5. Toulouse and River Garonne

Although when I first arrived from Toulouse airport I had no desire to stay overnight in Toulouse, I was actually looking forward to going back to a bigger town again as I was starting to feel a bit claustrophic in Carcassonne, having gone in all the shops more than once and not having a car to see other nearby places such as Rennes-le-Chateau, which is unreachable without a car. With blue skies and sunny for February, the temperature in Toulouse took a nosedive during my last couple of days and I just couldn't get warm even when wearing my thermal vest. The rain was very heavy too on one day, so I stayed in my hotel room for half a day watching CNN News, which was nearly all about the upcoming presidential elections in the US. Was glad to get outside once the rain eased off - it rains heavy here when it does fall - and didn't stay out in the evenings because of sub-zero temperatures, or so it seemed. Would just make a dash for the nearest Chinese take-away to have dinner in my hotel room and watch films dubbed in French.

Not as many sights to see in Toulouse apart from the Capitole building and an old church, but by that stage I felt more than ready to return home for a while, so there was probably much more I could have seen if I'd been in the mood for museums and galleries. For future trips to France I think I shall just go out there a week max at a time - that way I stay fresh and enthusiastic. I did enjoy looking around some of the secondhand book shops though, and some of them had a Spanish theme as Toulouse in not far from the Spanish border.

Interior of the Capitole building

Because of the cold, I would often go into a cafe or restaurant just to warm up again, although you have to sit outside if you want to smoke. This is a photo of one of the cafes I went in.




This is what Time Out says about Toulouse:

Toulouse, dubbed ‘Ville Rose’ because of its pink buildings, sits astride the Garonne river and the historic Canal du Midi, midway between the Med and the Atlantic. The heart of the town is the vast, arcaded place du Capitole, where the impressive, grandiose Capitole building forms the seat of local government. It is worth popping in, if only to see the floor-to-ceiling 19th-century paintings, including Henri Martin’s elaborate depiction of Toulousain life at the time. Inside, the Théâtre du Capitole has recently reopened following extensive refurbishment, which has brought the opulent gilt mouldings and painted cartouches back to their former glory.

Turn up rue du Taur to see the city’s finest building, the Basilique St-Sernin, built over the course of three centuries. Romanesque, with a wedding-cake spire, it was once a stop for pilgrims and so over time it accumulated an array of holy relics, most of which are on display.

South-west of the basilica is medieval Toulouse, which is dotted with a rich assortment of historic churches, including the Gothic Les Jacobins on rue Lakanal, where the Dominican order was founded, and the Notre-Dame-de-la-Daurade, a hotchpotch of styles presided over by a black Madonna.

That last sentence surprised me - you mean I could have seen a black Madonna after all? Oh well, next time. My room-mates at the hostel in Carcassonne didn't know what I was talking about when I was referring to wanting to see a black Madonna. At first they thought I meant the Mona Lisa, and then afterwards kept thinking about the singer Madonna.

On my last day (Wed) I was pleasantly surprised to discover it was market day in the square outside the Capitole building, with stalls selling all kind of goods including books and clothes.

I like it when I find a quirky corner of town like this Grecian monument or fountain or whatever it was - it looked purely decorative - and on the opposite side a Father Christmas decoration was still hanging outside a shop in late February.

I would have stayed in the Youth Hostel in Toulouse if it wasn't for the fact that it had been closed due to a fire. There are plenty of hotels to choose from in the area around the train station, and also down the side street immediately opposite the station. I can't imagine needing to book in advance unless you come in high season as there isn't exactly a shortage of hotel accommodation. There is also a metro here but I never used it, as I prefer to walk. As it was either cold or raining, I didn't take too many outdoor photos and concentrated more on some last minute clothes shopping before flying back to London. An airport shuttle bus takes you back to Toulouse airport from the bus station, which is to the right of the train station as you come out.


For gift ideas, one of the products that Toulouse is famous for is violets, and there are various gift shops selling violet sweets, soaps, lotions, perfumes, candles, chocolates, teas and anything else to do with violets.
Crystallised violets are real violet flowers coated with sugar.
You can order violet products online directly from Toulouse in France (site is in English) at Regals.

