Safron? Non, Safran!

Not wishing to miss out on what might be one of the last really nice days of Autumn, we all went out to a small town eastwards along the Lot, Cajarc. This weekend was the Safron Fair (spelt Safran in french).

We had read that there was a tour of a safron producer (une safraniere) which was to start at 10.30 from the Tourist Office. We duly arrived at 10.30 to find that we had to drive to the Safron farm! So we followed the long line of cars, whilst I moaned that we wouldn't be able to park when we got there! However, my fears were unfounded (just) and we were given a short talk on crocuses and safron harvesting.

The farmer only had one small field, but that was because the labour involved in picking and harvesting the stigma from the flowers is so great that there's a limit to how many flowers they can cope with.

We went back to Cajarc, parked Betty on a bench in the town square, and went into an exhibition about Safron. When we came back out, we found Betty in a deep, one-sided conversation with an aged french lady. The lady was completely unphased by the fact that Betty speaks no french. Once we returned, we were able to translate for Betty and we quickly got a potted life history before her son and daughter-in-law popped up to take her off to lunch. Non-verbal communication can be just as effective as being able to speak the language!