LEAVING GIVERNY, we took the A13 for CHARTRES. The road soon turned into the A928. It took us through mostly unremarkable agricultural land. In the town of Dreux, we saw again a sight that had intrigued us on previous visits.
As the main road passed through the centre of the little town, we were flanked on each side by an avenue of trees trimmed like identical cubes. They are not uncommon in this part of France. Admittedly they are novel; but somehow the allure in sacrificing their original beauty escapes us. ‘Law and Order’ gone mad, to our romantic minds.
ANET – A LONELY ROYAL PALACE
Thirty-five minutes down the road we HAD to stop. The road widened. In front of us, on the right-hand side of the road, was a most enormous, imposing building in the Classical style. A palace?
We pulled in by the kerb opposite. I was by this time desperate for a loo; a road sign indicated one just round the corner. By the time I’d hoofed it round and found it closed I was near to panic. With relief, we spotted a bar open on the other side of a wide stretch of gravel where we were parked.
Gatehouse
DIANE THE HUNTRESS – DUCHESS OR GODDESS?
One customer sat outside, and the proprietor looked startled as I dashed for his ‘WC’ at the back. Luckily, Graham followed me in. Soon we too were sitting outside under an awning, sipping citron pressé. The gentleman quaffing his drink informed us that we were in Anet. The ‘palace’ was in fact, a hunting lodge, built for Diane de Poitiers, a great French royal beauty of 16 century – our English Elizabethan period.
ANET HUNTING LODGE – MORE THAN A CHATEAU
The architect was one Philibert de l’Orme, who obviously had in mind that the chateau, at the bottom of the Valley of the Eure, was at the top of the Royal Forest of the Hunt.
ANET – ROYAL STAG HOLDS HOUNDS AT BAY – HUNTRESS SURVEYS
A magnificent stag tops the entrance arch, flanked by four baying hunting dogs. In an alcove beneath, Diana the Huntress is stretched out, lounging, surrounded by her prey.
Diana central piece
Domed building
ANET PALACE – HUDDLE OF BUILDINGS – IS ONE AN OBSERVATORY?
There were several dwellings behind the walls and the large frontal buildings. One had a very graceful dome; it looked like an observatory. There was a range of housing, and then at the far end was an enormous ‘mausoleum’; a mini-palace in itself. Clearly, the lovely Diane had been held in high esteem.
ANET PALACE IS IN DIANE’S DEER PARK – OPEN FOR ALL TO ENJOY
It was hard to tear ourselves away. We decided not to go through the wide arch that led into the grounds and the deer park beyond. Several local mums came out pushing buggies and chatting.
EXPLORING ANET?
We climbed into the car, wondering what the rest of Anet would be like. Just as we passed the chateau we had to turn a corner – and that was it! We already had left Anet behind…
ANET – CHARTRES ROAD AGAIN
By this time the temperature had climbed, so we decided to press on to our booked bed and breakfast outside Chartres.
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.
We entered the Gironde and went first to Auch, (just had to pronounce it in phonetic English!). Unfortunately, we never found the famous statue of D’Artagnan. Nor that of his creator, Alexander Dumas; or the Four Musketeers.
Instead, we parked in a wide, tree-lined boulevard, outside an impressive villa bearing a ‘for sale’ sign. Just over the road we enjoyed excellent coffee and lively conversation in a smart little bar.
Having plenty of time, we took the country road to Mont-de-Marsan, on the edge of the scenic area of the Gironde. We found it to be a pretty town full of interest, and despite having earlier bought filled baguettes for midday, we could not resist mouthwatering smells from a small bistro. We had a light lunch there instead.
Then, in high hopes of a bit of luxury (£65 per night on 24th November in the Gironde was on the high side) we joined the highway to Bazas, and – CHATEAU ST. VINCENT:
Chateau St. Vincent
A LETDOWN FROM THE START
We were impressed when we spotted the frontage of Chateau St. Vincent. We looked forward to a nice meal in an elegant dining room with a roaring log fire. To enter, though, we had to take a long way round to the back gate. (This was a surprise, as we had booked well in advance).
