Too much apartment organisation had left us with a hankering for a lot more cycling. Strolling along the road from the station one day found us entering the premises with a view to making a cycle rental booking. And so it came to pass that Dear Jude and I hopped on the train at Beaune, bound for Nuits St Georges for the start of a ride north-bound to Gevrey-Chambertin, just shy of Dijon.
Arriving at the bike hire shop at 9:10, just in time to catch the 9:41 am local train to Nuits, we were informed that the bike hire shop did not open till 10:00 am on Sunday mornings. We had booked yesterday and had explained our intentions, so the shop MUST be open. And, happy it is that I am able to report, it WAS open. The chap was MOST helpful and we were soon on our way to the station. [Mind you, by the time we had our bikes, there was a crowd of eager bike-hire-ers keen to set out on their Sunday riding adventures. These chaps really need to take a Good Hard Look at themselves and their marketing plan for Sunday rentals.]
Spewing ourselves out of the train at Nuits, we headed into the town and were blown away. Gorgeous! Should we have really bought here? No, but it really is a cute town. Much smaller than Beaune and with a pedestrian mall and all the trimmings , but just not "home".
Heading north, the trick is to find the tiny road that meanders along the bottom of the Cote through the vineyards. Avoid the D974, with it's rushing cars and trucks and keep to the track at the bottom of the hills to the west. Directions obtained (in perfect English and broken French) put us on the right path and up through the vineyards. MORE gorgeous villages, MORE wonderful chateaux took us through Vosne-Romanee, Chambolle-Musigny, Morey saint-Denis (coffee here), and finally Gevrey-Chambertain for morning tea (pain aux raisin X 2).
Here, at the northern-most planned destination a question arose. Do we return via a suggested ascent into the hills, or back the same way. "Never go back" has always been my preference, but the wise old head of DJ prevailed and we rode back over our tracks to Nuits. [We did try the alternate way through the hills, but we're informed by some intrepid runners emerging from the forest that the road was unformed and unsuitable for easy cycling.]
Rather than wait two hours for the next local train back to Beaune, we decided (after a tasy lunch of pâté, baguette, cheese and terrine) to return via Chaux (I assume you are following all this on a map.). Quite a grunt it is from Nuits to Chaux, but worth the effort, especially given the shoosh down the hill to Comblanchien. Thence alongside the railroad we wandered into Beaune, encountering en route a couple of Dutch chaps hoping to make Madrid on their bikes within three weeks. Good luck!
Bikes easily returned to the shop at 4:00 pm, the chap was very impressed that we had covered the 55 km in such a short time. We are an amazing pair of cyclists, so it came as no surprise to us!
Back home to 28 Rue de Lorraine we made coffee in the apartment and took it and our books down to the cute square (triangle really) outside the florist shop for a half-hour read. Heaven on two sticks! [I am reading "1000 Years of Annoying the French" by Stephen Clarke, which is great for historical perspective and a good laugh. DJ hooked into a copy of the DKI guide to the Dordogne picked up from the free library at the bike shop. Is that where our next purchase is to be?].
Darkness has descended on Beaune and on us. DJ has drifted off to sleep, as soon shall I. I feel that there have not been as many blogs as there might have been, but I have been mindful of my chums. We have been VERY BUSY with setting-up tasks, which are not very exciting and prose-worthy. Nonetheless, general feelings about Beaune and surrounds are of interest and on these I shall report subsequently. In the mean time I am headed for the Land of Nod.
Hasta Lavista!
YBP,
Graeme
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Cycling day today. It's been great weather (cool breezes, sunny/cloudy by turns) and the lure of the bike finally got the better of us. Not the greatest bikes at the hire shop, but good for randonnais-ing. We set off at a reasonable hour with maps and lunch gear on a south-westerly trajectory down towards Santenay.
My plan had been to head to Saint-Romain, tucked up under the cliffs of the Morvan just along from Meursault. However this was thought to be too strenuous for the others in the group, so we motored up with a bottle of champagne - real champagne - the evening before. It was a last trip in our little car before it was due back at the depot. Sitting a-top the grey cliffs overlooking the village below and the plains beyond with the setting sun at your back is beyond description. You just have to get yourself there.
The ride out of Beaune takes you round the ring road and suddenly dashing off to the right along the Bouze river and out into the wineries. The ancient vines were being subject to one of many haircuts of the year, some weed-destroying ploughing and some bug-annihilating spraying. Big tall tractors that accommodate the passage of vines underneath them work their way along the rows, make awkward turns at the end and repeat the process once again.
The well-marked path meanders through the wine villages - Pommard, Volnay, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet and finally Santenay. Lots of cyclists riding in both directions all seeming to be having such fun, but not giving much away in response to our "Bon jour-ing". It seems that while a bonjour is expected when one enters a shop, it is received with something approaching astonishment when directed at fellow travellers. A nod from the males in the group is about all that one can expect. There are exceptions of course, but these are mostly folk (one can only assume) from the New World.
The route cleverly avoids hills of any great magnitude, though I think that Ally would dispute this claim. But never mind, there is only one side of a hill a cyclist needs to worry about and after a grunt to the top there is always the glide down in which to make a recovery in time for the nexty.
Lunch was taken in a park (aire) in the hamlet of Chassagne-Montrachet. Cheese from the Beaune market (more expensive than we would have liked, but yummy all the same), jambon, fresh bread and a little cake each from an earlier village. The girls scoffed theirs, but I caringly offered each of them a bite of mine. But enough of my generosity of spirit, let's get on with the story ...
Santenay marked the official end of the ride, but we hurtled through and past the town, headed for the Canal Centre that lies a few km to the south, and stretching the length of the country. While tempted to travel its length, we decide on a short skitch along the tow-path in one direction, returning to our joining point and thence on to the Chagney rail station and back in the train to Beaune.
The day was far from over, because next stop was a "free" wine tasting in a cute little cellar recommended by the bike hire chaps; a cosy relationship, but a most fruitful one for us. The tasting of wine is a most serious process, it turns out. None of this rushing through the whites, hurtling through the reds and plunging into the fortifieds (as one tends to do in Australia). While the order remained the same, Monsieur e Madam guided us carefully through their offerings, encouraging us along the way to WRITE down our impressions as we went (yes, WRITE! - pens and paper provided). Much discussion amongst the 8 of us at table (5 Australians, two French and a French Canadian) followed each blind tasting, following which the identity (and price) of each wine was revealed. The main thesis of the operation was predicated on the belief that wine tasting is SUCH an individual process that no 'expert' could presume his/her opinion on any other. No argument from me there. My preference is for the hearty Shiraz of the Great North-east of Victoria, or at least Bordeaux if pushed ...
The inverted commas around "free" (above) are explained by Dear Jude and Ally's purchases of FAR too much wine, given the tiny quantity permitted through customs in Australia. Never mind, you can all come over, stay in the apartment ands scoff the lot! Come on, I DARE you!
An adventure-packed day, to be sure. I' m off to hit the sack. Ally heads off home tomorrow and she and DJ will go to Paris on the train for the last says of the sales. I, in the meanwhile have a list on the fridge to get to and some heavy TDF to watch on the TV.
See you soon!
Graeme
My plan had been to head to Saint-Romain, tucked up under the cliffs of the Morvan just along from Meursault. However this was thought to be too strenuous for the others in the group, so we motored up with a bottle of champagne - real champagne - the evening before. It was a last trip in our little car before it was due back at the depot. Sitting a-top the grey cliffs overlooking the village below and the plains beyond with the setting sun at your back is beyond description. You just have to get yourself there.
The ride out of Beaune takes you round the ring road and suddenly dashing off to the right along the Bouze river and out into the wineries. The ancient vines were being subject to one of many haircuts of the year, some weed-destroying ploughing and some bug-annihilating spraying. Big tall tractors that accommodate the passage of vines underneath them work their way along the rows, make awkward turns at the end and repeat the process once again.
The well-marked path meanders through the wine villages - Pommard, Volnay, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet and finally Santenay. Lots of cyclists riding in both directions all seeming to be having such fun, but not giving much away in response to our "Bon jour-ing". It seems that while a bonjour is expected when one enters a shop, it is received with something approaching astonishment when directed at fellow travellers. A nod from the males in the group is about all that one can expect. There are exceptions of course, but these are mostly folk (one can only assume) from the New World.
The route cleverly avoids hills of any great magnitude, though I think that Ally would dispute this claim. But never mind, there is only one side of a hill a cyclist needs to worry about and after a grunt to the top there is always the glide down in which to make a recovery in time for the nexty.
Lunch was taken in a park (aire) in the hamlet of Chassagne-Montrachet. Cheese from the Beaune market (more expensive than we would have liked, but yummy all the same), jambon, fresh bread and a little cake each from an earlier village. The girls scoffed theirs, but I caringly offered each of them a bite of mine. But enough of my generosity of spirit, let's get on with the story ...
Santenay marked the official end of the ride, but we hurtled through and past the town, headed for the Canal Centre that lies a few km to the south, and stretching the length of the country. While tempted to travel its length, we decide on a short skitch along the tow-path in one direction, returning to our joining point and thence on to the Chagney rail station and back in the train to Beaune.
The day was far from over, because next stop was a "free" wine tasting in a cute little cellar recommended by the bike hire chaps; a cosy relationship, but a most fruitful one for us. The tasting of wine is a most serious process, it turns out. None of this rushing through the whites, hurtling through the reds and plunging into the fortifieds (as one tends to do in Australia). While the order remained the same, Monsieur e Madam guided us carefully through their offerings, encouraging us along the way to WRITE down our impressions as we went (yes, WRITE! - pens and paper provided). Much discussion amongst the 8 of us at table (5 Australians, two French and a French Canadian) followed each blind tasting, following which the identity (and price) of each wine was revealed. The main thesis of the operation was predicated on the belief that wine tasting is SUCH an individual process that no 'expert' could presume his/her opinion on any other. No argument from me there. My preference is for the hearty Shiraz of the Great North-east of Victoria, or at least Bordeaux if pushed ...
