Day 7 - Sarlat

Day 7—Saturday, May 16, 1992

I got up at 8:20 a.m. after a refreshing nights sleep on a nice firm bed. Then we ate breakfast, showered, checked out of the hotel, and drove to the nearby chateau of Chenonceaux. Today was designated “Chateau Day.”

Parking was free at Chenonceaux, but admission to the grounds and castle was 31 francs. It was worth it. Chenonceaux is a fifteenth century Renaissance palace, almost completely restored, that spans the Cher River. The castle’s situation it seemed to me would make navigation on the river for any boat bigger than a row boat impossible. But that wasn’t our concern. We toured the palace, the wooded grounds on the far bank (including a grave of some woman), and the splendid gardens on the near bank. The weather was warm and sunny, and Chenonceaux was simply a very nice place to be. Interestingly, during World War II the Cher River divided German-occupied France from free France and prisoners of war were exchanged at the castle. Now it’s just a privately owned tourist stop.

From Chenonceaux we drove to Chambord, another chateau in the Loire River valley. Chambord is bigger and more commercial than Chenonceaux. For those reasons and others it’s not as charming, but it is quite impressive all the same. We parked and toured the grounds, which included an old horse stable, and debated whether to pay the admission price to see the inside of the chateau. At last we decided to do so, although I was a little miffed by the haughty attitude of the ticket seller when I asked her if she accepted French franc travelers checks. Chambord reportedly has 440 rooms. Visitors of course are not permitted in many of them, but we saw plenty enough to suit me. The more interesting aspects of the place were the old carriages in the interior stable, the double-helix staircase designed by Leonardo da Vinci, the ridiculous number of towers, turrets, and chimneys, and the hunting lodge smell that pervaded throughout (the chateau had once been a hunting lodge for counts and barons and clearly the curators were attempting to instill this fact through olfactory stimulation). The view from the roof was best of all.

After our tour of Chambord, we stopped at a snack bar along the strip of tourist shops adjacent to the chateau’s grounds and ordered couple of beers and croque monsieurs, that is hot ham and cheese sandwiches. By the time we got back on the road it was about 4:00 p.m.

Our destination today was the town of Sarlat in the Dordogne River Valley, and a long drive it was. We traveled almost entirely by departmental secondary roads, which were relatively traffic free and very scenic, reinforcing our impression that France is a beautiful country. Along the way we passed within a couple miles of a town called Oradour. No one has lived in Oradour since June 10, 1944, for on that day during WWII, the Nazis arrived and as explained at www.oradour.info:

Without giving any explanation for their actions, they killed a total of 642 men, women and children, leaving only a few unintended survivors. They then destroyed the entire village of Oradour and to this day there is no universally accepted explanation for the massacre. In order to gain some lasting impressions from the tragedy, visitors to the ruins today are exhorted in both French and English to: Remember!

We didn’t know about the place and its history at the time, so we didn’t stop there. We wished we had known for surely we would have stopped.

Sharon drove the final leg into the town of Sarlat, where we arrived at about 9:00 p.m. We drove around this confusing little town looking for a hotel recommended in Rick Steves’ book. We never could find the place but instead found a charming hotel a short distance from the center of town called Hotel Marcel, which unbeknownst to us at the time was also recommended in the book, as well it should have for all it offered for only 210 francs. After checking in, we went out in search of dinner and found a nearby restaurant, where we dined on ham, egg, and cheese crepes and a bottle of wine. It was a very good meal at a reasonable price.

Once back in our hotel room we did the usual: a little television, a beer or two, and ooh la la. To my disappointment I found out that the Pelforth beer I’d bought that day at a supermarket was Pelforth brune, meaning brown, meaning piss poor.

HIGHLIGHT: The serene and regal grounds and chateau of Chenonceaux.

REFLECTIONS FROM 2020:

Aside from the Hôtel de La Motte Picquet in Paris, the only place we stayed for more than one night on the trip was the Hotel Marcel. Per the receipt and a business card from the hotel, it was located at 8 Avenue de Selves in Sarlat. That’s in the past tense because it’s not there anymore. In fact, not only couldn’t I find any information on the internet about Hotel Marcel, what currently occupies 8 Avenue de Selves in no way resembles an inn. Perhaps Avenue de Selves has been renumbered since 1992, or the owners used a different address than the location of the hotel, which makes no sense. After several internet searches, including virtual travel up and down Avenue de Selves via Google Maps street view, I’m pretty sure that the place we stayed is now called Hotel Le Madrigal at 50 Avenue de Selves. Sometimes things, for better or worse, change and never to be again. Other times, it just takes a heck of an effort to find them.