The Storybook Village of Charroux

A bit of creative writing largely-based on our trip to Charroux a few weeks ago:

In a tiny storybook village in the south of France, there live 389 satisfied small-towners and one grumpy woman who keeps out all other potential inhabitants. With only seven main attractions helpfully listed on an antique signpost, you can see all of them four times in a single afternoon. Charroux is laid out with one circle of main streets inside another like a bull’s eye.  The tourism department hands out maps to visitors upon entry, but if you can’t navigate around two circles, you shouldn’t be allowed to leave anyway.

The local attractions include the Confiturerie, where one can taste-test about a hundred jams before purchase. The cashier with a strawberry mark across his face greets each customer individually, informs him or her to use a new spoon for each potential confiture purchase, and thanks each satisfied belly upon a payment of about 4 euros.

The Rose Thé shop attracts even those on the hottest of days to its spindly, round tables laden with lace tablecloths and puzzle-pieced into the rectangular shop. While the hot tea is 9 euros a cup, travelers justify the purchase with “Well, when’s the next time I’ll be able to drink tea in Charroux?”

Wanderers can also stop by the Bougerie, where they are immediately informed by copious signage that each picture of the establishment costs 10 euro cents. Artisan candles in swirly purples and pinks hang from the ceiling, and dozens of scented candles in octagonal glass jars sit neatly stacked for purchase.

In a town without a nightclub or a bar, the villagers fill their days with gardening and bricolage, known in English as “The Honey-Do” list. Red, pink, and yellow roses adorn gothic-pointed fences and trellis up shutters, and the neighbors know each other by their choice of pastel houses. Each of the few streets is marked with a rectangular wooden sign affixed to a building and sports an emblem of a gold crown riding atop a green carriage.

After stepping out of the sunlight and into a quaint magasin, each shopkeeper is eager to explain her wares in detail and is patient with those who have only just begun the French language. Though Charroux’s population only grows every once in a while with the birth of a baby, plenty of curious sightseers stop by for a glimpse of such a perfect life.