The inverted commas around "free" (above) are explained by Dear Jude and Ally's purchases of FAR too much wine, given the tiny quantity permitted through customs in Australia. Never mind, you can all come over, stay in the apartment ands scoff the lot! Come on, I DARE you!
An adventure-packed day, to be sure. I' m off to hit the sack. Ally heads off home tomorrow and she and DJ will go to Paris on the train for the last says of the sales. I, in the meanwhile have a list on the fridge to get to and some heavy TDF to watch on the TV.
See you soon!
Graeme
Monday, July 16, 2012
TDF and north-west travels
Not content with a gorgeous day at the Individual Pursuit (Stage 9), the girls were all-a-buzz about the Tour and INSISTED on heading south again to Macon, for the start of Etage Ten. Back down the motorway at 130km+ and a turn off to the east towards Macon. We had programmed a little village along the way into the GPS and thought it would either take us there, or to another good view-point along the way. The latter alternative was how it turned out and the Route Barre sign pulled us up on the outskirts of Saint-Trivier-sur-Moignans, yet another gorgeous village with a main drag lined with enthusiastic, well-behaved and excited TDF afficianados.
We walked along the route through the fan-lined village and took our respective places at different vantage points - me at a corner and the girls further out along the route towards the Jura Mountains. We waited and we waited, until - whoooshhh! Past us they flew. I saw the whites of their eyes, but not much else. They were up out of their saddles, cranking up the big gears and headed out onto the plain leading into the hills. I whispered a quiet wish for a good ride to all the participants. I thought that just wanting the Aussie boys to do well was a bit on the churlish side and hell, they were all doing their very best, weren't they?
We wandered back through the town, which by this time was almost completely deserted and hopped once more into our little Opel and headed westwards up into the Morvan. Our destination was Vezelay, the hill-top tourist town up towards Auxerre. More gorgeous countryside, but also a fair smattering of camion (truck) routes.
Arriving at Vezelay in late evening we found a cute-as-cute hotel at the foot of the hill, booked in and walked up the main drag to a little restaurant I know of near the top. Lovely meal with two lovely girls. We were dining 'al fresco' and during our main course a table inside sang a close-harmony song that melted our hearts. This is the dirt of experience that one comes to expect in Bourgogne and excites disappointment when it doesn't.
Next morning it was "up-and-attem" for me and the girls and we "hot-footed" it up the hill to the Roman Bascilica at the top. Wonderful, marvelous, astounding, though sans the contemplative nun and then brother that I spied lay visit. The view from les remperts of the little village of St Pere and surrounds was gorgeous and you must make a secret pledge to go there. SOON!
Having vacuumed up most of the low-hanging culture in Vezelay, the Three Intrepids headed even further away from Beaune via Bessy-sur-Cure (those of you paying attention in the last blog know that that is the village containing a possible house purchase last trip) to Auxerre. Here we wandered the streets, deciding that though this was a beautiful city in its own right, that Beaune is right for us. Which is all well and good, because 28 Rue de Lorraine Beaune is where we have dropped our anchor.
The day having skipped along much faster than we intended, we hurtled back to aforementioned Beaune along the camion-way, avoiding the wristy-tristy back roads that I love to travel when in the Morvan. NEXT TIME!
A two-day adventure to complete the Groombles-travels of a couple of months ago. Ally and Dear Jude are up to speed on the outlying areas, but are yet to finish off the Beaune experience. That, I strongly argue, would take a lifetime ...
Too Roo for now,
G. Charles Rose
PS Graz has been asking for photos, but we do not have ready access to wi-fi, so photos not possible. Sozzles!
We walked along the route through the fan-lined village and took our respective places at different vantage points - me at a corner and the girls further out along the route towards the Jura Mountains. We waited and we waited, until - whoooshhh! Past us they flew. I saw the whites of their eyes, but not much else. They were up out of their saddles, cranking up the big gears and headed out onto the plain leading into the hills. I whispered a quiet wish for a good ride to all the participants. I thought that just wanting the Aussie boys to do well was a bit on the churlish side and hell, they were all doing their very best, weren't they?
We wandered back through the town, which by this time was almost completely deserted and hopped once more into our little Opel and headed westwards up into the Morvan. Our destination was Vezelay, the hill-top tourist town up towards Auxerre. More gorgeous countryside, but also a fair smattering of camion (truck) routes.
Arriving at Vezelay in late evening we found a cute-as-cute hotel at the foot of the hill, booked in and walked up the main drag to a little restaurant I know of near the top. Lovely meal with two lovely girls. We were dining 'al fresco' and during our main course a table inside sang a close-harmony song that melted our hearts. This is the dirt of experience that one comes to expect in Bourgogne and excites disappointment when it doesn't.
Next morning it was "up-and-attem" for me and the girls and we "hot-footed" it up the hill to the Roman Bascilica at the top. Wonderful, marvelous, astounding, though sans the contemplative nun and then brother that I spied lay visit. The view from les remperts of the little village of St Pere and surrounds was gorgeous and you must make a secret pledge to go there. SOON!
Having vacuumed up most of the low-hanging culture in Vezelay, the Three Intrepids headed even further away from Beaune via Bessy-sur-Cure (those of you paying attention in the last blog know that that is the village containing a possible house purchase last trip) to Auxerre. Here we wandered the streets, deciding that though this was a beautiful city in its own right, that Beaune is right for us. Which is all well and good, because 28 Rue de Lorraine Beaune is where we have dropped our anchor.
The day having skipped along much faster than we intended, we hurtled back to aforementioned Beaune along the camion-way, avoiding the wristy-tristy back roads that I love to travel when in the Morvan. NEXT TIME!
A two-day adventure to complete the Groombles-travels of a couple of months ago. Ally and Dear Jude are up to speed on the outlying areas, but are yet to finish off the Beaune experience. That, I strongly argue, would take a lifetime ...
Too Roo for now,
G. Charles Rose
PS Graz has been asking for photos, but we do not have ready access to wi-fi, so photos not possible. Sozzles!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Yesterday we toddled off to the Individual Pursuit leg of the Tour de France that ran from Arc-et-Sanons to Besancon, a journey of 41.2 km for the riders, but considerably more for us motorists jostling for a suitable possy on the side of the road to watch the combatants scorch by us. It turned out to be a most wonderful day indeed!
Setting the GPS for Arc-et Sansons, we arrived within 3km of the town to be greeted with a friendly "Route Barre" sign that meant we had to disinter ourselves from our chosen mode of transport (viz. hire car) and walk into town to watch the TDF-ers set off on their brutally taxing journeys.
Getting into town involved a stroll alongside the route, starting at a the first corner the riders came upon - the one they took to the left. What a carnival atmosphere! What a happy gathering of dedicated cycle-racing watchers! What polite clapping as each participant rode by to the accompaniment of calls of "Allez! Allez!" , to which I was able to add (supportively and fairly, I trust), "Georgia! Georgia" and "Stephanie! Stephanie".
We walked another 2.3 km into town along the route (more clapping and Allez-ing) until we reached the starting point. Here the carnival atmosphere took a decidedly increased crank of the handle. Naturally there was the race caller yelling into his microphone the names, standings and racing history of each rider as he mounted the ramp and waited patiently for his turn. All in Fluent Fronch of course, but because of the context it made more sense than it would normally.
Across the way, however, another set of modern-day buskers were engaged in filling the air with their own brand of noise pollution (to my ears, at least). This group - bigger by at least 100% to the TDF-ers was engaged in some sort of reality TV program that involved selecting eager-eyed punters from the audience and plopping them onto the stage to perform acts of culinary torture on a range of ingredients arrayed on a table. Lots of shouting, flag-waving and screeching with a "Pick me! Pick me!" enthusiasm that truly defies belief that humans can act with any degree of decorum when a television camera is within 60 metres of them. No interest from this group in the TDF-ers about to launch themselves down the ramp to a different type of glory (or not) - just a focus on self, Self, SELF! Unbelievabubble!
DJ, Ally and I wandered round the TDF carnival for a bit, pressing our noses against the VIP fence, ogling the riders in their preparation for the 41.3 km ahead of them, usually sitting up on rollers and just turning over their legs in imitation of the task lying ahead. I myself was waiting (in vain as it turned out) for one of the team support crew to hand over the fence a once-used but now surplus-to-requirements road bike of untold value on the open market. Oh well, maybe when we head down to Macon for the start of Stage 10 ....
After wandering back down the route to the first bend and off to the car, we headed off to Besancon to catch the finish. It was a tricky drive because there were heaps of "Route Barres" to get around, but we finally made it to a park within 3km. Along the route we walked again, with all the chaps whizzing past again. Different chaps of course, because it only took the around 50 minutes to go the distance. There were far more people at the end point, and no Master Chef to compete for our attention. Just hundreds of genuine Tour supporters. Lots of Australians and surprisingly many fewer Brits. All very jolly, really.
We saw and heard the names of many famous riders. These included Baden Cooke (we saw him shove off), Michael Rogers (I SWEAR he smiled at me as I hung over the fence at Besancon), Frank Schleck (belting angularly down the final slope) and Maxine Monfort whom everyone knows of course. The punctuation point came with the much-anticipated arrival of Cadel, closely followed by Bradley - far too closely as it turned out. Whereas most of the riders appeared as long lanky blurs as they passed, Our Cadel appeared more as a tight-ball-of-muscle blur. He looked great, however, having made up on ground lost early in his ride towards the end. Go Cadel!
We headed home in great spirits, but "dropped in" to Ikea to pick up some "essential items", only to have much of these spirits sucked out of us, as only Ikea can, wherever its location! Still, a wonderful day all round. Never to be forgotten. DJ and Ally are hooked on the TDF and now look forward to Etage 10.
Setting the GPS for Arc-et Sansons, we arrived within 3km of the town to be greeted with a friendly "Route Barre" sign that meant we had to disinter ourselves from our chosen mode of transport (viz. hire car) and walk into town to watch the TDF-ers set off on their brutally taxing journeys.
