For those of you that know Chris and I well enough, you know that we are freaks about Christmas. When we owned our home, it was always the first house on the block to be lit up—Clark Griswold style—with lights. And around March-ish every year Chris starts up his Christmas carol humming playlist.
Like I said, freaks!
So on our first trip into the Sarlat town center, we had high expectations. As we strolled through the street you could see the giddyness in our eyes, they had speakers throughout the town playing French Christmas carols. Every street was lined with real Christmas trees dawned with colorful bon bons and glistening white lights. You couldn’t slap the grins off of our faces. And then we got to it… the Marche de Noel (Christmas market), with stall after stall of delightful goodies on a red carpet. They had macaroons, cheeses, nougats, art, crafts and trinkets, wooly socks, those winter hats with the balls on the end and my personal favorite vin chaud (hot spicy wine, that tasted like Christmas in a cup). If all of that Christmas-y cheer wasn’t enough, they had an ice skating rink as well!
Well done Sarlat, you blew our little Christmas elf minds.
Enjoy some of the images I captured from around Sarlat and stay tuned at the end for my birthday story! Another great night in Sarlat.
My 30th birthday party was one to remember! Made very special by my sweet hubby and our friends Derrick and Theresa, who decided to come visit us from Madrid. The night started out with a little surprise party thrown at Derrick and Theresa’s rented apartment, followed by one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever had at Les Jardins D’Harmonie. The bubbly flowed and course after carefully constructed course was divine. At the end of the meal a giant flaming pineapple headed my way, and the whole restaurant (there were about 8 tables in this cozy French establishment) sang happy birthday to me. Yay!
After dinner we all strolled the streets of Sarlat and eventually made our way to the ice skating rink at the Marche de Noel. As we started to make our own little dance party next to the rink Theresa spotted a guy that they had met a few nights prior, and before we knew it Eric had whisked us away to a bar up the street. At Leberou, many new friends and loads of toast were made. “Sante” is the French equivalent to Cheers. (This seems to be the one question we ask in every country). By the end of the night we were some how at a very small party in the chef/owner of Les Jardins D’Harmonie’s house. Talk about full circle huh?!