Arrived in Bergerac early evening 17 Sept and am still amazed how small these airports are, this one like a large garage. I even walked outside the building minus my luggage because I expected another room or building for baggage reclaim. Nope, this is it and you can't get back in, said another passenger outside. Well I did, and joined in helping the passengers to manually move the luggage down the line as there wasn't even an electronic conveyor belt. Just a metal ramp with rollers that obviously wasn't steep enough for the luggage to roll down by itself. No taxis outside either. Eventually the last hut I tried was the right one to get them to phone for a taxi, and lots of passengers were also waiting for hired cars to turn up. I knew there was a hotel opposite Bergerac station so the taxi drove me there and luckily there was a vacant room - I think this may be one of the cheapest hotels in town at 30 euros a night without ensuite.
A bit of a rainy day although showers were only on and off, so I waited for someone to serve me in the local brasserie, until ages after I was finally informed that food isn't served until 7pm. So walked around town after my coffee, noting how few people there were around town. I keep forgetting that France is more sparsely populated than the uk.
The old part of town was nice but nothing out of the ordinary. Went for dinner nearby but thought I'd just stick to omelettes for now. The electricity shut off while I was there - I think these old buildings could maybe do with re-wiring, as the circuits can get overloaded if you have too much electrical equipment on at once. After dinner went for a walk by the river at nightfall, just to see what the Dordogne looked like.
The old part of town was nice but nothing out of the ordinary. Went for dinner nearby but thought I'd just stick to omelettes for now. The electricity shut off while I was there - I think these old buildings could maybe do with re-wiring, as the circuits can get overloaded if you have too much electrical equipment on at once. After dinner went for a walk by the river at nightfall, just to see what the Dordogne looked like.
I knew I'd be following the Dordogne river valley, just to see why so many Brits move out here when they retire (the French call it "Little England") but I had no idea which were the best villages to stop off at en route to Sarlat, which is the end of the train line and not actually on the river itself.
I had only intended to sleep the first night in Bergerac anyway.
I woke up at 3.00am yet it felt like 9.00am. It rained steadily throughout the night, and there was a man sleeping on the bench outside the railway station. Everywhere else was deserted.
I'm not sure if I'd want to live here, but there are plenty of shops for a French county town.
Next morning I bought a train ticket to Lalinde, which is only about 30 minutes away if that.
It's actually a very pleasant "town" but you can discover most of it in a day (or an afternoon without luggage).
I had lunch there and then went to see how the Dordogne looked from this place.
The river didn't seem as accessible here as a place to walk but the canal made up for it. It felt more provincial than Bergerac but I liked the energies here.
Lalinde has a stadium and enough shops and banks, but as it was lunchtime most were probably closed, adding to the sleepy feel of the place. Even the train station closes for two hours at lunchtime.
The canal was lovely though, and if I hadn't been dragging a large suitcase on wheels over rough ground I would have walked further along it. It looked like it lead to some forested areas, in fact the hills surrounding the town were heavily forested, so perhaps some good hiking areas worth exploring around here.
Very pleasant here and I felt I'd like to get to know this place better. But as I had only given myself a week to explore both the Dordogne and the Lot river areas, this was just an brief overview at lightening speed, and I felt no need to stay the night in Lalinde. So I sat by the canal waiting for the train station to re-open and bought a ticket to go to St.Cyprien on the next train, which was at 3.00pm.
So, breakfast in Bergerac, lunch in Lalinde and dinner in St.Cyprien, where I would book a room for the night.
St. Cyprien is quite a walk from the river Dordogne and so the river doesn't feel like a feature at all. The village itself is set up high in the hills, but is walkable from the train station.
Once there I noticed that there were more old buildings, narrow streets and interesting architecture than in either of the other two towns I'd just been through.
Next morning I woke up in St. Cyprien with fear in my belly. Haven't had that feeling in ages.
The temperature felt icy cold too, and seemed to be biting into my flesh. There was also an air-raid siren going off. Had I woken up in the wrong world ? Took a wrong turning in my dreamstate?
I also needed a coffee desperately, or any hot drink come to that. As usual in French hotels there are rarely tea or coffee-making facilities in the room itself, and I hadn't brought my travel kettle . I wasn't feeling grounded at all, and needed my morning tea and cigarette, like now rather than later.
Hadn't ordered any breakfast 24 hours in advance as I can't plan anything 24 hours in advance, plus I usually just need liquids until about 11.00am. Decided to go downstairs to buy a drink before packing, so took a quick shower beforehand. Managed to somehow totally dismantle the plastic folding door between my room and the shower room in the process.
Nobody in reception. Grrrr.....
Walked into the dining-room and the only sign of humanity was a lone couple having their breakfast. No staff anywhere.
Finally one came out and I asked for a coffee. No I hadn't ordered breakfast in advance so will just pay for a coffee, and no I can't repeat every sentence 3 times because my French isn't so good first thing in the morning when I need my first drink, and yes I will wait for another member of staff to come out and help me (but not for long or I'll just help myself).
Finally coffee sorted but no milk. I saw a jug on the side and assumed it contained milk so poured some in my coffee. It was fruit juice. Staff member goes off to fetch some milk which should have been in the dining room in the first place. French coffee is so strong I couldn't even taste the fruit juice, but didn't want to push my luck by asking for another just because I ruined it.
Combien? I put the change on the counter in reception, tried to say I'm taking it to my room, wasn't sure whether that was ok to not drink it in the dining room but gave up trying to explain in French and took it anyway. My needs count this morning, stuff etiquette, they should provide all that stuff in the room.
By the time I'd finished packing, breakfast downstairs had finished so nothing was being served, so I decided to find a cafe nearby to consume even more caffeine.