Getting into town involved a stroll alongside the route, starting at a the first corner the riders came upon - the one they took to the left. What a carnival atmosphere! What a happy gathering of dedicated cycle-racing watchers! What polite clapping as each participant rode by to the accompaniment of calls of "Allez! Allez!" , to which I was able to add (supportively and fairly, I trust), "Georgia! Georgia" and "Stephanie! Stephanie".
We walked another 2.3 km into town along the route (more clapping and Allez-ing) until we reached the starting point. Here the carnival atmosphere took a decidedly increased crank of the handle. Naturally there was the race caller yelling into his microphone the names, standings and racing history of each rider as he mounted the ramp and waited patiently for his turn. All in Fluent Fronch of course, but because of the context it made more sense than it would normally.
Across the way, however, another set of modern-day buskers were engaged in filling the air with their own brand of noise pollution (to my ears, at least). This group - bigger by at least 100% to the TDF-ers was engaged in some sort of reality TV program that involved selecting eager-eyed punters from the audience and plopping them onto the stage to perform acts of culinary torture on a range of ingredients arrayed on a table. Lots of shouting, flag-waving and screeching with a "Pick me! Pick me!" enthusiasm that truly defies belief that humans can act with any degree of decorum when a television camera is within 60 metres of them. No interest from this group in the TDF-ers about to launch themselves down the ramp to a different type of glory (or not) - just a focus on self, Self, SELF! Unbelievabubble!
DJ, Ally and I wandered round the TDF carnival for a bit, pressing our noses against the VIP fence, ogling the riders in their preparation for the 41.3 km ahead of them, usually sitting up on rollers and just turning over their legs in imitation of the task lying ahead. I myself was waiting (in vain as it turned out) for one of the team support crew to hand over the fence a once-used but now surplus-to-requirements road bike of untold value on the open market. Oh well, maybe when we head down to Macon for the start of Stage 10 ....
After wandering back down the route to the first bend and off to the car, we headed off to Besancon to catch the finish. It was a tricky drive because there were heaps of "Route Barres" to get around, but we finally made it to a park within 3km. Along the route we walked again, with all the chaps whizzing past again. Different chaps of course, because it only took the around 50 minutes to go the distance. There were far more people at the end point, and no Master Chef to compete for our attention. Just hundreds of genuine Tour supporters. Lots of Australians and surprisingly many fewer Brits. All very jolly, really.
We saw and heard the names of many famous riders. These included Baden Cooke (we saw him shove off), Michael Rogers (I SWEAR he smiled at me as I hung over the fence at Besancon), Frank Schleck (belting angularly down the final slope) and Maxine Monfort whom everyone knows of course. The punctuation point came with the much-anticipated arrival of Cadel, closely followed by Bradley - far too closely as it turned out. Whereas most of the riders appeared as long lanky blurs as they passed, Our Cadel appeared more as a tight-ball-of-muscle blur. He looked great, however, having made up on ground lost early in his ride towards the end. Go Cadel!
We headed home in great spirits, but "dropped in" to Ikea to pick up some "essential items", only to have much of these spirits sucked out of us, as only Ikea can, wherever its location! Still, a wonderful day all round. Never to be forgotten. DJ and Ally are hooked on the TDF and now look forward to Etage 10.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Taking possession
Ally had picked up the key from a pharmacist across the road and down a bit. She and her friend Caro. They had had to spend Sunday night in a hotel because settlement was not to happen until 11:00 on Monday. She was in on Monday afternoon. The apartment was ours!
We met Ally in Paris on Thursday. She had come up by train with Caro, who was headed off intto the WBY (Wild Blue Yonder) to catch up with her brother. Old Groombles took the two heavy suitcases off to Beaune by train straight away, while Ally and DJ stayed for a few hours to rummage through 'Les Soldes' (The Sales) bins of the likes of Galleries La Fayette. Having toddled off to stake my claim on the apartment, I hauled the bags up the stairs and moved in. How would DJ like it? Would Beaune match all the hype I had poured upon it? Had I overstated the case? I would know soon after 1900 hours when the train arrived with the girls.
Not to drag the show on for too long here, I can inform you that all is well. Allowing DJ the headway as we entered the town (from the station), and then the apartment, the eyes of Dear Jude shone as bright as two really really shiny things. They still are. She loves it. Ally loves it and I love it.
It's bigger than you expect. The skylights are more window-y than skylight-y. The ceilings are high and the TV and sound system are better than OK. Le Tour de France is live-to-air on the free station and it is daylight as you watch it. No AFL, but the Maggies got done anyhow.
Lots of things have to be bought for our new abode, so we have been skitching about the country-side buying up all the necessities. Bath mats, eating utensils, spray-on surface cleaner, cork screws, coffee-plungers, vases, bedding, mops, computers, soaps, mustards and alcohol. The adventures keep on coming!
Visits to the market (like this very morning) are the exciting adventures they always have been, but now we take the goodies back to our joint. You must come. You have to. It's grouse!
YBP,
Graeme
We met Ally in Paris on Thursday. She had come up by train with Caro, who was headed off intto the WBY (Wild Blue Yonder) to catch up with her brother. Old Groombles took the two heavy suitcases off to Beaune by train straight away, while Ally and DJ stayed for a few hours to rummage through 'Les Soldes' (The Sales) bins of the likes of Galleries La Fayette. Having toddled off to stake my claim on the apartment, I hauled the bags up the stairs and moved in. How would DJ like it? Would Beaune match all the hype I had poured upon it? Had I overstated the case? I would know soon after 1900 hours when the train arrived with the girls.
Not to drag the show on for too long here, I can inform you that all is well. Allowing DJ the headway as we entered the town (from the station), and then the apartment, the eyes of Dear Jude shone as bright as two really really shiny things. They still are. She loves it. Ally loves it and I love it.
It's bigger than you expect. The skylights are more window-y than skylight-y. The ceilings are high and the TV and sound system are better than OK. Le Tour de France is live-to-air on the free station and it is daylight as you watch it. No AFL, but the Maggies got done anyhow.
Lots of things have to be bought for our new abode, so we have been skitching about the country-side buying up all the necessities. Bath mats, eating utensils, spray-on surface cleaner, cork screws, coffee-plungers, vases, bedding, mops, computers, soaps, mustards and alcohol. The adventures keep on coming!
Visits to the market (like this very morning) are the exciting adventures they always have been, but now we take the goodies back to our joint. You must come. You have to. It's grouse!
YBP,
Graeme
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Near the end ...
When I Dijon I always take at least one lunch at Restaurant O'Bareuzai. Right here on Rue Francois Rude! Me and countless numbers of French chums especially like to gather here after finalizing our purchases at the market. It's grouse!
Sadly, that is where the story of Groombles having lunch with all French chums ends. The real story is not pretty. The fact is that, having ordered soup and grande cafe, a quick reference to my watch indicated that there was a shortage of time to get to the station at 13:26 for the trip to Paris. I found the waiting chap and told him of my dilemma, but he shrugged and indicated that it was too late - the order had gone in. Now I have more than a sneaking suspicion that this was something of a porky. Nevertheless, I returned to my seat and waited. Finally I HAD to leave, and this I did. Quickly. I shall return some day and order soup and a grande cafe again. In the meantime the chap is just going to have to suck it up and get on with his life. I know I did the wrong thing. I just know it. But clocks cannot be turned back and I AM sorry. A bit.
The corollary to the story is that the train was a good 20 minutes late leaving Dijon Central. I would have made it easily. The main thing is that I am aboard and hurtling across the sunny, green landscape. Dear Jude had booked a first class seat, do I am in the lap of luxury and just about to head off to the dining car for that coffee I missed out on ...
... We cut now to the Rue Moufetard, where Gen Blanch and I have just finished a a wonderful dinner together. Gen had the cod and I had the calves brains. Both were beautiful, but mine was tastier. Gen has just left to attend to family responsibilities. I am left to ponder what life would be like here in Paris ...
You see, the thing about Paris is that there are SO MANY PEOPLE! Today, Saturday, was the first weekend day when the sun was shining. EVERYBODY (but everybody) was out enjoying the sunshine. The result was chaotic catastrophe! Shoulder to shoulder the Parisiennes took to the streets bustling and bumbling along the boulevards, rues Nd squares. People everywhere! More than just a little bit scary! I am not sure that this is a good place to bring up your kids. Maybe THAT'S why Dear Jude and I chose Wangaratta.
So this is the end of the trip. Tomorrow (Sunday) I head off to Charles de Gaulle airport to hop on an Air China flight for home. It has been great. It has been intriguing. It has been educative. It has been wonderful! Home is great and it is the place to which I must now repair.
YBP,
Graeme!
Sadly, that is where the story of Groombles having lunch with all French chums ends. The real story is not pretty. The fact is that, having ordered soup and grande cafe, a quick reference to my watch indicated that there was a shortage of time to get to the station at 13:26 for the trip to Paris. I found the waiting chap and told him of my dilemma, but he shrugged and indicated that it was too late - the order had gone in. Now I have more than a sneaking suspicion that this was something of a porky. Nevertheless, I returned to my seat and waited. Finally I HAD to leave, and this I did. Quickly. I shall return some day and order soup and a grande cafe again. In the meantime the chap is just going to have to suck it up and get on with his life. I know I did the wrong thing. I just know it. But clocks cannot be turned back and I AM sorry. A bit.
The corollary to the story is that the train was a good 20 minutes late leaving Dijon Central. I would have made it easily. The main thing is that I am aboard and hurtling across the sunny, green landscape. Dear Jude had booked a first class seat, do I am in the lap of luxury and just about to head off to the dining car for that coffee I missed out on ...
... We cut now to the Rue Moufetard, where Gen Blanch and I have just finished a a wonderful dinner together. Gen had the cod and I had the calves brains. Both were beautiful, but mine was tastier. Gen has just left to attend to family responsibilities. I am left to ponder what life would be like here in Paris ...
