‘That Was Good … Take a Picture
of It”:
Jen and Jana’s
All-Eatin’, All-Drinkin’,
No-Bikin’ Tour
of Paris and the Loire Valley, May 2002
Words by Jen
[My travel diary follows, and as usual, it’s not brief. If you just want to look at the pictures, click here. Otherwise, there are links in the text below to nearly all the pictures anyway, so you can look at them as you read. Hope you enjoy it. – Jen]
By now,
the obligatory early morning start – up at 5.20 am for a 5.40 taxi, and
at the airport for 6. We take off
on time at 7 and it's an uneventful flight to Paris. Due to a date mixup, all our careful planning has let us
down – Jana and I meant to arrive in Paris together (she coming from
Montreal, me from Dublin) but as it turns out I’m arriving the day before
her!
On arrival at the somewhat antiquated Terminal 1 of Charles
“Vive le Quebec Libre” De Gaulle Airport (think acres of concrete
and weird Sixties pod shapes), I follow Jana's instructions and seek out the
Air France coach which gets me from the airport to Montparnasse railway
station, not even a mile from our Paris hostel in the southwest part of the
city. However, doing that
15-minute walk with a largish bag, even on wheels, I begin to feel the
distance. I check into our spartan
hostel, called Ma Maison, but as there is a lockout until 5 pm, I have to leave
my bag in the lobby. So, no chance
of a quick wash and change of clothes, then. Ah well.
I
transfer my valuables to the hostel safe, repack my handbag with the day's
essentials, then I'm off for a day around Paris on my own. First stop has gotta be lunch –
have had nothing but a synthetic muffin (courtesy of Aer Lingus) to eat today. I hop on the Metro (the subway system)
and head for the rue Mouffetard, and a lunch stop recommended by culinary
travel guru Sandra Gustafson in her book Great Eats in Paris.
Andrew and I tested her excellent dining recommendations while in Rome,
so as soon as I knew I was coming to Paris, I snapped up her Paris guide toot
sweet.
Getting
off the Metro at Place Monge, I am met with the very agreeable sight of the
Sunday market in the square. I
have a quick wander through, looking at the appealing displays of flowers,
fruit and veg and fresh fish. But
my tummy's a growlin’, so it's off to prowl rue Mouffetard (a bit of a
foodie's paradise) in search of Sandra's suggestion, L'Assiette aux
Fromages. There's barely a soul in
the place, but that's ok. I order,
then tuck into one of their plateaux des fromages – there are five different
themed cheese platters, but I don't feel terribly adventurous and so spring for
the mild variety. I get to sample
five types of cheese – don't ask what they were – but though four
were very nice indeed, the fifth was horrendous. Blergh – tasted like it had been placed next to some
sort of industrial solvent. Still,
I just pushed it politely to the side.
As accompaniments, there’s a green salad and some fresh walnuts,
as well as the basket of Paris' famed pain Poilane (a dense sourdough bread). Now, I had been very much looking
forward to tasting what is apparently deemed the finest loaf in France. Martha Stewart has sung its praises,
and as a result Americans can apparently have loaves FedExed to them, same day
from Paris, at a cost of US$45 per loaf!
I can report that, while it was certainly good, I can't say my socks
were knocked off. Guess I am
either a culinary Philistine, or was just expecting too much. However, the lunch as a whole, washed
down with a small pichet of the house white, was very agreeable indeed. One slice of tarte aux fraises later and I’m out the door
– after no doubt having made the waiter very happy by leaving him a tip
as I forgot that in France the service charge is always built into the price!
After
lunch, a short stroll down the rue Mouffetard in the sunshine (it had been
raining on my arrival, but it's now a lovely afternoon). Back to Place Monge, only to see the
market closing down for the day at 2.30 pm – ah well. Back onto the Metro I go and my next
stop is the Musée d'Orsay.
Have been very much looking forward to this, as Andrew and I didn't
visit it when we were last in Paris in 1997. It doesn't disappoint – it's a veritable Greatest Hits
of Impressionism and Art Nouveau.
As it's so rare for me to go to a gallery where I'm actually a fan of
all the artistic styles on display, I have a lovely visit. Every room in the place has something
amazing – here Degas' ballet dancers, there Van Gogh's The Starry
Night, over here
Renoir's Japanese bridge series.
Plenty of room for the collection of Art Nouveau furniture and glass too
– a few iridescent Tiffany pieces, but more emphasis on the French
designers, which tend toward the creepier end of Art Nouveau. On display are two entire rooms panelled,
furnished and decorated in Art Nouveau, but the designs are overwhelmingly
plant-based and quite tortuous-looking.
I don't think I could sit long in a room where the panelling looks as
though at any moment it might come to life, reach out a tendril and grab you.
More
weirdness to come in the exhibition galleries. I find myself in a temporary exhibition called The Last
Portrait. As soon as I walk in, I
realise what they mean by The Last Portrait – it’s the artistic
depiction of the dead.
Centuries-old paintings, sketches and death masks are all very well, but
as the exhibit moves into the modern period I blunder into a small side room,
missing the discreet sign at the door which says to beware the contents, which
may shock. It's an entire room
dedicated to the Victorian pastime of dressing up the dead and photographing
them. I'm appalled – I know
of this practice, but had never seen any examples before. Many are of older people, lying in
their beds, looking as though they’re asleep – but of course
they're not. Most horrible of all
are the pictures of babies – mothers cradling their 'sleeping' infants
or, even worse, the stiff little bodies of toddlers dressed up and lying in
cots, meant to be 'sleeping' but looking as far from natural as possible. It's utterly ghoulish. I beat a hasty retreat.
I try
indulging in a little retail therapy to settle my nerves, but it’s quite
difficult. The museum is
absolutely packed – I had to queue outside for half an hour to get in,
and the crowds just kept coming afterwards. Not wanting to fight to look at art books, I decide to leave
as it’s nearly 6 pm and the gallery is about to close anyway. As it's still a lovely bright evening,
I take a stroll along the river past the Assemblée Nationale, the
Invalides and down towards the Eiffel Tower. As I reach the Pont de l'Alma, I cross the river to see the
flame statue, which is next to the road underpass where Princess Diana was
killed. No plaque or any sort of
memorial there, but all the walls and ledges in the area are covered in
graffiti (and new graffiti at that), with messages to Diana. I stroll along reading them and finding
it hard to believe it is nearly five years since she died. I still think about her a lot –
foolish, I know, but there you are.
I feel I've completed a sort of pilgrimage now, having also gone to
Kensington Palace the day before her funeral, and a year later to her family
home where she was buried.
By now
my feet are starting to ache a bit so I hop on the Metro and head back to the
hostel. I am finally allowed into
my room, though as I’m here on my own tonight and they’ve no single
rooms, I find myself in a hostel dorm for the first time ever! Not too bad though – it’s a
private four-bed room, and I find I am sharing with three other girls (a bit of
a relief as I wondered if the dorms might be mixed – didn't fancy the
idea of tripping over some dodgy bloke on the way to the bathroom late at
night). In true small-world
traveller fashion, one girl is from Montreal, another is a student at St. Mary's
in Halifax. All are much younger
than me and I feel v. creaky and decrepit as they get dolled up and head out at
9 pm for a night on the town. But at least that gives me peace and quiet to
write this diary, and get myself organized. V. sleepy, and windburnt (very gusty day here). In bed by 11 – Jana arrives
tomorrow a.m.!
Up at 8
am, packed up my bags and cleared out of the dorm room for 9 am. Partook of the free breakfast
downstairs – just coffee, hot chocolate, juice and baguettes with butter
and jam, but tasty nonetheless.
Then it's off to Montparnasse station to meet Jana's coach from the
airport. I arrive for 10 am, the
earliest I think she might arrive.
