The French region defined by the Dordogne river is a bucolic landscape of thick oak forests, cut up by vertical rock walls suddenly rising out of the tributary valleys. This time of year the forests still have their saturated green color, and the region is not swamped with tourists yet. It is dotted with small medieval towns and villages of great diversity in layout but an astonishing uniformity when it comes to materials and textures – in particular the extremely heavy natural stone “lauze” roofs make for some picturesque views. During the middle ages, the 100 years war and the wars of religion prompted the rulers to repopulate and defend the region through the construction of new towns, the bastides. These towns, often built over the course of only a couple of years, according to a strict plan, could keep any urbanism buff busy for weeks. The region is littered with medieval castles, one of the few fortunate side effects of a history drenched in blood. But it is not just the man-made landscape that provokes awe, its natural context is also is remarkably intact. Somebody has been paying special attention to preserving the shepherd’s huts of stacked stones, letting the little creeks meander as they did hundreds of years ago, and keeping uncontrolled urban sprawl at bay – unlike in Belgium. On top of that the region holds some of the first settlements of mankind, like the caves of Lascaux with their prehistoric paintings.

All of that provides enough reason to go there, but these reasons were dwarfed by the fact that Heather’s family had chosen the Dordogne as the destination for their vacation, to celebrate Bethany’s graduation. So we set out from Schaarbeek and drove to Paris, to spend the night at Gwenn and Jean-Luc’s place. It had been a while since we had seen our friends but we picked up immediately where we had left off last time. The next morning we met up with Bethany, Bob and Sheila and drove down to the house they had rented. A day later Amy arrived in Bordeaux. It had almost been a year and a half since we had seen Sheila, and almost two since we saw the rest of the family, so it was a very warm reunion. Miles immediately recognised all of them. The house they had rented was almost heaven: a renovated monastery with lots of space and all the amenities, set within a wonderful garden with plenty of room for Miles to play, a salt water heated pool and a bubble bath, looking out over the rolling hills.

We spent the week visiting the Beynac castle, the market at Saint Cyprien, one of the last caves with prehistoric paintings open to the public – Font de Gaume, the Moulin de la Tour where they use a water mill to produce walnut oil, Sarlat – the capital of the region, the bastide town of Monpazier, the winery of la Voie Blanche, etc. But more importantly, we spent quality time with our family from the other side of the pond, catching up, and recharging the emotional batteries.

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