Vesunna Musée Gallo-Romain, Périgueux: The Coolest Museum in France?

The best part of any visit to Périgueux, the capital city of the Dordogne département, is the Vesunna Museum. Designed by the celebrated architect Jean Nouvel to showcase the ruins of a Roman residence dating from the 1st century, this place will take your breath away. Head to the southern part of the city, near the ancient Roman ramparts, stroll over a bridge and you'll come face to face with an enormous circular temple, the Tour de Vésone. Continue through gardens and pleasant landscaping, gaping at the monstrous Tour, and then you'll discover Nouvel's brilliant contemporary building.

Voila, one of the finest museums in a country famed for them. Tall glass walls are built around the very foundations of a miraculously preserved Roman villa, dating back millennia to the days when Périgueux was called Vesunna. (In the first century, this ancient city was the most celebrated in all of Aquitaine.) It is possible to walk around the museum's glass walls and peer inside to the incredible archeological finds. You'll find another spectacular view from a balcony inside the museum.

From a series of wood walkways that traverse the site, you can see the Roman heating/cooling systems, incredibly colorful wall murals, even a water pump. Not to mention the exhibits of jewelry, plates and cooking utensils, and other neat finds. On my visit, I couldn't stop raving about the place (poor Pierre). Through the glass, you see across thousands of years, and-- as Jean Nouvel intended-- you find yourself admiring the advanced civilization the Romans left behind, comparing it to our own.

The French Presidential Election

Since last September, I've been a keen observer of the 2007 presidential election campaigns, in part because Pierre's political blog, Présidentielles 2007: demandez le programme!, has necessitated my immersion in la politique, but also because of the obvious comparisons with the current presidential campaigns on the other side of the pond. There are a lot of lessons to be learned: caps on spending, limited campaign duration, equal media attention for each candidate, etc. It's more of a level playing field, it seems. (Of course it's also been fun to watch the beautiful Ségolène Royal, the first female contender, and all the media frenzy that's surrounded her campaign.)

Stephen Clarke's recent op-ed piece in the New York Times, "No Sex, Please, We're French," is an interesting take on the race and the sudden rise to prominence of the third candidate, François Bayrou:

Most of all, he is something that even urban voters see as quintessentially French — a farmer. His official Web site shows him pitchforking hay on the family farm, and he was recently quoted in the weekly Le Point as saying: "My friends and I aren't the jet set. We're the tractor set."

One should not underestimate the strength of this rustic image in the national psyche. If you gave an average Frenchman the choice between a reforming president who would plug the country's huge deficit and a good cheese, he would probably opt for the cheese.

This is why in France, candidates not only kiss babies, they kiss cows. Politicians flocked into the recent Agriculture Fair in Paris to be photographed embracing livestock. And no one looked more convincing in the clinch with a four-legged, hairy friend than Mr. Bayrou.

His rise in the polls seems to prove that, despite what they say, the French are upset by upheaval, revolted by revolt. They want things to stay the way they have always been. Even Louis XVI was able to provoke his subjects into guillotining him only because he tried to flee the country, thus making himself look a traitor. If he had stayed in Paris and hugged a few prize bulls, France would probably still be a monarchy.

For another point-of-view, check out SuperFrenchie's critique.

A Day in Périgueux

Périgueux is pleasant even on a non-market day. Dating from Roman times, the city is built on a hill overlooking the River Isle. It boasts a beautiful Medieval quartier, Roman ruins, and stunning cathedral that resembles a domed mosque. (The cathedral is impossibly ornate-- almost tacky-- with five domes. Apparently, the restoration process was overseen by Abadie, of Paris' Sacré Coeur fame.) Whenever I wander through the tiny alleys, I marvel at the shiny white limestone which is threaded through the cobble stone streets. (You can just make it out in the photo.)

These alleys are lined with ancient houses and boutiques so beautiful that I always feel compelled to buy something, no matter how impractical. There is a fromagerie with murals of the campagne painted on the walls, chocolate stores with elegant window displays, and wine shops brimming with crystal and tempting bottles. And of course there is foie gras everywhere you turn.

(The photo at right depicts a random wall painting I found while walking through the city. Looks like drunken Medieval debauchery to me.)

Périgueux and the Marché de Gras

Before winter's end, I was obsessed with checking out the truffle market in the city of Périgueux, the capital of the Dordogne. The region is known for its marvelous confits, foie gras, and enormous black truffles, and the place to go for all these tasty treats is the Marché de Gras. (Somehow the English translation-- fat market-- doesn't quite sound so appealing.) One fine Saturday morning in February, we set out from Limoges and arrived on the place St-Louis just in time to wander through the market, eying the strange goose parts (and tasting the artisanal walnut oil). I watched a pretty vendor attend to her customers one-handed, as she hugged a little toy dog with her other arm. I was so mesmerized, in fact, that I missed the glorious bounty of truffles that she had carefully arranged next to her jars of homemade paté on the table. Alas, I missed my chance to see the last precious mushrooms of the season.