Two hours and one very chilled Jen later, she finally arrives (she had a
two-hour trip from the airport – due to roadworks). Great to see her at last. We haul her bags back to the hostel,
and then strike immediately for the Louvre, which she is keen to see but which
is closed tomorrow and Wednesday.
So it’s gotta be ‘done’ today.
We arrive
and get our tickets by about 2 pm, and spend about three hours visiting the
various galleries. It’s my
second time at the Louvre, but it's great fun to rediscover the place. Due to the lack of time, we do a kind
of ‘greatest hits’ tour, making sure to take in the Venus de Milo,
Mona Lisa, etc. (and this marks the genesis of our tour theme:
‘There’s the [insert interesting sight here] – take a picture
of it!’ Jana snaps away
madly as the official photographer of this trip, and manages to plough through
18 rolls of film by the time we’re done…). However, we also try our best to seek
out and appreciate some of the less-celebrated works in the Louvre as
well. Jana is very impressed by it
all, as am I – it's a wonderful museum, and beautifully organized and
maintained. However, by 5.30, we
are both beginning to flag, and after buying some postcards and other gifties,
it's time to head out.
We try
to find one of my favourite teashops in Paris, Angelina, for restorative
beverages, but it turns out to be too far of a walk and we settle for a closer
café instead. There we
consume delicious, thick, sticky cups of soup-like hot chocolate and consult
Sandra's Great Eats
guide for our dinner. We decide to
head back to the vicinity of our hostel and choose a Breton créperie
called Ty Breiz. We get a bit lost
trying to find it, but it's a pleasant evening and en route, we pass a lovely
florist selling enormous bunches of fragrant lily of the valley (a sign of
things to come – we find there are flower shops everywhere in France and
they sell the most astonishing and unusual selection of flowers). We can't resist and get a posy of them
for our room, sniffing them compulsively all evening. The crepérie turns out to be a wonderful choice. The Great Eats guide entitles us to a free kir
Breton each (fruity
and delicious – made with cider instead of white wine). For our main course, we have delicious
buckwheat crepes filled with egg, cheese, mushrooms and ham, all washed down
with a pichet of
fiery Breton cider. Then it's on
to the dessert crepes – mine with vanilla ice cream, cherries and whipped
cream, and Jana's with apples, nuts and flaming Calvados (apple brandy). Gorgeous....and with a pot of fragrant,
fresh mint tea to wind it up. Yum.
Jana is
now fading fast – the jet lag is getting to her – so we wind our
way back to the hostel and our own room.
It's pretty small, but decent and most importantly, private and cheap,
so we're not complaining. Another
early night as it's been another busy day.
I'm up
early, bound for the Central Bank of France (!) to exchange a sackful of franc
coins for Andrew, collected as donations for the Dublin SPCA. Leaving Jana to sleep off her jet lag,
I hop on the Metro and I get there by about 10 am. Unfortunately it's all far from straightforward. There is only one counter open to accept franc coins, and
the guy in front of me in the queue has a grocery bag full – must be
hundreds of euro worth – and none of it sorted or counted. So I sit there for about half an hour,
waiting. Finally, as
I’m about to give up, I'm seen and everything is worked out – good
thing, as I was dammed if I was going to hump that sack of coins all the way
back to Ireland.
As a
result it's nearly 11.30 before I get back to the hostel to find Jana waiting
in the lobby as the hostel has a lockout policy from 11 am to 5
pm...grumble. But it’s then
back onto the Metro, to Montmartre, for a stroll about. We wander up and down the butte, studiously avoiding the main Place du
Tertre with its hordes of 'artistes'.
Montmartre, despite being a bit crass in places, still retains a
charming feel, with lots of old stone houses, little winding streets and pretty
gardens. We eventually stop for
lunch at a super little place recommended by Sandra. It’s called Chez Claude et Nicole and at first glance,
it's just a little hole in the wall.
But a superb meal was had – we sampled three courses of
traditional French cooking for a mere 11 euro. To start, Jana has a salad and I have a very nice turkey
terrine. Next I enjoy some roast
lamb while J. has succulent trout in a creamy dill sauce. Both are accompanied
by fresh veg and tasty fried potatoes.
For dessert J. partakes of the tarte des fraises while I have the pear tart baked in a
creamy custard-like base. Both
made in house, both delicious. All
is washed down with a half-litre of the house white. Our waiter (who I think is Claude himself) is most amiable
and, on discovering I’ve come from Dublin, asks if I’ve any Irish
euro coins to exchange with him as his daughter is trying to collect a full set
of all the euro coins issued by the various Eurozone countries. A girl after my husband’s own
heart, it seems. I’m happy
to oblige.
After
lunch we amble slowly toward the Metro, stopping en route at a little boutique
where we have espied lovely jewellery in the windows. We are both tempted to splash out on beautiful crystal
necklaces – Jana’s in silvery-grey, mine with a more elaborate Art
Nouveau design in pink and green, with butterflies and dragonflies attached to
it. Next stop on the Metro is the
Île de la Cité and the cathedral of Notre Dame. I’m happy to see that the
façade is in full view – during our last visit to Paris, it was
swathed in scaffolding. We visit
the interior, but both of us agree that, while impressive, it is not the most
spectacular cathedral interior we’ve ever seen (though the exterior
certainly makes up for things). We
walk in the cathedral cloister afterwards – J. snapping pix of the famed
flying buttresses – and then we wander onto the Île St. Louis,
popping our heads into various shops.
We purchase posh comestibles at a v. fancy little food shop called
L’Epicerie.
By now
it’s about 5 pm and it’s time to hit one of Paris’ famed tea
salons, so we head for a place called Mariage Frères (founded in the 18th
century as a tea trading company, and home to France’s only Museum of
Tea). It’s shockingly
expensive – 6 euro for a pot of tea. However, on ordering one is presented with a
‘menu’ of hundreds of varieties. I have a pot of a particular Earl Grey blend which I am
assured by the waiter is ‘le plus parfumé’, but frankly, I
couldn’t discern any special qualities – the stuff I make at home
with Twinings tea bags is just as good.
J. enjoys her darjeeling though.
Waiters are rather snooty – not to us, mind, but we notice them
being a tad snippy with a woman at the next table. It’s our first experience of the famed French rudeness
and we hope it’s not a sign of things to come. We end up really quite rushed, as the waiters are keen to
remind us that the salon closes at 7 pm, and so we don’t enjoy the whole
experience as much as we might have.
I decide that Andrew will spring for this little indulgence as
recompense for having exchanged his franc coins for him!
We get
back on the Metro and make our way to the Pont de l'Alma as we have decided to
take a night-time bateau mouche tour on the river.
We buy tickets, then retire to a bar across the road for a glass of wine
while waiting for the 8.30 pm sailing time. It’s quite an enjoyable trip
– we cruise by all the major sites of Paris – but towards the end a
strong wind picks up and we have to go down off the boat’s deck as
we’re pretty cold. Nice to
see all the Seine bridges and the Eiffel Tower lit up, though. The trip ends at about 9.30 pm and then
it’s back on the Metro to the hostel.
It’s
May Day (Labour Day in Europe) and we are spending the morning whipping around
on the Metro so Jana can have a quick tour of the remaining Big Sights of
Paris. First stop - the Eiffel
Tower. Queues and more
queues. Queues to buy a ticket,
queues to go up on the lift to the top, queues to get down on the lift afterwards. Gotta be done, though. We battle a particularly pushy and
obnoxious horde of Russian women.
Jana doesn’t take terribly well to heights and clutches my
shoulder in terror as we go up the glass-fronted lift – odd, then, that
going up the Tower was her idea!!
Still, can you go to Paris and say you looked at the Eiffel Tower, but
didn’t bother going up it?
