Paris and Beyond

A Day at the Beach

This morning we realized we had had enough of Roman ruins, ancient buildings, and cobblestone streets. We had considered going to Arles, but Van Gogh is not there and neither is any of his work. Feeling a bit too warm, dry, and claustrophobic in our little Paradou nest, we decided to head to the beach. After all, the Mediterranean is only an hour and a half away and since I had never been there, Norman wanted me to experience it. We packed up a picnic lunch and were off — guided as usual by our now trusty GPS companion, Moneypenny. Eventually, we arrived at our destination, a seaside town called Le Grau du Roi, a challenge for English-speakers to pronounce with those two French r’s — we’ve been working on it all day. You might compare it to Santa Cruz or Oceanside in California. We stopped in at the tourism office where a very informative young man gave us the scoop on the area — where to park, which were the best beaches, and the name of a hotel with a very good restaurant — plus a map to go with it which is very necessary. It’s not a large area, but everything is tightly squeezed in and it’s difficult to maneuver around town without some guidance.

We found our way to a beautiful beach with easy parking. The French vacation in the south of France during July and August so we haven’t encountered seasonal crowds yet. We set ourselves up on the beach near the water. Fortunately, we found a few items in our apartment to help us along with this such as beach chairs and a picnic basket. For a couple of hours we enjoyed relaxing on the beach and swimming in the Mediterranean — yes, swimming! I’m a California girl, but I grew up swimming in pools all my life. I’ve never been fond of swimming in bodies of water that have no edges and where I can’t see what’s on the bottom. About the only place I’ve ever swum freely in the ocean is Puerto Vallarta — something about having young children with me and the intense heat helped me overcome my fears there for the time being. Today, however, I was drawn to the inviting waters of the sea. The water was warm and shallow for several feet and the bottom was covered only with slightly rippled sand. There were no rocks, seaweed, or critters to impede wading calmly into the gentle surf. As I got out farther, the water became deeper, cooler, and more refreshing. It was truly delightful!

A variety of sunbathers and swimmers accompanied us for the afternoon — a grandfather playing water soccer with his grandson in the shallow waters, another set of grandparents introducing a toddler to the ocean possibly for the first time, and friends of all ages just hanging out together enjoying the day. Young men and women (some decidedly more enthusiastic than others) manned pushcarts along the beach selling glacé, beignets, and other tempting treats. People watching is always interesting at the beach, but after a couple of hours at a French beach, you understand why the Beach Boys wrote, “I wish they all could be California girls”.

As with every beach, thankfully, there is at least an ocean breeze or something a bit stronger — it’s what keeps you cool, right? In this case, it was a wind which began to pick up more and more taking the sand with it so we knew we would have to relocate for our picnic. We headed in the direction of the recommended hotel on the marina side of town and found a quiet park and completely unoccupied park, the perfect spot for lunch. We ate and relaxed surrounded by various building complexes which appeared to be vacation homes or rentals uniquely designed to looked like double-decker boats.

After lunch, we walked out to the hotel past the marina filled with countless yachts large and small all shamefully not in use. Just like at home, people are typically out working to pay for them and rarely get to set sail. The marina is ringed by a number of hotels all in keeping with the theme designed to look like ocean liners — a bit unattractive really. Once we reached the hotel restaurant, we discovered it was closed… no explanation — it’s open in the evenings (but apparently 5 PM was not evening enough). There was also a grill restaurant by the pool which was inactive but seemed to have the potential to open at some point (though it never did). However, since no one was around, it turned out to be our personal oasis complete with comfortable outdoor furniture and palm trees where Norman was able to catch a nap and I started this post.

Rested and rejuvenated we still had one more wish on our list — an ice cold beer which we found back on the main drag at Quai des Artistes (how appropriate!) across from the beach — Belgian, delicious, and cheap! 5€ for two — the total amount of money we spent for the whole day.

Time to return home and enjoy the last day of our week in Provence before we head off to Toulouse in the Languedoc.

The Route to Anywhere

One of the reasons we chose to travel throughout France in a car was because it is the best way to experience any location that you wish to visit. Driving is not for everybody, however, and there are many things you have to do to prepare in order to minimize any potential problems you might encounter.