A dog barked fiercely at us as we parked our car in the empty yard. Finally, a man left a greenhouse-annexe affair and pointed to a long, dirty conservatory jammed with junk. We were left to search for the only door that would let us in.
NO WELCOME WHEN WE ARRIVED
We presently found ourselves in a large, dark hall filled with even darker, looming furniture. We waited at the desk a good ten minutes after dinging the bell.
SO FREEZING COLD – IT MUST HAVE BEEN HAUNTED
Eventually a lady wearing several woollen cardigans topped by a jacket under a fur gilet finally appeared. We could well understand her garb – it was icy cold in there, though warmer outside – about 10 Celsius…
She took us up a dingy, once-grand staircase onto a long landing with a beautiful polished wood floor and some antique furniture set amongst old toys. A nice bedroom seemed likely.
OUR BEDROOM WAS POOR
Instead, we were in for a disappointment. Our room was small, bare, and freezing cold. It had one of those cheap camp-bed affairs, and one inadequate see-through curtain. The shower-suite, in a sort of cupboard, looked quite smart, but we put off having showers until morning. She showed us a stone-cold radiator in our icy room. No attempt had been made to turn it on, even though we were pre-booked and had phoned to say we were on our way. Even now, she did not turn it on for us, but tossed down two small, thin towels and swept out.
Mercifully, the radiator worked. We made the room quite hot at first to warm ourselves up after a long, arctic wait. I left the bathroom door open to facilitate a passage of air, and after washing, etc. we climbed into bed to keep warm. Too dispirited to go out and hunt for food, and not risking a high-priced meal at this unwelcoming chateau, we ate the filled baguette we had bought that morning, washing it down with bottled water.
The bed was not a ‘real bed’, but a metal frame with a very thin mattress. It also had only thin, old covers. We had to pile our coats and other clothes on top in order to be warm enough to sleep.
WE WOKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO BUBBLING EFFLUENT
I awoke about 2am to use the toilet and to my dismay found the foulest of smells in the shower room. So upon leaving I shut the door.
About 4.30am we were both awakened by the sound of loud bubbling. The room was filled with the strong, unmistakeable odour of effluent. We hurriedly put our things together, not even washing or cleaning our teeth, and opened the window to the early-morning cold and damp. We climbed into the bed fully clothed until at 6am we felt justified in descending to complain. It seemed that we stood forever at the reception desk, from time to time dinging the bell for attention. The husband eventually came, but he could not speak English. When his wife finally arrived she was in a fur coat. By now we had waited an hour, standing in the cold.
‘YOU SHOULD HAVE PUT A TOWEL OVER’
“No need to complain: You should have put a wet towel over the drain hole in the floor,” she said, as though this was an obvious answer to the problem; and “why did you not phone me when you noticed it?”
We said we had no idea that she would be available at that hour, and in any case she had given us no mobile phone number.
Her husband brought out some forms for me to sign, but I refused, suspecting a ‘Disclaimer’. A lot of arguing ensued, but then I remembered the ‘complaints’ number on our printout of the booking confirmation.
We telephoned Booking.com on the spot. They promised to look into it, and suggested we only paid half – but wanting just to leave right then (by now it was 8am) we paid the full amount.
Happy to say Booking.Com refunded us later.
We have no idea if the owners have improved their accommodation at Chateau St Vincent, but can only suggest careful research before booking. It is not cheap. This was our second disappointing chateau booking in ten years. We just will not take the chance again – and so probably may miss out on some delightful places…
After turning out of the heavy gates we drove the short way into the town of Bazas looking for breakfast. There were only two cafés open. Neither was serving anything but croissants A cafe in the large and impressive town square was not yet open. Thankfully, behind a raised pavement edged by railings, and under a colonnade of large, wide arches, we saw the tourist office – and it was open.
Misty morning in Bazas
BAZAS TOURIST OFFICE – WELCOMING AND CONCERNED
The young woman within was very welcoming, even though she had just opened the doors. She listened to our tale of woe with genuine concern, and asked us to send a written report when we got home. (That was not to be until 1st December; and once home I promptly caught a virus, which sent me to bed for over a week and left me devoid of energy, so I’m not sure she ever got a copy of the report I wrote for Booking.com and later, Trip Advisor.)
