Rocamadour

Sept. 18, 2008

Last week, my friend Kris took me to visit Rocamadour, a tiny town built into the side of a canyon wall above a tributary of the River Dordogne. The town was founded in honor of Saint Amadour whose body was discovered there in the 13th century fully intact resting in a rocky alcove. The place is a tourist attraction for the French and has long been a pilgrimage site for religious figures, noblemen and kings, though it seems off-the-beaten path for many other visitors to the country.

The place is also known for its award-winning goat cheese. I happen to think the stuff smells and tastes of petting zoo.

But the town is beautiful in its own right. Kris took me to meet the mother of his cousin's girlfriend who lives in the town. She is an artist who runs a shop and sells stain glass artwork and jewelry.

Later, we went to canyon's edge and watched a demonstration involving eagles and condors and other big and beastly birds. It was probably one of the coolest and weirdest things I have ever experienced.

From out of the air dove birds with eight-foot wing spans. Falcons swooped in plucking fish from a puddle. A parade of parrots and parakeets lit up the sky in a rainbow of color. Then they brought in falcons to come sit atop our heads. Why? I don't really know, those crazy Frenchies. I just clenched my teeth and hoped the pretty bird digging its talons into my skull wouldn't poop on me.