First of all, let me preface the following with the fact that I (Norman) have previously driven through France, Italy, and Spain (although it was more than twenty years ago). The one thing that is very important to learn if you do decide to drive in France, is what the various road signs mean. There aren’t many, but it is vital to recognize what appears along the roadway. Another is that in many European countries, the “roundabout” is a very common feature encountered at major intersections in large cities, small villages, and even out in the countryside. You merge in and out of a roundabout so it is important to signal your intentions when you enter and are about to leave the roundabout. Signaling your intentions assures that everyone knows what you intend to do.

I have driven in very heavy and congested traffic in Paris, Lyon, Annecy and many small towns and villages. Keep in mind that many of the old city’s and especially the villages’ roadways were built for ox carts, not cars! The streets are narrow or windy or both and turning into side streets can be very sharp and short. Many smaller villages have few if any sidewalks so look out for pedestrians and bicyclists. You will also be sharing very narrow roads with 18-wheelers coming your way! So slow down and squeeze on by. They will be doing the same. I have to say that even in the heaviest congestion, almost all drivers have been calm, considerate, and courteous. When driving on two-lane roads, stay to the right (even if there is no one behind you). I learned rather quickly that cars that seemed to be far behind you caught up to you much more quickly than you thought they would. Also, in France, you can only pass a car on the left even if you are on the right-hand lane of a two-lane highway going in the same direction with no car in your lane in front of you. Many times I have seen cars going down the right-hand lane and as they catch up to a car in the left lane, they will slow down and switch to the left lane behind the slower car expecting it to move to the right-hand lane. So don’t dilly-dally; move and stay in the right-hand lane even after passing. Look out for speed traps. You will recognize them when you see a sign telling you that “for your protection, your speed will be monitored” (in French of course).

Gas prices in France are some of the highest in the world. It is not that the price of oil is higher for the French (as compared the the U.S. for example), but that the government adds a hefty tax to every liter of gas (as much as 70%) — enough of a tax to make the price equivalent to about $6.50-8.00 per gallon. Why such high taxes? Taxes collected from the sale of gas for motor fuel pay for the very extensive and excellent roadways. Every paved road we have been on was in excellent shape. When driving through tunnels and over long spans of bridges, they too were very well-maintained. Even when driving down what seemed one-lane country roads far from anywhere, we have noticed how good the quality of the roadways have been. As with everything, there is a price to pay for quality. I don’t think the French complain too loudly about the price of gas, given the excellent quality of their roadways. The French are a practical people and will walk, bicycle, or take public transportation before they needlessly spend money on gas.

Keep in mind other expenses you will encounter if you plan to drive between two distant locations…toll roads. There are many throughout the country. You probably can get from one location to another by taking non toll roads, but be prepared to take a lot longer getting there. Sometimes you might double the length of your drive time if you decide not to take the toll road. Tolls roads can be expensive, but there is no more direct route from one place to another. On the other hand, when we took non toll roads on side trips, we got to see some very beautiful landscapes, country roads, and many charming villages. Another expense is parking. By planning ahead, you can use inexpensive or even free public parking lots.

The last piece of advice I can offer is to use the Internet as much as possible when planning your travel. We have been able to get very detailed information on almost all our destinations that pertains to driving via the Internet. Parking information, rates, driving directions, locations, number of parking spaces, security, etc. can be had ahead of time on your mobile phone or iPad.

All in all, I’d have to say that having a car is the best way to see the country. You can get to places that are either inaccessible by public transportation or would be arduous to get to at best. However, driving can be stressful, so plan ahead, get informed, and stay frosty.

Here are some equivalents:
1 liter= .26 U.S. gallon (1 US gallon = 3.78 liters)
Our car’s capacity of diesel is 60 liters (16 gallons)
The Euro = $1.25 U.S. Dollars
To fill up the 16 gallon tank @ 1.40 Euros per liter costs approx. 84 Euros ($104).

Distances and speed are measured in kilometers.
1 km = .621 miles (1 mile = 1.6 km)
Highway speeds as high as 130 km per hour are allowed = 80 miles per hour

Spires to Heaven

This morning, after having a sumptuous French “petit dejeuner” of fresh orange juice, fresh home baked five grain bread, homemade quince jam and yogurt with cereal, we departed for the Alps and to the valley village of Chamonix.