Hotel de Ville – Bazas
BAZAS – A TOWN OF INTEREST AND CHARACTER
We had a quick look round the town, which made us wish we had more time to explore further. We decided reluctantly that there was no time to visit the cathedral. Instead, we entered a very interesting sort of ‘under-croft’ at the top end of the square. It had once housed the weekly market. It also had a large trough where clothes were communally washed (probably with many a quip) before the invention of washing machines. Now there were a few historical bits and pieces put in there – possibly to over-winter in the dry before a proper exhibition was erected in the following spring. An arch led out to the imposing Hotel de Ville.
Bazas is an interesting town, and we would like to go back (but not to that chateau!) The surrounding area holds much to justify such a grand tourist office. More staff came in to start work; they were all equally helpful and friendly.
From then on we had good service everywhere we stayed and enjoyed some truly great meals at a very fair price.
FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – TRACKING IT KEEPS GRAHAM BUSY
We decided we must spend more time finding the rich, ever-evolving history in fast-changing Basilicata. In this period we did a lot of driving and walking around our immediate area. Graham wanted to get a real ‘feel’ for that part of Basilicata. One of the places we’d neglected was Grassano, a larger town not too far away, where Carlo Levi was first imprisoned.
FAST- CHANGING ROADS IN GRASSANO – ROUND IN CIRCLES!
Our neglect did not seem to matter, because we found Grassano disappointingly, rather uninteresting. (If we simply did not find the best bits, then we heartily apologise.) I remember quite a smart central street, which somehow, despite efforts to explore further, we kept finding ourselves back in. We always ended at the top, where there was a large ‘netted-off’ ruined zone in front of a seemingly inaccessible building. From its appearance it might have been the railway station. We kept trying various side streets, but always came back to the same street that climbed straight up the hill.
NO-ONE TO ASK
Although it was mid-morning when we arrived, we did not find a single person to ask for better directions. Nor was there a café or restaurant open.
Except –What I do remember is the laughter from a gaggle of local youths lolling outside a bar located on the side street right at the top. They collapsed with mirth each time we drove around in front of them – about three or four, as I remember. When we stopped to ask their advice, they simply waved us away. Finally, at the bottom of the town we found a way out. We took it with relief.
I have since read claims of an ancient centre with art works of distinction.
What a pity there were no directions to it (in 2016, at anyrate).
Dispirited, we set off to explore side roads in search of abandoned old MASSERIAS:
FAST- CHANGING BASILICATA – LONELY VILLAGES AND FARMS
Roads through Lonely Villages & Farms
While I was still limping slightly, we went on short ‘mystery tours’ and explored tiny villages round about us. Most were either abandoned, or in a very sorry state of disrepair. Apart from one: We found a truly charming settlement at the end of a road up above the ‘end’ of the lake.
Graham also went down tiny lanes and tracks. He was searching for the many picturesque ruined farmhouses (masseria) littering that landscape. He photographed his finds in an attempt to put them on record.
The Ruins of the Old Masseria Mazzapede
(Graham takes over here)… Giuseppe took me up above the house, past a large water storage pond, and into his newly planted grove of olive trees. To the edge of the plot there was an overgrown tangle of brambles and bushes.
THE OLD FAMILY MASSERIA
Amongst them were the remains of the old ‘Masseria Mazzapede’. From the footprint I could see that it had been a large, impressive building. Twenty metres or so further down the slope of the hillside was a walled-off area with faced stone. Giuseppe warned me not to go too close as it covered the old well: Between it and the building was unstable ground, due to landslips. That was why the building had been abandoned.
LEARNING FROM OLD PHOTOGRAPHS
Later, back at the house, he showed me a fading photograph of that Masseria. To this day I wish I’d made a copy. It was a two-storeyed farmhouse with a square pigeon tower that stood a further storey higher at one end. There was also a barn (or stable block) attached, forming it into an L-shaped plan.
FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – OUR MENTAL GAME – RESTORING RUINS
Masseria – Pericolo – Danger
A little further afield Graham struck gold, finding many an interesting ruin to photograph. One was a truly beautiful old building, which he approached by walking up a fairly long, rutted track. It was so attractive that I followed him, in order to get a better look myself. That one was shown in the last Post.