You see, the thing about Paris is that there are SO MANY PEOPLE! Today, Saturday, was the first weekend day when the sun was shining. EVERYBODY (but everybody) was out enjoying the sunshine. The result was chaotic catastrophe! Shoulder to shoulder the Parisiennes took to the streets bustling and bumbling along the boulevards, rues Nd squares. People everywhere! More than just a little bit scary! I am not sure that this is a good place to bring up your kids. Maybe THAT'S why Dear Jude and I chose Wangaratta.
So this is the end of the trip. Tomorrow (Sunday) I head off to Charles de Gaulle airport to hop on an Air China flight for home. It has been great. It has been intriguing. It has been educative. It has been wonderful! Home is great and it is the place to which I must now repair.
YBP,
Graeme!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Maps, caves and parks
Finally I looked at a map. I remember a chum at school (Macleod High School) saying once that a map is good for showing you where to go, but not do good at telling you what you will find when you get there. I am not sure that this is absolutely true, but anyhow that is what I remember him saying. [the name of this kid escapes me, but I remember him to be something of a beatnik ...].
The map I looked at today was of Beaune and surrounding areas. And you know WHAT? Beaune I almost completely surrounded by canals! They are a good way out, but they are there nevertheless.
Another thing you'll find a lot of is 'caves'. For the uninitiated, these are cellars at which one can sample the produce (degustation), usually for free. So far I have been to a total of zero such degustation centres, except for the one last Sunday in Beaune. For that, where there were many wineries represented, the cost for a sampling glass was €10.
But every single corner you turn around here you will find a cellar ready to tip a couple of vats of wine down your gob. That, for me, will be living in the fast lane! But you need to have some poor sap to go 'designated driver' so that you 'do the right thing' driving-wise.
Tonight - Thursday afternoon, Paris time, I decided that enough was enough and I went to a degustation joint in Echrevonne, just down the road from Pat's joint. Jean was 'da main man' here and escorted me deep into his darkest cellar to run through the list of wines he produced. He knew Pat and asked if I had met Sache. 'Yes' to both. Pretty soon after, some peeps from London arrived. These were long lost friends and all were heading out for dinner later on. These Brits were in their way for a ski in the alps.
Jean took us through the full gammet (sp?) of wine. Starting with the whites and working our way through. I can tell you now that I am a TOTAL EXPERT on the nuances and various notes of the wine grown hereabouts. Mind you, this does mot come easily and normally takes years of painstaking study at prestigious universities. I picked it all up in a trice!
Sadly, I am restricted to only two bottles back into Australia, but Dear Jude and I will quickly see to them, you can bet your sweet bippy on that! Once again, words escape me, but this was yet another experience toiler feel that the Beaune district is the place to be!
Just prior to my drive 'home' to Echrevonne I walked out to the garden that had been denied me by the lateness of the hour some days prior. This park lay upstream of the Bouze River. Such a peaceful and relaxing place! There are some photos dotted through this blog. One of them is of the local rugby ground. Go Beaune! This last photo is of the Bouze flowing off towards the town centre.
The map I looked at today was of Beaune and surrounding areas. And you know WHAT? Beaune I almost completely surrounded by canals! They are a good way out, but they are there nevertheless.
Another thing you'll find a lot of is 'caves'. For the uninitiated, these are cellars at which one can sample the produce (degustation), usually for free. So far I have been to a total of zero such degustation centres, except for the one last Sunday in Beaune. For that, where there were many wineries represented, the cost for a sampling glass was €10.
But every single corner you turn around here you will find a cellar ready to tip a couple of vats of wine down your gob. That, for me, will be living in the fast lane! But you need to have some poor sap to go 'designated driver' so that you 'do the right thing' driving-wise.
Tonight - Thursday afternoon, Paris time, I decided that enough was enough and I went to a degustation joint in Echrevonne, just down the road from Pat's joint. Jean was 'da main man' here and escorted me deep into his darkest cellar to run through the list of wines he produced. He knew Pat and asked if I had met Sache. 'Yes' to both. Pretty soon after, some peeps from London arrived. These were long lost friends and all were heading out for dinner later on. These Brits were in their way for a ski in the alps.
Jean took us through the full gammet (sp?) of wine. Starting with the whites and working our way through. I can tell you now that I am a TOTAL EXPERT on the nuances and various notes of the wine grown hereabouts. Mind you, this does mot come easily and normally takes years of painstaking study at prestigious universities. I picked it all up in a trice!
Sadly, I am restricted to only two bottles back into Australia, but Dear Jude and I will quickly see to them, you can bet your sweet bippy on that! Once again, words escape me, but this was yet another experience toiler feel that the Beaune district is the place to be!
Just prior to my drive 'home' to Echrevonne I walked out to the garden that had been denied me by the lateness of the hour some days prior. This park lay upstream of the Bouze River. Such a peaceful and relaxing place! There are some photos dotted through this blog. One of them is of the local rugby ground. Go Beaune! This last photo is of the Bouze flowing off towards the town centre.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Dali in Beaune
The Dali museum had been beckoning to me since my first arrival in Beaune some weeks ago. I am not much of a gallery person, a fact to which DJ will readily attest. However, there was something beguilingly intriguing about the little museum touched up there in Place Monge with its flags flying out the front. In more recent days I had noticed that it was a permanent exhibition of Dali works. So, with a couple of hours to myself, inside I boldly went.
A delightful Little Old Lady greeted me and seemed surprised that I wanted to part with seven post-tax euros for the pleasure of looking at the exhibition and not making a beeline straight to the gift shop. She not much English, I not much French. It seems that this is the private collection of a Dali fan, who wants to share his obsession.
As "not much of a gallery person" let me tell you that I was mightily impressed; as much by the works on show as the manner in which they were displayed. It was very evident that the collection was put together with a loving hand. I took some photos, but you will need to go there yourself. Mind you, as the only visitor, I was really spoiled!
Having made my exit from the gallery I did venture in to the gift shop, only to find posters spread over the floor and people buzzing about busily. It seems that some posters had arrived and were being scrutinised prior to being tucked away into viewing drawers. One of the bustlers was an aged chap who seemed to be the gallery owner, and MAYBE wedded to the lass on the door.
Anyhow, he was pleased to please me and gave me an additional free postcard to the set I purchased. When I asked for les toilettes, he took me there, plonked himself down on the toilet seat and refilled the toilet paper holders while I looked on with crossed legs. How helpful was THAT?
A delightful Little Old Lady greeted me and seemed surprised that I wanted to part with seven post-tax euros for the pleasure of looking at the exhibition and not making a beeline straight to the gift shop. She not much English, I not much French. It seems that this is the private collection of a Dali fan, who wants to share his obsession.
As "not much of a gallery person" let me tell you that I was mightily impressed; as much by the works on show as the manner in which they were displayed. It was very evident that the collection was put together with a loving hand. I took some photos, but you will need to go there yourself. Mind you, as the only visitor, I was really spoiled!
Having made my exit from the gallery I did venture in to the gift shop, only to find posters spread over the floor and people buzzing about busily. It seems that some posters had arrived and were being scrutinised prior to being tucked away into viewing drawers. One of the bustlers was an aged chap who seemed to be the gallery owner, and MAYBE wedded to the lass on the door.
Anyhow, he was pleased to please me and gave me an additional free postcard to the set I purchased. When I asked for les toilettes, he took me there, plonked himself down on the toilet seat and refilled the toilet paper holders while I looked on with crossed legs. How helpful was THAT?
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Saint-Romain Cycle Tour
Caroline and had finished our meeting and she suggested that I head up into the hills to check out Saint-Romain. This I did. This ancient village sits with its back up against some grey/white cliffs up behind Pommard. She said it was a popular bike route from Beaune N indeed I did spy some cyclists doing the loop. Sadly fore I have been unable to find a bicycle hire shop in town that hires road bikes. Apparently there is one near the station, but it is only open during tourist season. There is just one small chance which I shall try tomorrow.
This would be a great loop for an introduction ride out of Beaune. There is a pretty good spin to get out of town and through Pommard, then some gentle undulations, and then some serious grunting up out if the valley to Saint-Romain, and then taking cycling to another to - wait for it - yes - HAUTE SAINT-ROMAIN! That's because the village is in two parts. Upper and Lower. Just like Waldara Drive, really.
At your Haute Saint-Romain you will find my most favourite church in the world. This church is ancient AS! Simple. Elegant. Old. The photo below shows the town from the cliffs above. In the distance lie Pommard, Volnay and Beaune.
Returning to Beaune completed loop of about 30 km. Of course there are plenty of way of extending or shortening the route via the criss-cross of minor roads and vineyard tracks. On the way down the hill I saw a chap emerge from the forest on a mountain bike, so there is plenty of scope for the 'dark side' of cycling here in Beaune as well. Tell Wes.
This last photo (above) is of an ancient chateau dating from the yonks ago century. It is all in ruins. It perches gloweringly over Saint-Romain Lower and affords the visitor commanding views over the valley and town below. There were very clear and concise explanations of its history, but all in excellent French, so the meaning completely escaped me. Sorry. But it's really gorgeous and well worth 'discovering' - especially on a bike!
This would be a great loop for an introduction ride out of Beaune. There is a pretty good spin to get out of town and through Pommard, then some gentle undulations, and then some serious grunting up out if the valley to Saint-Romain, and then taking cycling to another to - wait for it - yes - HAUTE SAINT-ROMAIN! That's because the village is in two parts. Upper and Lower. Just like Waldara Drive, really.
At your Haute Saint-Romain you will find my most favourite church in the world. This church is ancient AS! Simple. Elegant. Old. The photo below shows the town from the cliffs above. In the distance lie Pommard, Volnay and Beaune.
Returning to Beaune completed loop of about 30 km. Of course there are plenty of way of extending or shortening the route via the criss-cross of minor roads and vineyard tracks. On the way down the hill I saw a chap emerge from the forest on a mountain bike, so there is plenty of scope for the 'dark side' of cycling here in Beaune as well. Tell Wes.
