It was only for one night, but I fell in love with Massiac, writes Andrew Sanger. What silence in the narrow streets of ancient, dark stone houses. What a wonderful setting, green Auvergne hills rising behind the rooftops. And how satisfyingly traditional the hotel’s restaurant, white-clothed tables and a perfectly correct four-course menu for £14.

Above all, what a contrast between Massiac and the A75 motorway, about three miles away, which had led me straight here with the simple exit sign: village étape. An étape means a stage along the way. France’s villages étapes happen to be close to autoroutes or other highways and have everything needed for a comfortable overnight stop.

The first villages to adopt the title appeared in the Limousin region less than a decade ago. It was an initiative to boost the economy in a rural region where a new motorway rushed through travellers without stopping. No sooner were the signs up than motorists began leaving the highways for a lunch break or to spend the night at authentic country hotels with their own classic restaurants, rather than lodging at characterless motel chains.

The idea caught on and in 2002 the Fédération Nationale des Villages Etapes was set up. Now, villages throughout the country are applying to join the scheme. Two more were approved in 2006, bringing the total to 21. The website www. village-etape.com has details of local hotels and restaurants.

The federation’s definition requires that villages étapes have architectural merit, a population of fewer than 5,000 and are less than three miles from an autoroute or four-lane highway. Most are along the A84 in Normandy, the A20 in Limousin and the A75. These are villages, not motorway amenities. The hotels are unpredictable and it could be unwise to turn up without first checking if there’s a room free.

We found Massiac as we headed north up the A75. On the main street is the Hôtel de la Poste, which, though a little faded inside, has a swimming pool and simple, comfortable double rooms at £40. The dining room is convivial and when I ask for a local aperitif, I am brought a small glass of birlou, which combines apple and walnut flavours.

In the morning, we take a stroll in the old village. In a beautiful, austere church there’s liturgical music playing and rare religious artwork. A strange prayer attached to a pillar urges that you never, ever forget your visit, and I certainly can’t. Talk about a rest stop — I was high on tranquillity.

www.paysdemassiac.com

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