(Graham) This one shown here, though seemingly ordinary, had some interesting features that I came across again and again throughout my wanderings in Basilicata. Before I go on to explain, let me point out the red writing sprayed on the wall:
Pericolo – danger.
I only came across warnings on buildings twice while looking around. I advise if you want to do the same, be very careful. These buildings are very unstable, due to many reasons; landslip and earthquakes being two of them. Have someone with you.
Back to the interesting thing:
Old Roof Tiles
This was a lean-to section of the building (added later from all the appearances of the stonework). So I guessed that the original outer wall is where the wooden beams are leaning up against it to keep it from collapsing.
I have enlargened a section of stone that jutted out from the wall. It had a smooth circular hole about 2 -3″ in diameter bored through it.
If you look closely at the picture you will see that there are four, placed in the wall at pretty regular intervals.
Masseria Detail
I came across these same shaped stones in walls in the Sassi in Matera; and in a few of the older towns and villages. Unfortunately I never really gave them much thought, or photographed them until I came across them here – and that was one of the last days of our stay before we left Basilicata. I’m sure they were for tieing up donkeys, before the combustion engine came along.
Masseria Guttering Detail
Another thing this building had was an ingenious method of guttering that is still in use everywhere we went; especially on the older buildings, which still retained their old terracotta tiles. These are in the form of a tapering half -sleeve, about 1.5 feet long. Giuseppe told me that the old ones are rare, and hold a good price. They were once made by bending a flat of clay over a man’s thigh! This is what created the ‘right taper’. Apart from covering roofs they were attached end-to-end and hung along a wall to catch the rain.
(Graham.) A rather special one that we stumbled across on the Bank Holiday is written about a little later. We glimpsed it down a tiny lane. It stood below us on the side of a hill, and looked to be in good order from the aerial sticking out of the chimneys, and some cutivated ground close by. It was situated in a sheltered valley in what in Britain would be an ideal position. This was the only one we came across that looked to be liveable. Note the beautifully fashioned chimney. (Graham)
Masseria
Jackie again:
“These are fast-disappearing. Gosh; I’d love to do that one up,” said Graham. “It’s really beautiful.” We went into one of our favourite fantasies – of how we would restore the building and live in it, maybe letting off part to holidaymakers… We do this all the time, knowing full well that it is just a game – but it’s one we both greatly enjoy.
FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – LACKING THE LANGUAGE
There was an empty house Graham kept returning to. We saw it nearly every day, whenever our travels took us past Grottole. Looking rather like an abandoned railway station, it was fairly foursquare and red. I don’t quite know what he saw in it. Across the front you could just make out the faded legend Casa Cantinieria Fantavorinna. We know ‘casa’ means ‘house’, so perhaps it belonged to some lady, and the rest was her name. Or perhaps it was a ‘canteen’ – a sort of café. We shall never know. I can find no translation.
FAST-CHANGING BASILICATA – ABANDONMENT
On our way to Matera one day we turned off to look at a village visible from the road. The road sign named it as La Martella.It was mostly in a sorry state; not fully populated, and some houses falling into ruin. Maybe the inhabitants had moved into the little modern hamlet nearby. That was modest; almost like a small corner of an English 1950’s suburb, but probably more comfortable to live in. Before we reached it we saw a once-grand masseria – we discovered that it was called Santa Maria D’irsi and belonged to an important old family of the area.
Santa Maria D’irsi
(Graham) When Jackie’s ‘lump’ had finally shrunk, I drove many more miles as we went further afield to see more of Basilicata. We came across more masseria; some small, some huge. All were in ruins, and far from the roads. Often they looked like drowning things lapped by the undulating land. I do hope that somewhere there is a small band of Italians collecting details of these buildings. Finding those faded photos and curling documents – and putting them together with what drawings can be found or made. I did ask Giuseppe if there was any society with an interest in preserving the history of such buildings. All he muttered was that everyone wanted modern houses; somewhere easy. I hope that Basilicata’s vernacular buildings are not all gone before its inhabitants wake up to mourn their passing; and find there is hardly any record left that they once housed a vibrant rural community. (Graham)
