Today, we finally ventured into Sarlat. The road to get there is like Macarthur Boulevard on steroids, incredibly windy, narrow, bordered on one side by steep cliffs (falling rock danger signs abound) and on the other side by a huge drop off into the valley below.
And as we carefully navigated the roads like Wilfred Brimley on a motor scooter, I would let out periodic high-pitched screams as French trucks carrying trailers full of canoes would whip around the corner and scare the beejeezus out of us.
When we finally arrived, we strolled around and took it all in:
The city is VERY crowded during August with both French and foreigners. Lots of German, British, Dutch, etc. It was fascinating to hear all the different languages in such a small area. And as we carefully navigated the roads like Wilfred Brimley on a motor scooter, I would let out periodic high-pitched screams as French trucks carrying trailers full of canoes would whip around the corner and scare the beejeezus out of us.
When we finally arrived, we strolled around and took it all in:
We found a covered market in this beautiful church:
And bought the girls their first French croissants. Samantha was not sure if she liked them; Eliza couldn't contain herself.
After Sarlat, we stumbled upon a circuit training park which, for the girls, was like an outdoor gymboree extravaganza:
I definitely plan to take them back after Kenny abandons me next week so I can recreate the effect:
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