A chateau in the dordogne

The Dordogne is a part of France I'd never seen until last month, when a few days there seemed not nearly long enough.

A short train-ride from Paris on a speedy, comfortable TGV gets you to this peaceful green and pleasant land, which the broad Dordogne river snakes through, and there is seemingly a chateau, castle or abbey around every corner.

We picked up a hired car at Limoges Bénédictins gare - and I had to include the pic below, because when did you ever see such beautiful architecture for a provincial railway station?

Driving through this peaceful countryside it was hard to imagine the wars that raged here in the Middle Ages - the Hundred Years War with England, and later France's 'wars of religion'.

The farmhouses we passed had weathered centuries of war and peace ...

The Dordogne is known as 'the land of 1001 castles'. For a special reunion with friends from far away, we had the great treat of two nights in one of those castles - the gorgeous Chateau de la Treyne

... perched high up above the Dordogne river, and built like most castles in the 11th and 12th centuries on inaccessible sites with strategic viewpoints, its terrace has stunning views over the river ...

The current owners, Philippe and Stéphanie Gombert have spent the last twenty years restoring and decorating, and their passion is self-evident for this place that they see themselves as caretakers of for a tiny fraction of its history (it goes back to 1342).

Arriving early afternoon and too late for lunch, Stéphanie insisted on ducking into the kitchen to rustle up some cheese, bread, salad and wine - producing this most elegant 'picnic' lunch in about five minutes! ...

The swimming pool beckoned ...

and with Walter the friendly retriever for company ...

and these seductive gardens to explore, it was clear to me that only by a cruel twist of fate had I not been born to a chateau life and that it was going to be very hard to leave.

But there was a region entirely new to me to explore, and so I shall duly sort through my snaps and show more of this gorgeous part of France very soon on my lately neglected blog ...

Olympic gold

After months of gloomy predictions (security shambles, traffic nightmare, public transport will never cope, blah blah) and no shortage of whingeing, it seems London is pulling off the Games rather well ...

(and even managing occasional bursts of sunshine: golden meadow flowers in the Olympic Park)

Travelling across London from the west to the Olympic Park in the east yesterday, we needn't have heeded dire warnings about allowing extra hours for the journey: trains and underground were running on time and apparently coping quite efficiently. 

Crowds arriving at the shiny and bright new Stratford station in East London were being smoothly eased, coaxed and channelled in all the right directions by plentiful volunteers - some seemingly employed to keep discipline and order by bellowing firm instructions, others simply there to provide jollity and humour - leading sing-alongs, shouting messages of good cheer and cracking jokes - along the short route to the Olympic Park.

The pic below gives an idea of the multitudes in the park, yet amazingly not once did we have to stand and wait in a queue, not at the security checkpoints, not for entry to events, for coffee, nor even for the ladies' loos (this last an all-time first experience for me at a public event, let alone one on this scale). If only London were always this well organised ...

Dominated by Anish Kapoor's bold, twisty Orbit, a sculpture cum observation tower, the park is a former industrial area that has been transformed into a vast but people-friendly venue with plenty of space for river walks and flower walks ...

The most striking feature is the mass of greenery and flowers - the result of planting an extraordinary 4,000 trees, 300,000 wetland plants, 150,000 perennials and 60,000 bulbs. The dominant colours are yellow and gold, symbolising Olympic gold, timed to be flowering at their peak by the opening on July 27. There are huge colourful fields of indigenous English meadow flowers, but also large areas of South African and Asian plantings (for more information and much better pictures than mine see here and here). 

National spirit was everywhere ...

... younger daughter and her friends contributing with a mixed bag of allegiances to teams GB, South Africa, Zimbabwe, France and Sweden!

We were headed for the Aquatic Centre, Iraqi-British architect Dame Zaha Hadid's design, based on the curve of a swimmer's back ...

... excited to be in the place we'd watched some dramatic moments of the men's swimming events the day before on telly ...

... but we were there to watch the men's synchronised diving finals, the panel of judges and film crews getting ready

for the world's best divers to show off their perfectly timed pikes, tucks and twists

And just 45 minutes later, four years of single-minded training was over, with luck and chance also playing a part in the final rankings (China, Russia, USA, with a great performance from Mexico who came achingly close to a medal). 

A fantastic day. Well done, London!

The Olympic torch

It's travelled all around Britain for the last 70 days, in a relay involving 8000 torch-bearers, each one chosen for their inspirational contribution in some sphere of society. 

People have travelled for hours, camped and queued patiently for a glimpse of it. People other than me, that is. Yesterday as the torch arrived in London for its final leg before being deposited at the Olympic stadium, Younger Daughter and I literally drove right into its path quite by accident. 