Next
stop is the Place de la Concorde, site of the guillotine in the 1790s and home
to various pieces of monumental statuary – and mad motorists –
today. The aim here is to get some
snaps and then take in another posh cup of tea at Ladurée, yet another famed
Parisian tea salon – but we arrive to find the way locked and barred and
a notice saying that their Champs Elysées branch is open. Grumble. However, to be expected – May Day is a national
holiday in France and we’ve seen almost nothing open. So we decide to stroll the length of
the Champs Elysées, which is hardly an unpleasant way to pass time. At this point, we decide we
haven’t enough time to enjoy our tea properly as we’re planning to
join a walking tour on the other side of the city at 2.30 pm, so we pop into
one of the many small parks that dot Paris and munch upon the meagre provisions
we have managed to purchase that morning – some oranges, and a packet of
biscuits. While there are no
picnic fixings to be had today, there are (oddly) people on every street corner
selling posies of lily of the valley.
We find out later that it is a tradition in France for men to give
lilies of the valley to their lady loves on May Day – which is rather
charming.
Afterwards,
we make our way across the city on the Metro. The trains are a fearful sight – there are many protests
in the city today in the run-up to this weekend’s presidential elections
in France and the trains are packed with people going to the marches –
both pro- and anti- LePen (the fascist nutter running against Jacques Chirac). Thankfully they all disgorge themselves
at the Republique station so we make a mental note to take another Metro route
home and avoid it.
By 2.30
we arrive at Père Lachaise station, to meet our tour guide. As a much-needed counter to all the art
and architecture of the last few days, this afternoon we are taking a tour of the
most famous cemetery in Paris, the nineteenth-century neo-Gothic Père
Lachaise. We have a very enjoyable
two and a half hours following our amiable guide about, as he explains the
history of the cemetery and the area, and relays tales of the various famous
people buried here – Oscar Wilde, Chopin, Edith Piaf and many, many
others. The most famous resident,
however, is Jim Morrison (of The Doors fame – not my
father-in-law!). Apparently
he’s the source of much grief for the cemetery officials, as they have
had to start paying for a security guard to stand next to the grave and move
along the wailing hordes of old hippies and college kids who come with plans to
spend the afternoon sitting around the aforementioned Mr. Morrison’s
tombstone, drinking beer and smoking dope. Visiting a cemetery may seem like a bit of an odd way to
spend one’s Sunday (and indeed, there are a few Goth types, in white
makeup and black capes, wandering about), but it’s all quite enjoyable. It transpires, however, that the
scariest thing in the cemetery is not the dead, but the toilets. At the end of the tour Jana goes in
search of the ladies and soon after throws a wobbly at the sight of her first
‘Turkish loo’ (for those not in the know, this is basically a
porcelain-lined hole in the floor over which one squats and hopes for good
aim). She mutters something about
‘not needing to go that bad’ and beats a hasty retreat.
With
the tour over, we plan a route back to the Champs Elysées that is most
likely to avoid the mad protestors.
Given Jana’s sore feet and her wish to photograph the Arc de
Triomphe, we decide to splash out and go to the conveniently-located
Ladurée for dinner.
En route we make a quick escape from one of the Metro stations as there
is trouble on one of the trains – some sort of fight between protestors,
it appears. We leave the station
just as the police arrive; tensions are running high in Paris these days and we
want to avoid this kind of thing at all costs. So we join the rest of the tourists at the Arc de Triomphe,
just as a small military remembrance ceremony is ending. We have a stroll and Jana snaps away
before the time comes for our Ladurée reservation. As it turns out it’s more
expensive than we thought, with a 39 euro set menu, but we decide to go for it
and make this our big splurge meal of the trip. For all that, it’s very good. I have asparagus to start, followed by
delicious sea bass, and a slice of some sort of decadent chocolaty goodness for
dessert, all washed down with a shared half-bottle of very nice
rosé. We follow it up with
a pot of the famed Ladurée tea, again at a cost of over 6 euro per pot,
and as with Mariage Frères, find it thoroughly ordinary. Oh well – what do the French know
about good tea, anyway? Still,
it’s an enjoyable meal, served quite impeccably in a lovely dining room
on the Champs Elysées, so that’s worth something. It’s quite late before we get
back and collapse into bed – a very early start tomorrow.
Up at
5.30 am! Today is the day we head
for the Loire, and we want to beat the traffic. We are at the Avis Rent-a-Car office in Montparnasse station
by 6.45 a.m. With Jana at the
wheel and me navigating, we manage to make it out of the city and onto the ring
road that surrounds Paris by about 7.15 a.m. – but in taking the wrong
exit off the motorway we end up having to turn around and go back practically
to our starting point. It’s
not an auspicious start, and costs us about an hour and a half. But the second time around we find the
right exit, and from then on the driving is uneventful.
By
10.30 am we are making our first stop, in the town of Chartres to see its
cathedral. We take an audio tour
and marvel at its astonishing collection of medieval stained glass windows
– I believe they are regarded as the finest in Europe and you don’t
need to be a snooty art history type to see why. It’s a lovely start to the trip. We stop in the town to pick up lunch
supplies – goat cheese, strawberries, a baguette, some juice – and
then I take over the driving. Yeeg
– am somewhat concerned as I have not driven a car regularly in about
nine years. I’m also concerned
that, after having driven a moped in Ireland for the past two years, I will
wind up on the left side of the road.
However, the highway is absolutely fine, and in excellent
condition. We discover that this
is true of every road we drive here in France – we don’t encounter
a single pothole on the entire trip.
Coming off the main highway, however, we discover why the country has
such an excellent road system – it’s the tolls. All the major highways in France are
subject to tolls, and between Paris and Angers today (a distance of just under
300 km) we pay nearly 20 euro in tolls.
However, if it means excellent roads everywhere, I suspect it’s a
price many French people don’t mind paying. By the end of the trip, Jana and I reckon the roads in
France are the best we’ve seen anywhere.
I drive
over two hours to just outside Angers, where we swap over the driving as
I’m a tad nervous about town and city centres at this stage. As there’s a cloudburst of rain
at this point, we end up consuming our picnic in the car before heading off to
Angers city centre. It’s
quite an attractive town and easy to get around. We have a tour of the château and its star attraction
– the medieval Apocalypse Tapestries. Our guide actually ‘reads’ them for us as the
medievals would have, which makes for a lengthy exposition but is useful as
otherwise we would probably have just glanced at them for a few minutes. It’s a fine introduction as it
later becomes apparent that there are more tapestries in the châteaux of
the Loire than you can shake a stick at.
By now
it’s about 7 pm and after some disagreement as to the evening’s
plans, we decide to head out to the countryside south of the city and try to
find our accommodations for the evening.
Lucky thing we did so before it got dark – the B&B, called La
Cotinière, is tucked away amongst a series of very lovely, but not
terribly well-signposted, remote country lanes. It’s a fine old stone farmhouse, complete with
outbuildings and the limestone tufa caves which dot the area. After we arrive, our hosts suggest a
restaurant in the nearby town of Brissac called Le Haut Tertre. It’s in the town square, across
the road from the extremely posh Château de Brissac (which, incidentally,
offers accommodation, with the cheapest rooms starting at about 300 euro per
night). After a quick scoot around
to look at the château – and for Jana to take some snaps – we
head for the restaurant, and decide to partake of the set menu of regional
specialities. We start the evening
with a kir (my only drink of the evening as I’m driving home) which here
is made with sparkling Saumur wine and is offered with a wide variety of fruit
flavours beyond the usual blackcurrant (I have mur – blackberry – and Jana has the
raspberry). The menu proves
excellent, and a bit of a bargain at only 15 euro for three courses. The groaning starter consists of tasty rillons – chunks of pork, deep-fried
– served on a bed of greens with a delicious garlicky vinaigrette. We could easily have stopped here but
then the Loire salmon arrives, served with a beurre blanc sauce and rice. Yummy. Jana finishes with a dish of baked strawberries, while I
manage the lovely pear sorbet with lashings of cherry liqueur poured over (the
waitress proffered a vast variety of fruit liqueurs with my sorbet, then after
my selection plonked in front of me an entire bottle of the most divine cherry-flavoured
beverage I have ever tasted, to administer as I pleased. I spent the rest of the trip looking in
wine shops, trying to find that liqueur, but to no avail. Sigh.).
