Andorra

 We set out this morning with but one aim: Andorra or Bust!

Our route took us around the outskirts of Toulouse, once home to our very own JB, but sadly, we couldn't see his house from the motorway.

Anyway, yet again, I digress. 

After around an hour and a half's driving, we began to make out the jagged line of the Pyrenees on the horizon. ( Hard to miss really,  as they reach over 3,000m at their highest point)

Excitement was building as we approached the French/Andorran border. Would we be stopped for having a contraband cucumber with us?

As it was, we passed through the border without even getting our passports stamped. ( More work-shy French carry on)

I'm not sure how much you know about the tiny principality of Andorra. If, like most right-minded people, you follow the fortunes of the England football team, you'll no doubt be still be basking in the glow of the 6-0 thrashing we gave to Andorra back in 2009. Glory days......

Anyway, on the off chance that you know nothing about 'the beautiful game', heres a few facts:

1. You could fit approximately 44 Andorras into Wales.

2. 1/10th Andorra is a UNESCO  world heritage site. (Why else are we here?)

3. It's a tax haven. (Aha, that's why we're here.....)

It's also really picturesque:

What's it all about, Albi?

Good afternoon and welcome to the city of Albi, a UNESCO World heritage site since 2010 and birthplace of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. ( since 1864)

It's home the the outrageously huge Cathedral of St.Cecilia, built over 2 centuries (yes, it's THAT big) and currently claiming to be the largest brick built cathedral in the world. (I believe I've already mentioned its size)

Not terribly pretty from the outside, resembling a corrugated cardboard fortress such as the Blue Peter team might make, but in brick. (Well, it did to me anyway)

Closer to, and most definitely on the inside, it's a very different story:

The Cathedral houses various 'treasures' (their word, not mine), including a relic of its namesake  St. Cecilia, patron saint of music. The patron saint bit isn't relevant,  but I like to flash my  religious studies 'O' level (grade c) whenever possible.

Well, who wouldn't?

Incidentally, and possibly predictably, given that there was an entrance fee to view the treasures, we declined.

We did however stump up the fee to visit the Toulouse Lautrec museum (pun intended)

Housed in a former bishop's palace, it contains many of the vertically challenged artists best known works.

I have to say that if he'd spent less time gawping at mucky women, he might have been taller.......

He wore glasses too......

Moving on

Following last night's rain, we eventually managed to dig the tent out.....

Once freed, we set our sights on the (hopefully) drier land to the South East, namely Albi. (More of which tomorrow)

On the way, we stopped to marvel at/be tourists in the remarkable town of Cordes-sur-Ciel.

Now, I know what you're thinking:

'( yawn) not another medieval town', and, well, actually yes, you're right it is  another medieval town, but hear me out.....

For a start, this one is on top of a VERY steep hill . There is a land train for the overweight or ancient tourist and although, we probably fall into one or both categories,  we were too proud to use it.

Eventually, short of breath and possibly shorter in height, we reached the town square. 

'Top of the world, ma!'

It really was quite lovely, (Although  to be honest, some houses could have benefitted from a visit to B&Q....)

(Other DIY outlets are available....)

Highlight for me was the chocolate museum, although as there was an entrance fee, I'll leave you to guess whether I went in or not......

Here are some of the best bits:

Foreign Pie News

Croustade aux Pommes. Boulangerie Sabathier, Vers

 After a long and dreary wait, the pie-drought is over!

It was mere chance that led us to Boulangerie Sabathier's door, little knowing the pastry treat that lay ahead.

Essentially an apple pie, yet so, so much more.

Pastry:

The bottom layer appeared undercooked, but was in fact just soaked in apple juice from the filling.

The filling itself was perfect. Apple slices retaining their shape, and neither too sweet nor too tart.

The final flourish lay in the top layer. Wonderfully crisp and with a layer of sugar that initially we thought was overdoing things.

How wrong we were.

This piemaker must surely have learned her craft in England, possibly Wigan, spiritual home of pies.

Yes, it was that good.

The Lot Valley

 Wednesday morning dawned both grey and chilly. Spirits were fairly low until JB suggested a jaunt in the car through the Lot Valley, following the river. It was a chance to get out and marvel at some nature and so, obviously, I agreed.

With a hastily packed picnic (baguette, some dodgy pate and a really smelly cheese) we jumped in the car and began to tour.

Like real tourists.

Let me say upfront that the scenery is magnificent.  Soaring cliffs on one side and glimpses therough the trees of the River Lot on the other.

Somewhat wistfully, JB said it reminded him of Cheedale in the Peak District.

We stopped at the first village we came to (Vers) and touristed about for a bit. Very nice little village with a river, and weir, some quaint looking houses and a boulanger which proclaimed itself 'Authentique' ( more of this in the next post.......

Next stop was the Grotte du Pech Merle, a cave containing paintings allegedly done some 29000 years ago.

This was too good an opportunity to miss for art-lovers such as us and we raced to the ticket office, filled with nervous anticipation. 

Oh dear. The ticket office was closed for the customary 2 hour lunch break. Of course it was.

In any case,it turned out that you had to book in advance and the next available slot was 3 days away.

Downcast, we stumbled into the small museum attached to the (closed) ticket office.

And there in front of us, was a facsimile of the cave painting itself!

There were also some scattered bits of a skeleton (probably an artist who didn't make the grade) and a woolly mammoth tusk plus lots of other old stuff.

But is it art?