Dropping her off to meet friends for a movie, we turned into a road lined with people waiting patiently, flags and cameras ready, and were brought to a halt  in the middle of the road here, in front of the BBC television studios ...

The torch was two minutes away, they said. Some people were being inventive in finding vantage points for a good view ...

This friendly bobby (below) laughed and shook his head at me through the car window, "You've chosen the worst possible time to come along this road!" Actually, I thought, for an idiot who hadn't thought to check the news or traffic reports, my timing was pretty perfect.

On cue, the advance escort came along, driving slowly ...

followed by the torch-bearer at a jog ...

I could have reached out to touch the torch, only this bloke had a don't-mess-with-me look on his face ...

and seconds later it was gone, smaller than I'd imagined, but a sleek, shiny , pretty thing nonetheless

And see how the sun was shining for a change! They say that this summer in Britain has been like the Olympic torch - it's visited each town in the country for about half an hour. (I hear the torch has been extinguished more often than one likes to admit during the ongoing downpours of the last couple of months).

How has Britain felt about hosting the games? This article in the New York Times made me laugh in recognition - an American view of the way Londoners are using the Olympics to indulge in "practising some of their own favourite sports: complaining, expecting the worst and cursing the authorities". Too true, though the atmosphere in these crowds yesterday told a more upbeat story.

I know I'm going to be glued to the telly tonight for what should be a spectacular opening ceremony. Happy games watching.

In the Marais: favourite Paris spaces

Red brick and stone, slate roofs, a square of perfect symmetry ... 

... it's Place des Vosges, home at various times to Cardinal Richelieu and Victor Hugo who had something like this view from no. 6 while he sat scribbling away at Les Misérables. Napoleon liked it so much he left it well alone while razing most of Paris …

... and so did these little Parisian poppets who came to splash in the fountain last week

(not much older, these girls already have French style down pat)

Much of the rest of the Marais is a glimpse of Paris pre-Haussmann – all narrow, curving cobbled lanes in contrast to wide boulevards and grand squares - and full of quirky, colourful shops and enticing places to eat.

(a little apartment here would be a dream) ...

It's Paris' Jewish quarter, and here in the Rue des Rosiers there are reminders everywhere of a painful history as well as a current thriving Jewish community ...

At night it heaves with life until the early hours ... 

Looking for a late dinner we found the Rue Vieille du Temple buzzing in overdrive with social networking of all kinds. We had un verre at La Belle Hortense below, at the suggestion of a waiter at Les Philosophes, just a little along from the equally jam-packed Au Petit Fer a Cheval (above) who promised to run across the road and let us know as soon as a table was freed up. He was as good as his word.

Lunch the next day was at an long-time favourite Marais restaurant, Le Grizzli, around the corner from the Beaubourg (for more of my ravings on this place see here) ...

A night at the tiny gem that is the Hotel Bourg Tibourg was a new experience and a treat this trip - all low-lighting, rich colours and exotic scents on a minute scale ...

                                  
But lest you believe Mr Cole Porter ... here's evidence that this summer in Paris is far from a sizzle ... 

... nor even a drizzle. This torrential downpour was worthy of the tropics.

For some it meant finding the nearest doorway to squeeze into, but a rabbi caught in the rain opted for a fallafel break, sensible man ...

Joyeux quatorze juillet!

Bastille day seems appropriate enough for posting some pics taken in Paris last week ...

where here in the gardens of the Palais du Luxembourg there were no signs at all of urgent calls aux armes citoyens. 

Au contraire, Parisians were taking advantage of a rare-for-this-summer sunny day to chillax (elegantly, of course) next to the Medici fountain and on the lawns ...

take a ride on the carousel

or enjoy a free concert at the bandstand.

Even les soldes were taken at a leisurely pace, with no crowds or queues. I certainly took advantage of them (though sadly not at Repetto, below, where even the sale prices were eye-watering) ...

with a stop or two on the side for roses and macarons ...

and afterwards took a well-deserved break (shopping parcels in tow) for some people-watching (at Les Deux Magots, where the waiters come direct from central casting).

Of course when people meet up on the streets of St Germain, it's also quite often dog-meeting time ...

Here Parisian dog with impeccable taste eyes elegant shoe appreciatively ...

Finally, in the spirit of Vive la France, and all that ...

... I leave you with my very favourite version of La Marseillaise - the reggae-styled, wryly-titled Aux Armes etcaetera by my very favourite Frenchman ...

Photo credit note: doggie shots in St Germain des Pres taken by Nicholas B. I must have been too busy eyeing the waiters.