This last photo (above) is of an ancient chateau dating from the yonks ago century. It is all in ruins. It perches gloweringly over Saint-Romain Lower and affords the visitor commanding views over the valley and town below. There were very clear and concise explanations of its history, but all in excellent French, so the meaning completely escaped me. Sorry. But it's really gorgeous and well worth 'discovering' - especially on a bike!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Rivers and Cafes
I did go for a stroll along the Bouze River. Upstream. Lovely clear water and fish to be seen swimming about like there ain't no tomorrer! Fishing must be prohibited, because otherwise you couln't see fish so close to town. Some were definitely truitte, but other big ones were brown. They were easily scared though and you had to creep yo on them, carefully, carefully.
The river was developed on either side as a park. Quite beautiful. Very soon, and over a little road, the path turned into a much bigger park that contained a small lake and some intriguing play equipment. Sadly, for me , it had closed some 20 minutes earlier at 6:00 pm. I MADE A PROMISE TI MYSELF TO RETURN HERE SOME DAY. That day will be today.
Before that, however, I have returned to Cafe l'Abottoir.
This, you will recall, is the scene of my hasty retreat some days ago when I had eaten too much of the entree and had no room left for the main course. Today is different. Today I am roaring with hunger.
... and just as well, because the set course is whopping. Start with salmon on slices of pain on a bed of shredded lettuce with vinaigrette to die for. This is followed by terrine served by oneself from a huge terrine dish. Next comes the main course - today, stuffed pork, carrots and peas. I have foresworn the cheese dish and have gone straight to the dessert - mousse au chocolat.
Total price? I do not have l'addition yet, so I'll let you know ... [Total cost: €12]
In any event, (have always wanted to write, "... in any event"), the meal was delicious and much more than this little koala could bear.
By the way, the wine is also 'help yourself' from the bottle plonked (sorry) down beside you.
Oh yeah! And then coffee ...
Scrummy AS! All in the company if the working men (mostly) who must come every day.
The river was developed on either side as a park. Quite beautiful. Very soon, and over a little road, the path turned into a much bigger park that contained a small lake and some intriguing play equipment. Sadly, for me , it had closed some 20 minutes earlier at 6:00 pm. I MADE A PROMISE TI MYSELF TO RETURN HERE SOME DAY. That day will be today.
Before that, however, I have returned to Cafe l'Abottoir.
This, you will recall, is the scene of my hasty retreat some days ago when I had eaten too much of the entree and had no room left for the main course. Today is different. Today I am roaring with hunger.
... and just as well, because the set course is whopping. Start with salmon on slices of pain on a bed of shredded lettuce with vinaigrette to die for. This is followed by terrine served by oneself from a huge terrine dish. Next comes the main course - today, stuffed pork, carrots and peas. I have foresworn the cheese dish and have gone straight to the dessert - mousse au chocolat.
Total price? I do not have l'addition yet, so I'll let you know ... [Total cost: €12]
In any event, (have always wanted to write, "... in any event"), the meal was delicious and much more than this little koala could bear.
By the way, the wine is also 'help yourself' from the bottle plonked (sorry) down beside you.
Oh yeah! And then coffee ...
Scrummy AS! All in the company if the working men (mostly) who must come every day.
A driving/fishing adventure
Another unseasonably warm day here in Beaune today. Yesterday was not so good, but grey and occasionally watery drizzles possess a certain charm while motoring through the countryside in rural France.
While driving about a couple of nights ago with the intention of charging the car's battery, I chanced upon a road leading NW out of Savigny. I had made a little promise to myself to explore further the next day.
What? What's that you say? Flat battery? What a goose! How did THAT happen? We, it happened because I am a silly goose and left the lights on while I took the audio your of the Hotel-Dieu the other day. Remember, I did it for you, so you cannot be critical! [Or CAN you?]
Anyhow, orf I nipped on this sunny day. Up through the hills. Not quite in the Morvan, but alongside it. Lots of forest, but no shortage of gorgeous little villages and hamlets. On the other side of the range I found another canal. You KNOW how much I love canals! This, you will recall, is in quite the opposite direction to the earlier canal mentioned in another blog. At one stage I found myself driving along the towpath. No chance of turning around, so I was looking for a bridge that would take me to the road on the other side of the canal. This eventually came into view ( I knew it would) and I drove up the ramp with the intention of driving over the bridge on the left.
Ahead of me, though, were three simple fisherfolk, going about their tasks with good humour. One of these chaps was in the process of catching a good-sized trout (truitte in French - "twee"). I could tell by the huge splashing in the water that the said fish was creating in a vain attempt to preserve its life (wouldn't you?). It was too much for me and I motored over the road and parked near them.
Turns out that it was a rainbow trout of more than good size. The chap was happy to have his photo taken in celebration of his mastery over Nature. Here are the photos.
This is the sort of adventure is one can one can have in the Cote d' Or! New chums around every corner. New canals to discover and fishies to be pulled from them (IF you are clever enough and use the right sorts of maggots for your bait).
While driving about a couple of nights ago with the intention of charging the car's battery, I chanced upon a road leading NW out of Savigny. I had made a little promise to myself to explore further the next day.
What? What's that you say? Flat battery? What a goose! How did THAT happen? We, it happened because I am a silly goose and left the lights on while I took the audio your of the Hotel-Dieu the other day. Remember, I did it for you, so you cannot be critical! [Or CAN you?]
Anyhow, orf I nipped on this sunny day. Up through the hills. Not quite in the Morvan, but alongside it. Lots of forest, but no shortage of gorgeous little villages and hamlets. On the other side of the range I found another canal. You KNOW how much I love canals! This, you will recall, is in quite the opposite direction to the earlier canal mentioned in another blog. At one stage I found myself driving along the towpath. No chance of turning around, so I was looking for a bridge that would take me to the road on the other side of the canal. This eventually came into view ( I knew it would) and I drove up the ramp with the intention of driving over the bridge on the left.
Ahead of me, though, were three simple fisherfolk, going about their tasks with good humour. One of these chaps was in the process of catching a good-sized trout (truitte in French - "twee"). I could tell by the huge splashing in the water that the said fish was creating in a vain attempt to preserve its life (wouldn't you?). It was too much for me and I motored over the road and parked near them.
Turns out that it was a rainbow trout of more than good size. The chap was happy to have his photo taken in celebration of his mastery over Nature. Here are the photos.
This is the sort of adventure is one can one can have in the Cote d' Or! New chums around every corner. New canals to discover and fishies to be pulled from them (IF you are clever enough and use the right sorts of maggots for your bait).
Monday, March 19, 2012
Hotel-Dieu
Sunday's ramble was topped off with a visit to the Hotel-Dieu, the huge building that Sunday's ramble was topped off with a visit to the Hotel-Dieu, the huge building that dominates the centre of Beaune. This was a hospital, set up by Nicolas Rolin - a very wealthy chap indeed - and his wife, Guigon de Salins. They decided that a hospital was needed for the poor. This they did in 1443. I took the audio tour and bought the book, so now I am a complete expert on everything there is to know about it. Here are some questions you would probably arks me (along with some erudite answers).
Question: Was the Hotel-Dieu set up by this immensely wealthy couple in order to gain the favour of God? Answer: probably
Q: Is the name of the river that runs through Beaune really the Bouzaise River? A: Yes.
Q: Is the Boozy Creek a tributary of The Bouzaise? A: No!
Q: Does The Bouzaise flow right underneath the Hotel-Dieu, thus facilitating the capture of drinking/washing water AND allowing the getting rid of effluent? A: Yes!
Q: Is the Hotel-Dieu an astonishing feat of medieval engineering, beautiful an well-worth a visit?A: Yes, yes, yes and YES!!!
In the photos you can see the beds lined up on either side of the hallway - 15 each side. The outside courtyard shows the splendid roof. Mostly it was the poor who were catered for, but there were other parts for those who could pay. A real public/private model! Patients resided here until 1966 apparently!
An annual wine auction is held each year in Beaune of wine produced in the area and donated to the Hotel-Dieu to keep it and the new hospital going. Caroline has an American client, Bill, who bought a number of nearby wineries and donated them to the Hotel-Dieu in memory of his late wife. Don't get your hopes up, Dear Jude!dominates the centre of Beaune. This was a hospital, set up by Nicolas Rolin - a very wealthy chap indeed - and his wife, Guigon de Salins. They decided that a hospital was needed for the poor. This they did in 1443. I took the audio tour and bought the book, so now I am a complete expert on everything there is to know about it. Here are some questions you would probably arks me (along with some erudite answers).
Question: Was the Hotel-Dieu set up by this immensely wealthy couple in order to gain the favour of God? Answer: probably
Q: Is the name of the river that runs through Beaune really the Bouzaise River? A: Yes.
Q: Is the Boozy Creek a tributary of The Bouzaise? A: No!
Q: Does The Bouzaise flow right underneath the Hotel-Dieu, thus facilitating the capture of drinking/washing water AND allowing the getting rid of effluent? A: Yes!
Q: Is the Hotel-Dieu an astonishing feat of medieval engineering, beautiful an well-worth a visit?A: Yes, yes, yes and YES!!!
In the photos you can see the beds lined up on either side of the hallway - 15 each side. The outside courtyard shows the splendid roof. Mostly it was the poor who were catered for, but there were other parts for those who could pay. A real public/private model! Patients resided here until 1966 apparently!
An annual wine auction is held each year in Beaune of wine produced in the area and donated to the Hotel-Dieu to keep it and the new hospital going. Caroline has an American client, Bill, who bought a number of nearby wineries and donated them to the Hotel-Dieu in memory of his late wife. Don't get your hopes up, Dear Jude!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Question: Was the Hotel-Dieu set up by this immensely wealthy couple in order to gain the favour of God? Answer: probably
Q: Is the name of the river that runs through Beaune really the Bouzaise River? A: Yes.
Q: Is the Boozy Creek a tributary of The Bouzaise? A: No!
Q: Does The Bouzaise flow right underneath the Hotel-Dieu, thus facilitating the capture of drinking/washing water AND allowing the getting rid of effluent? A: Yes!
