Well F@ck Me, A Talking Pig!

Being in a city is like being in heavy rain to me. Everyone rushes about without making eye contact. They all are going some place else. When they do stop they're crammed into the same little spaces, the choices of what to do are, really, quite limited and it's generally oppressive and restricting.
Now the rain has eased off here maybe I can get on and do some work.

I live about a third of the way up the Dordogne Valley from the coast, the Dordogne meets the sea at Bordeaux. Bordeaux, like all cities in my opinion, is just that, like all cities.I have never been able to fathom out why people want to spend a fortune on going to Rome, London, Paris, New York or any other city in any country on this planet.
They are all so diverse and multicultural now they have developed into clones of each other.
All you really need to do is go to your nearest home country city, find a pavement cafe (every city has these French inspired cafes now). Sit down with a drink, close your eyes and listen to the city go by.
If you're in Paris, tell yourself you're in London. If you're in New York, tell yourself you're in Rome.
It'll take just a few minutes before you will hear, possibly, every variety of language spoken go by you sitting in that pavement cafe. Open your eyes and look at the people, every nationality you can imagine. The traffic, every brand from around the globe.

Walk through the shopping districts. The shops in New York are the same shops in London, Milan, Moscow, Berlin, Paris...Restaurants, from a Chinese Take-A-Way to a Haute-Cuisine French Restaurant, you'll find them. People in traditional dress? From an Indian Sari to a Highlander Kilt. You'll find them.
Sky Scrapers? They have them in the desert now.
The Colosseum is impressive, if you get there first thing in the morning and are the first through the gate. After that, the crowds are so huge, the queues so long, all you ever see is other peoples heads or, for the children, other peoples legs!

Sadly, people want to go to Paris, Rome, Madrid, etal so they can say to other people, "I've been to Paris.." etc etc etc. I'm pretty much convinced it's an image thing. 'Been there, done that, aren't I great!'
Go to Bali for the sunsets, spectacular. You and three thousand other people crammed on the beach, beer or wine in hand, cameras going off like fire crackers. What joy and bliss, you really get a feel for the moment.
Miserable and cynical? Moi? Perish the thought.
If you want to experience countries, places, people and genuine culture, you really do need to get away from the cities. Get into the rural areas, the market towns, get to the fishing villages.In these areas the life is geared for the 'local' not for the tourist. The prices are not upped by 35% or more because the visitor doesn't know any better, they are pegged for the local.
People greet you with a genuine smile and are as interested in you as you are them.
They will help you find and show you, with pride, all there is to see of real interest in their area. In the majority of villages and small towns, the buildings are uncorrupted, unlike in cities where the facades are lost beneath commercial fascias and the insides gutted to make way for modern offices, sleek shopping displays and chic homes.

They are not primitive by any stretch of the imagination, in all probability the conditions, services, and comforts far exceed anything you will find in any city simply because it isn't designed for the tourist, it is designed for the local population and the local population are the true business for the non-city locations, the repeat business. The local population is the true culture of a country and the local population will welcome you and share with you, their time, their knowledge, their food, even their homes.
Now I've ranted about cities, I should justify my views of the more rural locations I'm singing the praises of. I will. As part of the Red Frame Journey, I'll tell you about the places I visit too, so if you venture down this way, at least you'll have an insight of the places the travel guides don't tell you about. Some of them are truly wonderful.
Now, to work. So which way will I go? I will go east, up river. My first ports of call are going to be Le Bugue and Le Buisson. Two small market towns, with genuine Farmers Markets selling everything from local produce to livestock to farm machinery and just six kilometers from where I sit writing this blog.
Every time I go to a Farmers Market I always think of a joke my elder brother told me about the Three Little pigs....
A teacher was reading the story of the Three Little Pigs to her class. She came to the part of the story where first pig was trying to gather the building materials for his home. She read ... 'and so the pig went up to the man with the wheelbarrow full of straw and said: 'Pardon me sir, but may I have some of that straw to build my house?' The teacher paused then asked the class: 'And what do you think the man said?' One little boy raised his hand and said very matter-of-factly ..'I think the man would have said - 'Well, f*ck me!! A talking pig!'