Pardon My French Chapter 5: 'Round the Mulberry Bush

Wednesday dawned bright and... well, gray, really. It was rather like waking up in England. Fortunately we'd already decided that due to sheer exhaustion (Mick had worn us both out in La Rochelle.), we would spend the day tooling about in our car, exploring the local countryside. So, after a hearty breakfast of cereal and toast with more yummy French honey, off we went.

Our first stop was a little down dripping with cute Frenchness called Saint-Amant-de-Bonnieure. It wasn't because we particularly wanted to go there or had a specific intention to see the place, but rather because we would pause at a crossroads and Jimbo would ask, "Which way?" I would answer "Left" or "Straight Ahead" and so on in no particular order just because it sounded good. After all, pretty much every little town and village in this part of France is

unbearably cute and most of them have boulangeries, so it didn't matter where we wound up, as long as I could get my morning croissant.

In any case, Saint-Amant-de-Bonnieure had a really nice little church that was built absolutely ages ago. In fact, it smelled a bit like a cave inside. And it was tiny and had very hard looking pews. I don't think I'd ever survive a mass there. Thank goodness I'm neither French, nor Catholic.

Next to the church was an ancient keep. The sign (which had an English translation) called it a "Norman Keep". Now, since we were nowhere near Normandy, I was a mite befuddled over that one. Was it Norman in style? Was it from the age of the Normans (Was there an age of the Normans?)? Or did actual Normans jump on their horses and come down here and build a keep? After all, they invaded England in 1066 AD, so why not Saint-Amant-de-Bonnieure? I've no idea, but it was cool anyway.

After snapping a few pictures, we headed deeper into the village where we found the prerequisite boulangerie so I could buy my morning croissant. It was AMAZING! The best one of the entire trip! It was crunchy and crusty on the outside, and flakey and buttery on the inside. My mouth was EXTREMELY happy. In that moment, the entire world revolved around that delightful little baked good. I should have bought more. Ah, well. I shall simply have to go back!

A bit further down the road, we found a sign with a brown coloured symbol on it. We had learned during our travels in France that these white signs with the little brown thingummies on them indicated "Really Old Stuff". Sometimes it was a "Really Old Church", sometimes a "Really Old Cemetary", and sometimes we never actually found anything at all.

Well this sign apparently indicated "Really Old, Really Big Rocks In The Middle Of a Field With A Crazy Frenchman With A Gun." Fortunately, the Frenchman with a gun was sane enough that he didn't attack, though he did give us a few odd looks. Apparently, not a lot of tourists visit the "Really Old Rocks". I believe the rocks, which are perched atop a couple of small hills, had something to do with Druids. Unfortunately, the sign was in French, so we're not entirely sure if they were sacrificing small children, or just having a really big clam bake. Perhaps they were stages for early Druid rock stars? Pun not entirely intended.

After pausing long enough to snap a few pictures of the "Really Big Rocks", and some of the countryside, we hopped back in the car. It had started sprinkling a bit, and we were getting hungry.

The nearest town serving food was Ruffec. Unfortunately, the cafe we found served the worst food in all of France. It was nasty, and neither of us finished our meal. However, there were a few nice little shops, so we were able to do some browsing.

After whisking through a few more cute French villages, we decided to call it a day and headed back home. On the way, we passed a sign to one of the little "house collections" similar to Les Puy. The sign read "Robinet". "No way!" I screeched, causing Jimbo to have a small heart attack and nearly drive off the road. "My ancestors were Robinets, and I think they were from France or something." Jimbo was not impressed. But still, I thought it was kind of cool. It's a small world, after all.

Before reaching home, we stopped in Chassenueiul to pick up a few things. Jay was working in the British Cafe there, but we couldn't find it, so we ended up heading home. On the way we passed a building with Union Jacks painted all over it. "Do you supposed that's it?" I mused aloud. "Who knows," Jimbo replied.

True. After all, this is France. Anything could happen.

Next up: Jimbo, Mick and I hit the big city of Bordeaux. It may never be the same....