Q: Is the Hotel-Dieu an astonishing feat of medieval engineering, beautiful an well-worth a visit?A: Yes, yes, yes and YES!!!
In the photos you can see the beds lined up on either side of the hallway - 15 each side. The outside courtyard shows the splendid roof. Mostly it was the poor who were catered for, but there were other parts for those who could pay. A real public/private model! Patients resided here until 1966 apparently!
An annual wine auction is held each year in Beaune of wine produced in the area and donated to the Hotel-Dieu to keep it and the new hospital going. Caroline has an American client, Bill, who bought a number of nearby wineries and donated them to the Hotel-Dieu in memory of his late wife. Don't get your hopes up, Dear Jude!dominates the centre of Beaune. This was a hospital, set up by Nicolas Rolin - a very wealthy chap indeed - and his wife, Guigon de Salins. They decided that a hospital was needed for the poor. This they did in 1443. I took the audio tour and bought the book, so now I am a complete expert on everything there is to know about it. Here are some questions you would probably arks me (along with some erudite answers).
Question: Was the Hotel-Dieu set up by this immensely wealthy couple in order to gain the favour of God? Answer: probably
Q: Is the name of the river that runs through Beaune really the Bouzaise River? A: Yes.
Q: Is the Boozy Creek a tributary of The Bouzaise? A: No!
Q: Does The Bouzaise flow right underneath the Hotel-Dieu, thus facilitating the capture of drinking/washing water AND allowing the getting rid of effluent? A: Yes!
Q: Is the Hotel-Dieu an astonishing feat of medieval engineering, beautiful an well-worth a visit?A: Yes, yes, yes and YES!!!
In the photos you can see the beds lined up on either side of the hallway - 15 each side. The outside courtyard shows the splendid roof. Mostly it was the poor who were catered for, but there were other parts for those who could pay. A real public/private model! Patients resided here until 1966 apparently!
An annual wine auction is held each year in Beaune of wine produced in the area and donated to the Hotel-Dieu to keep it and the new hospital going. Caroline has an American client, Bill, who bought a number of nearby wineries and donated them to the Hotel-Dieu in memory of his late wife. Don't get your hopes up, Dear Jude!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Beaune Sunday
So the Sunday plan was to hop up late, ring Dear Jude, put some washing on and squirt into Beaune to chase some Sunday Beaune Action! It's cold today and raining, so I do not have high expectations of great things. But here I am. In the same restaurant as I landed in on Day One. I am near the door, so when someone enters/leaves, a cold giraffe enters as well. Seems as though that's all right because a lady just came in with a cold giraffe AND a cute little cold doggie! Here is a photo of two chums lunching together I'm the Beaune manner.
Inside the marketplace today is a collection of winery representatives flogging their produce. €10 entry gives you your VERY OWN glass and then off you go tasting, tasting, tasting! The problem was that drinking alcohol was the last thing I felt like that early in the day, so I wandered around a bit and then left. Sober and happy (photo of market place wine sale below).
My lunch just arrived - a Bourgogne pasta specialty. In the Grazyna Kulig way, I have included a photo BEFORE I hooked into it.
Yesterday was Beaune market day. It was the second market I had run into since arriving in France two weeks ago. Typical market, occupying a dedicated market hall and spilling out onto the streets. Weds are not enough, so here are some photos.
While strolling around I heard the quiet voice of Sache: "Hullo Brian". "Sache!". "Great to see you! Actually it's Graeme." And guess who ELSE was with him? YES! Stella and Goofy! Both with their very best market manners in place. Both of them VERY well behaved. I asked Sache to teach me the rudiments of wine drinking and he agreed. He will call
me. I must say it was a hoot to bump into a familiar set of faces at the market. Very homely and welcoming.
I might have mentioned that old Sache is about to set up a business taking visitors around the countryside tasting and sampling the local wines from the many, many wineries offering 'degustation' and sales. Let me say that there would be NO BETTER QUALIFIED PERSON than our Sache for such an enterprise!
That'll do youse for now. I know I was slack for a day or two just past, but I was in the process of settling on to Maison Pat and getting to know the friends and family. I hope to be a better correspondent from now on.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Inside the marketplace today is a collection of winery representatives flogging their produce. €10 entry gives you your VERY OWN glass and then off you go tasting, tasting, tasting! The problem was that drinking alcohol was the last thing I felt like that early in the day, so I wandered around a bit and then left. Sober and happy (photo of market place wine sale below).
My lunch just arrived - a Bourgogne pasta specialty. In the Grazyna Kulig way, I have included a photo BEFORE I hooked into it.
Yesterday was Beaune market day. It was the second market I had run into since arriving in France two weeks ago. Typical market, occupying a dedicated market hall and spilling out onto the streets. Weds are not enough, so here are some photos.
While strolling around I heard the quiet voice of Sache: "Hullo Brian". "Sache!". "Great to see you! Actually it's Graeme." And guess who ELSE was with him? YES! Stella and Goofy! Both with their very best market manners in place. Both of them VERY well behaved. I asked Sache to teach me the rudiments of wine drinking and he agreed. He will call
me. I must say it was a hoot to bump into a familiar set of faces at the market. Very homely and welcoming.
I might have mentioned that old Sache is about to set up a business taking visitors around the countryside tasting and sampling the local wines from the many, many wineries offering 'degustation' and sales. Let me say that there would be NO BETTER QUALIFIED PERSON than our Sache for such an enterprise!
That'll do youse for now. I know I was slack for a day or two just past, but I was in the process of settling on to Maison Pat and getting to know the friends and family. I hope to be a better correspondent from now on.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Pat's House
Here I am in Echevronne! In Pat's house! Pat and Xavier tootled off to Xavier's joint yesterday afternoon, leaving me in charge of this huge house for the next week. How generous is Pat?
The house, at one stage, was the home of the Echevronne priest and there was a little chapel on the grounds somewhere. Also there was a graveyard somewhere on the block. Pat, who has lived here for some thirty years, has dug up bones and teeth at one time or another in the course of tending her garden. THAT is not a 'problem' any of us has encountered now, is it?
Apparently Pat's husband took off with one of his students a couple of years ago, leaving her in the house. Xavier came on to the scene, via an online meeting, about 6 months ago and things have been 'progressing well' since then. Problem is that there has been no divorce, much to Pat's annoyance, and - to further complicate the issue - Pat's husband has tired of the girlfriend and cannot get rid of her (according to Pat). Xavier has not met Pat's husband, but has seen photos. He reckons he saw him in town yesterday, but shied away, not wishing to speak with him.
So here is a possible scenario, more scary than the Walk in the Black Forest of last Sunday:
1. Groombles is tucked up nicely in Pat's house in Echevronne.
2. Pat and recent friend have taken off to friend Xavier's house on her way to a wedding in Manchester
3. Pat's husband (PH - I don't know his name) decides he has had it with the girlfriend, and head home to his house and wife in Echevronne to re-state his claim.
4. Enters the house with shotgun ("just in case").
5. Spies Groombles all tucked up in house, all comfy cosy.
6. Imagines Groom-Choom to be Xavier (they haven't met).
7. No French words of explanation come quickly enough - he is still trying to commit the word for 'eleven' to memory.
8. PH raises the firearm in a jealous fit of tormented rage and ...
9. ... the rest we shall leave for the work of your imagination.
10. By the way, the French word for eleven is 'onze'.
Nothing of the sort is going to take place now, is it? No! Unlike the forest adventure, where Lou calls of "HULLOOOOOOO!!!" could possibly ward off misdirected gun shots, there is little to be done to prevent the above occurring. I shall just have to keep my head down.
One thing is for sure. Pat has been very generous indeed to let me stay here for the next week. It is a very comfortable home with a big screen television with lots of dubbed movies to watch at any time of the day. Or sport (rugby, soccer, curling). Or news (Sarkozy vs Hollande). Or ...
The house, at one stage, was the home of the Echevronne priest and there was a little chapel on the grounds somewhere. Also there was a graveyard somewhere on the block. Pat, who has lived here for some thirty years, has dug up bones and teeth at one time or another in the course of tending her garden. THAT is not a 'problem' any of us has encountered now, is it?
Apparently Pat's husband took off with one of his students a couple of years ago, leaving her in the house. Xavier came on to the scene, via an online meeting, about 6 months ago and things have been 'progressing well' since then. Problem is that there has been no divorce, much to Pat's annoyance, and - to further complicate the issue - Pat's husband has tired of the girlfriend and cannot get rid of her (according to Pat). Xavier has not met Pat's husband, but has seen photos. He reckons he saw him in town yesterday, but shied away, not wishing to speak with him.
So here is a possible scenario, more scary than the Walk in the Black Forest of last Sunday:
1. Groombles is tucked up nicely in Pat's house in Echevronne.
2. Pat and recent friend have taken off to friend Xavier's house on her way to a wedding in Manchester
3. Pat's husband (PH - I don't know his name) decides he has had it with the girlfriend, and head home to his house and wife in Echevronne to re-state his claim.
4. Enters the house with shotgun ("just in case").
5. Spies Groombles all tucked up in house, all comfy cosy.
6. Imagines Groom-Choom to be Xavier (they haven't met).
7. No French words of explanation come quickly enough - he is still trying to commit the word for 'eleven' to memory.
8. PH raises the firearm in a jealous fit of tormented rage and ...
9. ... the rest we shall leave for the work of your imagination.
10. By the way, the French word for eleven is 'onze'.
Nothing of the sort is going to take place now, is it? No! Unlike the forest adventure, where Lou calls of "HULLOOOOOOO!!!" could possibly ward off misdirected gun shots, there is little to be done to prevent the above occurring. I shall just have to keep my head down.
One thing is for sure. Pat has been very generous indeed to let me stay here for the next week. It is a very comfortable home with a big screen television with lots of dubbed movies to watch at any time of the day. Or sport (rugby, soccer, curling). Or news (Sarkozy vs Hollande). Or ...
