Saint Cirq and more

Saint Cirq Lapopie

Another of the "most beautiful villages of France" is Saint Cirq Lapopie.  "Saint Cirq" is a variant spelling of "Saint Cyricus", a child martyr of about 300 AD. The church occupies a prominent place in the town, and viewed from the towering rock that overlooks the Lot (pronounced "Low") valley, it offers a pleasing respite from the early summer heat.

I must commend my travel companion; she lasted this long without a shopping attack.  But she finally succumbed. At this little shop she picked up a white blouse that will help with the upcoming summer heat in Avignon.

A stop in a little jewelry shop with a local artisan in residence netted a necklace and earrings. And for those of you who know her, you knew this had to happen soon: a hat. This is Nicole, who spoke less English than I do French, so I got a chance to practice. And now that it's too late, I realize we had let ourselves get in a hurry and the hat was still in the bag. Oh, well, some of you will see it soon enough!

Anita has developed a theory about the French: anywhere there's a flat space, someone is morally obligated to put flowers.  Here's a little backdoor staircase as evidence:

 

One of the things we love about these picturesque little villages are the lanes that pop up around every corner just waiting to be explored, such as this one.

 

And there's no such thing as napping on the drive back, our you miss sights like this one just waiting for the roadside trees to clear a space.

The Grotto of Domme

The entire region of the Perigord is dotted with grottoes. One of the villages we passed through en route to St. Cirq touted their "Grotto Vacations". I don't get it. First, you know what a grotto is, don't you? A big hole underground with pointy things hanging over your head. I believe that if God had wanted us to explore caves, he'd have put them above ground, where we live. But being the ultimate in sacrificing my own prejudices to satisfy the needs of my readers, I decided to tour our own grotto, whose entrance is smack in the center of town. Sorry, no pictures allowed. It would've been okay, but there were two other English-speakers in the group, who kept asking for explanations in English. I was perfectly content with the French, since I couldn't understand much of it, such as "The bats aren't dangerous as long as they're up high like that." Or, "It's not these huge cracks you need to worry about, it's all these little ones." So don't ask for any more grotto tours, okay?

Tomorrow we're off to Avignon.  Maybe we'll find that bridge; just don't let me catch you humming that tune you learned when you took piano lessons in the third grade.  It's a five hour drive, so there may not be much to report; we'll see.