We happily drove out of Spain and did a little happy dance once we crossed the border back into France for two reasons: one, because we felt somewhat safer (though France certainly has its rough spots), and two, because we could communicate again! Though my French is weak, I can still communicate. We couldn’t even get through the drive through at McDonald’s in Spain without asking for a translator. I hated it! Larry said, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve never been happier to see French in my life.”

We headed straight north into the Dordogne region of France, which lies in the slightly southwest portion of the country, south of Limoges and east of Bordeaux. It is the region known for foie gras, prehistoric cave paintings, gorgeous green valleys, and cliff towns. I’ve always wanted to see it. I booked a room for us at an old farmhouse turned inn just outside of Rocamadour, a beautiful cliff town that has been in existence for many centuries. It grew up around the tomb of Saint Amadour, whose perfectly preserved body was found in 1166 in a tomb carved into the side of the mountain. Since that time it became a pilgrimage site for Christians seeking miracles. Jacques Cartier and his team, suffering from scurvy, visited in the 16th century to seek a cure for their ills.

The road to Rocamadour is a long, windy road that cuts up and down through the mountains. When we finally rounded the road that brought Rocamadour into view, we were practically speechless. This is a town that defies gravity, and has done so for centuries. It’s just beautiful. We found our hotel and checked in before spending the evening wandering the nearly empty streets (like Mont St. Michel – it’s more a daytime destination for tour buses but you have the place to yourself at night), up to the chapels and the site of St. Amadour’s tomb, and finished it off by a late pizza dinner on a terrace overlooking the side of the cliff. It was magical.

The next day we spent some time at the chateau which sits at the very top of the cliff and looks down over Rocamadour and the valley. Here Larry earned the cheers of onlookers as he rigged up his camera to a railing with a gorillapod, set the 20 second timer, and ran down a very long, steep flight of stairs to get in position before the timer went off.

We were truly winging this part of the trip but it worked out perfectly. We discovered we were only about an hour away from Sarlat-la-Canéda, the best preserved medieval town in all of France. It has more perfectly preserved 14th and 15th century buildings than any other. Just beyond it is Les-Eyzies-de-Tayac, which is surrounded by caves containing prehistoric carvings and paintings, some of the best preserved in the world. Literally hundreds if not thousands of these caves have been discovered in southern France and northern Spain. The most famous cave, that at Lescaux, has actually been closed to the public for a number of years because the changes in humidity, temperature, etc. brought by all the visitors were ruining the paintings. They have created a complete replica nearby – but who wants to see a replica? We did discover however, that the Font-de-Gaume cave is just outside Les Eyzies and is the last cave open to the public that contains polychromatic paintings (i.e. mixing more than one color). They only allow 120 visitors per day, in groups of 12, and are booked months in advance. However, we lucked out and were able to get a ticket for the very next day.

We drove along the road to Beynac-et-Cazenac, another gorgeous cliff town set next to the Dordogne River. Beautiful vistas across the valley.

We had dinner in Sarlat surrounded by 14th and 15th century buildings. It was like being the middle of a Renaissance village at Disneyland or something, except it was all real. Being in foie gras country, we couldn’t avoid a menu with some form of foie gras on it. I like foie gras but am not normally a massive fan. It’s usually so rich and strong tasting that after about two bites I’m done. Regardless, we did try some foie gras made from duck (the traditional foie gras is goose) and I have to say it was heavenly, so buttery and creamy. I ate it all.

The next day we spent at two different caves, the Font de Gaume and Les Combarelles, where I gained a new appreciation for prehistoric caveman paintings. These are no stick figures scratched or painted into the side of the cave by prehistoric men who could barely rub two sticks together to create fire. When you see these up close and understand the complexity of their construction and the artistry that it involved, you are truly awestruck. These men used techniques that were not seen again in Europe until the Renaissance. They used perspective. They used cubism, made famous in our time by Picasso. The paintings in the Font de Gaume literally covered the cave from top to bottom. It is truly a reverent experience to see them in person. Nearly all of the carvings or paintings are of animals, most commonly bison or deer, but also wooly mammoth, lion, and others. They are also always in peaceful positions: resting next to each other, grooming each other. There are no representations of hunting or fighting. There are only a couple of instances of human representation (involving male/female relations and the female anatomy – some things do not change!). Truly, if you are ever in the area, you must find a way to see the Font de Gaume especially. It was one big WOW.

Of all the highlights and beautiful scenery we saw while in the Dordogne, I have to say one of Larry’s highlights was the following: While driving through the countryside we passed some serious-looking cyclists. Whether they were training for the upcoming Tour de France, or whether they were just serious recreational cyclists, I don’t know. Regardless, as we passed them, Larry rolled down the window and said “Lance Armstrong.” They responded with their middle fingers. Larry laughed all the way down the road. I must admit, so did I.