En route to the Dordogne's caves and meandering streams, we feasted on a picnic lunch in Mortemart. Patrick surprised us with several different wines and cheeses, sliced meats, French- style salads, caramel custard tarts, and luscious fresh fruit. We created a beautiful tableau on the ledge of the town's market pavilion and ate contentedly in the sunlight by a tinkling fountain, gazing at a stone building dressed in climbing pink roses. I was busy trying to neatly slice caramel tarts, so I missed taking photos of our delectable picnic spread.

On the road again, we stopped at Oradour-sur-Glane, le Village des Martyrs. Our hearts wept at the horror of the massacre and conflagration perpetrated there by retreating Nazi soldiers. Four days after D-Day, either out of pure hatred and desire to terrorize the local people, or in retaliation for the killing of one of their officers by French resistance fighters, the Nazis methodically separated the women and children from the men. They executed the men, then herded the women and children into the church and gassed and machine-gunned them. Finally, to add insult to injury, they burned the town almost to ashes. Only a handful of people survived. One simple word on a plaque at the entry gate says it all: Souviens-toi (Remember).

We arrived in 14th-Century Sarlat-la- Canéda, in the region of the Périgord Noir, with time for a walk before wining and dining together on foie gras and roast duck in the hotel's pleasant restaurant. I tried to stick to my vegetarian habits, but when I saw the roast duck, I hastily decided to partake. This was the mid-trip "vacation from our vacation" and the itinerary called for three nights in Sarlat, with various day-trips planned from our hotel base. I had a lovely room in the medieval tower that used to be part of the city's defensive wall. It was fun flinging open the shutters (middle window in this photo) and leaning out to watch and listen to the action below.

The next morning we awoke to a town transformed. Nearly every square meter was a riot of colorful market umbrellas; stalls; farm-fresh produce; produits régionaux, such as foie gras, truffles, and duck confit; spices from North Africa, clothing; pottery; linens; etc. Our picnic lunch in Sarlat's Jardin Public was another stunning spread of cheese, meats, fruit (including glistening fresh red currants, huge cherries, strawberries, and the biggest purple figs I've ever seen), baguettes, wine, and mouth-watering desserts, all spread artfully on a Provençal tablecloth with a fresh-flower centerpiece. (Follow the Tour de Fromage!)

We were the first group to enter Le Grotte Préhistorique de Rouffignac the next morning. An electric train took us half a mile into the cave and 15,000 years back in time to the days of the Magdalenian hunters and gatherers. The ceilings wore black-and-white drawings and paintings of rhinos, bison, horses, mammoths, and reindeer, as well as claw marks made by hibernating bears. Because the ceiling in some sections of the cave is very low, the artists must have had to lie on their backs, like Michelangelo on the scaffolding of the Sistine Chapel, to complete their work.

A lunch break in the quiet town of Montignac, with its stone bridge over the Vézère River, left us well positioned to meet the outfitters who were providing the tandem canoes and gear for our afternoon of paddling down the Vézère. Even though the river was gentle and we thought we knew what we were doing, some of us still ended up in the water! Fortunately, the water was warm and the bus trip back to Sarlat was quick. The two-hour float led us past several châteux on rocky outcrops and a small waterfall, and under an old metal bridge. We slept well that night!