France is in the air ... We are in the Dordogne

The first part of the title of this post is Air France's taglin - "France is in the air". Rather clever and apt I think. Especially when France is everywhere around you.

Sat 12 Sept - Grolejac, Dordogne
Several days have passed since my last post. It has been a busy and lovely time. We are now in the Dordogne.  Check the posts for the days I missed ... Paris and the Loire.

Meanwhile, we arrived in the village of Grolejac last night around 6.30 (Fri 11th).  We are staying at La Cachette, the home of John and Marion, our hosts who hail from the UK but have lived here 14 years.   Set up the hill behind the school it is a pretty farmhouse in B&B style.
After settling in we walked along to a restaurant at the far end of town where we enjoyed delicious local food ... Duck for me and scallops for Brett, both served with cepes (local mushrooms). And local wine of course. Sleep comes easily although our hosts forewarn of storms to come. Hard to imagine after walking back under starry skies.
But sure enough, as we are having breakfast this morning, a thunder storm arrives.  A blinding lightning flash, a clap of thunder so loud and close that the cat leaps in through the window as if it has seen a ghost, we quite literally leap out of our seats and Marion runs in to check if cats and guests are okay. The rain comes bucketing down. It looks like an inside day. Which is okay as after such a busy week, a bit of downtime is welcome.
We drive to a local chateau but alas it is rather oddly closed on Saturdays so we will try another day. We drive to the nearby town of Sarlat (where Chocolat was filmed). The roads are flooded and narrow, the rain pelts down. I gather all my driving skills to the fore.  Brett is still getting to grips with left and right and which lever controls what and I prefer to be behind the wheel.  Say no more ... He is happy being chauffeured around and looking at lovely scenery!
The market in Sarlat is half what it would usually be and the only stalls making money appear to be those selling raincoats and umbrellas! Somehow we end up driving right through the market itself so we get an unexpected close-up view without having to get out of the car. We don't linger, it is too wet to even get out and run to shelter. We head back to Grolejac stopping at the local boulangerie and superette to get some supplies. We want coffee. There is a cafe in the precinct. It looks closed but the door is open and we go in anyway.  There is a motorbike parked INside the cafe. A shambles of furniture everywhere. A dog wandering about. Two guys at the bar drinking wine. And a woman who says a bright and breezy Bonjour.  We order "deux cafes, s'il vous plait". We take a seat and read the paper amongst the chaos that we can't quite determine. The sports pages are full of French rugby news (it's Rugby World Cup time).  The coffee is good. There are no other customers. 

Is this actually a cafe?  

We get up to pay and leave, just as the woman arrives with a large plate of chicken nibbles.  "Mangez dejeuner avec nous", she says. We are a little taken aback to be invited to lunch with them and decline. It's free, she says, beckoning in a friendly manner. We are not convinced. One guy leaves and the other starts pouring vin rouge as the woman sets places for us at the table and won't take "non" for an answer. It seems we are staying for lunch with them.
A couple of hours, and a few carafes of vin rouge later, we know Jose and Corinne and their dog Cliege rather well! My French gets a damn good workout. The reason for the chaos is they have sold the cafe. Except the buyer is not coming to the party and proving difficult. They need a lawyer!!!  They plan to escape and live in a hut amongst the trees. Their dog is a truffle hunter and the intention is that this will be their future livelihood. If the buyer fronts up with the money.

Otherwise they will just unpack and set up shop again. 

It might say 'cafe' outside but this is more of a bar. And Jose makes his own poire William, Eau de vie, potent stuff. Like moonshine. Brett imbibes but I do not. I have to drive us safely back to our accommodation - it's only 5 minutes away, but encountering French country police is not an appealing thought. 
The unexpected chance to lounge back and whiling  away a few hours on this wet Saturday afternoon chewing the fat with this intriguing French couple is great. Act like you are at home, says Corinne. We feel very much at home. He is a chef and has sure lived quite a life. She is a people person, a born hostess. Delightful. 
Motorbike inside and Jag outside. Bogan types in the nicest way. A pleasure to meet.
Back to La Cachette for a bit, then we take a walk round the local roads once the weather clears. Then we're off to dinner at the next village of Carsac. We find a quaint and elegant "relais" down a long lane. A hotel with a tropical feel and excellent food. The storm has passed and the evening is splendid. Bon soir! And bon appetit!

Observation of the Day:  You cannot buy an afternoon like we just had. Thank you storm!