IT’S A TROGLODYTE LIFE

For the last few days, as we have been riding along in the countryside, we have seen many signs for Troglodyte sites.  Some of the signs are commercial ads and some of the signs are the brown government signs for points of interest.  What could it possibly be?  I began to imagine a Troglodyte, and as I rode along for two or three hours my imagination really went to work.  Was it some kind of a culture, like the Amish?  Was it related to a stalactite or stalagmite?  Were there a group of strange little gnomes living in trees like the Keebler elves?

Finally, the image that settled in my mind was of some kind of dark, troll-ish thing living under a bridge.  Whatever it was, I wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to visit.  I kept thinking about those three billy goats gruff, and I didn’t want any trolls to threaten me!  I decided I wouldn’t go to the Troglodytes, whatever they were.

Well, as fate would have it, I was wrong.  We were passing from one county to the next and it is always hard to get the Gite Guide for the next county, so we were without many resources for booking our next B&B.  I was able to get one pamphlet of information about the next county, and it did have a few places listed.  So, I selected one that was a 3 epis (this is the wheat sheaf rating used by the Gite Guide, so we could judge somewhat the quality of the lodging) and we had our hostess call ahead for a reservation.  Our choice was a Troglodyte site!  Oh, my!  I worried the whole day about living in a dark, dank cave with a strange landlady lurking about.  What would our lodging for the night be like?

So, here is the troglodyte story:

Along the banks of the Loire River there are high bluffs of limestone.  For many centuries, to build all of the chateaux and fancy houses in the Loire, these limestone bluffs have been quarried.  After the workers have cut hundreds of blocks of limestone out of the cliffs, what is left but a nice big hole.  So some people began to live in these holes.  They really made rather comfortable homes, being cool in the summer and warm in the winter with those thick tuffa walls.  As time progressed actual house fronts were constructed and now there are whole blocks of these modern cave dwellings all along the river.

It turned out that our landlady was a very nice grandma who was babysitting her little, cute blond granddaughter.  When Don and I settled down in the garden to have our dinner the little girl, who is only 2 ½, came right up to us and asked, very politely, if she could have one of our cherry tomatoes.  When I gave her one, she sweetly said thank you and took her tomato and went back to grandma.  The next day at breakfast grandma told us that she would rather have a cherry tomato than candy, and since these are just coming into season, it was a real treat for her.

Our room was comfortable and clean and included all mod cons.  We slept well in our troglodyte setting and awoke rested and not troll-like at all.  As we rode off the next morning, I chastised myself for prejudging and vowed to be a better, more open-minded person in the future.