3. Cahors in Lot valley

Had a two hour wait in Souillac before my train to Cahors was due to arrive, so had lunch outside the only cafe opposite the station. They must do a roaring trade as the actual town itself seemed a very long walk from the station.

On arriving in Cahors I finally found the youth hostel, which is centrally placed in the town itself but which I still found hard to find even with a map.
The woman in the office said I'd be sharing a dormitory with 27 other people (or something like that). No, I said, the Tourist Office who made the booking said I'd be sharing at most with one other person. She squinted at the timetable or whatever it was on her wall, and silently gave me what I'd originally asked for and had booked.

The hostel itself has a more modern annexe, where all the young ones are shoved in together in large dormitories, and an older building next to it that used to be a convent. The front door was so old and rusted that I doubt anyone had managed to close it for decades. In fact in was always left open at night.
Going in to the right was an old wooden staircase that led up to a lockable door, behind which was the first bedroom.
It was very large and light, with flowery wallpaper and large window and one single bed. But as you have to walk through this room to get to the other two bedrooms it's not ideal if others are staying there. So I chose one of the smaller back bedrooms instead.

My room was very spartan, with old fashioned French floral wallpaper and one bunk bed. I was beginning to feel like a nun after staying there for two nights for it felt rather grim there even for me, but at only 10 euros a night it was helping the cashflow a bit after using hotels.



I liked Cahors straight away and it is a much bigger town than any of the others so far on this trip, with the Lot river running through it and surrounding it on three sides, plus the famous bridge which is said to be one of the oldest of its kind.

I had wanted to take a boat ride down the river but was told that all boat trips were fully booked until the end of the month.

There were also some villages that I'd planned to see both east and west of Cahors along the Lot river, which you can only reach by bus if you don't drive, but the bus timetable was bizarre at the weekend. There was no way of getting there and back. The first bus out was either too late to be useful to look around before the last bus back had to be caught, which was too early to make the journey worth attempting. Or there was a bus at dawn and none coming back. The weekdays had a better timetable but I wasn't sure how much longer I wanted to be in my youth hostel room, and really wanted to see Gourdon before going home.


I discovered this fascinating water clock while walking around the older part of town.


The estate agents I wanted to visit were a few miles from Gourdon, so I bought myself a French mobile phone while still in Cahors as I knew I'd need one for property viewing, although I'd hardly any time left to actually go look at any houses now. It was a depressing thought, but I knew I had to decide on a location first so until I had more clarity around that it was pointless viewing any houses.

For some reason I thought I'd sleep in late Sunday morning before catching the train to Gourdon, completely forgetting about the hostels rules about vacating the room by 10.00am. In hotels it's usually 11.00am. There had been a party going on all Saturday night in one of the apartments opposite my room so I'd been unable to sleep.

In the morning I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone came thumping on my door. Apparently I only had about an hour to get out. I don't know why the hostel man felt such urgency to kick me out on Sunday morning because I was the only one in that building, but I managed to pack quickly and get ready, and spent my time at the station bar drinking pastis and coffee while waiting for my train.

I just hoped that everything wasn't closed in Gourdon, as is often the case in France on a Sunday, for as usual I had neither hotel reservation nor food provisions.

3. Blois Youth Hostel, Loire

According to the hostel handbook, Blois youth hostel was 5 kms from the train station, and I didn't know where to catch the bus or where to get off at the other end, so I went to the Tourist Office in town for a map. The youth hostel was off the map. The handbook had described the hostel as being in the countryside, in a charming little village near the forest. Great, I thought, at least I get to walk in a forest at last. Nobody told me, though, that the village had no shops.

Blois town itself seemed pleasant enough, built on two levels - a high walkway and a much lower level. Back to the grey slate roofs and muddy river, I was tired, thirsty and irritable after a horrendous journey from the Charente Maritime and just wanted to dump my suitcase somewhere and have tea.

I'd waited forever at Angouleme to catch the TGV fast train which had been delayed due to some accident, which resulted in missing my connecting train to Blois. I arrived an hour late in Blois and was not in the mood to work out the intricacies of the bus system, so the tourist office phoned for a taxi to take me to the hostel.

No this isn't the hostel, it's the Chateau at Blois. I only saw the outside of it, and had intended come back and pay to go inside sometime but never did. The woman at the Tourist Office for some reason felt compelled to give me her well-rehearsed speech about every chateau in the area while I was waiting for the taxi to arrive. Her "tourist presentation", which sounded automated as she probably gives this same info many times each day, was totally wasted on me and I had to plead for her to stop. I explained I was tired and hungry and needed to eat, in fact I felt a bit faint and ungrounded, and couldn't really care less about the chateaux. "I'm not a tourist", I insisted.

That's when I found out there were no food shops or restaurants in the village I was heading for. "Then I'll walk back into town later" I said.
"Oh, it's too far, she told me, and in any case it's too dangerous to walk at night by the river".

Then the staff got into a flap wondering whether they should cancel the taxi so I could eat in town first.

