Figeac (pronounced Fijak) has been a real “find”. We’d never heard of anyone who’d been here and didn’t even know it existed before about four months ago. But when we discovered that there was a suitable self-catering apartment available here we did some quick research and found many positive aspects so booked it.
On arrival on Saturday, after a 500km drive, we settled in quickly and strolled all of 300m to the central pedestrianised square where we discovered a vibrant impromptu jazz session by young people using only wind instruments was underway. This set the mood and the more we saw of Figeac as we wandered around its narrow picturesque streets the more we liked it, even though the weather was gloomy that first day.
Jazz concert. Pic by Mary
The apartment is essentially what was a single large high-ceilinged room in a very old mansion. A bedroom has been created by adding a mezzanine floor and dual-direction staircase; a modern bathroom has been built in to the ground floor space under the bedroom. The remaining space has been devoted to a kitchen, sitting and dining area. Best of all, the room opens directly via French windows (what else?) onto a substantial garden shared by the whole household. This is where, at 6:00 pm tonight, I’m writing this under a brilliant blue sky.
Our apartment is in this building.
Apartment viewed from the garden, afternoon of arrival. Mary in the doorway, flanked by the French windows.
Sunday was sunny. Somehow we used up this beautiful sunny day in doing the laundry at a laundromat, wandering around fascinating Figeac and spending the last couple of daylight hours in glorious sunshine in the main square, Place Champollion, enjoying beers with many locals and a few visitors. Not once did we hear English spoken.
This being France, the Tourist Office was not open on Sunday, so that was our first port of call on Monday, also a beautiful sunny morning. Here we got the answers to the several questions we'd saved up because the online info wasn’t quite up to the mark. Always worth visiting the Tourist Office and usually there's an English speaker present!
The information gleaned there led us to first visit the Champollion museum then to take a drive to Conques, about one hour east. Based on the info provided we also reserved a couple of days later in the week for a visit to the Pech Merl caves and a visit to a market in a town further south (Figeac market is on Saturday, so was impossible to fit into our schedule).
Champollion
Jean-Francois Champollion is Figeac's greatest son, so far. Anyone who has been to Egypt may recall that he was the guy who finally cracked the code of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, using the Rosetta Stone inscriptions. His was a fine mind which was reduced to rubble by a fatal stroke at age 42. The museum is housed in his birthplace.
Conques
Conques, which I'd never heard of before today, is a World Heritage listed village whose main claim to fame is that its abbey houses a priceless medieval collection of reliquary and other religious artifacts. The homes and other buildings there are tastefully preserved in an ancient construction style so it inevitably draws quite a few tourists, including us. Among the people who pass through are many who are walking to Santiago de Compostella, as they have done for at least a thousand years.
Interestingly, the story goes that the monks in the abbey at Conques, being peeved at the lack of visitors to their part of the world, undertook to do something about it by acquiring the remains of one or more saints. Their chosen means of acquisition were decidely un-Christian: theft. Nor were they much good at that until one of their number had spent ten years inveigling himself with the monks who were the custodians of the remains of Saint Foy at a distant monkery. Once he’d gained their trust he shot through with the bones, getting them to Conques where they allegedly still remain. The pilgrims trekking toward Santiago de Compostella having heard that Saint Foy’s bits and pieces were at Conques, made a beeline for that fair town and the rest, as they say, is history. Conques made a bomb out of it and continues to thrive on it to this day. Even we spent money there.
Around Conques
Mary in Conques
Reliquary of Saint Foy, one of the main reasons that the trail to Santiago de Compostella passes through Conques. The reliquary has been added to over the years, the latest being the bronze boots, added a couple of hundred years ago. Bizarre!
The weather was perfect today. As Mary drove back from Conques toward Figeac along the winding road running alongside rivers most of the way, we decided we'd go back to the sunlit outdoor spot we’d spent beer time in the day before. And so we did. We soaked up the sun and just watched life in Figeac’s main square happen.
Mary with her preferred dark sweet beer.
The venue, pic taken just as we walked away.
Thanks for reading
Kev
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