I drive
back to the B&B afterwards, both of us straining our eyes in the dark to
spot the small signs for the hamlet in which our B&B is located. Jana collapses into
bed while I get out my tea-making equipment and brew myself a cuppa before
I too hit the sack after a long day.
An
adjustment to our itinerary today.
We had planned to take a tour of the National Equestrian School (nearby
in the town of Saumur) but by the time we realize that the tour starts at 9.30
am it’s too late for us to get there. So we plan on doing it tomorrow. In the meantime, we take our time at the lovely La
Cotinière. We have a very
nice breakfast, then stroll around the property and in the hamlet of Aligny
– just a wide place in the road, really, but this doesn’t stop it
from having a crumbly old 16th century chapel and a lovely (private)
château. We reluctantly pack
up and take leave of our hosts about 10.30 am. It’s a beautiful morning and we have a marvellous,
meandering, bucolic drive through a string of picturesque villages. The country roads are in beautiful
condition and there is practically no one on them, so driving is a
pleasure. We stop in the village
of Cunault, with its fine medieval church complete with nesting sparrows in the
walls, and watch the Loire winding lazily amongst its sandbars.
We want
to visit the château in Saumur, but it closes for lunch and we have time
on our hands. So, in a fit of
eccentricity, we decide to stop as we pass the Mushroom Museum. It’s a weird little place –
we discover that the caves around Saumur produce 80 percent of France’s
mushrooms – and we learn plenty o’ fascinating mushroom facts. We get to walk through the production
areas where various freakish fungi are being grown for the market. It gets a bit unnerving after a while
– Jana begins muttering darkly about the ‘mushroom people’
who will doubtless attack us and leave our corpses for more funky
‘shrooms to grow on….
A fly gets caught in a fly-zapping machine on the wall and she jumps
about 50 feet. Back outside the
caves, feeling faintly foolish, we observe the mushroom souvenirs on offer and
taste some of the local produce, in the form of a bowl of button mushrooms
served with a tasty dip.
Afterwards,
we press on for Saumur, have a picnic lunch, then visit the château,
which nowadays contains two small museums – one of the decorative arts,
the other of all things equestrian (Jana being a horse-ridin’ fool). Makes for a pleasant afternoon,
though. We leave Saumur late in
the afternoon to visit the medieval abbey of Fontevraud. It has a long and fascinating history
(with loads of English connections) and is in the process of being
restored. The buildings, however,
are not quite what we expected.
The continental European attitude to historic preservation is very
different to that of the British, as I’ve learned. We find the site interesting, but
somehow a bit too clean and shiny considering its substantial age. We watch a strange, very French video
about the history of the abbey before leaving.
Tonight
is the night we have splashed out for our accommodations, so we head for our
very own château, the Château
des Reaux, where we have booked the Chambre
Barois Orientale for the evening.
What a place…with medieval foundations and later Renaissance
embellishments. Lovely old
reception rooms (which we are invited to use) are full of portraits of
ancestors and photographs of the family’s brides over the last
century. And our room –
utterly fabulous, with its canopy bed, stained glass windows, and huge washroom
. We take the time to stroll
around the grounds and unpack at our leisure. Our hosts have made a dinner reservation at a restaurant
called Diane de Meridor in the nearby village of Montsoreau, and it’s
marvellous. Of course we spring
for the four-course menu – a delightful amuse bouche of herby potatoes and the obligatory
kir first, then I move on to a starter of escargot ravioli, succulent duck with
apples for the main course, superb cheese course offerings, and to finish a
light pastry with apricots. As
Jana’s driving home tonight I take the opportunity to sample the local
Saumur white wine. Another great
meal – and a stunning purple sunset over the Loire to accompany it. The evening light on the river is
utterly gorgeous – I always thought this was just a bit of rubbish
written by guidebook writers – but it really is true. I guess ‘limpid’ might be
the word to describe it.
What a
great day. We retire to our
château to have tea, write our diaries, and then sleep.
An
earlyish start this morning as today we have to get to the National Equestrian
School. We have a lovely
breakfast, served by the charming chatelaine of the château, Madame
Goupil (it was her great-grandfather, Julien Barois, who bought the
château at the end of the 19th century and was a great
traveller in the Middle East – hence the ‘oriental’ theme of
our room). We bid a very reluctant
farewell to the Château des Reaux, but then have to boot it for Saumur in
order to arrive on time for the 9.30 am tour, which we just make. Despite my utter lack of equestrian
knowledge (compared to Jana, anyway) and the fact that the tour is in French,
it’s quite enjoyable. After
our tour of the facility, we are ushered into the indoor ring where the members
of the famed Cadre Noir (an elite group of highly-trained military horses and
riders) are practicing. Jana is
enthralled, having trained in dressage for a few years herself.
We head
out of town to a riverside picnic site, where we have some lunch, then decide
to hit one of the many caves and wineries which line the main road. The first one we try, Ackerman, is not
offering tours, but we browse their shop and purchase bottles of Cremant de
Loire (a sparkling wine). They
have about five different types for sale, and feeling flush, we spring for the
most expensive, at a mere 7.80 euro per bottle! However, Veuve Amiot, the cave next door, is open for tours,
so we watch a video and then have a personal tour of the premises with a very
friendly guide, who explains the whole process of making Loire sparkling wines
(which, really, are champagnes in all but name – they use the methode
traditionelle). Afterwards we hit the bar where we
taste four different varieties of Veuve Amiot fizz – Saumur brut, Saumur
demi-sec, rosé brut and a very interesting sparkling red – and
discuss their various merits. All
are lovely – and not available in Canada, apparently. We decide to get a box of three bottles
of the sparkling red (two for
Jana, one for me) as it is so unusual.
The guide tells us that the Saumur region is the only place, other than
northern Italy, which produces sparkling red wine. As I’ve had the Italian stuff – Lambrusco
– before, and it is sweet and horrible, I’m pleasantly surprised by
the Saumur product (though I find out after my return home, in conversation
with a friend, that our guide’s explanation isn’t strictly true –
apparently some Aussie winemaker now produces a sparkling shiraz). Nonetheless I’m keeping my bottle
for a special occasion, to be drunk as suggested with strawberries and
chocolate cake. Yum.
As much
as we’d love to stand around swigging champagne all afternoon, there are
sights to be seen and so we hit the road for our first ‘fairytale’
château, the Château d’Ussé. En route, we stop in the nearby village of Candes St.
Martin, which holds the coveted title of being one of the Most Beautiful
Villages in France (there’s actually a guidebook so one can visit them
all). It’s truly charming
and pleasantly deserted. We climb
to a panoramic view of the river above the village, then wander in the village
itself, which is all crooked medieval houses covered in roses and wisteria, and
twisty old lanes. We have a
gorgeous country drive – the weather is lovely – to Ussé,
where we have our tour of the château. Sadly it proves a bit of a letdown. It’s absolutely marvellous from
the outside – apparently it inspired Charles Perrault to write Sleeping
Beauty – but the inside is mainly a collection of weird objects cobbled
together by the family into ‘displays’ (i.e. "Here’s a funny
old pair of boots, some old copper pots from the kitchens, and some medals won
by a long-dead ancestor – let’s put them next to the
staircase." Eh?). There is an interesting collection of
historic costumes to see, but they would be better off in proper display cases,
rather than put on mannequins and scattered throughout the various rooms. The tower is best left to kiddies or
fans of kitsch – its rooms feature a series of wax tableaux depicting
scenes from the story of Sleeping Beauty.
