Thirty-six minutes later we were back at Thouars Resistance Museum. Now well after 2pm, we stood once more outside a locked door; only this time we could see people within. And on the square a bus was disgorging schoolchildren.
We knocked on the glass, and received shakes of the head from a young lady within; but then the nice girl we’d spoken to that morning spotted us. She persuaded her boss to let us in.
WE HAVE THE EXHIBITION ENTIRELY TO OURSELVES
We had the entire exhibition to ourselves, and hand-held speakers gave us English translation regarding the photos and objects.
THE REJOICING OF THE OPRESSORS
There was such a lot to see: Some very well presented photographs and written testimony. Also videos of film taken at the time. It made us go cold to see jubilant German soldiers shooting inhabitants into the mass grave they’d been forced to dig. It brought home again how easy it seems to be to ‘turn’ a group of ordinary, decent young men into unthinking, uncaring monsters. IT CAN HAPPEN ANYWHERE.
This exhibition, and others like it, should be visited widely, and heeded as warnings against history repeating itself.
REJOICINGS AT LIBERATION –
Other photographs showed the people mad with joy when the Americans drove in. But there were also darker pictures, showing the consequent punishments served on those who had collaborated with the enemy.
-AND RETRIBUTIONS – ON PROFITEERS AND GOOD-TIME GIRLS
Not least those women who had chosen ‘a good time’ hobnobbing with the German soldiers. Also the few local profiteers, who had lined their pockets by collaborating with the enemy.
TRIBUTES TO THE LOCAL ‘MAQUIS’
There were many written and photographed histories of the little local band of Maquis – mostly very young. Though not all: some very brave older folk took tremendous risks. Many were marched off to suffer in concentration camps – or were shot on the spot. Hard to say which was the worse fate.
The Marie
THERE ARE STILL A FEW ALIVE TO TELL THEIR TALES
Very few Maquis survived the war – but there are actually still a handful of these brave people still living. Most of these must have been children when they took part in the sabotage adventures. I wish I could remember the name of one exceptionally daring woman who took a leading part in the local sabotage and even fighting. This national heroine not only survived the war, but concentration camp and a death march – she lived until 2002.
That evening we were surprised to see that the ‘tent-shop’ at the roadside was still open. We went in and bought water, ham, cheese – and a whole fruit flan, as you see them only in France. We shared it in the cool of the evening with Yvonne and Stephen, sitting out in the flowery front courtyard.
We discovered Les Baux quite by accident, as I’ll explain later.
23rd November:
Travelling along the Languedoc coast I said to Graham: ‘Do you realise this is my brother’s birthday?’
I hoped Trevor did not feel neglected because I had not sent a card. He had no idea I was in France. We had deliberately not mentioned our long trip anywhere on the Internet (except when booking, of course.) Just before we had left he was somewhere on the high seas on a cruise. We knew he had just moved to a new address (as then unknown to us).
MAKING FOR OUR FAVOURITE FRENCH B&B
We were happy to be on our way to Villelongue D’Cote Jardin; our top favourite French B&B. It is a very old farmhouse attached to the Abbaye deVillelongue, near St Martin le Vieil, in the AUDE region.
SET YOUR SATNAV TO NEAREST VILLAGE
We had long ago learned the hard lesson to set our SatNav to
ST MARTIN LE VIEIL, as there are many places in France called Villelongue.
WE SEARCH IN VAIN FOR THE OCHRE –
To reach Villelongue we took the toll road (A8,A7,D54,D24). The weather was changeable, and we did not feel recovered enough to do a long country journey. There were some nice autumn colours here and there, but the ground was mainly flat. I had, however, expressed a strong desire to stop for half an hour in some famous Ochre quarries I had heard of. They were close to the road off towards Orange, but not that far, according to a guidebook I’d been lent. I had scribbled some very hasty notes.
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL
The road sign
I now told Graham ‘They’re in a place called Les Baux’. It’s just before the turn off for Orange’.
I perused like a hawk all the road signs we passed, but no Les Baux appeared, and no brown signs to ochre quarries. Not even on the turnoff to Orange. We seemed almost at Montpellier when in small letters ‘Les Baux’ appeared on a long list of motorway directions. Sighing at my insistence, Graham turned off onto the D27. That narrowing road seemed to go on for hours.
