Fantastically Filling Food And Dastardly Drinkable Booze: A Lockdown Escape To Cahors

After the disappointment of my gap year being cut short like so many others I was feeling pretty flat as lockdown dragged out so it was a godsend when travel opened up just enough for dad, Sam and me to pack the car and escape the dreary repetitive life lockdown had forced upon us. We were heading to a part of France I had never been to before: the region of Cahors, the furthest south I have been so far.

To be as safe as possible we decided to drive but as it was a fair way we had to split the driving time. This meant my first taste of both motorway driving and driving on the wrong side of the road. Safe to say this was initially a little nerve wracking but after a while I got into the swing of things and it became a very easy journey with only a few hairy moments. One of which was when I became hemmed in by lorries on all sides in the most torrential rain resulting in my visibility equalling almost zero. This was then rivalled a few hours later where I was driving along and I suddenly started to see circles appear. I realised this was down to the early start and the fact that I had been concentrating on the road so hard my eyes were literally starting to give up on me! Not wanting to alarm anyone I kept quiet and carried on driving until I saw the exit ramp for the next service station (one of the many things I love about France just so happens to be the regular service stations, something you don't get here in the UK) and pulled over so we could change driver after a coffee and a pastry.

The change in environment was particularly engaging, the difference in the materials used between the north of France and the south is stark. The slate roofed and brick houses often seen in the north gave way to white stone and red baked tiles in the south which provided a beautiful backdrop to the pandemic that was currently ravaging the planet.

The town of Lauzerte, a beautiful little discovery and an example of the white stone buildings mentioned above

We finally arrived at our destination which turned out to be a fabulous old French farm that had been renovated and looked after by a charming English couple who were the most fantastic hosts. Cathy was one of the most unbelievable chefs I have ever had the pleasure of dining with, Richard was the charismatic host who looked after, entertained and mentored us to perfection and made sure there was a constant supply of exceedingly good alcohol. Be that wine, beer, gin or liqueur we had it all.

My first experience of this was on the first night when after a rather copious amount of very good white and red wine, combined with a lack of sleep, Richard asked if I would like a glass of "peach juice". Now, this "juice", was not the juice I had thought of so I gladly accepted the bottle and poured myself a generous glass and mid conversation took a big swig. What followed can only be described as a jet of fire searing the back of my throat causing me to cough and splutter "bloody hell what is that?!" much to the amusement of my fellow diners. My brother had cottoned on to the eye wateringly high alcohol content of this "juice" and had helpfully decided not to tell me so was in fits, as were my two hosts plus Dad. Safe to say I learnt my lesson on that night and accepted each following drink with a little caution, wary of any potential bottled dragon fire.

Part of the farmhouse we stayed in

One big thing for me about this trip was the opportunity to completely escape everything that was going on in the world. This was enabled by the very limited wifi connection which was only a good thing. The total reduction in pace of life during this trip was unbelievably cleansing. The sound of Cicadas in the trees was complimented by the glowing warmth of the southern French sun which allowed me to process and think through any issues that I had and start writing short stories again some of which may be released here in the months to come.

Sam sitting in the evening sun by the pool we were so lucky to have

After a day or so Sam and I found a table tennis table and had many a game that usually ended in hysterics for reasons I cannot really fathom but it meant the week was played out almost entirely in good spirits both emotionally and alcoholically.

Due to dad having to work and draw most days Sam and I decided to go and explore the local towns which led to our discovery of Lauzerte. We went for a few pints in the main square where we had been told that a band would be playing. It turned out to be a Spanish couple playing slightly out of time and singing slightly out of tune which actually only made it more endearing in a way. Our attention however, was soon drawn to a group of what we assumed were pilgrims making their way along the route to Compostela as they were all barefoot and dressed in clothes that would not have looked out of place in the 1300s. My fascination was only increased when they started dancing. It wasn't any sort of dancing that I'd seen before, it was the most bizarre scene playing out in front of me, it was like they were trying to imitate birds doing a Tango is about as best as I could describe it. Their ring leader was particularly striking with dark heavy eyebrows that as Sam said "would probably weigh a load if you took them off him." He also had bleached blonde hair and very dark roots that was all spiked up providing a look that was eye catching, shall we say. Once we'd burned through our cash and the music had started to die down we got back to the house and proceeded to drink even more fantastic wine and gin.

One of the charming stone streets in Lauzerte complete with French cyclist

The following days passed by with wall building and tree clearing until we decided to explore the local lake that, from above on the hillside, was a startling sky blue colour, so naturally we went for an adventure there. Having paid the exorbitant seven euro parking fee we parked up and wandered down to the lake shore. Here we discovered the lake looked best from afar and when we started to swim about we realised it was totally artificial. We concluded that for younger families it was a nice place to go (this conclusion was driven by the numerous families there with young children) but for people our age it was a little bit bland. So we left but happy we had swum and knew for sure what it was like.

The next day saw us taken to the ancient town of Moissac that had a church that Sam and Dad both wanted to look at. We arrived and were immersed in a quintessentially French environment, bars serving wine with bread baskets, glamorous serveurs and serveurses bringing the long white stone street to life. After a wander round the church and some lunch we headed back to continue our assault on the drinks cabinet.

Another example of the wonderful architecture you can experience in this part of France

Dad on the steps outside the church in Moissac

The trip concluded with more fantastically filling food and dastardly drinkable booze and we left very much enamoured with the French paysage.

The tree under which I had many enjoyable hours playing my guitar