Toulouse also holds a Festival of Violet in February, so I must have just missed it.

4. Carcassonne

After the first week in France I was beginning to feel burnt out and needed a couple of days free from thinking about property purchase. Decided on the spur of the moment to visit Carcassonne, as I always fancied seeing it. There was nothing to keep me in Varen as I had no more appointments (anywhere) so I thought a few days sightseeing might be the answer. We looked up the youth hostel on my hosts' laptop and saw that the hostel was actually within the castle walls. Cool. I bought a one-way ticket on the train and when I arrived in Carcassonne it was sunny and I really liked the energies of the place. From the station I walked down the main high street and managed to get directions to the Tourist Office, where I would hopefully get my map and directions for walking to the hostel.

It was a bit confusing at first, mainly because of the signposts not always being accurate, pointing to centre of town when it was actually taking me out of the town. Only the last part of the walk was uphill and it was not that far really from the modern part of town where the station and shops were. Crossing over a bridge I could see the castle and was looking forward to settling in within its walls.



Back to youth hostels after paying for hotels and gites, the woman at the hostel reception was asking me a lot of questions, which I don't remember being asked at all the other hostels I've stayed at in France. "Do you intend to buy a house in France?" (how the hell did she know that?) "What do you do for work in England?" (nothing at the moment) "why don't you work in England?" (hang on a minute, I just want a flaming room).

"Do I need to be working in order to book a room here?" I asked in French.
The girl standing within earshot next to me sniggered.
" We get a lot of unemployed people staying here" the receptionist answered disapprovingly.
Unemployed? She thinks I'm claiming off the state? In any case we have to pay for our room in advance, so what does it matter what anyone does or doesn't do in their home country? I felt annoyed with myself for not telling her to mind her own business, but I'd automatically began answering the questions before I realised it wasn't necessary for her computer records. So during my first few minutes in the hostel I felt like I was being looked down on by this snooty receptionist - never mind that I have three projects and a company to start when I move permanently to France. She went back to her computer in the middle of the office and started tapping away at the keyboard, ignoring me, even before we were finished and while I was still trying to talk to her. Oh so busy, I'm so impressed!

I guess I shouldn't expect 5 star treatment in a hostel. But later when I wanted to extend my stay she shocked me by addressing me by the informal "tu" instead of the polite "vous". That was the first time I'd experienced this in France, so it stuck out like a sore thumb. Perhaps I'm becoming more French than I realise by feeling unconsciously insulted by it. I'm older than her AND I'm a customer - so why now a toi instead of a vous? Don't know why but that woman really rubbed me the wrong way.

The other two receptionists were very helpful and polite though. So I'd save up my questions for them, and when snooty receptionist said I'd have to change my room to extend my stay for 2 more days there (and I didn't see the necessity of re-packing my case and re-making my bed, as I'm willing to share) I asked one of the others later, who asked me "why do you want to change your room? you don't have to."

My two room-mates were nice. One was a young Spanish teacher from Costa Rica who was on holiday and on a year's contract teaching Spanish to French kids, and the next day we were joined by a retired Canadian woman who was doing a lightening quick tour of the whole of France after studying French in Nice for a month. One reason I like staying in hostels is because you get to talk to other people than when you stay in a hotel, as it can get a bit lonely at times being on the road. And secondly, because I'm not exactly on holiday but only in France to look for a property, I really don't want to waste resources that I could use on my own home - and it all adds up. I'm not so frugal that I avoid restaurants or buying clothes though !

This is the drawbridge you walk across to get into the old town.

And here is the view from the drawbridge.
The roads were narrow and cobbled, with some shops catering mainly to tourists, selling things like swords, daggers, books on Cathar history, local produce etc.
My Canadian room-mate bought a pewter knight - she said she collects knights in shining armour. I ended up buying, of all things, a teddy bear. It just kept looking at me in the shop, telepathically saying "buy me, I don't want to stay here", so I went back for it.

