Like the pèlerins de Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle wannabees that we are, we made a pilgrimage to 'The Rock'. Unlike the ancient pilgrims, who would use whatever means of transportation they could find (usually rivers), we went with a more modern method, of a high-performance diesel engine on the outstanding French highway system. Rocamadour 
is an amazing site upon arrival, sitting high up over a gorge with the Dordogne river below. The town itself is a complex of churches. We climbed to the top and saw the church of Notre Dame (rebuilt in its present configuration from 1479), containing the cult image of a wooden Black Madonna.
We also saw the broken sword said to be a fragment of Durandal, once wielded by the hero Roland. (Note: this same, amazing, sword is said to have allegedly carved out the mountain we would visit the following weekend) We walked the 14 stations of the cross before leaving.The other thing the Rocamadour area is known for is it's goat's milk cheese. Nadine needed to pick up some cheese for our Sunday lunch extravaganza the following day, so we stopped to visit a relative of hers
(she's related to everyone in the region) who owned a working goat farm, where they produce goat's milk cheese with the Rocamadour AOC label. We saw a few 1 day old baby goats that were really cute. We were all talking to each other in tiny little baby voices. It turned out to be a very interesting tour, to see them being herded, fed and milked. Before heading directly to Nadine's Mom's farm, we toured along the Cele River and visited a couple small villages along the river...the type that seemed to be forgotten in time. We arrived at the farm and had an aperitif before driving into town (Cajarc) for dinner. Nadine's Mom, Jeanette, brought out a bottle of Jean-Pol Hans-Collet champagne from Witry-les-Reims. Then they told us a story about this particular champagne maker. It was the story of Nadine's father, who was taken by the Germans, during WWII, to work at a farm in the Champagne region. He worked there for a couple years but eventually had to be hidden by this French family because the Germans were starting to send these workers to camps in Germany, where no one would ever come back from. They hid him for over a year, until the war ended. They're families still are in contact today, as they obviously developed very close ties. It was a moving story, that gave so much meaning to this very good champagne.
On Sunday we went for a short car ride in the morning to grab a couple groceries in Cajarc and did a tour of the local area, with Nadine's 80 year old Mom, Jeanette, riding shotgun, telling me where to turn and when to stop.
She speaks an older version of French, which is hard for many of the French to understand. But it's all Greek to me. She would say "la" meaning "go here". I like saying "la" now. We drove around in a maze of mostly empty roads. If we did see someone out walking or a car go by, they were all either relatives or friends. Jeanette pointed out the stops to make. She showed us an old mill and an ancient well off the entrance of somebody's property, that was constructed by the Romans. I read about it later in a book they had on the area. 
The lunch that Sunday was terrific. I really wasn't hungry afterward for 24 hours. I had honey on top of goat cheese for the first time. This is a very good thing! And we had been to a bakery (Pâtisserie) earlier in the day to buy pastis..."the cake!". We saw pictures there on the long process to make this cake. Man!, does it seem worth it. It was the first time we tried it. Wow, was that good.There is something about the Lot region that makes me like it more than any other.
I love the low stone walls defining property lines everywhere...as every field is cleared of it's rock, they add to these walls. And the small roads winding through the country are endless. But maybe it's really because we've had a chance to stay at Jeanette's farm a couple times now and have gotten to see the pace of life there and the importance put on the food, the drink and the friendships.