Chamonix is the premier winter and summer recreation area of Europe. The “village”, like any popular tourist area, has grown over time and now over 8,000 inhabitants call this home. Situated at the base of 15,771 foot Mont Blanc, it is the quintessential picture of a charming alpine village.

Before leaving Talloires this morning for Chamonix, it was raining heavily. We decided to go forward with our plans despite the weather. While we were hoping that the weather would be bright, sunny, and warm, we believe that when traveling anywhere, you need to adapt to every situation with the goal of enjoying your experience no matter what. After all, there are things that are totally out of your control.

Taking the scenic route (south), we meandered through some of the most beautiful mountain settings to be had. Little villages clustered along our route added country charm to the towering mountains as we made our way. After an initial detour that took us through some remote areas, our approach to Chamonix became sunnier. And upon our arrival, we were greeted with a great view of Mont Blanc, the surrounding Alps, and a warm sunny day.

Mother Nature doesn’t always cooperate and go along with your plans and as it turned out, while it was sunny, warm and bright in the valley, the top of the Aiguille du Midi (at 12,601′ where we planned to take the gondola up to) was too cloudy to see anything. So we opted to stay in the village and wander about. We stopped in at La Taverne de Chamouny, a German-style restaurant with a large outdoor terrace situated in the middle of a pedestrian plaza, and enjoyed German sausage with scalloped potatoes and German beer.

The wonderful thing about eating out at a restaurant or café, simply having something to drink be it a glass of wine, beer, or cup of coffee, is that once you sit down, the table is yours for as long as you wish. No one comes around with expectations that you will have to leave soon so that they can turn over the table to another customer. You can stay as long as you like, relax, and enjoy yourself. We have found this out at every cafe or restaurant we have enjoyed and today we spent three hours just hanging out, people watching, and admiring those amazing spires to heaven that lead to the Alps’ highest mountain…. Mont Blanc.

Medieval Times

If you’ve ever wanted to have a real medieval experience, the countryside of Burgundy is the place to do it. On a quiet Sunday morning (most everything is closed as Burgundians enjoy a true day of rest), we left our hotel in Beaune to follow the Burgundy Canal north to the Abbey of Fontenay. Along the way, there are many sites to be seen not the least of which is the beautiful pastoral countryside populated here and there with the most intriguing white cows that are much prettier and less smelly than American ones. Even the cows are more sophisticated in France.

Our first stop was Châteauneuf-en-Auxois, a medieval castle that monitored travel between Burgundy and Paris from its 2,000 foot hilltop setting. The view of the Burgundy canal and the valley from the top are your first indication that you have traveled back in time. As you walk through the tiny village, you are in awe of the quaintness of authentic medieval architecture evident in every house and building. At this time of year, flowers of all kinds are in full bloom pouring out of window boxes and surrounding the old stone structures. Having taught 7th graders about the Middle Ages for several years, it was fascinating to see first-hand some of the true origins of this period of history.

Next stop, Semur-en-Auxois, a sleepy little medieval town with a couple of notable sights. Semur boasts 18 original medieval towers that were once connected by defensive ramparts to protect the city center from invaders. The town’s main sight is a church, of course — the Church of Notre-Dame, with some original stained glass windows from the 13th century as well as a set of windows honoring Semur’s WW I soldiers. Apparently there were many men from this entire region who lost their lives in the Great War. As you climb a hill on the way out of town, you are rewarded with a magnificent view of the whole town making you feel as if you are looking at a Disney recreation of a medieval village but knowing that the people below who live there are real and not imaginary characters.