This is the main road with the tourist shops leading out of the old town towards the drawbridge.

Apart from when I had dinner, I would spend most of my time in the new town, as all of the shops (and estate agents) were there. It had its own atmosphere, was quite busy during the day, but it was hard to find anywhere to eat or drink after 8pm when most restaurants and bars closed. Perhaps it is different during the tourist season, I don't know.

It was about a 30 minute walk into the newer part of Carcassonne - you can see it from this photo (above). I read that that Carcassonne fortress was going to be demolished in 1849 because it had fallen into such disrepair. It caused such an uproar at the time that it led to a campaign to preserve the fortress as a historical monument. The restoration wasn't strictly authentic, as slate was used instead of tiles for the some of the roofs, but at least it is still standing.

The newer part of the town of Carcassonne, on the other side of the Aude river, dates back from the Middle Ages and was created after the crusades. This is the main square, with the fountain and statue of Neptune. Around the square are all the usual cafes and eating places to sit outside. Even though it was February, I was sitting outside.

And this is the canal that runs through Carcassonne - The Canal du Midi.
A major part of the town's income comes from the tourism connected to the fortifications (Cité) and from boat cruising on the Canal du Midi. Carcassonne receives about three million visitors annually.

There is even a Carcassonne Board Game, from which there have been made various later versions, although I haven't seen it or played it myself. It can also be purchased through my blog book shop (see Useful Links) from Amazon UK.

Carcassonne itself has its fair share of supposed hauntings. The Tower of Justice is said to be the most haunted part of the fortified town. A woman in a blood stained dress has been seen floating across the floor and the sounds of chanting has been reported. A portly gentleman has been seen standing and staring at visitors and a poltergeist has been experienced, lifting and throwing candle sticks. Screams of pain and torture have been heard echoing from the outer walls.

I never saw any ghosts myself, or heard any wailing for that matter, although this place must have seen its fair share of gruesome history.

This is the square around the corner from the hostel where most of the restaurants are, and where I would go for my morning coffee before heading into the new part of town to buy my breakfast from the bakers - a sausage roll that would have a hot dog type sausage instead of the usual sort of sausage inside pastry (I've only managed to find it in Carcassonne so far). That would keep me going until lunchtime.

If you are on a budget it is worth eating out for lunch as you can get some pretty good deals lunchtimes only. I had a steak with red peppers and fries plus a glass of wine for about 8 or 9 euros max. The Plat du jour (dish of the day) is the one to go for. It's also worth packing some plastic cutlery in your suitcase so you can buy food at the supermarket to eat if you don't want to use restaurants all the time. I always tend to forget to do that.

Stayed in Carcassonne far longer than I intended, mainly because of wanting to view a house and needing to waiting until Monday before the agents could take me as the keys were held at their other branch. Only on Monday did I learn that the house wasn't in the village that their computer said it was, but in some remote place in the Black Mountains miles away from anywhere. If I'd known about the error before I could have seen another town rather than spending so many days in Carcassonne, as I usually prefer to spend no more than 3 nights in one place.

I did try to do a day trip by train while based there, only there were two trains waiting at the platform and I got on the wrong one, which wasn't going anywhere. I even asked the young couple who were on the same train, and they confirmed it was the right one. The next train wasn't for another hour, and for the brief time I'd planned to have a quick look around the other town it wasn't worth hanging around the station for the next train, plus my enthusiasm had waned by then so I asked for a refund. The woman said no at first, but after persisting and her going to ask someone else, she let me have a refund as a one off gesture but said in principle they don't do that.

3. Lexos, St Antonin & house viewing

Wasn't sure what to call this post - Varen was the nearest 'town' although I stayed nearby in a tiny hamlet called Soucaillac, where the nearest station was called Lexos, and the house I viewed was in a nearby hamlet called something else (which I forget). Anyway, it was a train journey going north from Gaillac, only a few trains daily there (about 3) and at least this time I was already booked into a gite, where the owner's would be present. It wasn't self-catering, but I had my own space and front door in a separate part of the stone building, while they had the pigeonnier which led to a vast room where the kitchen/dining and living room were.