A tad cheesy, to say the least.
But no
matter. It’s a lovely afternoon and we strike out for our evening’s
accommodations. The house, La Chaussée, is in a small
village north of Chinon, and is absolutely gorgeous. It’s a nineteenth-century house, but the interior
decor is classic country with a minimalist slant, if you can imagine it. I love it. The owner, however, is another matter entirely. Madame is a French teacher by
profession and although she speaks perfectly good English, once she knows we
speak some French she insists on using the language with us exclusively
(it’s ‘très, TRÈS important’, apparently). Within minutes of my trying to have a
conversation with her, she has already corrected my lousy grammar. Hmph.
To
Chinon for dinner and a restaurant she has recommended. However, I’m at the wheel and a
small disaster strikes – as I am trying to back out of a parking place,
we hear a ‘crunch’.
I’m stymied as I can’t see anything. Once turned around, however, I discover
that I have managed to back into a small electric bicycle parked against the
opposite curb. %$!£@!! The owner of the bike starts waving his
hands and shouting at me as I’m trying to get the car moved out of the
way (I’m blocking traffic in both directions by this point). The guy obviously doesn’t notice
this as he continues hollering at me and starts writing down my license plate
number, obviously thinking that I’m just going to take off. As there’s nowhere for me to stop
and pull over, I ask Jana to get out and talk to him while I drive around the
block and come back. I’m
freaking out. What if I’ve
wrecked the bike and the guy demands money? I manage to make my way back and pull over, by which time
the demented Frenchman has calmed down, having been assured by Jana that I am
not doing a runner and will be coming back. Thankfully, there’s no damage to his bike – all
I seem to have done is knock it over – but his handlebar has gone through
the piece of plastic covering one of the running lights above my back bumper
and put a hole in it. Great. Wonder how much Avis are going to
charge me for that? Needless to
say the incident puts a bit of a damper on our evening, which is compounded by
the fact that the restaurant recommended by Madame is thoroughly ordinary. Feel somewhat miserable – was
very worried that I would have some kind of altercation with the car during
this trip, and just hope that this is it.
In the grand scheme of things it’s pretty minor, so if this is the
worst thing that happens to the car I’ll be glad.
We get
back to our lovely B&B by 9.15 pm, have tea, write our diaries, discuss our
plans for the next few days, and then sleep. We have two nights at La Chaussée so it’s nice
to know that we don’t have to pack everything up tomorrow morning.
If La
Cotinière won the Most Bucolic Location award and Château des
Reaux won the Best Room award, then La Chaussée merits Best Breakfast. Madame serves up brioche, croissants,
madeleines (little buttery cakes), homemade peach jam, freshly-squeezed orange
juice, hot chocolate and coffee with accompanying jugs of frothy hot milk. We have the charming dining room to
ourselves and there are lit candles, a spray of flowers, and delightful soft
piano music. Superb. We even catch a glimpse of
Madame’s enormous dog – an Irish wolfhound called Plato
(‘mais il n’est pas philosophe’, she says ruefully).
We had
planned to head straight for the château of Azay-le-Rideau this morning,
but Madame recommends a detour via the village of Crissay-sur-Manse, another of
the Most Beautiful Villages in France.
We’re awfully glad we did.
It’s another lovely sunny morning driving along quiet, picturesque
country roads. The village is
wonderful, full of crumbly medieval houses swathed in roses and wisteria. As we’re strolling along we pass
a man who greets us with a cheery and now-ubiquitous ‘bonjour’ and
proceeds to chat to us and ask us where we’re from. He points out the local château
(now in ruins) and informs us that the property has now been purchased by an
American, who is working on restoring the outbuildings. He wanders off after we thank him, and
we marvel again at the friendliness of the people in this area.
We pop
into the village café for coffee and a bathroom pitstop, and afterwards
are just about to get in the car and leave when we hear a haloo from the
hillside above the carpark.
It’s the man we were speaking to earlier, who is now working in
his garden and who waves to us to come over. He lets us in through his garden gate (muttering darkly
about the few other tourists milling nearby, whom he obviously does not want to
allow in) and invites us to view the ruins of the château, which are just
behind his garden wall. I climb up
the ladder for the first look as he chats to Jana. When I return he has just unearthed a very large snail from
his vegetable bed which he passes to me as Jana goes up the ladder for some
pictures. It’s quite the
biggest snail I’ve ever seen and as I’ve been eating its
compatriots throughout this trip, I get Jana to take a snap of it! My French superlatives not exactly
being eloquent, the best I can come up with in praise of this fine escargot is ‘bon goûter’, which
has Jana rolling her eyes with mirth.
We bid the friendly gardener farewell and jump back in the car
again. We reflect on how kind,
helpful and approachable all the people we have been encountering have been
– with so many stories of French rudeness abounding, it’s the last
thing we expected and we’re amazed and delighted by it. Perhaps the fact that we are doing our
best to speak French is an important factor. It’s made much easier by the fact that the French
spoken here is beautiful – people speak slowly, with excellent
enunciation, so even I (whose French is shaky at best) can understand a good
bit. Jana is doing extremely well
with her French and getting better every day.
A
half-hour’s drive brings us to the beautiful château of
Azay-le-Rideau. After the
disappointment of Ussé yesterday, it’s a great improvement, and is
beautiful both inside and out.
Jana takes loads of snaps as we stroll about the grounds, and buy books
in the shop. We buy yummy pastries
at the village patisserie for our picnic lunch, and Jana buys some pretty watercolours
from a local shop before we press on for the château at Villandry. We actually eschew visiting the
château here as the main attraction is the garden, which is enormous and
has been replanted in Renaissance style.
We enjoy a picnic lunch in the garden itself, then have a walk. It’s lovely, but very French in
style, with formal clipped hedges and everything in neat rows; we both decide
that we prefer the English style of gardening, with mixed borders and everything
looking a bit wild.
Afterwards,
we backtrack slightly and stop in a nearby farm shop we passed earlier in the
day called La Giraudière.
The farm is quite old and was apparently founded as the estate farm of
one of the nearby châteaux.
We buy duck rillettes (shredded duck, made into a yummy spreadable paste), pressed
apple and pear juices, and a large log of peppered goat cheese produced there
at the farm (Jana having recoiled in horror at the first cheese presented for
her consideration, which was crusted with mold and of which the proprietress
was very proud!). We discover
that, despite the somewhat ramshackle nature of the farm itself, they have a
restaurant on the premises which looks very nice, and promises several tasty
and affordable menus. We make
reservations for dinner at 7.30 pm.
With a few hours to kill, we drive to nearby Langeais to visit its
château. However, it proves
a tad overwhelming, being stuffed with heavy gothic furniture, tapestries and
pious medieval art. We make a
mental note to try not to visit more than two châteaux in a day, so as to
avoid château overload!
Feeling
pretty hungry, we head back to the farm restaurant at La Giraudière, and
a gorgeous meal ensues. Far from
the rustic country food we expected, it’s actually quite refined and
beautifully presented. The dining
room is charmingly decorated and we are ushered to a nice table next to a
crackling open fireplace (although the reality of our location on a working
farm is brought home to us when we discover that the bathrooms are out in back
of the goat barn! Ah well). We avail of the fine four-course menu
for 25 euro. We have cider kirs to
start, along with a plateful of savoury little goat’s cheese pastries as
an amuse bouche, as
we consider the menu. As
frogs’ legs are one of the offerings for the starter, I certainly
can’t pass up the opportunity to try them – and they are very tasty
(and yes, it’s true – they really do taste like chicken). Jana has foie gras, which I sample
– it’s nice, but awfully rich. I don’t think I could eat too much of it. I move on to grilled suckling pig as my
main course, while Jana has the RABBIT!!!