The jewel of the trip is your arrival at the Abbey of Fontenay, one of the oldest Cistercian abbeys in France, founded by St. Bernard in 1118. The purpose of the Cistercian movement was to reestablish the simplicity, solitude, and poverty of the early church. While it is a lush, peaceful, and inviting environment today, it is shocking to imagine what life was really like for those early monks for whom it is said St. Bernard created a “horrible vast solitude” among the marshy bogs (meaning of Cistercian) of Burgundy. Nevertheless, the movement spread essentially colonizing Europe religiously and lasting for almost 700 years. Since the monks had to be self-sufficient, it was necessary for them to develop talents in many areas one of which was the forging of tools such as the hydraulic hammer. Indeed, many consider Fontenay to be one of Europe’s first metalworking plants. They also grew a variety of herbs for medicinal purposes and raised huge trout to serve the nobility though, by their vow of poverty, they were never able to partake of any of it themselves.

Just outside of Fontenay we came across a small picnic area by the side of the road and stopped to have our lunch. Once rested and nourished, we were ready for our return journey. We followed a slightly different but equally beautiful winding country road all the way back to Beaune. It was such a satisfying trip because it was one of those rare experiences where the sights along the route were as appealing as the destinations.

The Fruit of the Vine

Today we started our journey in Beaune by visiting the Hôtel Dieu (a charity hospital for the poor) built by the wealthy chancellor of Burgundy, Nicolas Rolin, near the end of his life as a gift to the citizens of Beaune. During the Dark Ages, the plague devastated the population and 3/4 of its citizens were impoverished. For the poor, the Hôtel Dieu, was a place to go to die, free of charge. For the wealthy, in a separate section of the hospital, one could receive better care and higher odds of surviving “The Black Death”. For over 500 years, the hospital became established as one of the most important centers in the region for the treatment of the ill and did so until 1971. The Hôtel Dieu was a remarkable place and served its purpose well.

Being a charity hospital, funds had to be raised to pay for the day-to-day operations somehow. Beaune is renowned for being in the middle of one of the most prolific wine producing areas in France. And so, the idea to hold an auction once a year to raise funds for the hospital by auctioning off certain quantities of wines that are produced locally came naturally. This idea favored everyone. Wines producers, buyers, and the hospital all benefited from this event. The auction still occurs every November.

The region’s largest producer of wine is Patriarche Père et Fils which has the largest wine cellar in Burgundy. The cellar has more than 5 kilometers (3.10 miles!) of underground caves that run throughout the city and today stores more than 3,000,000 (yes, 3 Million!) bottles of wine.

One of the most pleasurable and interesting aspects of wine tasting at Patriarche Père et Fils is that you receive a Tastevins, a shallow saucer with a thumb handle, that you take around with you to taste the wines. The tour is self-guided and takes you directly down into the caves where you are astounded by the vast number of chambers most of which are filled with hundreds and hundreds of bottles of wine. Cool, dark, and musty, the caves provide the perfect temperature for the dusty, aging bottles that are stacked on simple notched strips of wood. There are no barriers, locks, or impediments of any sort other than lack of lighting in a chamber where one might be discouraged to enter.

You can wander about, explore each chamber, search for a particular wine, year or region. No one comes to rush you to the tasting room and out the door. While there are ” tasting rooms” similar to what one can experience in the U.S., our tasting room(s) consisted of an inverted barrel on which a single lit candle rested next to a bottle of the wine to be tasted. These barrels were situated in the very chambers where the wine being tasted was stored. There were five chamber “tasting rooms” with a total of 13 wines from whites to reds.

Imagine casually strolling along these cool caves surrounded by immense quantities of wine both in barrels and bottles. Arriving at the tasting chamber barrels, you simply serve yourself from the open bottle. Taking as much time to taste each wine with no one to hurry you along or make you feel uncomfortably ignorant of your taste or lack thereof. We lingered at each bottle, relaxed and truly tasted each wine (sometimes more than once). And if a particular vintage didn’t suit our taste, we simply poured the sample into the bucket that was provided. It was made clear to us (by a young woman who explained the tasting procedure) that it was up to us to decide if we did or didn’t like a particular wine.

All in all, our wine tasting experience lasted several hours. And it has been one of the most pleasurable wine tasting experiences we have ever had. The most astounding thing was the trust, respect, and freedom that we were allowed to feel by being allowed to wander about the caves by ourselves; given the trust not to disturb or destroy a single bottle of wine. And most importantly, the respect we felt to enjoy our experience, by taking as much time as we wished without hurry, worry, or doubt.