Lexos looked a strange station as the train pulled in. Architecturally different (wish I'd taken a photo) and also unmanned - you buy your ticket on the train. Although I was offered a lift from the station, I had originally refused because I didn't know what train I'd be arriving on, and thought that if the train was delayed and I was late I wouldn't be able to use my French mobile phone to let them know because I still hadn't worked out how to re-charge it. Each time I listened to the instructions they were in very fast French and virtually incomprehensible to me. I didn't want anyone waiting at the station in case of delays. In the end I told them exactly which train I'd be on as there were so few of them anyway, and hoped they would turn up and give me a lift, although by now I'd been given instructions on the quickest route to walk it.

With my big heavy suitcase on wheels, my first instructions were to cross the railway tracks to the other side. No bridge or walkway, just bare tracks. Big sign says it's dangerous to do this, but I have no choice. The day was getting hot even though it was only February, and going uphill was a struggle. Past fields and hedgrows, I finally reached my accommodation after about half an hour with numerous stops to catch my breath.

It was the first time I'd stayed in a hamlet environment, with only a handful of houses, most of them seeming to be empty. The English estate agent was due to pick me up from here in a couple of days time to view my dream home by the river, so that gave me a bit of time to settle in and discover the nearest town by bicycle to see what facilities it had. As the nearest shops in Varen were quite a way to walk, the owners lent me a bicycle. I still opted for the evening meal though as I had no kitchen, but was glad of some company and conversation over my 3 courses with wine. They both spoke English (he being English anyway) so that made it even better.

I was even helped with re-charging my mobile plus given written instructions on how to do it for next time. Although he seemed to have loads of students, presumably ex-pats, to whom he taught French, they still seemed to need to work at lots of other casual jobs as the gite was only a supplement to their income.
Considering they are a couple, and this was necessary in spite of having a gite and plenty of students, I was getting the impression from everywhere I went in France that living in France was expensive and that I'd probably have to work at many jobs if there was just me living there and paying the social charges etc

There were fields all around, the river Aveyron ran through the area which you could walk to and see from the gite, plus the gite owners had some unattached land a few yards from their home. It was very rural there. I cycled into Varen and was glad I didn't try to walk it. From what I could see there was one post office, a bakers, a pharmacy and a general store. If there were more shops I couldn't see them, and there was only the one main high street (photo left). I'd told myself previously I wouldn't need more than a few basic shops. Perhaps I need to revise those ideas. I must have been visibly turning my nose up at the empty high street devoid of shops, when a woman passed me and with a wonderful smile said "c'est beau!"
Yes, it IS beautiful, it's just me that needs a perception shift, I don't know why I'm like this. Not only that, it's for nature that I want to be living in France anyway, as I told myself I could order anything else I wanted over the internet.

The estate agent showed me around the house a short drive away, which was the sole purpose for my being in that neck of the woods anyway, but I knew after thinking about it for 24 hours that it wasn't right for my project. I'd stayed awake all night with insomnia. Next day I phoned her to say I wouldn't be putting in an offer after all. I'm sure she just saw me as commission on legs, and I could feel the previous day how we seemed to be playing ping pong. She wanted that house sold no matter what, and whenever I opened my mouth I wasn't really being listened to but given the usual type of sales talk reply. She had no other houses to show me but had planned on showing me a cheaper one (that she'd not told me about) that was so unsuitable as it had even less garden. She knew I wanted to do horticulture, but I think even I would have been challenged such with a small patch of lawn in the front. She even suggested I turn one of the small outbuildings housing the oil central heating boiler into a gite. Well, even the fumes were knocking me back as I popped my head in the door. "You could build a brick wall", she said, "enclosing off the boiler". So how to access the boiler then? And what about health and safety regulations having paying guests in the tiny space (and I mean tiny) right next to an inflammable liquid chucking out fumes? I'd probably get done for manslaughter if they lit up a cigarette. I wouldn't want to hang around that area given the smell, let alone have the nerve to charge someone for staying in a small shed with a smelly oil tank/boiler.