Guess this is her way of getting back at me for having eaten duck the
other night. I try a forkful of
her rabbit and I must admit, with dreadful guilt, that it is absolutely
delicious – as is my suckling pig.
I try not to think of the poor baby piggie being torn from its mother to
provide my tasty meal. The cheese
board comes next, with a good selection including several of the farm’s
own goat’s cheeses (I must say, as good as it is, we are getting a bit
tired of goat’s cheese at this point, having eaten it in all its
permutations). For dessert, there
is a delicious creamy goat’s cheese ice cream (!) with fruit – who
knew this was possible? But
it’s great. All is washed
down with a rather excellent half-bottle of Touraine red wine for me, as Jana
is driving home.
Back to
La Chaussée for tea and biscuits, a bit of repacking, then bed. Sadly we leave La Chaussée
tomorrow.
This
morning (as it is time for us to pay the bill, no doubt!) Madame relents and
speaks English to us for a bit. We
learn that though the house was built in the 19th century, it has 17th century
foundations. The land used to be
held by the Crown for the royal hunt, the kitchens of which were built next
door. After another lovely
breakfast, we stroll in the grounds, then load up the car.
This
morning we are bound for Loches, and although we get on the wrong road
initially, it doesn’t matter as it’s a nice drive. We arrive in Loches around
lunchtime. It’s a charming
old town; we walk through the old quarter and visit the château, where Joan
of Arc met the Dauphin (later Charles VII) after the Battle of Orleans. It was also the home of Agnes Sorel,
companion of Charles and the first woman to hold the title of Mistress to the
King of France! Afterwards, we
follow a scenic drive recommended in our guidebook, west of the town. We try to find an ancient monastic site
in the forest, but its location eludes us. We then follow signs for an 11th century priory,
thinking it would make a good picnic site, but far from being a ruin it is
still a working priory and one of the monks boots us out before we can unpack
our lunch! Oops. So we press on to the nearby village of
Montrésor (yet another of the Most Beautiful Villages in France) and
have our lunch in the main square, below the château. Afterwards we take a quick wander
around – like so many villages we’ve been in, it’s sleepy and
deserted. Where is everyone? Makes for easy driving though, so we
don’t complain. After a
stroll along the banks of the river Indre, which runs through the village, we
jump back in the car for an hour’s drive north to our last stop of the
day, the Château de Chaumont. We arrive at 5.30, hoping to catch the last tour of the day,
but all is locked and barred! Oh
dear…perhaps another day.
We
decide to head for this evening’s accommodations, the Moulin du Fief Gentil. Although it’s located in a small
town, the place is lovely – a old mill with a large pond in the back of
the house. The owners, a English
man (Roger) and his Belgian wife (Ann), are very welcoming and we are ushered
to our comfy room. As we have
arranged to have dinner here this evening (Ann used to work in catering and now
runs a cooking school from the B&B), we are very much looking forward to
it. We spend a quiet hour sitting
out by the mill pond, writing our diaries and enjoying the peaceful
surroundings.
We have
a wonderful evening – the atmosphere is really as if we are invited
guests in their home. Funnily
enough, the other guests this evening are an Irish family from Dublin –
an older couple with their daughter and son-in-law. We all meet for drinks in the living room at 8 pm and enjoy
the local Vouvray sparkling wine.
Dinner is served at about a quarter to nine in the amazing dining room,
one wall of which is glass and allows a view of the old mill wheel and
waterfall as the stream from the pond outside runs directly under the
house. Ann has prepared a very
nice four-course meal, with different local wines for each course as suggested
by Roger. There is asparagus with
mousseline sauce to start, pork loin with rhubarb chutney for the main course,
a very fine and varied cheese board (which we are able to discuss at length, in
English!), and strawberries with homemade vanilla ice cream for dessert. It’s nice to relax for the
evening and be able to chat in English with Ann and Roger, who are a font of
local information. Before we know
it, it is 11.30 pm and we feel as though we have spent the evening at a dinner
party with friends. Of course it
did not come particularly cheaply, but it was a very interesting and novel
experience. We retire to our comfy
beds, full of good food, drink and conversation.
A
delightful breakfast in the dining room this morning, while looking at the old
water wheel and the millrace beyond.
The Fief Gentil definitely wins the award for Most Homey B&B. Roger and Ann have kindly arranged for
us to go riding this afternoon at a stable west of the village. We take our leave and make the short
15-minute drive to the Château de Chenonceau, one of the Loire Valley
‘biggies’, where we spend the morning. It’s pretty touristy, but in a tasteful way, and we
reckon it’s the best château we’ve visited so far. It has lovely formal gardens, and the
château itself spans the river running through the grounds. The interior is beautifully restored,
with lots of interesting things to see.
I particularly liked the bedroom of Louise of Lorraine, wife of King
Henri III. After he died she went
into deep mourning and had her room redecorated in black and silver –
black bed hangings, black furniture, and black wall panelling with various
mournful motifs painted in silver (tears, crowns of thorns, widow’s
knots, her cipher and his). Wacky.
After the tour we stroll through the château farm looking at the
wildfowl, and visit the flower shop.
The rooms of the château are filled with gorgeous dried and fresh
flower arrangements, and the designer also supplies the shop. The arrangements are fabulous and I
drop a somewhat alarming amount of money in there.
Next
stop is the town of Amboise, a former royal capital and with several
interesting attractions. First we
have lunch at Le Caveau des Vignerons, founded by a group of Touraine wine
growers who banded together to market their produce. In addition to tasting and buying various wines, one can
enjoy lunch platters of local specialties, which we take advantage of as a
break from our usual picnic routine.
Between us, we are served 4 kinds of goat cheese (aagh), 2
pâtés, and a duck terrine, along with salad greens, bread and a
small pichet of
Touraine rosé. In the
sunshine, it’s a very enjoyable alfresco meal. Afterwards, we take a short walk to Le Clos Lucé, a
manor house in which Leonardo da Vinci spent the last three years of his life
under the patronage of King Francis I.
Luckily, the curators have tried to maintain the house to look as much
as possible as it would have in Leonardo’s day, and it’s very
charming. In the basement, there
is a large display of models built by IBM of the many inventions of Leonardo
– the machine gun, the parachute, the airplane…. I’m not a techie or engineer
type, but even I find them pretty fascinating. The man was truly a genius.
Afterwards
we head back towards where we’ve parked the car and pass several
troglodyte houses (i.e. houses built in caves dug out of the sides of the soft
limestone cliffs – they’re everywhere in this area). Then we head for the stables and our
ride, scheduled for 5 pm. On the
way, we pass the famed Parc des Mini-Châteaux, which is apparently a
rather popular tourist attraction!
Adjoining the mini-châteaux, we see the sign for the Parc le Fou
de l’Âne. As I’m pretty sure that
‘âne’ means donkey, I wonder aloud if this is, indeed, the
Park of the Crazy Asses / the Crazy Ass Park? We both end up in stitches at my lousy translation skills.
Composing
ourselves, we find our way to the lovely stables where we are scheduled to take
our ride. Compared with many
I’ve seen, both the horses and the facility itself are beautiful, clean
and well kept. I'm put on a docile
chestnut horse called called Quiver and Jana gets a bay. We then set out for our hour’s
ride with a guide, Guillaume. It
is absolutely marvellous – the best ride I have ever had. We walk and trot through the forest, on
quiet country lanes and alongside the river Cher, passing en route two
châteaux, an old mill, and a field with two sweet little foals. I don’t know at this stage how
this holiday could get any better.
