Sue's first blog - Gers, Gascogne, in the village of Vic-Fezensac!

24/4/07 -- Bella's birthday -- all of four years old! Happy birthday Bella!

We have made our way to this place over a month, moving from Paris to Strasbourg to Massif Central (via Basel -- slight overshooting on fast moving highways!), staying overnight in a village, Rochefort sur?, in Compt or was it Jura ... an attractive walled village on cliffs overlooking a large swiftly flowing river, divided diagnally by a weir which created a magnificent effect of movement and energy. Here we walked in the evening, over the river to look at curious, wide eyed, playful charolais heifers, fresh out of sheds for the spring. Early morning we headed for the walk along the wide, swiftly flowing river under cliffs reflecting golden, morning sun. Mist curled upwards in cold morning air. Old dogs graced footpaths ready for a pat, or tugged energetically on leads of owners making their way to the local boulangerie for freshly baked bread for breakfast.

We struck up a friendship with a young German woman and her 3 year old daughter, Emile? who had happy memories of a year spent working in National Parks in S.A. Maybe we will take up her offer of a tour of Heidleberg, Germany as we pass through to the Netherlands and Sweden later on in the summer.

Cruising through the Jura to Massif Central, the change from well-to-do, neatly presented people and villages to wilder more unkempt ones, caught our imaginations. Gone were the fabulous looking charolais, in came poorer looking versions, less voluptuous pastures and tight mouthed people. At one spot, dying for a stretch and a walk, we found a small road which suggested fishing and wandering, only to find signs warning of something to do with rifle ranges and trespassing. The feeling of not being welcome grew and stayed with us.

Overnight at Maringues, a particularly old, village with a pervading sense of poverty. A particularly grumpy frenchman in a hotel that doesn't appear to charge except when it comes to dinners and breakfasts taught us that that was not our preferred mode. Safe but boring -- tired of tourists.

Our image of humanity did, however, regain a more positive hue as we discovered the hub of the village which was the first internet cafe that worked since we had arrived. We were given excellent coffee and hot chocolate, in lieu of any breakfast at the grumpy hotel. Three hours later, we emerged feeling much lighter after emailing through essentials re bussiness-as-usual in Australia. As we paid for the coffees, (internet free for first timers!) there was laughter regarding us being gullible fish they were catching in their net...

Driving on, we sighted the mountains -- snowcapped, beckoning beyond the damp, glugginess of lowlands and sluggish, mired rivers. We meandered past ancient ruins on hilltops, chateaus on hillsides and small villages in the valleys on streams, swollen with melting snow. Rounding a bend, a perfect soccer field beckoned Ashur and Ian while Sue went exploring down winding paths leading towards the roar of a river.

Revitalized with picnic lunch on organic produce, we happily chanced upon in Vic-le-Compt, we landed in Coudes from which Ashur and Sue could not dragged away in haste! The river was full and rapidly decending around hills through a tight gorge. The village, although overshadowed to some degree by a huge highway, remained peaceful, unpretentious with some beautiful aspects of cobbled square, small bridge linking rushing under-village streams with the large and spacious river. Some semi-detached appartments were lovingly restored in composite old/modern renovation for maximum light, grace and outlook. A small hotel with freshly painted skye-blue shutters attracted Ash. Inside, a warm effusive young woman excused the renovations as she showed us a beautiful blue room for half the price of the tired hoteliers of before.

Walking along the river in light rain, Sue was jubilant, happy to arrive in such a place. Men and women fished, gardens in earth to die for appeared, tended in various states of spring fever and a delicate fragrance drifted from blossoming cherry trees. Circling the steep hillside, we spiralled our way to the top where Montpeyroux in all it's beautifully renovated glory, overlooked Coudes below.

Heading up from St. Nectaire in The Volcans high in mountain pastures, we called into a special cheese making dairy where two middle-aged french farmers were whiling away their midday lunchbreak together. We wove our way following the cheesemaker to a cold, still, dark room at the back of the sheds -- Ian practising his French regarding cows for milk, meat and produce "biologuique". They urged us to visit the Valley de Chandfort. This place is another story.

Whizzing down to Toulouse was on the agenda as Julien and Charmie Ellis (nee Bondfield) were living there with their two children, Hugo and Olivier, 11 and 7 y.o. Ashur was dying to catch up to run and play -- he'd had enough of boring adult company for the last two weeks or so, where we were busy doing very boring paperwork arranging car, insurance, banking, etc.