Anyway, the owner of the gite offered to give me a lift into Saint Antonin the following day, as he had a student there. It would only be for half an hour for that's how long his class lasted, but at least I could get to a bank and also maybe a few estate agents.

Saint Antonin

I was given a lift back via the scenic route so could see what the surrounding terrain was like from up high. Although I only stayed about 3 nights at the gite I really enjoyed my stay and learned a lot about the various challenges of being an expat in France, as well as things about rural life I didn't know about before. Such as how to get rid of moles in your garden. I was shown some contraption that you plant underground which when triggered explodes a loud noise which scares the moles away.

2. Day trip to Albi

While based in Gaillac I did a day trip to Albi. I'd read previously somewhere that it is one of the towns in France that is most successful for new businesses starting up. It is bigger than Gaillac and had a feel to it that it was a thriving rather than a stagnating town.

Throughout my trips around France the energies have just not felt right to start a business. France is beautiful, the people are friendly, I do love a lot of things about France but my doubts get in the way about the ability to make enough money to live on over there. It's more to do with feeling into the energies than anything my mind tells me, and I trust my feelings, they guide me. Having said that Albi seemed like a town that it could be possible to start a business and stay in business, I still couldn't imagine myself living there permanently.

What is it with me and France? It's beautiful but something doesn't feel right - perhaps I just haven't found the right location for me yet. Some places are so small and sleepy that I know I would get bored after a few weeks. Some places are so large and anonymous like Toulouse that I may as well stay where I am than move to another large and anoymous city. Paris is too expensive and the rooms are tiny (well, for my budget at least) plus gardens are a rarity, even small ones. With villages you may be lucky to get a grocers, let alone a bank, restaurant or a post office.
I wander around France hoping that one day I'll bump into 'the place' that I want to settle in and put down roots. So when I say I like a place, it is usually just as a place to visit (so far).

There was an outdoor food market going on the day I arrived. The large cathedral dominates the town square, around which are shops and cafes. Apart from a walk I did along the river, I assumed that the whole of Albi was this market square with it's side roads of shops. It wasn't until I walked back to the station and got lost, that I found a huge high street full of shops, when I hadn't time to go have a proper look if I was to catch my train. I'd gone in and out of the same shops around the main square more than once as I had a few hours in Albi after my lunch before the train was due. Could have done with discovering the high street earlier, although most shops close for two hours at lunchtime, which means they become invisible until they open again.

The inside of the cathedral was beautiful, everything was decorated in colour, and the outside was massive. None of my indoor photos came out as I had my camera on the tungsten setting, which turned everything blue.

1. Feb 2008 - Gaillac and River Tarn

Feb 2008 - I had a two week trip to view one house!! Mad I know, I should have booked a load of viewing appointments before leaving. As I'm still curious about other areas in France, it did no harm in seeing yet other towns, villages and rivers. I took no notes at all on this trip and most of my photos were of properties - I saw three in the end - and so came back with a few more travel pics and not much else to show for it yet.

I did post about it on my other blog after I got home, but had not uploaded any photos, which is what this blog is really for, along with other articles and information about France. Also Photobucket had changed their website while I was away - adding more bells and whistles, and requiring software to be downloaded
to re-size the pics (which took ages as I'm on dial-up and it didn't work for me anyway) - which meant I couldn't re-size the photos like I had in the past - it took over a month of emails to get them to re-instate the old re-size function. Luckily they did and I'm still impressed with their customer service, because at least they listen. Still, I digress. I'll put up the photos in chronological order, and cut and paste most of what I wrote on the other blog entry to avoid having it down twice.

I flew to Toulouse and had pretty much decided that it would be best to be not far by train from this airport as there are plenty of cheap flights to and from London, plus Toulouse is a big town so convenient for doing some 'proper shopping' (most towns in France being more like villages to me). The town itself didn't really impress me much and there wasn't much to see either, but there WERE plenty of shops. I decided that I wouldn't stay overnight here as I'd much prefer a more attractive small town/ village environment, so I just bought a phone card to top up my French mobile before buying a train ticket to travel the 40 minute journey to Gaillac, north-east of Toulouse.