Weather wise, this is the most glorious day of the trip – not a
cloud in the sky and about 22 degrees.
After the ride, we help unsaddle the horses and have a chat with the
very friendly staff. It’s
been a brilliant afternoon.
Luckily,
it is about to get better. After
our ride we head for our evening’s accommodations north of Amboise, at
the Château de Nazelles. After calling for directions, we
finally find the place, and are stunned.
It wins the award for Most Charming and Historic Accommodations, hands
down. Our room, the Chambre de la
Tour, is lovely, big and cozy, with exposed beams and a window overlooking the
valley and the château of Amboise in the distance. There is an enormous bathroom with
piles of cushy-soft towels, a posy of lilies of the valley, Burberry
toiletries, and a deep, old-fashioned clawfoot tub. To say we are delighted is an understatement. It’s difficult to tear ourselves
away for dinner. The proprietor,
the very kind and English-speaking Olivier, has recommended a number of quite
posh and expensive restaurants nearby, but we want something more simple and so
he directs us to La Cave aux Croix Verts, a nearby restaurant housed in a
troglodyte cave. The meal is very
nice – we start with escargots in cream, then steak for our main course
as it’s a nice break from our usual round of lamb, duck, rabbit and fish.
The steaks are served almost bloody-rare, with sharp mustard and Guerande salt
– perfect. The inevitable
cheese board follows, and we both finish with apple tart and ice cream for dessert. A yummy meal and a very novel
experience, dining in a cave!
We’re
back at the château by 10.30, whereupon I indulge in a sybaritic soak in
that enormous tub before crawling into my lovely soft bed with its crisp
sheets. Aaah. Bliss. Can I stay at the Château de Nazelles forever?
A
superb breakfast awaits us – Nazelles runs a very close second to La
Chaussée in the Best Breakfast stakes, I must say. There are three types of honey
(sunflower, spring, and acacia) and a variety of delicious fruit preserves to
enjoy with our croissants and bread.
Of course, in the interests of thorough research and informed
assessment, I make sure to sample them all. After breakfast, we chat with Olivier and meet two of his
three children. Little Olivia
looks to be about 3 and is utterly adorable. Later, we meet her brother, a small fair-haired boy of 4 or
5, who by way of introduction races into the room and shouts: ‘Papa,
j’ai fais un popo!’ Olivier looks mortified and apologies
profusely, but we smother our giggles and roar about it afterwards!
We go
for a stroll about the grounds outside and meet Olivier’s wife Veronique,
who is very kind and shows us around the property. The main house dates from 1517 and was originally the home
of the lord of Nazelles. It was
originally a wine estate, and the old wine press can still be seen in the caves
out behind the house. Historian
Jen is intrigued by the wide variety of unrestored, original outbuildings on
the property, including the old servants’ kitchen with its original bread
oven and sinks. To the front
of the house are lovely gardens, and above on the cliffs there is a waymarked
forest walk we wish we had time to do. We really don't want to leave. But finally, we tear ourselves away
around 11 am.
Today
is a seriously heavy-going château day. First we strike out to visit the Château de Chaumont,
mark 2 (it’s the one that was closed on Monday). Many consider that it is more
interesting on the outside than the inside, but we quite like it – it has
a nice little historic interior, a stunning riverside location and lovely
Victorian stables. Afterwards, we
drive over an hour to the Château de Chambord, perhaps the most famous of
the Loire châteaux. Thronging
hordes are much in evidence here – it’s the 1945 Victory Day public
holiday today. There is a huge
forest park surrounding the château, filled with people picnicking and
walking. We picnic ourselves, with
supplies bought in Nazelles village this morning (bread from the boulangerie; ham and pâté - no
cheese, thankfully - from the old-fashioned boucherie, where we queued with the
locals). We then head for the
château itself. The place is
heaving with crowds - we really need a tour but can't wait until 4 pm when the
next English tour is on. So we
struggle through the enormous and labyrinthine château interior. I’m sure it’s an amazing
place, and wish we had more information about it, but it is so horribly crowded
that neither of us enjoy it or appreciate it very much and just want to get out
as quickly as possible.
It’s
a relief to get in the car and head for château no. 3, the Château
de Cheverny. Though there are lots of people here too, it’s quite an
improvement on Chambord. We have
timed our visit to view the Soupe des Chiens (i.e. the feeding of the
château’s pack of about 100 hunting hounds) at 5 pm. We stand around for a good 45 minutes,
after having secured a good vantage point. It proves to be an amazing sight, however. The Master of the Hounds rounds up the
pack at about 4.40 pm and puts them into a pen. He then washes down the yard where they are fed, leaves, and
returns with a huge wheelbarrow filled with chicken and turkey carcasses and a
massive bag of kibble. The
carcasses are arranged into a long low mountain, with a topping of kibble. He then stands and waits until the
clock in the stable yard strikes 5, and the hounds start baying. He releases them from the pen then, and
it’s an awesome sight.
Holding a rope whip (which he doesn’t even use), he watches the
dogs as they stand, howling and quivering with anticipation, but waiting for
the command to eat. Once he gives
the command, they pounce on the heap of carcasses. There’s snarling and fights aplenty, which the Master
occasionally steps in to control.
Once the raw meat has been wolfed down, the dogs start in on the kibble. When it’s all over, about two and
a half to three minutes has elapsed, and there’s not a piece of kibble or
scrap of chicken skin to be seen.
It’s quite a sight.
After
our observation of these slavering beasts, the visit takes a far more civilized
turn and we tour the interior of the château. It’s still a private home and is lovely and very
intimate. Many of the private
apartments are on view, and we see wedding and family photos of the
aristocratic French family who now own the estate.
By now
it’s about 6.30 pm and we’re pretty zonked, so we head for the
village of St. Dyé sur Loire.
The B&B we’re
staying the next two nights is in a 19th century house in the
village, run by an older couple, the Bonnefoys. She is German, he French. They’re wildly eccentric but quite friendly, and we
have tea and chitchat in their garden on arrival. We also meet their guinea pig, Pushkin, who lives in a
little cage on their patio (apparently, there was also once a Gorky and a
Tolstoy, but they’ve now gone to guinea heaven). We discuss dinner possibilities with
our hosts. Apparently, there is a
nice restaurant within walking distance, but we are unable to get a reservation
before 9 pm. So we while away the
time by writing our diaries and bringing all our stuff up to our room, which is
comfortable, though not quite to the standards we’ve been enjoying. No
matter though – it will bring us down gently towards the shock of our spartan
hostel in Paris on Friday night!
We walk
along the riverside in the dusk towards our restaurant, La Bourriche. It’s a busy, friendly,
unpretentious little place with good country cooking. On the street, there is a shop selling local produce, and
the restaurant is in behind that.
We start with the Assiette des Bois, which includes a very unusual and tasty venison
terrine. We then have baked
gratins – mine with Loire mullet, Jana’s with little Loire
crayfish. Both v. tasty. For dessert, I have the baked pear with
caramel. As we have left our car
behind, we take advantage and imbibe freely, with champagne kirs at the start
of our meal and some local red wine.
Maybe it's because we're tired, but despite the fact that we have only
shared a mere half-bottle of wine, we both end up a bit pickled. We lurch back to our B&B quite
late, then crash.
Up
earlyish this morning – no hangovers, fortunately – and enjoy a
nice breakfast while chatting to the Bonnefoys. They're a bit of a mad old couple, but quite charming. This B&B wins the Most Eccentric
(But In A Nice Way) Award. Then
we're in the car to the Château de Talcy. It’s about a 45 minute drive away, on the
now-ubiquitous lovely country roads.
The château is small but very nice, with interesting old
rooms. The family gave it to the
state in 1932, so not too much modernizing has been done. As with so many of the sights
we’ve viewed during this trip (the Château de Chambord excepted)
it's practically deserted.