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Scary Ramble in Morvan
I didn't tell you about the really SCARY time I had last Sunday, did I? Well that was the day that I set off for the walk out of Pontaubert. It was a lovely stroll really, starting as it did wandering along country lanes up towards Avallon. Walking through villages, alongside babbling brooks, through forest, woods and stuff (I know - same old, same old), I started to hear gun shots and dog howlings off to my left. Now came the flooding memories of stories about mad, drunk hunters in charge of weapons capable of blowing elephants to kingdom come mistaking gentle rambling souls such as yours truly for game (boar, elk, rabbit, hart, penguin - you name it). I am most certainly NOT ready to depart this world, especially at the hands of inebriated, gun-totin' looneys of a French disposition and/or extraction, so I began yelling into the surrounding curtain of trees and saplings, "HULLOOO", "HULLOOO", "HULLOOOOOOO"!
I never ever saw a hunter. Nor a dog. However, I am pleased to report that I did make it through. Perhaps this was a result of the fact that the hunters were located at the other side of the forest and heading in a diametrically opposed direction. Or maybe, just MAYBE, the group of hunters, along with their faithful dogs, HEARD my plaintiff cries and lowered their sights JUST IN THE NICK IF TIME to avoid a trigger-squeeze that would send Old Groomby off to an early grave deep in the heart of the Morvan.
Just think about THAT ONE for a mo' or two ...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I never ever saw a hunter. Nor a dog. However, I am pleased to report that I did make it through. Perhaps this was a result of the fact that the hunters were located at the other side of the forest and heading in a diametrically opposed direction. Or maybe, just MAYBE, the group of hunters, along with their faithful dogs, HEARD my plaintiff cries and lowered their sights JUST IN THE NICK IF TIME to avoid a trigger-squeeze that would send Old Groomby off to an early grave deep in the heart of the Morvan.
Just think about THAT ONE for a mo' or two ...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Pat's Family at Dinner
Well, Pat picked me up from outside my hotel right on time at 8:00 pm. Pat, as you will recall, is the mother of Gen Blanch's employer, who lives in Paris. Pat and I drove to her other daughter's house in Beaune, where her son-in-law, Sacha, had dinner 'on the go'. It turns out that Sacha is heavily involved in the wine industry and has worked for a wine magazine where he wrote critiques about wine. He is currently employed by a local winery in the care of the vines. At present there is lots of pruning and burning going on.
Sacha's wife (Pat's daughter) is presently in Australia, but the other resident - a gorgeous 3/4-year-old named Stella. I am told that she is bilingual and that when Pat addresses her in English she responds in French, and vice versa. I do not understand why; she is too young to be being 'smart'. She is just gorgeous. I got a little kiss when I arrived and later when she went off to bed.
The other visitor to Sacha's house was a black dog - puppy really - called Goofy. He and Stella were both at the same stage in terms of emotional development and, by turn, rolled about playing and then called to order by turn. The whole event was most entertaining. Goofy had that way of putting his head between his paws on the ground when placed on his mat and looking upwards to reveal the whites of his eyes, as young puppies do following admonishment. Cute AS!
The dinner progressed well, the dinner comprising various parts of the half pig that Pat had bought recently. We began with pork terrine, then cheese and then on to roast pork. I had bought a cake (citron), all accompanied by Sacha's wine. One of the points that he made was that far too much energy is spent discussing wine, and not enough is given over to drinking it. The labels on the bottles he produces say, in Latin, "Shut up and drink". Here is the "buy me" cake I spoke of earlier.
All round, it was a lovely evening. Pat is heading off to a wedding in Manchester on Saturday and she said I could stay at her joint for as long as I want! Fantastic! She hasn't met Gen yet, but will do do on Monday. WHAT A TREAT IS IN STORE FOR HER!!!!k
Sacha's wife (Pat's daughter) is presently in Australia, but the other resident - a gorgeous 3/4-year-old named Stella. I am told that she is bilingual and that when Pat addresses her in English she responds in French, and vice versa. I do not understand why; she is too young to be being 'smart'. She is just gorgeous. I got a little kiss when I arrived and later when she went off to bed.
The other visitor to Sacha's house was a black dog - puppy really - called Goofy. He and Stella were both at the same stage in terms of emotional development and, by turn, rolled about playing and then called to order by turn. The whole event was most entertaining. Goofy had that way of putting his head between his paws on the ground when placed on his mat and looking upwards to reveal the whites of his eyes, as young puppies do following admonishment. Cute AS!
The dinner progressed well, the dinner comprising various parts of the half pig that Pat had bought recently. We began with pork terrine, then cheese and then on to roast pork. I had bought a cake (citron), all accompanied by Sacha's wine. One of the points that he made was that far too much energy is spent discussing wine, and not enough is given over to drinking it. The labels on the bottles he produces say, in Latin, "Shut up and drink". Here is the "buy me" cake I spoke of earlier.
All round, it was a lovely evening. Pat is heading off to a wedding in Manchester on Saturday and she said I could stay at her joint for as long as I want! Fantastic! She hasn't met Gen yet, but will do do on Monday. WHAT A TREAT IS IN STORE FOR HER!!!!k
Amazed Country Faces
I have been meaning to write for some time now about the way French country people look at you. I am referring to those folk you may chance upon in their front garden, looking up from some task in which they are employed or simply watching the world go by from their front door step. Again, I am referring to country people, and not to city or towns folk. These latter types have seen it all and are not phased by visitors who live, say, three miles away. No, I refer to country people here. Those I have chanced upon in the Norvan.
The first look you see on their faces (having stood bolt upright), and in their eyes is astonishment. "Yikes!", their gaze says to you. "Wowsers!". "Take a look at THAT!". Remember here that it is YOU (that is, me) they are looking at. [The Queen would say "One"].
That is only the beginning of what their look says. Astonishment yes, but also, "What the bloody hell are YOU doing here?". That's it, resentment. There is a little tinge of anger that you have entered their lives, even for the tiniest amount of time it takes for you car to whiz by their garden/shop/paddock or doorstep.
So: surprise, astonishment, resentment, a bit of anger (only a small bit) and then wonderment -all rolled into one. And it's not just the humans. While cattle as sheep seem happy enough to let you drive by, the dogs and even the CATS give you the same look. It is truly amazing!
Of course I could be totally in error here. The minds of these people may very well be on other things that produce these 'out there' expressions. Perhaps they are thinking about what they are going to have for tea, or whether they chose the right numbers for this week's lotto draw. Perhaps they have been dwelling on whether to send Oncle Emile an Easter card this year seeing as he hasn't bothered to send us one for the past two years.
So in all probability these expressions are the result of far-off dreaming that has suddenly come to a stop with the roar of your little engine as it 'thunders' through their village/by their abode. The thoughts may not be directed at you at all! But not the cats! These are vengeful, spiteful, hurtful creatures that never should have been allowed on board the ark all those years ago. That particular 'two-by-two' should have been left out and their places given to unicorns - but unicorns are much bigger, I suppose ...
... Just a thought ...
The first look you see on their faces (having stood bolt upright), and in their eyes is astonishment. "Yikes!", their gaze says to you. "Wowsers!". "Take a look at THAT!". Remember here that it is YOU (that is, me) they are looking at. [The Queen would say "One"].
That is only the beginning of what their look says. Astonishment yes, but also, "What the bloody hell are YOU doing here?". That's it, resentment. There is a little tinge of anger that you have entered their lives, even for the tiniest amount of time it takes for you car to whiz by their garden/shop/paddock or doorstep.
So: surprise, astonishment, resentment, a bit of anger (only a small bit) and then wonderment -all rolled into one. And it's not just the humans. While cattle as sheep seem happy enough to let you drive by, the dogs and even the CATS give you the same look. It is truly amazing!
Of course I could be totally in error here. The minds of these people may very well be on other things that produce these 'out there' expressions. Perhaps they are thinking about what they are going to have for tea, or whether they chose the right numbers for this week's lotto draw. Perhaps they have been dwelling on whether to send Oncle Emile an Easter card this year seeing as he hasn't bothered to send us one for the past two years.
So in all probability these expressions are the result of far-off dreaming that has suddenly come to a stop with the roar of your little engine as it 'thunders' through their village/by their abode. The thoughts may not be directed at you at all! But not the cats! These are vengeful, spiteful, hurtful creatures that never should have been allowed on board the ark all those years ago. That particular 'two-by-two' should have been left out and their places given to unicorns - but unicorns are much bigger, I suppose ...
... Just a thought ...
Monday, March 12, 2012
Auxerre
"Not fair to Auxerre, Graeme! You jump to conclusions far too readily and then live to regret them. Take Beaune, for example. You really stuffed up there, mostly you made an assessment based on the simple error of failing to find the town square before leaping in and jumping to conclusions! Shame!"
Today was set aside to wander the cobbled streets and to stroll along the canal that saunters through the heart of the city. Cathedral - tick, town square - sort of tick, ambience - tick, overall impression - kind of all right ...
The great thing about Auxerre, compared with Beaune, is the relatively lower real estate prices. The question that remains is whether this is "the place for us". It, for example, seems a long ride out of town before a chap can consider him/herself to be "in the country". No such problem in Beaune, where the wineries begin just a short buzz down the track.
So it's off to Beaune again for me tomorrow. Let's see if there is a property that fits the bill there. Perhaps prices are lower in the villages on close proximity, such as Pommard or Savigny-les-Beaune.
Let's see what transpires ...
Today was set aside to wander the cobbled streets and to stroll along the canal that saunters through the heart of the city. Cathedral - tick, town square - sort of tick, ambience - tick, overall impression - kind of all right ...
The great thing about Auxerre, compared with Beaune, is the relatively lower real estate prices. The question that remains is whether this is "the place for us". It, for example, seems a long ride out of town before a chap can consider him/herself to be "in the country". No such problem in Beaune, where the wineries begin just a short buzz down the track.
So it's off to Beaune again for me tomorrow. Let's see if there is a property that fits the bill there. Perhaps prices are lower in the villages on close proximity, such as Pommard or Savigny-les-Beaune.