It led through two pretty and prosperous-looking villages. One was exceptionally attractive. Was it La Cazou – or (most probably) the other, called ‘Maussane-les-Alpelles’, that helped Graham perk up? Or maybe the third one, named La Remise?
NO ORANGE AND YELLOWMOUNTAINS
The slow journey seemed endless, and mostly rather boring. At last came a small roadsign with more directions to Les Baux. We drove down a narrow, straight road, with trees and buildings on our right.
“I wonder where these damn quarries are,’ I said gloomily. ‘We ought to be seeing yellow and orange mountains by now – I saw the pictures.’
‘We’ll, it’s only 1 kilometre now, so we may as well carry on,’ he answered.
LES BAUX – NO OCHRE – BUT WE FIND MAGIC
The road to Les Baux
I feared I’d get a lecture about wasting time when suddenly, the road ended in a track. Before us, out of the flat plain, loomed an enormous high, jagged white rock face resembling an almost symmetrical cone.
‘What on earth is that?’ he said.
‘It appears to have a window cut in it – but it’s so large – and why there? But it can’t be natural; it’s too perfect a shape.’ As we got closer the escarpment looked almost castle-like.
The answer came almost immediately. A white finger post pointed us to ‘Les Baux; bastion of Les Seigneurs & le Roi.’
LES BAUX – BASTION OF KINGS
‘Roi means royal,’ I said. ‘I do know that word, at least.’
‘And ‘bastion’ means something like castle, or stronghold’, said Graham.
We got back into our car and he drove up as far as he could, winding round the escarpment until we came to a flat parking space. I was happy to see some toilets built into the rock face. Ignoring the wind plucking at my cape I hobbled toward them, praying they would be open. Fortunately, I was lucky. (Sorry how often they crop up in this narrative; but believe me, when you reach a certain age…)
A Narrow Street in Les Baux
FREE TOILETS – FREE PARKING – BRITISH ATTRACTIONS TAKE NOTE!
Meanwhile, Graham had gone up to the small sentry-box affair to pay our fee, but was told all was free, presumably because of our Blue Badge – or maybe it was some local saint’s day?
We spent a pleasant hour or so relaxing over excellent coffee in a pretty café-bar, where I discovered that the most stupendous views were from the lavatory window. I told Graham it didn’t matter if he didn’t want to ‘go’; he must take his camera with him, and make sure to look at the baronial fireplace in the next room on the way!
LES BAUX IS WELL WORTH TURNING OFF TO – IT’S UNIQUE!
Lovers in a Narrow Street in Les Baux
Les Baux is simply amazing, and extremely beautiful. You can get some idea from Googling it on ‘images’ – but you really need to visit if you can. And walking around we found the window-space we’d seen from the road. It was simply immense and surrounded on the ‘inside’ with decorated carvings.
A Pyramid of Pots
LES BAUX HAS INTRIGUING AND PRETTY LITTLE SHOPS
All the way up we passed along narrow, cobbled streets of charming stone medieval houses, and were charmed into entering many of the interesting small shops. Embroideries, handmade soaps and perfumes from local flowers – cakes and other local food specialities. All were presented with that unique ‘panache’ the French are famous for. I’m afraid we looked a lot, but did not buy much. Cash was depleted at the end of our long holiday.
SIEGE ENGINES AND BIRDS OF PREY
Graham, though very interested, did not want to climb up to the top, as his foot was hurting. So he missed seeing the birds of prey, and the siege-engines we were later told about. My breath was running out; but I somehow discovered that I’d had the location of those ochre mines right, but not the name of the place! Anyway, it was a serendipitous mistake. We would not have missed Les Baux for the world.
We left Tripotello on our fourth morning. We would be staying in Carini, a town just outside Palermo. Our country road crossed the island to the North Coast. It would lead us through a very large forest.
Golden woods of Parco Dei Nebrodi
My one regret in planning such a late holiday had been that already (on 8thNovember) I would have missed autumn in Britain. I love to see the colours each year. I had not expected to see them here, as back in mainland Italy there was hardly a sign of yellowing in the trees. To my delight, as we entered the forest we found the whole area was gleaming with brightly golden autumn leaves. If anything, they grew even brighter as our road climbed and then started to descend, a mountain. After two hours or so I begged Graham to stop where we might take a walk. Presently he was able to park the car by a grassy glade.