(The market pictured in the photo is just as fun to explore. Located on place de la Clautre, the fruit and vegetable market sprawls across the square beneath the beautiful domed cathedral.)

In Which I am Berated for Avoiding Paté

At an apero last weekend, as small plates of canapés and cheese puffs circled the table, glasses of Bordeaux clinked together, I distinctly heard, over the clamor, a chiding, painfully anti-American remark: "Why is she not trying the homemade paté? She must only eat McDo." Woe is me for taking French at the university! Now these comments can no longer roll over my ears as indecipherable phrases, the pleasant musical cadence of French. I can actually understand the critical comments and stereotype-stained judgments! I bristled-- forget any dietary concerns, (make-believe) allergies I may have to prevent me from indulging in French delicacies-- and I started to prepare my tirade (in French) about the glories of Alice Waters and California cuisine. But then Pierre leapt to my defense. I never thought I'd see the day. The Frenchman actually loves American restaurants and simply went off about them.

Borsalino at the Place des Vosges, Paris

The Marais: the bustling quartier in the heart of historic Paris, where my feet somehow magically lead me when wandering around the city. In a city steeped in history, the Marais district stands out for its fashionable pre-Revolution townhouses, tiny alleys lined with oh-so-pretty boutiques and restaurants, and lively nightlife. Here, the Place des Vosges, the oldest public square of its kind in Paris, is a lovely spot comprised of 36 symmetrical houses with pink brick and slate roofs, surrounding a large lawn and fountain. Inaugurated as place Royale in 1612, Henry IV built the square to celebrate the wedding between his son, Louis XIII, and Ann of Austria. The area-- originally a "marsh"-- has now been transformed into the most fashionable area of Paris.

Wander over here on a Sunday and catch a glimpse of a fantastic group of musicians, called Borsalino. Playing upbeat, Django-esque tunes with a smile, Borsalino attracts quite a crowd.

P.S. A quick search on Flickr shows that these talented musicians have been wowing audiences at the Place des Vosges for quite some time now.

Breakfast in America (in Paris)

Craving pancakes, eggs, hash browns, bottomless cups of coffee, and the ever-elusive-- en France-- bacon strips? Head to Breakfast in America in the Marais where Grand Slams are served in a retro-diner atmosphere. You can even score blueberries with your short stack. The best part of all? Smiling, American waitresses politely, attentively serve heaping plates in a flurry of Franglish. And that, my dear reader, is truly rare in Paris.

PS. There's another location across the Seine.

Why Go to the Louvre

I used to avoid the Louvre. When in Paris-- I'd tell myself-- at all costs, don't venture down the escalator inside of that marvelous glass pyramid into the museum's depths. The world's most fabulous art collection, the most visited museum on the planet, it's too daunting... Instead, why not just soak in the views from outside? Pause in front of the fountains, snap photos of the impressive architecture, but don't, whatever you do, stress yourself out by attempting to navigate the sprawling galleries. It would be overwhelming. And all for a small glimpse of the Venus de Milo or Gericault's The Raft of the Medusa.

Oh, how wrong I was. The Louvre is not to be missed. In fact, I could camp out there for days on end and be blissfully happy. But the best time to go is the winter. Temperatures have been mild, and yet, there are no lines, no summer hordes. (And there's even nighttime admission on Fridays!) The Louvre's most famous painting, the Mona Lisa, is yours for the viewing. You can stand and gape to your heart's content with nary an elbow-pushing tourist in sight.

The building alone is worth the trip. Ornately carved ceilings, windows overlooking the Seine, royal furnishings. Head underground to the very foundations of the former-palace and discover another mysterious world: centuries of history unearthed, the medieval fortifications and foundations. It's spooky and cool.



And when you tire of walking through an art history lesson (the collection spans the ages of Western Civilization), there's always the mummies...

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Exploring the Dordogne: La Roque Gageac

Not far from Sarlat-La-Canéda-- the Medieval sandstone city described as the Perigord's "most beautiful city, a jewel of preservation" (Sixty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong)-- the smaller hamlet of La Roque Gageac will take your breath away. Perched dramatically in the cliffs above the River Dordogne, the tan houses seem to blend in with the sandstone. In fact, many of the houses are built into the sheer rock face, incorporating the cliff into their construction.

The Fort Troglodyte, which dates from Medieval times, commands an excellent position above the winding river. There is a narrow footpath leading up the hill into the town, from where you can peer into gardens and marvel at the village's construction. The views of the Dordogne aren't too shabby either.