Dordogne Travel Diary
The clickety-clack of the train wheels against the rails resonated with an underlying excitement as I hopped on the train for a weekend escapade to my dear friend M's new home rental in the heart of Perigord, in the enchanting Dordogne region. This rural haven awaited me, promising tranquility and a reconnection with nature's beauty.
For a long time now, I’ve always wondered why these two terms - Perigord and Dordogne - were seemingly used to refer to the same regions in France. Finally, I have found an answer.
The terms "Dordogne" and "Périgord" are often used interchangeably, but there is a distinction between them.
Dordogne is a department in southwestern France, part of the Nouvelle-Aquitaine region. It's an administrative division and is known for its stunning natural landscapes, historic sites, and charming villages. Dordogne is a region with diverse geography, including the Dordogne River, limestone cliffs, and lush forests. It is a popular tourist destination, known for its rich history and prehistoric sites.
Périgord: Périgord is a historical and cultural region within the Dordogne department. It is often divided into four distinct areas, each with its unique character and traditions:
Périgord Blanc: Known for its white limestone and charming villages.
Périgord Vert: Named for its green, forested landscapes.
Périgord Noir: Famed for its dark oak forests and the Dordogne River valley.
Périgord Pourpre: Recognized for its vineyards and wine production.
So, Dordogne is the larger administrative region, while Périgord refers to the historic and cultural subregions within it. When people refer to the charm and beauty of the Dordogne, they often have the various subregions of Périgord in mind.
The journey commenced on Thursday evening when I boarded the train at Paris Montparnasse. In just two short hours, I found myself stepping onto Bordeaux soil, a city familiar and comforting. However, I had no idea it would take my friend M another two hours by car to come fetch me from her quaint town near Bergerac. In the brisk evening air, the arrival of her familiar face offered a heartwarming embrace, instantly washing away the fatigue of the work day and travel.
On the two-hour car ride back to her serene village, our conversations danced, catching up on the threads of each other's lives. We laughed, reminisced, and shared dreams as the road stretched endlessly before us, winding through the picturesque landscapes of Perigord at night.
Upon arrival, I was greeted by the charm of her new home. Perched on the edge of a cliff, the house afforded breathtaking views of lush greenery and the valley below. The silence was only broken by the rustle of leaves and the gentle symphony of night insects. At night, the village was blanketed in an exquisite silence, and as I gazed up at the night sky, I doubted if those were real stars or satellites Elon Musk had sent to populate the Earth's skies. M pointed out the Milky Way, a celestial view that transported me back to the heavenly sights of New Zealand's clear night sky.
The following day brought a revelation—a lack of internet connection in M's tranquil abode. Fortunately, my mobile data managed to bridge the gap for the day's work, but I couldn't help but marvel at the prospect of a quiet day without the incessant hum of technology. It was an opportunity to revel in the solitude of the countryside, an unplanned digital detox.
In the afternoon, I basked in the soft embrace of the afternoon sun, accompanied by M's feline companions who roamed the property. The simple act of playing with her cats, feeling their purring vibrations, connected me with a more primal existence. Time seemed to expand, and I found myself yearning for more days like this.
That evening, we ventured to the nearby village of Eymet for a delightful dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant with M's colleagues. The warm company, laughter, and the rich aroma of Italian cuisine created a memorable evening, a stark contrast to the bustling city nights I was accustomed to.
On Saturday, with the threat of rain pouring down upon us, it didn’t dampen our spirits to explore further. We decided to visit Beynac and Cazenac, two picturesque villages with a rich history. Beynac, perched atop a very steep hill, houses a stunning medieval castle. Cazenac, nestled in the Dordogne Valley, exudes rustic charm. The winding cobblestone streets and the scent of centuries-old stone and moss underfoot transported me back to the medieval ages.
In the afternoon, we made our way to M's mother's place, where a special celebration awaited us. We were here to commemorate M's birthday with her loving family. The warm embrace and laughter shared between them enveloped me in a sense of belonging as if I were a part of their familial stories. It was an evening of shared memories, love, and warmth.
As the night fell, I found myself cocooned in the heart of their family home, relishing the slow and uncomplicated life that they cherished. Each conversation, every shared meal, and the sound of laughter echoed the very essence of living simply and wholeheartedly.
Sunday began with a leisurely breakfast and a heartfelt chat with the mother-daughter duo. Their stories and wisdom left me with profound realizations. The quiet life in the countryside, undisrupted by the relentless demands of the city, seemed more alluring than ever.
M then whisked me away to Bordeaux, where we went for a quick tour of the city. We visited the Bordeaux Cathedral, a magnificent testament to history and art. With just 30 minutes to spare before my train departure, I sprinted across town to retrieve my bags from her car, parked conveniently next to the train station. Time was slipping through my fingers like fine sand, and I had no moments to waste.
My pulse raced as I reached the platform with seconds to spare, narrowly boarding my train. I hurriedly left M behind closed gates as I ran to catch my train, set to leave in the next minute. As the doors closed, I let out a sigh of relief. I left Bordeaux who was bustling with Rugby fans, awaiting the semi-final World Cup match between France and South Africa.
The weekend at M's enchanting village had come to an end, but the memories and reflections on the simple, undisrupted, and slow life in the countryside would forever linger in my heart.
As I gazed out of the train window, I couldn't help but reflect on how this serene escape had rekindled my desire for a life akin to Miss Honey's in Matilda, and right now, that of my friend M, — quiet, serene, and filled with the joy of simplicity. Perhaps, one day, I would heed this call to embrace a more peaceful existence away from the hustle and bustle of the city, just as I had always envisioned.