Berghe Superior: Part 3

You can't go all the way to little Berghe and not see bigger Berghe so before we headed down the  rick- rack mountain road,  we climbed in the car to go the last few kilometers to see our new friends from the festival, Michele and Rene, who had asked us to stop by.

                                                 Looking back on Berghe Inferior

  On the way we were waving to folks we had met at the fete. They were out gleaning fallen chestnuts or walking through the "potager" collecting veggies for lunch.

We saw Robert and heard the story of the 5 o'clock hunting party. They had killed a boar stag that was now lying on the railroad tracks awaiting a decision of how to get him up the hill. 

Saturday's sanglier  in frigo

 It turns out that this hamlet is seriously equipped for "le chasse" with a special refrigerator and a haunting tavern next door, where food and drink can be prepared for around 30 hunters. 

                                                     Butcher's stainless steel counters

I hate to change the subject so irreverently but here was the church that apparently made the berg "superior".

But really, no chapels please, we wanted to see the rest of the tiny town and head out, not really expecting to run into our friends. 

                                                But they had their posse out and found us.

We were issued into a most welcoming accommodation of about 40 square meters,  their little nest.

Rene and Michelle are retired and met in 2002 .  This is their second marriage, lots of grandkids.

And lots of Michele's collections:   plates, small alcohol bottles, shot glasses,

Frogs, trophies, frogs, thimbles, frogs

And as they explained, there is no bar in this town so we serve everybody from our own bar.  Which they did, very generously.

 They were lovely people, untroubled and fun, even though life had dealt them their share of blows.  As they told the three friends who stopped by when they heard we were in town. " I have an invasion of Americans here...not the first time."  I got the feeling they liked us though....and not the first time. Retired age people in France have good memories of Americans in the last war.

 This is the second couple who has had me in their home this month. ... both retired.  And I have never had a finer welcome in either.

  Maybe one finally chills out in the end or maybe I have just "bien tombée". Translation:  tomber bien...to land well, to land in the gravy.