River Tarn at Gaillac

Didn't have a clue what was in Gaillac, or indeed any of the places I buy train tickets to, but at least I would also be that much nearer to where I was going to view the house in a few days time. Gaillac was handy for day trips to a lot of other nearby places as well, and Toulouse just seemed like a big grimy town with nothing much to offer me personally.

Gaillac is on the River Tarn - I do love it when I discover another river. In fact my room looked out over it, from a bed and breakfast place opposite the church. My wind-up clock had stopped and I never wear a watch anyway (they don't work on me) so it was handy having the church clock chime out the hour every hour (luckily not throughout the night) as I couldn't actually see the clock itself from the windows. The owner, Madame Pinon, had said I could have breakfast at whatever time I like, which is unusual, and as I hadn't slept at all the night before (staying up in order to catch an early flight) I emerged at nearly 11.00am for my breakfast of croissants, bread and jam. She has the only B&B in town, although there are a number of hotels too. I think it was 45 euros per night, which seems to be about the average for standard accommodation around France.

I'd originally checked out another accommodation which I'd heard was incredibly cheap, but as the proprietor wasn't at home I gave up on that one. Just as well, because it reminded me of a cross between a youth hostel and a prison. The B&B I loved, so was happy to stay there for the few days in Gaillac while I traipsed around the estate agents to see what was available in the general area. Anything too near Toulouse seemed very expensive anyway (and mainly apartments) but I wanted to be on the train line to Toulouse so that gave me lots of options now that I had the train timetables for the area. I just wish there was a way of getting hold of the timetables or routes BEFORE flying out there, as although there is the online SNCF website, you have to know the name of the station in order to check the trains. It would be good to have a list of the stations in advance so I could plan my journey in advance - I may type out a few train routes on my blog sometime and suggest some stations worth stopping at. May be useful for if I ever lose all those tiny timetables.


While in Gaillac I saw one house with an agent who spoke no English at all. The house had plenty of land, but on such a steep slope behind the house I could never have mowed it and would have to keep sheep to keep the wilderness in check. When I pointed out that the rainwater from the slope would run straight towards the house, he showed me where the house had been already re-inforced via the foundations and the beams, plus the crack in the wall, he said, the government would give me a free grant to fix. Oh sure, which is why the present owners haven’t fixed it yet. The interior walls had been papered directly over the breezeblocks, so the whole place needed plastering also. It was at that stage that I felt I didn’t really want a house made of cement however much land it had. It had also been advertised as an ancient house when it was actually recent, plus the best bit of land in front of the house (flat) he said the owner's wanted to sell separately, which could have meant the lovely view could be obliterated if someone else built a house on it. Still, at least I was getting to see some houses this time as well as practising my French.

On the way home he asked if I was staying at Mme Pinon's. How did you know that? I asked. He laughed and said that they were friends, and also that her place is the best place to stay.

Had a couple of meals in a restaurant owned by an English man, who said he was selling up and moving out of France after five years of living and working there. Although lunchtimes were often busy the restaurant was dead at night because the locals don’t have the disposable income to eat out in the evenings, so he wasn’t really making a profit after paying all the French taxes, social charges, employee wages etc. That evening was particularly quiet anyway as everyone was home watching a rugby match between England and France. I told him he was very brave putting an England flag on the balcony of his restaurant. “Oh, they are used to me by now”, he said, “I even did that during the World Cup. Someone climbed up and took it down during the match. I was really upset. A couple of days later they posted it to me saying they couldn’t have that up during the match, but well done anyway.”

It wasn't very encouraging every time I heard someone who was self-employed tell me how hard it was to make a decent living in France. And this man had run a big restaurant in London in the past so he was no novice. I musn't let these comments put me off, although I haven't seen anywhere yet where it would feel right for me to live permanently.

"You're staying at Madame Pinon's aren't you?" he asked.
I smiled to myself thinking I wouldn't be able to stay anonymous like in London in a French small town, but maybe that's a novelty I don't mind experiencing for a while.