Our Golf parked by the grassy glade
Cattle of the Parco Dei Nebrodi
JOURNEY TO CARINI – AN ABRUPT END TO AN IDYLL
No sooner were we out of the car and enjoying the birdsong and the feel of soft grass through our sandal-sides than a tinkling of bells grew rapidly louder, and we could hear conversation. A large group of men and animals were obviously coming down from the mountain.
To our great consternation a largish herd of bulls appeared out of the trees. They proceeded to cross the road not very far in front of us – about twenty yards. We could see many coming up behind. So I had to forfeit my walk; but Graham took great pleasure in filming the handsome beasts with their long horns. I admit that I stood well behind him! We debated whether to post the video as it was of such poor quality, but the sounds that it captured were so evocative of the region. Several times we stopped the car in the forest. Though we only saw the cattle roundup once, we heard it several times.
Parco dei Nebrodi, Sicily.
Cattle of the Parco Dei Nebrodi
CEFALU
Duomo at Cefalù
As there was time for some sightseeing, we took the coast road to Cefalu. Itwas high time, we decided, to visit the sea again. After all, we were staying on an island!
We are not lovers of beach resorts. Rather, ‘culture vultures’, I suppose, seeking out historical buildings and art. Unlike many, though, we love to get off the beaten track. Our chief joy is diving down any little country lane that looks inviting – seeing where it leads. Though not infallible, we have discovered many a hidden gem this way.
Nobody can blame the Italians for ‘prettifying’ their fishing villages, and filling them with souvenir shops. Nevertheless, it was a joy to discover that Cefalu offered much more. It had evidence of an important past.
Its impressively grand cathedral, we learned, was built by one of Sicily’s Norman rulers; Roger the Second. As well as its twin towers, it had some intriguing and delicate arches along its front.
Deciding we did not have time enough to justify paying a rather steep entry fee, we settled for sitting just outside, sipping Peronis. Feeling cooler, we started exploring the town. Buildings gave witness to its history. We saw Byzantine and Spanish influences, as well as Norman and Arab; then rather fine Italian styles.
We made our way down to where we overlooked the rocky harbour. This still retained the look of an honest fishing village. We soaked in the view along the coast before getting back in the car.
Cefalù
Days 4 & 5:
CARINI – TROUBLE FINDING OUR B&B – ‘THE GREEN HOUSE’
Our next B&B was in The Green House, in Carini – run by Alesso and his mother. We had terrible trouble finding it. Miss Satnav would insist on sending us down an empty back-alley right beside the elevated motorway we had come in on.
This was not the first time that Airbnb had given insufficient directions. We tried telephoning the number on our sheet, but with no success.
Finally we retraced our steps and found a café nearby. After a refreshing coffee, the owner tried phoning for us, and obtained more detailed directions.
Our B&B was in the road behind the alley, and had to be approached from a different direction entirely!
CARINI B&B – HELPFUL HOSTS
As we turned into a very private small road, our host came out to direct us to a parking place, and then, with his mother, helped Graham carry in our luggage.
We found ourselves in a very nice private house – the inside reminding us vaguely of ‘haciendas’ seen in Hollywood films.
We had a large bedroom, although the wardrobe was at that time filled with someone’s clothes (this may have been unavoidable). We had to share the bathroom, but that proved no problem.
CARINI B&B – CAKES FOR BREAKFAST
Mamma (Janice?) went to great lengths to produce nice breakfasts, cooking many cakes (which is about the only time Italians eat cakes – and little else!) It was very reasonably priced. We felt very welcome in their private home, and we stayed two nights.
Adresse Chambres d’hôtes Green House : Via Medusa 3 – 90044 CARINI
(We booked this place through Air B&B – but as so often with them, we had vexing complications regarding payment (through exchange rates, I think). We will not use them again – at least for staying abroad. They are never as cheap as the first advertised price anyway.) To be fair, many friends back in England have been pleased with bookings in our own country.
We took friendly leave of our host (despite having paid more than in all the rest of our holiday because he treated Graham and I as ‘singles’. We think this is because he usually fills up with fellow hunters, who are probably single men from the big cities.)