We head
next for the town of Blois. Blois
is a little difficult to get in and out of, but fortunately traffic is
light. We visit the town’s
château, home to a whole host of French royalty during the medieval
period. The structure is an
interesting mix of four different time periods and architectural styles. The interior is very rich but was
heavily restored in the 19th century, so none of the decoration is
original. Still, we like it
– it’s certainly been the site of murders and intrigues aplenty in
the past.
After
the château we decide to take a carriage ride around the old town. There are teams of draft horses pulling
big wagons that can hold up to 20 people parked just outside the château,
and it costs only 5 euro for a half-hour ride. So we do that, lurching alongside the river and the streets
of the old town. Afterwards we
have a bit of a wander, pick up some chocolates and other presents, then hit
the road out of town and boot ‘er for the Château de Villesavin,
recommended by the Bonnefoys.
After a
few twists and turns, we get there about 45 minutes later. Visits are by guided tour only, in
French. We don't pay much
attention to our visit of the collection of horse-drawn vehicles and children's
vehicles, with which the tour starts.
Afterwards, the tour seems to be over, so we wander into the chapel and
the château’s main attraction, the Museum of Marriage (!). Here they have old wedding gowns and
accessories, all French and dating from the 1840s and later. They also have a room full of old
bouquets. It used to be the custom
that the bride's mother would have her daughter’s wedding bouquet encased
under a glass dome, along with little mirrors and other symbolic items. It's a quirky little collection –
Historian Jen is quite tickled by it all.
We are abruptly pulled out, though, as the tour is apparently continuing
without us. Oops. We are given an English text and then
go on into the house. Again, a
quite attractive, intimate and historic interior, especially the old kitchen
which has a fire blazing in the huge fireplace and is very cozy (the
château is still a family home).
After the
tour we're pretty tired, so after a look at the donkeys and draft horses
(there's a sanctuary for old animals on the property), we jump in the car and
head back to Saint Dyé. En
route, we pop into the Manoir Bel Air, a hotel and restaurant only a 15 minute
walk from the B&B. It looks
very nice and the price is right, so we make a reservation for 8 pm. After freshening up, we walk there. The menu is excellent value for money,
with fine service. To start, I
eschew our usual kir and have a pastis instead, which I’ve wanted to try
since reading Peter Mayle’s A Year in Provence.
It’s aniseed-flavoured and very, very strong – wish I had
Jana’s delicious kir instead!
Then I start with avocado and prawns in rose sauce, followed by coq
au vin. Jana has a starter of three types of
salmon, then lamb. Portions are
huge. We struggle through the
cheese course. For dessert, I have
a creamy chocolate gateau with cherries.
There are red and white wines too – half a bottle of each. We finish about 10.30 pm, feeling
stuffed to the gills. It’s
an unusual sensation; even though we’ve been eating three and four course
meals each night, portions have been modest so we felt just pleasantly full at
the end of the meal. We stagger
back to the B&B under the weight of so much rich food, and collapse into
bed.
Up for
another nice breakfast, and then the Herculean task of repacking. It’s a
real trial trying to get everything we’ve bought into our suitcases
– that’s the danger of having your own car. You buy stuff and then just chuck it in
the back seat, forgetting that it has to go into a suitcase later. We manage it, though, putting our
overnight things into small separate bags. After packing the car, it's farewell to the Bonnefoys
– Jana gives them her details as their daughter and son-in-law are
emigrating to Montreal in a few months.
I'm in
the driver’s seat, and we head for the town of Gien in search of its
famed dishes and pottery. Sadly it
is chucking down with rain (for the first time on this trip), so I have to
drive painfully slowly for the first hour and a quarter. It lets up, however, which is good as
it is our last chance to enjoy the beautiful country scenery. It takes us about two and a quarter hours
to reach Gien – a bit of a schlep.
First stop is lunch, and we decide on a small café. I have a large tasty salad with chicken
(need those raw veg – my diet has been woefully lacking in fibre) and
Jana has a seafood dish with rice.
We follow it with tarte Tatin (the local speciality) and wash it down with some local
rosé. Then we head over to
the Gien faiencerie, where
they produce their lovely dishes and where there is apparently a factory shop.
There
are no factory tours on today, but we take a quick look in the Gien faience
museum, which features lots of their older pieces. Our main destination, however, is the factory shop. Jana and I are both fans of several of
their patterns and are hoping to pick up some nice stuff. The shop is a bit of a scrum, with a
tour bus of Americans arriving soon after we do. Great fun though, and with very nice factory seconds going
for 20 to 45 percent off. I go a
bit mad, and decide to buy three pieces with money from our wedding fund. I choose two large square display
plates and a low bowl, in my three favourite floral patterns. Jana goes a bit bonkers buying presents
too. We wrap everything up in
brown paper and get ready to leave, but first, both of us decide to pitstop at
the ladies beforehand. I go first
and report back to Jana that the facilities consist solely of a Turkish
loo! She looks appalled but needs
must…. After a bit of
coaching from me, she takes courage in hand and the loo is duly used. She emerges looking rather grim. Well, it’s a memorable cultural
experience, that’s for sure!!
We take
our purchases back to the car, spend another hour our so strolling around the
town, then decide it’s time to go.
It's now after 6 and we've decided to eschew Orleans today given our
late start and the rain. Jana's
also a bit nervous about the prospect of driving in Orleans, with Paris also to
be negotiated tonight. So we plot
an alternative course to Paris from Gien.
It's a straight run, but Jana is a bit rattled as the legendary Crazy
French Drivers seem finally to have appeared and there are lots of speeding
nutters on the road. Still, we do
just fine, and after two hours and some intensive navigation on my part, we get
through to central Paris and fill our car up with gas before returning it
safely to Avis. All together, we
have clocked just over 1500 km in the car during the trip. We are so relieved
to finally be rid of the car; both of us were secretly terrified that something
terrible would happen to it, and I for one am delighted that we got away with
nothing worse than a broken running light.
We are
pleased to find that Montparnasse station does indeed have a left luggage
facility where we can leave our suitcases overnight – the last thing we
needed was to schlep our bags to the hostel and back again in the morning, as
they weigh a TON. So we check in
the bags, then return the keys to the Avis office. We tell them about the hole in the running light cover, but
they say they can't estimate a cost, leaving me to wonder what it will be. Apparently if it costs under a certain
amount to fix, they won't charge me.
Here's hoping.
We walk
to the hostel and check in. As
it’s now 10 pm, we go across the road to a pizzeria where a hot ‘za
hits the spot. Afterwards, we
collapse into our woefully saggy bunkbeds.
Up at
5.45 am. Erg. We check out of the hostel and walk to
Montparnasse station, where we collect our suitcases from the left-luggage
lockers. Oh, tiredness. We catch the Air France coach to
Charles de Gaulle airport at 7.30 am, expecting it to take ages as it did when
we arrived. However, it flies
through Paris and arrives at terminal 2 by 8.15 am! This is Jana's departure point so we bid one
another a fond farewell....she’s off back to Montreal.
I go on
to Terminal 1 and check in. My bag
is seriously overweight at just under 35 kg – limit was 20 kg! Oh dear. They make me pay for 10 kg of extra weight – at a
whopping cost of 7.60 euro per kilo!
So that's another cool 76 euro on my credit card...but what can you
do? Go on holiday and not buy
anything? Oh well.
Home on
time at least, and back in our apartment by 1 pm. Great to be back – home, hearth, husband and all that
– but all things considered, it was a superb trip. Overall, Jana and I both agree it’s
probably the best holiday we’ve ever had.
No
charge from Avis has appeared on Jana’s credit card for the ding in the
car! Looks like I got away with
it!