Black wine of Cahors

For the first time in history, a French wine is about to be blacklisted - and that’s a good thing. Cahors, long the ignored stepchild of France’s great vineyards, may soon be given its own official category: vin noir or black wine. The new designation, awaiting approval by INAO, would mean that restaurants throughout the country could add the term “black wine” to their wine lists along with red, white and rosé. Winemakers, in turn, could have the option of printing Vin Noir de Cahors on their labels. (from France Magazine).

Last night I was finishing reading A French Affair by Michael Kenyon, who used to live in Cahors, and found some of the history of this regional wine rather interesting, so thought I'd post an extract of what he wrote here. (Not tasted it myself yet, as was far too pre-occupied with finding somewhere that served tea during my brief visit, although I'll definitely bring back a bottle next time I'm out there again).

He wrote:

Annual production in 1816, the year after Waterloo - 175,000 barrels.
Production in 1958 - 650 barrels and a real possibility that soon there would be no more ever.

The Romans brought the first vines to Quercy, where no sooner had viticulture got under way than it almost ended. In AD 92 the Emperor Domitian (murdered in a palace conspiracy led by his wife) ordered the destruction of half the provincial vineyards to make room for grain. The vines of Quercy remained uprooted for two centuries until replanting began under a wine enthusiast, the Emperor Probus
(murdered by his troops). The quality of the new vines was good. By 1225 Vin de Cahors was being quoted on the London market.

Pope John XXII gave the wine of his native Quercy a boost by ordering the Auxerrois vines cultivated there to be planted at the papal palace at Avignon.
After the papal palace, the royal palace at Fontainebleu.
The problem wasn't producing stunning wine but distributing it.
Once the wine reached Bordeaux it could be shipped anywhere by sea, but to arrive there the barges had to navigate the frequently treacherous Lot. Tons of wine and grain went to the bottom of the river each year. Once the wine was in Bordeaux, the world's greatest single vineyard, the jealous Bordelais slapped crippling duties on it and often would not allow it out of the port.

The wine got around and its reputation waxed anyway.
The privileged drank it at banquets aboard French transport ships while the lowers orders made do with Vin de Graves and Vin de Bordeaux.
In Russia it became the ceremonial wine at mass in the Russian Orthodox Church.
Vin de Cahors reached the American colonies where fraud discredited it, cochineal being added to rubbish wine for colouring and the result sold as finest imported Vin de Cahors. The half century following the Napoleonic Wars became a golden age of Cahors wine, as for all French wines.

What went wrong? Why, come the 1950s, was the end nigh for Vin de Cahors?
One reason was competition from the new vineyards of the Midi, that vast area of southern France reaching from the Spanish border to the Rhone. With few exceptions these Languedoc wines were not up to the standard of Cahors wine, but with the railway they could travel fast and in bulk to all parts of France. They took business away from all the old established vineyards, and while the great estates of Bordeaux and Burgundy could weather the competition, small growers of wines such as Vin de Cahors suffered.

The second reason was a vine louse in imported American vines. In 1868 the louse became known as phylloxera. In teeming colonies, the vine louse ate the roots of the vines, reaching Quercy in 1877 and destroying half the vineyards. By the end of the decade most of the Bordeaux vineyards were devastated, and a few years later those of Champagne and Burgundy. Two-and-a-half million acres of French vines were laid waste.

The solution was eventually found to be the grafting of French vines - what was left of them - onto imported, louse-resistant American vines. From America came both the louse and remedy. The graftings were in general a success, but in the Lot entire tracts of land had been abandoned, the farmers and their families having lost heart and boarded trains for Paris and boats for the colonies. Two more American diseases struck, black rot and mildew, and returned again and again to wreck the grape harvests. Algerian wine, deluging the country from 1930, was alright for mixing with the rough stuff of the Midi but not with Vin de Cahors. Rarely if ever has a quality wine been so overwhelmed with disaster.

How come the resurrection? Grafting experiments, studies of soil and climate, the founding of a co-operative, and in 1970 the award of the official stamp of approval - Appellation d'Origine Controlee.