ORNAMENTATION – LECCE IS FULL OF IT!
We turned north west for Lecce, which always enjoys top billing in all the travel brochures; mostly famous for its baroque churches, which are smothered in ornamentation.
It was raining hard when we reached the only likely parking place, which forced us to walk across a dripping park. LECCE was a great disappointment to all of us. (The continuing rainstorm did not help).
The Exuberance of RococoCentral Piazza
O.T.T. or WHAT?
Quite a large city, those most famous baroque churches were crowded in together, as were their bits and pieces of ornamentation, vying with each other for attention. We agreed that they cancelled each other out. Graham commented, ‘The sculptors must have been on acid to produce such a proliferation of ornamentation . The scaffolding for the restoration work doesn’t help.’
Afterwards, we had to walk quite a long way through boring streets to find the next attraction, like the very wide central piazza with two impressive statues at its entrance. (Think it housed the Episcopal Palace). Some of the ornamentation we found here really pleased us – animal heads with sometimes comical expressions held up along balcony; unusual caryatids.
Nearby was a café that sold ‘Real English Tea’. We ordered some, which came after a lengthy wait, and the bill had Graham reeling. (Be warned – they don’t know how to make English tea properly) Feeling foolish, and ripped off, we turned into a street of craftspeople – and I still wish I had bought some embroidered aprons to take back as gifts; the ornamentation was unusual.
Roman ruins below street level
A HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CITY
Bishop Orontus
The best bit of Lecce for us was a great hole in the middle of a busy crossroads. Peering over the railings one looked down on very impressive Roman ruins. Quite unexpected and romantic, even though sans ornamentation, and to our minds far more interesting than sainted Bishop Orontus atop an immensely tall column nearby. Also, I was able to buy a good-sized tube of Arnica ointment in one of those smart, specialist shops called L’Erbolario. You’ll never find a larger selection of natural cosmetics and remedies.
METAPONTO
Greek temple at Metaponto
TARANTO
Posing for the record at Metaponto
We went on the country road to Taranto, passing through Manduria, a surprisingly large town, and then San Giorgio Iconico, clearly quite poor now; but some street urchins were very polite when we asked the way.
We reached Taranto but did not do more than show Vivien a cursory look at this major resort for the area, which is very like any English South Coast town, except for the palm trees lining the long, wide boulevard. We looked down from the car onto quite a large industrial port at one end.
It was on our way to Metaponto. We were anxious for Vivien to visit this very good Ancient Greek site, and particularly wanted to show her the beautiful new museum.
ANCIENT GREEKS AND MODERN MEN.
This time we were able to stay longer in the museum, devoted to the Classical Period, and Graham introduced Vivien to the lady at the desk and then the curator, who were both most interested to discuss with the English conservators the local methods of conservation of the interesting objects on show.
A WORLD-FAMOUS CLASSICAL COLLECTION
Of particular interest is the world-famous collection of Classical Greek pottery; in some examples here the ornamentation exceeded what one has become familiar with in other museums. Then there are the classical temple pillars and the foundations on still other other outside sites nearby, which are extensive and impressive.
National Museum at Metaponto – Photo from their site
TINY TEMPLES – MAKE-UP – JEWELLERY
Frieze from Temple to Athena Metaponto
While they were all deep in conversation I wandered around on my own and discovered lovely little sculptures of classical temples and goddesses, and numerous examples of classical ornamentation on brooches, hairpins, etc.; and one most delicate and elaborate hair ornament. This museum is clearly a recent build. It has been beautifully designed, with large, well-spaced glass cases in an open plan. Some of the rooms have little strips of fresh green plants to separate different types of object. http://www.aptbasilicata.it/The-National-Museum.553+M52087573ab0.0.html
Lions head water spout for a building
We then went outside and had fun in the largest site, picking our way over the foundation walls of numerous old Classical temples, and posing by more pillars. The restaurant near the museum had closed for the afternoon by the time we sought lunch, but we were able to buy citron pressè and sandwiches at a booth just inside the nearby public park.