Cock-a-hoop at dodging the 18 euros each entrance fee, we skipped back to the car and on to our final stop of the day.

The village of St.Cirq-Lapopie is built into the cliffside and is absolutely fabulous. They've managed to keep the medieval houses and streets with 'Disneyfying' them.

Really, really well done, you town planners. 

Cahors

 We finally breached the campsite defences at around 11.30 yesterday morning.

The manager explained  via multiple arm-wavings, shrugs and rapid-fire French (I feared at one point that he'd break out into an interpretive dance) that he had in fact come looking for us the night before, but sadly couldn't find us.

He obviously didn't look in the local Ibis.....

Vowing to put it all behind us, we set up camp and headed into town.

The town of Cahors, situated on the banks of the River Lot, is famous for wine (red,passable) and cuisine (foie gras and truffles).

It's also home to two UNESCO sites, the Pont de Valentre and St.Stephen's Cathedral.

The 14th century Pont de Valentre is very impressive indeed. It was built as a defensive work, though never actually crossed in anger.

Well done, those 14th century builders.

Next up, we visited the Cathedral. It's a fairly unique design, having two domes. It is home to 'The Holy Headdress' , apparently one of the five relics of the Crucifixion.  I'm told it's a type of cloth, complete with chinstrap (think shroud of Turin but much smaller) however, it was too dark to see much in the chapel set aside to view it, so I guess we must take their word for it......

Back outside, and very visible, were the gargoyles that perch at the top of the Cathedral.  One in particular caught my eye...

I later learned that there's a similar one on the bridge : 

These French lads don't know when to stop.....

The rest of Cahors is a mismatch of medieval streets and new civic squares. 

Oh, and the 'Little Museum of Barrel Making'......

Campsite chaos

 Yesterday, we bid a cheery 'au revoirs' to Carnac and its mysterious stones and pointed our snouts southwards, towards Cahors, some 650km away.

After an epic journey of almost eight hours involving many delays for 'roadworks' (we saw no work  being done, yet more evidence of the French tendency to be workshy) we arrived at our pre-booked campsite only to find that the reception had closed up for the day, some 10 minutes earlier. 

And the campsite bar had closed as well.

As I say, workshy.

We retreated to the modest comfort of the local Ibis hotel, from where I'm writing this post. We shall attempt another assault on the campsite later.

Incidentally, I read this morning that the French government has collapsed. Coincidence?

Tomb raiders

No, not Lara Croft...(well not unless she's chubbed up a fair bit....)

I'm afraid it's just me and JB as per usual. (You pays your money, you gets no choice)

Anyway, today's tombs. Although strictly speaking, they're tumuli.

The first one was located in a place called Le Bono, and it was with quite a sense of relief that the annoying Irish warbler/activist was nowhere to be seen.

The tomb was huge and had more than a passing resemblance to the Teletubbies Home Hill. See for yourself:

Uncanny.

After lunch, we made for the port of Larmor-Baden and a short boat trip over to the uninhabited Ile de Gavrinis.

Our target was the famed (by some anyway) Cairn Gavrinis,  the most decorated cairn in Europe. (Even more than Andy McNab and that's saying something)

Our tour guide rattled on in French mostly, so I'm sorry to say that I can tell you very little about it, except that it was HUGE. I mean seriously big, and as boasted, very well decorated.  

Here's a few pics:

Carnac

 Welcome to Carnac. Famous for its collection of Neolithic standing stones, and in fact the reason we're here, given that JB has a particular interest in this sort of thing.

I've visited quite  a few of these sites in my time (Stonehenge, Avebury etc) and, well aware of the tendency of the French to exaggeration, I expected very little.

However, I've been frankly astonished by what's on offer here, blogmates. Some 3000 stones, arranged mostly in straight lines. 

But why?

Keen to learn more, we booked a guided tour.

Our guide, (despite being French) certainly knew his way around the stones. Disappointingly though, he couldn't shed any light on why they're here.

I maintain that it was either a stone superstore ( a bit like B&Q ) or a landing strip for the alien crafts that flew the stones about. 

JB, on the other hand thought that they were probably part of a football training scheme involving dribbling between the stones. (Carnac FC undefeated champions 3000- 2000BC,  so he may have a point)

Anyway, heres a flavour of what's on offer, with a bonus tomb.

Caen

And so we arrived in Caen, where our hotel appears to have been constructed from plastic shipping containers and designed for the (very much) smaller traveller.

No matter, it gave us the added impetus to go out for a day's sightseeing.

The city of Caen, which proudly claims to be the birthplace of William the Conqueror is actually quite charming, even in the monsoon-type conditions we endured in the middle of the day.

There's a castle, a couple of abbeys, some great medieval architecture and lots of nice bars and restaurants. 

Sad to report then, that the bloated throne-thief was actually born some  38km away in Falaise.

Still, that's the French for you......

The thing is, you quickly realise that William the Conqueror is still something of a big cheese round here. Le grand fromage you might say.

There are streets, bars and restaurants named after him.

 And then there's the Castle.

Credit where it's due, its an impressive bit of defensive work.

He's also responsible for the founding of one of the abbeys,  (Abbaye aux Hommes) and in fact, it's the final resting place of one of his thigh bones. (Whether it's the left or right one wasn't made clear)

Given that his body exploded as they tried to force it into a too small coffin, it's surprising that there was even that much left.

Incidentally, Caen's other abbey

(Abbaye aux Dames) was founded by William's wife (and cousin!) Matilda, and she's buried there.

(As far as I know, she didn't explode).