Sat outside the cafe, even though there was still a chill in the air, and continued grounding myself while writing in my journal and waiting for the first train out of St.Cyprien which wasn't until 1.00pm. I knew the day would heat up significantly as it progressed towards noon.
Thought I'd go and find the river in the meantime. Felt burnt out and fed-up already it was only day three.
Tried to buy a ticket for Sarlat but there is no ticket office at St. Cyprien station.
An elderly Frenchman tried to help me. "No you can't buy a ticket there", he said in French, "that's the fire station. You have to buy it on the train."
Sat at the platform and read my book about Madame de Pompadour. One of the firemen was cooking sausages outside, on the platform side. Checked again. Yes you have to buy the ticket on the train. I knew you could be fined heavily if caught without a ticket, but they don't exactly make it easy to purchase one.
Nobody came to sell me a ticket on the train.
I arrived at my final destination on this particular rail track, Sarlat. One of the best preserved medieval towns.
I had only intended to sleep the first night in Bergerac anyway.
I woke up at 3.00am yet it felt like 9.00am. It rained steadily throughout the night, and there was a man sleeping on the bench outside the railway station. Everywhere else was deserted.
I'm not sure if I'd want to live here, but there are plenty of shops for a French county town.
Next morning I bought a train ticket to Lalinde, which is only about 30 minutes away if that.
It's actually a very pleasant "town" but you can discover most of it in a day (or an afternoon without luggage).
I had lunch there and then went to see how the Dordogne looked from this place.The river didn't seem as accessible here as a place to walk but the canal made up for it. It felt more provincial than Bergerac but I liked the energies here.
Lalinde has a stadium and enough shops and banks, but as it was lunchtime most were probably closed, adding to the sleepy feel of the place. Even the train station closes for two hours at lunchtime.
The canal was lovely though, and if I hadn't been dragging a large suitcase on wheels over rough ground I would have walked further along it. It looked like it lead to some forested areas, in fact the hills surrounding the town were heavily forested, so perhaps some good hiking areas worth exploring around here.
Very pleasant here and I felt I'd like to get to know this place better. But as I had only given myself a week to explore both the Dordogne and the Lot river areas, this was just an brief overview at lightening speed, and I felt no need to stay the night in Lalinde. So I sat by the canal waiting for the train station to re-open and bought a ticket to go to St.Cyprien on the next train, which was at 3.00pm.
So, breakfast in Bergerac, lunch in Lalinde and dinner in St.Cyprien, where I would book a room for the night.
St. Cyprien is quite a walk from the river Dordogne and so the river doesn't feel like a feature at all. The village itself is set up high in the hills, but is walkable from the train station.Once there I noticed that there were more old buildings, narrow streets and interesting architecture than in either of the other two towns I'd just been through.
Next morning I woke up in St. Cyprien with fear in my belly. Haven't had that feeling in ages.
The temperature felt icy cold too, and seemed to be biting into my flesh. There was also an air-raid siren going off. Had I woken up in the wrong world ? Took a wrong turning in my dreamstate?
I also needed a coffee desperately, or any hot drink come to that. As usual in French hotels there are rarely tea or coffee-making facilities in the room itself, and I hadn't brought my travel kettle . I wasn't feeling grounded at all, and needed my morning tea and cigarette, like now rather than later.
Hadn't ordered any breakfast 24 hours in advance as I can't plan anything 24 hours in advance, plus I usually just need liquids until about 11.00am. Decided to go downstairs to buy a drink before packing, so took a quick shower beforehand. Managed to somehow totally dismantle the plastic folding door between my room and the shower room in the process.
Nobody in reception. Grrrr.....
Walked into the dining-room and the only sign of humanity was a lone couple having their breakfast. No staff anywhere.
Finally one came out and I asked for a coffee. No I hadn't ordered breakfast in advance so will just pay for a coffee, and no I can't repeat every sentence 3 times because my French isn't so good first thing in the morning when I need my first drink, and yes I will wait for another member of staff to come out and help me (but not for long or I'll just help myself).
Finally coffee sorted but no milk. I saw a jug on the side and assumed it contained milk so poured some in my coffee. It was fruit juice. Staff member goes off to fetch some milk which should have been in the dining room in the first place. French coffee is so strong I couldn't even taste the fruit juice, but didn't want to push my luck by asking for another just because I ruined it.
Combien? I put the change on the counter in reception, tried to say I'm taking it to my room, wasn't sure whether that was ok to not drink it in the dining room but gave up trying to explain in French and took it anyway. My needs count this morning, stuff etiquette, they should provide all that stuff in the room.
By the time I'd finished packing, breakfast downstairs had finished so nothing was being served, so I decided to find a cafe nearby to consume even more caffeine.Sat outside the cafe, even though there was still a chill in the air, and continued grounding myself while writing in my journal and waiting for the first train out of St.Cyprien which wasn't until 1.00pm. I knew the day would heat up significantly as it progressed towards noon.
Thought I'd go and find the river in the meantime. Felt burnt out and fed-up already it was only day three.
Tried to buy a ticket for Sarlat but there is no ticket office at St. Cyprien station.
An elderly Frenchman tried to help me. "No you can't buy a ticket there", he said in French, "that's the fire station. You have to buy it on the train."
Sat at the platform and read my book about Madame de Pompadour. One of the firemen was cooking sausages outside, on the platform side. Checked again. Yes you have to buy the ticket on the train. I knew you could be fined heavily if caught without a ticket, but they don't exactly make it easy to purchase one.
Nobody came to sell me a ticket on the train.
I arrived at my final destination on this particular rail track, Sarlat. One of the best preserved medieval towns.
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