My persistent state of solitude changed for the better with the arrival of my friend Géraldine by the 3 pm train. She has booked an Air B&B not five minutes from the station and not more than 3 minutes from my own home, so in no time she got installed and we were able to go for the first discovery walk around old Bergerac. It was overcast and we may have gotten a few moments of drizzle, but the charm of the old medieval city was to be found around every corner.
We had dinner at my
house and enjoy chatting until the sun started going down, at which a busy work
week got the best of her and it was time to call it a day.
The following morning
I got up early, preparing myself for taking the bust to the airport to rent a
car. The printed schedule clearly said that the bus from Périgueux stopped at
the Bergerac train station at 9h30 and from there went to the airport. A couple
of anxious British tourists were also waiting for the bus, so I eased their
concerns by pointing at the printed time table. At 9h25 the bus came in, but
when I asked the driver, out of simple politeness, if it went to the airport,
he answered gruffly that no, the bus only goes to the airport when you notify
the bus company, a day in advance, that you need to get to the airport. Rats!
Fortunately for me, the Brits really needed to go catch their flight, so we
agreed to share a taxi and for 6 euros a piece the problem was solved.
Half an hour later I
left the airport, at the wheel of a white Fiat Cinquecento with a red roof
(which Géraldine later found included a rooftop open window 😊). It is a zippy little car that we will
have for the next 6 days, both for our own explorations and for when Faby &
Co. arrive on Sunday (the idea was that Géraldine was going to overlap with
them, but at the end the overlap will be limited to Sunday afternoon and Monday
morning).
Back in town I picked
up a much more relaxed Parisian gal, and off we went to explore the Périgord.
Géraldine has never been here, so the first order of business was to go to
Lascaux, which is a Patrimony of Humanity for the fabulous paintings found at the
cave of Lascaux in 1940. The cave had to be closed to the public in the mid
1960’s because humidity and the breathing of visitors had changed the
atmosphere of the cave, and algae and calcite deposition started degrading the
pictures. The clever French then built Lascaux II, a remarkable reproduction of
the original made by some of the best restorers and artists of France. Then
LIDAR technology was invented, and a very accurate rendition of each nook and
cranny could be created in the form of big fiber-glass panels. The panels could
be mounted and dismounted with relative ease, so a traveling exposition was
created, under the name Lascaux III. Finally, and because the influx of
tourists was so large, a completely new museum was built, with lots of elbow
room, that takes you to the reproduction of the cave (Lascaux IV) and then
let’s you explore in detail every one of the panels. I will tell you about
Lascaux II when Ronnie comes to visit, because I want him to have the
experience of entering into a subterranean grotto and seeing the amazing
paintings, but I will advance that coming to see what Cro-Magnon people created
here, 30,000 years ago, is a surreal experience that should be in everybody’s
bucket list.
We also stopped at
Parc du Thot, which does to Lascaux II what the new displays at Lascaux IV do
so very well. However, Parc du Toth also includes a small zoo, where the
visitor can see cattle that have been selected artificially to resemble the
ancient aurox (the wild cattle represented in the walls of Lascaux), as well as
bison (American bison in this case), reindeer, wolves, and other fauna of the
Cro-Magnon times. There are also workshops for kids to attempt making a stone
implement or drawing on a rough cave wall, but the docents were not there,
perhaps on account of the drizzly weather.
Back in Bergerac we
took advantage of a sunny spell to have dinner in the terrace, and then headed
for old town to participate in the Fête de la Musique. This French
tradition started 40 years ago, and now is the way in which every
self-respecting town celebrates the arrival of summer. All over France amateur
musicians (some of them not very good) commandeer a corner or a plaza and
regale the crowds with music that ranges from Gregorian chants, to folk, to
heavy metal. Downtown was packed, and every teenager in a 50 km radius had come
with friends to listen to the music (plenty of older folks were there as well).
We watched a group of women, from kids to grandmas, doing Spanish flamenco, and
old guy at the mike and his wide at the concertina squawking some old French
songs, a easy-rock band surrounded by the walls of the ancient cathedral and
city hall, and a fabulous Blues group that took over a jampacked corner. It was
a delightful way to spend the evening, and text messages told us that Lucas was
doing the same thing in Saint Germain, and the Ashbys were also enjoying the
music in Marseille!
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