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The first sound is a honking swan flying over to land in the lake. We open the screens to a blue sky with high fluffy clouds.
Late morning we take the 11 mile drive to Bergerac and easily find a large carpark with plenty of space for MoHo's a few hundred meteres from the historic centre.
The old town spreads back from the banks of the Dordogne. Beside the water one of the traditional flat-bottomed boats, called garberes, is on display. Starting up one of the steep narrow streets we see a marker of flood heights over the years, the highest 13 metres above normal river level.
Bergerac has masses of very old buildings starting with eroded sandstone warehouses, on to traditional shops and dwellings which are timber framed with herring-bone brick infill, which we learn is called 'corbelled'. Some walls are a jumble of materials, perhaps built using recovered stone or maybe stone ballast brought in by ships from other regions. Studded timber doors and weathered shutters tell of the port's long history. There has been lots of careful maintenance and subtle restoration over the years.
There are any number of restaurants, most advertising duck or goose dishes and others with truffles. We opt for a simple sandwich which we eat sitting in a sunny little square, set around one on the many statues of Bergerac's famous, big-nosed son, Cyrano de Bergerac. Behind us a doorway is inscribed 1595.
We could not have visited att a better time; bright sunshine picks out the details in the buildings and the flower gardens are still in bloom but there are no crowds.
We walk around admiring more of the architecture, find a coffee at a cafe opposite the cast iron market hall then wander up into the newer part of town past the cathedral where the square has its Christmas lights strung up, past the imposing courts and into the tourist office where Ali ande Grete collect enough leaflets to open a travel agency [to be fair they are the architects of our travels]. On the way back we find the ruins of a flour mill. Through the foundations we can see a water turbine connected to the grinding wheel and the watercourses channeled by stone arches.
Back at the carpark the pompiers are practicing with their extendind ladder-platform. The Nicks have a browse around a brocante [second hand shop] which as everything from washing machines to a spare pendulum for a grandfather clock.
By the time we've had coffee it is a bit late for the 36 mile drive to our planned stop so we choose one only 6 miles away; a vineyard at Monbazellac. En route we pass through the yellowing vineyards and beside the elegant chateau.
Madame welcomes us and lets us have electricity for €2.
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