Limousin trip

Back in November I went back to my original home, the Limousin. Here are some photos of my trip.

I flew direct, a night flight over the midwest U.S., Eastern Canada, Southern Greenland, Scotland and the UK. I arrived at Charles de Gaulle in the morning, Paris time to be greeted by my good friend, Philippe. I've known Phil since we were kids. We used to walk back home from junior high school at lunch time and in the evenings after class. Young as we were, we always talked about life, ecology, philosophy, girls, where we wanted to go in life. We never talked politics and to this day, I don't know where he stands and I don't care. One thing I know about him and that I like very much is that he's a contrarian. Under any situation he's the guy who will say "yes but have you considered..." In later years we had a lot of fun and he taugt me to respect Nature (my friend Daniel also) and how to do the Bear Dance, still a classic he invented. Here's my friend as he was dropping me off at the train station the next day.



He's a cutie and in his days was quite a Ladies' man. Now, he's married to a wonderful wife, who happens to be a gourmet cook and always prepares gargantuesque meals when I'm there, and two lovely daughters.

Speaking of friends, here's my friend Daniel and his wife. Daniel is a few years older than I am has always protected me (he was a tough kid), paid for me when I had no money (which was almost all the time) and taught me many things. He now lives in the country with his two daughters and has finally achieved his dream to have horses. He once came here with his wife and he fit right in. I could see him living on a ranch somewhere. In fact, he does.



I stayed the night and off the next day to Limoges. My trip was secret to some: my Papa and Mamie (my Granmother) didn't know I was coming. My sister had conveniently arranged to host a dinner for her son's birthday and I was just going to show up unnanounced... But right now, I'm on the train traveling south. Paris and the extended basin around it is quite flat. Sologne, to the the south, is also flat but wooded so it looks a bit more like home. Sologne is where the Kings' hunting reserves used to be. I start feeling closer to home when the landscape looks green, hilly and grey:



And finally, I get to the Bénédictins train station. It's a beauty (and historical landmark) with its copper roof:



Limoges is called the city of the "Arts des feux", firing arts because if its early history for producing exquisite enamel. Limoges was for a long time considered remote. I remember that when I was growing up, the government (who?) had greatly publicized plans to build a freeway that would go from Paris all the way down to Toulouse... I hear it's almost done. My city was the kind of place where underperforming government officials would be sent. It became a verb that folks in the area are still fighting: limoger. The truth is, all the railroads where centered on Paris, almost like a spider's web so Limoges being in the center was just out of luck. The city is only four hours south of Paris by car or train, by the way. The Germans were smarter building their railoads as a grid but that's another story. Mostly, Limoges is great if you want peace and quiet, enjoy friends, fishing in its many rivers and brooks, mushroom hunting, eating and did I say quiet? It was a safe, happy place to grow up and if I hadn't had a connection to the States, I probably woud have built a nice life there with my large extended family and many good friends. I built it here instead.

We sure did surprise Papa. As they came to the door, I went up the stairs of my sister's three level house (she owns a historical residential building and rents two apartments) and came down as if I just had visited one of the dwellers above. "Bonsoir Messieurs, Dames" I said, pretending to hurry out to the main entrance. Maman knew I was there waiting but Papa turned red and mumbled "mais, mais, mais, c'est Walter!" I thought he wouldn't recognize me with my heavy coat and knit cap but he knew right away. I'm not one one to show emotion--and I didn't-- but my heart felt like it was just about to pop out of my chest. Fortunately it didn't because that would have grossed everybody out and I'm not sure who walked on those stairs. Regardless, it had been three years since I had seen them.

A bunch of people showed up, I can't exacly rememeber how many nor who. My sister's partner Pascal, a gourmet chef and master jeweler, cooked up a storm and we had a fantastic dinner. Truthfully, I only remember oysters, cépes and great wines but as Malibu surfers say, I was totally stoked. Limougeauds are in essence tribal folks and it was a true corroborée. Here's Pascal at his shop:



I slept that night a la maison. "Maison" is a big word because the "house" is tiny. Tiny kitchem, tiny bathroom, tiny dining/living room and 2 tiny bedrooms. It used to be 3 even tinier bedrooms. But, it's home so eat your heart out, Bill Gates. This shows pretty much the whole place.



I couldn't wait to get to Lailloux. I had hustled my parents for years to buy a country house. Every weekend I would say "let's go look for a country house!" Of course, that could only happen after Papa set up shop as a printer. My Maman didn't work and we were three kids. Papa was a typographer for some ungrateful a-hole, barely made above minimum wage but I knew he had it in him to be more.

But there I go babbling away just like if I was writing a novel and I'm not. If I were, I'd put it in a book and charge you for it. So, instead, here are some photos. This first set shows my parent's country house. The top burned a year ago as they were selling it. It is no longer for sale and has been completely redone.







Years ago we bought two barns and dependencies. These structures are built with almost two feet thick granit. We sold one to the neighbor but still have the rest and hope one day to make a house out of the main barn and a guest house out of the other. The third structure has a well that was built in ancient Limousin custom. I have been told it should be a historical landmark.








Here are some random photos of the area, including the "Monuments aux Morts" that is foumd in villages all over France (this is a nearby village to Lailloux--pop 8-- called Bersac.) Oradour-sur-Glane is 10 miles away from Limoges by the way.










Things change, even in my remote Limousin. Sauvagnac used to have a small monestary for handicapped monks who handmade crucifixes and other things. It's now an Orthodox monestary with 3 priests trying to keep it alive. One of them was kind enough to let me take his picture.

So far, I've shown you the country because it's my favorite place. Now here are some sights from my hometown. It's very old. It was called Lemovice before the Romans, was a medieval center for the arts, became the world capital for porcelaine, and was Renoir's hometown as well. I've read that he started in the china industry as a decorator but was so good and so fast, he made money quickly and that the wife of the owner of his company became quite fond of him. I mean really fond. Wink-wink.












There's much more I could tell you but I was only there a week so you get what I got: a tease.

The first photo shows a Limousine cow. They are very beautiful and world-famous; we say they are red. These last photos give two different endings. Pick the one you like best but they are both about going home. Or is it leaving?