NO WELCOME FOR ONCE
That was the evening we sought dinner in our friendly little town of Miglionico, which was on our way back to base. I remember that when we first took her there Vivien remarked on how I exchanged ‘Buongiorno’ and Buona Sera’ with practically every resident we passed (she thought it excessive, but everybody had greeted us when Graham and I had first entered the place. Manners are still very important in Italy and Italians are very polite)
We thought we’d take her to eat in the smart Hosteria del Malconsiglio, near the only car park we had so far found available to non-residents.
GOOD PIZZA – PRETTY RISTORANTE
Graham and I had eaten just pizza in there on our second evening in Basilicata, because we had had a very good lunch earlier that day. We were charmed by the decor and the friendly, helpful hostess, and determined to go back for dinner sometime, although the menu was not cheap.
We arrived with Vivien a quarter of an hour before opening time. We were in the middle of a rare thunderstorm. Rain was tipping down, and to Graham’s consternation there was no room in the small car park. He suggested that Vivien and I wait under the porch until the restaurant opened, as stated on the door, at seven o’clock.
However, when a van drew up and a man started bearing in a great box (looking like it contained a wedding cake) and other supplies, he was very annoyed when we asked if we could now go inside out of the rain.
He snapped, “Come back; open at 8 o’clock”.
“Can we shelter from this downpour?”
“We have nowhere to go in this rain. No car.”
After several minutes he reluctantly allowed us inside. We sat at a table, ignored by two young waiters polishing glasses. They did not even offer us water, and ignored us when we tried to ask for it.
The proprietress did not come in that night, but Graham came back at about 7.30, when he asked to order wine. This eventually appeared, and at eight o’clock what looked like a football team of young fellows and their friends trooped in and occupied a table along one wall.
WE ARE TOTALLY IGNORED
They ordered food not on the menu, but they were all served before we were grudgingly asked if we were ‘ready to order’. We did so, to be told that some dishes were unavailable, and the dishes we did have looked totally different to the attractive food served to another party of four (perhaps a local family?) who had entered well after us.
You hardly ever get this sort of treatment in Italy, but on this holiday there were three occurrences; the other two were in November and in hot tourist spots – and it was right at end-of-season, so no doubt they were tired and had had their share of arrogant tourists (which we are told we are not, by the way.) Miglionico gets coach parties and there are a few places to stay, I believe – but it is hardly a hot spot.
Showing the kind of wonderful selection this Pasticceria sold – Photo from their site.
SADLY – WE NEVER RETURNED
Much later we discovered that the restaurant was owned by the baker/confectioner who ran the smart Pasticceria mentioned above. (The elaborate ornamentation on some of the little cakes was something to behold and wonder at.) He, and the young woman who mainly served the coffee were both charming and attentive. We did not tell him about our bad treatment by his young waiters, and I deliberately did not put a review of the restaurant on Trip Advisor, because we had ample evidence that (to other people) it gave excellent service and food.
FEASTING WITH FALSTAFF
The next time we ate with Vivien in Miglionico it was at Peppino’s, (described at great length in a previous Post. If you have not read it ‘click here’) She is the sort of person who appreciates excellence in all its guises, and is content with ‘no-frills’, especially at a good price. She agreed that ‘Peppino’s is a FIND’. L’Evoluzione Della Brace
HOW I HATED THAT COOKER!
We were all having a fabulous holiday. We cooked a few meals on the strange little cooker in our kitchen. I never managed to light the gas rings unaided, as I had to hold down and twist the knobs whilst pressing and applying a tiny cigarette lighter, which hurt my fingers. It had to be held down until the gas popped, then I must quickly reverse the knob before the flame went out. My old fingers (or my old brain) were not strong enough.
Gas lit, albeit by one of the others, I would cook the produce we’d bought in Miglionico or Grottole that morning.
Thin slices of filet of veal with porcini was a favourite, but some ‘steak’ that proved tough when fried I later cooked with the lovely fresh organic local veg, and it made a welcome stew on a colder evening. Vivien also cooked once or twice, but on the whole we all loved to ‘eat out’.
Text by – Jackie Usher, SWWJ. (aka author Debbie Darkin, & ‘Graham Liverpool’ on Trip Advisor.)
Photographs by – Graham Usher. Except for the photos of the Pasticceria and the National Museum at Metaponto, which were taken from their own sites.
