Sunday, 22nd April - La Rochelle to Les Eyzies

Another long drive, but the further south you get the more interesting the scenery. No motorways on this stretch so it took us about 5 hours (including a pit stop for late lunch/loo at McDonalds in Perigeux).

Unfortunately in the evening we had to begin our hunt for food. I don't doubt that the food at the Centenaire is spectacular - Parisians apparently hike all the way down to the Dordogne just to eat at this hotel on gourmet weekends. However, as is the norm in France, everything is geared towards meat - and in this area of France duck and paté de fois gras are very much the order of the day. We took the pleasant 20 minute drive into the bigger town of Sarlat nearby and sought out Pizza Romane, which has served as our watering hole on each and every visit to the region. Our hearts sank when we realised it was shut. My thoughts started to turn to the apples and pears in the boot of the car that I'd brought from home to eat on picnics. At least we had some food - but I wasn't relishing the thought of sharing just this meagre offering between the four of us for our evening meal.

Alain, in hunter-gatherer mode, searched the streets of Sarlat (in the rain....he's such a hero) to find somewhere, anywhere, that served anything other than duck. There was a little bar nearby advertising - predictably - 'pizza'. (Hmmm...two nights in France, two pizzas, I think I see a pattern emerging...)

The bar reminded me of country pubs in rural Ireland where you walk into a smoky room and are greeted by a few local yokels who gaze curiously at the 'newcomers'. We couldn't quite make up our minds, but the man who led us into a side dining room was either wearing an appallingly bad black wig, or had an unfortunate case of 'helmut hair'. It was as silent as the grave in the dining room, we were obviously the first to arrive. Well beggars can't be choosers so we placed our order and started chatting - as you do. The room began to fill with other diners and we were so engrossed in our conversation that it was only after a while that I noticed that no one else seemed to be chatting. In fact it soon became apparent that we were the centre of attention - to the extent that the couple on the table next to us weren't even attempting to be discrete in their attentions. They openly stared, and during the course of our entire meal spent the whole time analysing our actions and talking about us in hushed French tones (obviously making the assumption that 'les anglais' wouldn't have a clue what they were saying). ....A misconception if ever there was one because as a dual English/French national, of French parentage, Alain is completely fluent in the lingo and I, too, am usually très bien at comprenez-ing la langue, thank you very much.

By the end of our meal I was finding the unwanted attention from the couple next to us to be rather irritating. I was quite sure Alain hadn't noticed their attentions or else he would probably have caused a rift in Anglo-French relations by saying something to them. I didn't want to make the same error that they had made (by assuming they did not speak English), so I used the metaphor 'my ears are burning' and quickly flicked my eyes in their direction. Alain and Tess understood immediately but the phrase was obviously new to Charlotte who said rather loudly whilst looking pointedly at my head:

'Your ears are burning??!! What on earth.....?'

Next day......gardens and gizzards.....