As it was getting late and I had to arrive at the hostel before 7pm or my reservation would be cancelled, I decided to at least show up and then decide what to do. The taxi cost 12 euros (instead of one euro by bus) but still wasn't expensive, and at least I would end up in the right place.

Blois youth hostel is an old house, which I'm told used to be a school. I had already felt this before I was told, because it seemed more like I was staying in a boarding school than a hostel, plus the woman who ran the place reminded me of a headmistress! It would have made a good setting for an Agatha Christie murder mystery novel.

I was impressed by the old wooden staircase that wound up to the first floor reception office. I wasn't sure how many nights to stay here as I didn't know how I'd managed without easy access to food shops, so I just paid by the day. If you ever come here, take food with you. Everyone who turned up the next day made the same mistake, and had to beg, steal or borrow for their dinner. The headmistress offered to phone for a pizza to be delivered as she was planning on having one too, so at least the first night's food was sorted. It was quite expensive though for what it was.

I learned that there is a curfew at 10.30pm when the front door is locked, plus no entry to the hostel between the hours of 10.30am to 5.00pm. A bus stop outside had an irregular bus service every hour or so into town.

"What's my room number?" I asked, hoping it would add up to 5 like it normally does. "Just choose any bed" she replied. There are just two very large dormitories filled with bunk beds, in what used to be the classrooms. One for males and one for females, with very high ceilings and the beds were in the centre as well as around the walls, so it was easy to get some privacy. There were only two other people staying at the hostel when I first arrived - an English girl from Yorkshire and a Belgian man. Both of them had their own bicycles with them, and I felt rather envious of the fact they had transport.

I desperately needed tea, and the headmistress gave me some teabags, milk and sugar. Three teabags is not a lot for an English person to survive on all evening and next morning so I asked if I could actually buy some teabags off of her.
"Oh no....I need them for residents breakfasts in the morning" she said, giving me a couple more from her cupboard which was stocked with what looked like a years supply of teabags. Considering there were only 3 residents in total I wasn't sure why she was stockpiling them, but was grateful for the few she DID give me, and she refused to be paid for anything too.

The huge kitchen, which was available for residents to use, was a delight. From the window I could see just trees and a few rooftops in the hamlet. The showers and toilets were in an outbuilding outside. The other girl who was staying there told me she had originally planned to book for 5 nights but had changed it to two because of the outside showers. It didn't bother me that much, as I was more concerned about the infrequency of the buses and the fact that on Sundays there was only ONE bus into town and ONE bus back to the youth hostel.

Next day I decided to go into Blois town for the Saturday morning market (mainly food) and buy my fresh veg there like the French do, plus other provisions from the supermarket.


The above photo is of a bar-owner in the market feeding his parrot. Unfortunately the parrot ducked his head just as I took the photo.

Went for a walk around the town, exploring both sides of the Loire river. Buying my groceries this early was a mistaken as my butter melted and turned liquid in the heat by the end of the day. There wasn't a lot to see on the other side of the river, apart from this delightful bakers shop which was closed (as they often are for 2 hours lunchtime) and some amazing old half-timbered houses.

I had a nice lunch in a restaurant in the old part of town. And went inside a church where there was an unusual shrine to Mary. It was behind glass, and she looked like she was standing by some enormous egg.

Some new guests started to arrive at the hostel. Firstly, a young Brazilian guy, who was doing a month's tour of both France and Spain by train, and who also arrived with no food. He hinted about sharing some of mine, and I felt embarassed that I'd only bought in the market exactly what I needed for one meal, as I was leaving soon for England. He managed to get a lift into town though, and seemed quite prepared to hitch (or even walk) anywhere. He spoke some English but no French.

Later an elderly Polish man arrived, who spoke French but no English, and was on holiday from his work which was based in France. He was doing a tour of the chateaux, and was telling me about Chambord chateau which is a short distance by bus from Blois. I had half-thought about seeing at least one chateau before going home, after all I can't visit the Loire valley without seeing at least one. It was a decision between going to Amboise and seeing the market, which was supposed to be one of the best markets in the area and not to be missed, and I could also have taken a tourist bus from there to one of the other chateaux. It would have meant missing the last bus back on Sunday (there was only one around 6pm) and taking a taxi back to the hostel. That, with the train fare would have made that the more expensive option and I was running out of euros and didn't want to draw more out.


The Polish man was talking about Chambord like he was talking about a woman he was in love with. He was obviously in awe of the architecture and said it was the number one chateau to see in the Loire. The one I was planning on seeing from Amboise was the second best, he said. Totally undecided, I left the decision until the morning. Being Sunday the next day I would have to make sure I caught the only morning bus into Blois town whatever I decided.

Next morning he asked if I'd made up my mind yet. I asked if I could accompany him to Chambord, partly because I didn't want to spend my last day alone (having felt really lonely the day before for some reason), and partly because he was enthusiastic about the chateau, having seen it before. I didn't really care which chateau I saw, and if we missed the last bus back we could at least share the taxi ride. He seemed pleased to have some company too, so Chambord it was.