Trip Start Jul 19, 2009
160Trip End Oct 25, 2010
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Mieke and I made a bee-line to the second-hand clothes. Not that we needed anything - I don't think I know a single person that really needs more clothes - but everything costs only 2 euro, so who can resist, and anyway, the real attraction is the incredibly good looking Moroccan vendor, most handsome man in the whole of the Dordogne. Always so friendly, squeezing in the few Dutch words he knows, knocking a bit off the price when I'm not even bargaining. Of course he chats up all the ladies.
Still, he makes my day.
Not Peter's though. He wanders off and sits demonstratively bored on a bench, facing the Vézere, back to us. Fed up with it all.
By now, being a captive audience to Mieke and me gabbing, giggling, reminiscing, silly song-singing, sweet-guzzling, is starting to take it's toll
Even a long suffering person such as Peter, can only take so much.
He is on the verge of dumping us and it takes all the charm and cajoling we can muster to get him to accompany us to Castlenaud la Chapelle to visit the Chateau des Milandes, former home of Joséphine Baker and her eleven adopted kids.
A lovely castle but in no way seriously restored. A bit of a jumble really, more of a tribute to the famous revue-star than anything else. Still, it's amusing: photos, drawings, posters, letters, awards, costumes - discretely behind a curtain some black and white nude pictures.
Mieke is very impressed.
'Did you see her bum?' Of course we did, could hardly miss it.
'And the back of her head?'
You have to know that there are two things in life Mieke most desires: a sticky-out bum and backhead.
Unfortunately she has neither, though what she has in front amply makes up for that. Most women would (and do) pay a small fortune for just a portion of her bosom.
Let me put it this way, she won't find a bra her size at Hussein's stall.
Anyway, getting side-tracked here, Peter and I were sorry there were no moving images of Joséphine, as she must have been dynamite on stage.
The beauty of the creatures, to be allowed so near to them - I was in awe: the eagle owl, my god, and I saw the one that flew over my head that night - at the same time I felt sorrow for them not being wild and free, out in nature where they belong.
Later, when I walked into night I so hoped I would see my owl again, as a sign, to take away the sadness.
He didn't appear but I felt a presence and heard screeching....
......turned out Mieke had just stepped onto the bathroom scales.