assailed me of this being used for human sacrifices in days long past. I prayed fervently that my venturesome husband would not stand on the edge. He did; of course. He waved, and I quickly sat down again until he finally returned to me, safe and sound. It was a long twenty minutes until he returned; I could only study the eagles, hoping they did not wish to study me at closer quarters!
I’ll never forget tiny, humble, magic Trivigno. It’s Sump’n Else!
ANZI – A PLANETARIUM ON TOP OF THE WORLD
We had to go back via Anzi, so we eventually took the winding road up to this much larger hilltop town. We went along a quite smart street, and were able to locate the road up to the unmissable Planetarium. However, when Graham saw the rough, unmade track leading to it, he balked… He’s tackled some hairy roads in his time, so I respected his wishes. Anyway, science isn’t exactly my passion.
Zig-zag road to the Planetarium
THE LOCALS SEE US TURN ‘CHICKEN’
To the bemusement of some of the local population we rejoined the road at the point where it started corkscrewing down the ‘small’ mountain. The toy cars gradually became larger and the pinpricks in the fields turned into cows.
ROUND DIZZYING BENDS – A RECEPTION COMMITTEE
It was with relief that we at last emerged from the last bend. Lovely to drive on a nice flat surface on a nice wide junction of empty roads. But then a shock! We wondered why no less than THREE Caribiniere (and officers of high rank at that, from the look of their uniforms) were waiting to greet us. What had we done? What crime had we committed?
But it was soon evident that these were comrades who had just emerged from some Ceremonial lunch or something. They greeted us with polite waves, and then laughingly passed cigars around. Graham pointed the car back to Grottole. We were satisfied with our Day in the Clouds. Amongst all our travels of recent years we were certain we would be able to call to mind quite vividly the remarkable Eagle’s Nest that is the tiny village of Trivigno.
Our B&B – The beautiful old long farmhouse at Sorges – shaded by a large Sweet Chestnut tree
We were now well and truly in the North Dordogne. The countryside we passed through became increasingly beautiful, and we noticed a change in the style of buildings old and new.
SORGES – RETURNING TO A LOVELY WELCOMING B&B
After a few days non-stop travelling it’s good to take a breather. Relaxing: part of why we all go away. The South of France is great for this. We had booked months ahead atLe Grain D’Art, a lovely old farmhouse just outside Sorges belonging to Christian and Marie.
THE COLOUR-THEMED ROOMS OF A GIFTED ARTIST
Marie is a very gifted artist, and this is evident in the way she throws unusual colours together in decorating her home. Her combinations always work. When we arrived in early September we were given the same lovely, spacious ‘Apple room’ for two nights as two years before. The Apple Room is detached, with its own shower room and a separate WC. French doors lead straight into the garden… Le Grain D’Art
Marie was away taking a course, but her husband, Christian, despite being awoken from his afternoon nap, made us welcome and later provided the same generous breakfasts with a choice of three crusty French breads and home-made jams, as well as cereal, yoghourt, fresh fruit and lavish coffee. It was very hot (38C) and so we rested on our free day. Instead of visiting again favourite places like Perigueux, Brantome and Sarlat-le-Caneda, we just lazed around.
Sarlat-le-Caneda – A must see-beautiful medieval town with narrow winding streets and towering buildings – close to Sorges
We Just Love Eating At –
The night we arrived we had skipped dinner altogether – it was still 38C at around 6pm. On our second evening we went for a splendid meal at Marie’s favourite restaurant, the Auberge de la Truffe in nearby Sorges. They’d made a great fuss of us the year before. This time, like most of the diners, we passed through the beautifully-laid formal restaurant and ate instead in the pretty courtyard, under an awning that kept out some of the heat (about 36C.) The service and food were superb as ever; we felt truly pampered. This is a lovely, lovely restaurant, both in decor and the attention to detail in EVERYTHING – but especially the food, which looks almost too good to eat – but we did, and enjoyed every morsel. Auberge de la Truffe is an exceptional dining place.