Let's see what transpires ...
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Pontaubert to Auxerre
Pontaubert is the place I stayed in last night (photo below). A wayside inn that beckoned in the fading evening light. €61 isn't all that bad - a cool €70 with breakfast thrown in! I asked why the price is marginally higher than that advertised on the billboard and was told: "It's the weekend, silly", or some such French equivalent.
Hopping up relatively early for a Sunday I threw down the petit dejuner and raced to the iPhone to Skype the girls. It was fabulous to speak with three of them - all except Georgia. Having caught up with all the news I headed off into the countryside, French Waling in Burgundy book in one hand and online maps on said iPhone in the other. Off for a brisk, what turned out to be 12 km walk through a couple of villages and probably too much forest. Anyhow, it did the job of blowing away the cobwebs and working off a few pin au chocolates as well.
Nothing much more to do in the day but to head to my destination for the evening - Auxerre (pronounce a soft 'x' in this name). The approach to the city by the route other than the tollway provided a good understanding of the geography of the place, set as it is on some low - lying hills.
First impressions were not great, but that was the same with Beaune, with which I have since developed quite an affection. I shall report on that tomorrow. I managed to find an eatery open late in the day. All attempts to grab some lunch were thwarted because I had left my run far too late. I blame the decision to go for a ramble myself. All attempts, apart for the restaurants that were "Complet" were unsuccessful because they were just closing. And here is I good tip for traveling in France: LEAVE NOTHING TO CHANCE WHEN LOOKING FOR LUNCH ON A SUNDAY IN YOUR FRANCE!!!
Sitting in the eatery that I eventually found in Dear Auxerre, I downloaded the Agoda app. It is really good for last minute deals for hotels and so here I am in a €45 job for the next two nights. Sure it is BASIC. Certainly it is OUT OF TOWN. OK it is located in a semi-industrial heartland, but for me for the next couple of nights IT'S HOME!
Picture at below is of Bessy-sur-Cure, a random village along the way from Avallon.
And great news! No sooner had I arrived and unpacked the socks and undies, but guess who should call me on my cell? GEN BLANCH, that's who! We had a great old chat, mostly about an old chubby chap with a wig passing himself off as a Graeme whom Gen had met and who had been annoying her on her phone. When I called her today and put on a stupid French accent Gen immediately hung up! Good girl! However it was ME! Gorgeous old cuddly Groombles! I had been trying to get through all day, but only a text message got through. WHAT an Adventure! We sure had a good giggle over that one ...
Gotta go now. I just watch France come from behind to go down by 2 measly points to Great Britain in a rugby match. Naturally I was rooting for the home side and will go to sleep a dejected man (not).
Too much news, not enough sleep! Too roo!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Hopping up relatively early for a Sunday I threw down the petit dejuner and raced to the iPhone to Skype the girls. It was fabulous to speak with three of them - all except Georgia. Having caught up with all the news I headed off into the countryside, French Waling in Burgundy book in one hand and online maps on said iPhone in the other. Off for a brisk, what turned out to be 12 km walk through a couple of villages and probably too much forest. Anyhow, it did the job of blowing away the cobwebs and working off a few pin au chocolates as well.
Nothing much more to do in the day but to head to my destination for the evening - Auxerre (pronounce a soft 'x' in this name). The approach to the city by the route other than the tollway provided a good understanding of the geography of the place, set as it is on some low - lying hills.
First impressions were not great, but that was the same with Beaune, with which I have since developed quite an affection. I shall report on that tomorrow. I managed to find an eatery open late in the day. All attempts to grab some lunch were thwarted because I had left my run far too late. I blame the decision to go for a ramble myself. All attempts, apart for the restaurants that were "Complet" were unsuccessful because they were just closing. And here is I good tip for traveling in France: LEAVE NOTHING TO CHANCE WHEN LOOKING FOR LUNCH ON A SUNDAY IN YOUR FRANCE!!!
Sitting in the eatery that I eventually found in Dear Auxerre, I downloaded the Agoda app. It is really good for last minute deals for hotels and so here I am in a €45 job for the next two nights. Sure it is BASIC. Certainly it is OUT OF TOWN. OK it is located in a semi-industrial heartland, but for me for the next couple of nights IT'S HOME!
Picture at below is of Bessy-sur-Cure, a random village along the way from Avallon.
And great news! No sooner had I arrived and unpacked the socks and undies, but guess who should call me on my cell? GEN BLANCH, that's who! We had a great old chat, mostly about an old chubby chap with a wig passing himself off as a Graeme whom Gen had met and who had been annoying her on her phone. When I called her today and put on a stupid French accent Gen immediately hung up! Good girl! However it was ME! Gorgeous old cuddly Groombles! I had been trying to get through all day, but only a text message got through. WHAT an Adventure! We sure had a good giggle over that one ...
Gotta go now. I just watch France come from behind to go down by 2 measly points to Great Britain in a rugby match. Naturally I was rooting for the home side and will go to sleep a dejected man (not).
Too much news, not enough sleep! Too roo!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Beaune to Saulieu
A gentle drive today to get to Saulieu, book into an hotel and then explore the Morvan.
The best way to use the TomTom is to program it to avoid tolls. In this way you stay on the secondary "D" roads and treat yourself to (mostly) more picturesque country-side. This I did today (Friday) as I headed west from Beaune. From the outset I was determined to let myself be distracted by sign pointing off to interesting monuments, natural wonders, ancient relics and the likes. I was not disappointed! Here are the Most Interesting:
Interesting Thing Number 1: The tiny village of Lusigny-sur-Ouche
This village was jaw-droppingly, heart reneringly gorgeous! Words are not enough, so there is only one thing for it - youse had all better come and have a look for yourselfs. The Ouche river runs right through the town. It's no bigger than a brook at this stage (the source of the Ouche is just up a track a-ways. I took a stroll along the banks, looking to see if there were fishies swimming around, and - blow me down - there were! I knew there were fish in the river because lots of signs said "No Fishing". The biggest I saw weren't quite 'pan-sized'. Closer to 1lb, rather than 1 1/2 lb. there were a few other strollers, but all was very quiet ... I checked out the cemetery, but no one there was making much noise either.
Interesting Thing Number 2: The Town with No One In It
Yes, incroyable as it might seem, the city (big town) of Arnay-Le-Duc, the town I had lined up for lunch, was absolutely deserted! Not a soul! It's not a ghost town. There are plenty of shops, but all of them ferme (shut). The chemist was open - I bought some lip stuff. One boulangerie was open - I bought a demi pin. But nothing else. Curious!
Interesting Thing Number 3: Roman Monument in Middle of Paddocks
You see in Australia we have Interesting Things that tempt drivers to slam on their brakes, pull over and pay money to go in and have a sticky beak. Things like Big Bananas, Halls of Fame, miniature villages and Leyland Brothers Nature Parks. There is not a plethora of Roman Ruins, that's for certain! So when I saw the sign to the Colonne Romaine I did not hesitate. Right foot off the accelerator and straight next door to the brakes. And of course there is nothing around this edifice! It's at the intersection of four hedgerows. Not a building within cooee. Magnificent! Understated, but powerful. You can keep your Big Cherry down at Glenrowan, I'll take the Colonne Romaine any day.
Interesting Thing Number 4: Dead badger by the side of the road
Interesting Thing Number 5: Evensong at Abbeye St Pierre
Yes folks, Groomby happened along to Evensong. It happened by chance, having set up digs in a little hotel in Saulieu, I decamped to the countryside to look around the Morvan. Again my foot headed brake-wise when I saw some signs off to the right to an 'Abbaye'. I assumed these to be ruins of an abbey, but HOW WRONG WAS I??!!!
The abbey turned out to be much more than a pile of old stones. In actual fact it was a fairly new construction right in the middle of the forest, along quite a narrow, winding road. I parked the car and headed towards the chapel round the back. The front looked as though it was the entrance of an hotel, and I think it is a place for religious types to dwell in for a little while. Whole there were two or three people headed towards the chapel, the place seemed to be largely deserted (a bit of a theme for the day, I suppose). Anyhow, I went into the chapel and sat down because it seemed as if something or other was about to take place in the very near future. And gradually it did.
By this time there were a few people in the congregation (about 25). Soon a monk-looking chap came in through a side door, dipped his fingers in a small font, crossed himself and sat down on one of the chairs in the choir. A second monk appeared dressed in a similar black robe, but this time with the pointy black hood on. This monk (by this time - 6:00pm, and getting darker) was also black. Very black. He was a black monk in a black cassock. You don't see much of that in downtown Wangaratta. Very soon, more monks came in one by one, each dipping, crossing and then sitting, till the choir was filled with about 50 monks - mostly old (some VERY old) - but some reasonably young ones.
Then the service began. This comprised lots of chanting, separated by periods of intense silence. Immediately prior to the next chant one of the monks blew a couple of notes on a flute to give the starting note. There were about seven chants in all, various ones with us all standing, some with us all sitting. I followed the chap in front of me who seemed to be on top of the standing/sitting regime. I drew the line at the raised arms one at the end, though.
The service ended after about 30 minutes, but here was an odd thing. While some of the congregation and some of the monks sloped off (it was getting close to dinner time), lots stayed around. In complete silence they just hung about. I sat there for about 8-10 minutes and then headed out, leaving the remaining lot sitting quietly in the church.
All-in-all it was quite a moving (not religious for me, I'm afraid) experience. This was not the first time these people had done this. It will not be the last (although the last will not be far off for one or two of the monks). It was very clear that THIS IS WHAT THEY DO! In the 21st Century! Quite astounding.
Anyhow, that's enough Interesting Things for now.
More later.
Interesting Thing Number 6: Rue du Merle (in Beaune)!
InsertedImage.jpg
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The best way to use the TomTom is to program it to avoid tolls. In this way you stay on the secondary "D" roads and treat yourself to (mostly) more picturesque country-side. This I did today (Friday) as I headed west from Beaune. From the outset I was determined to let myself be distracted by sign pointing off to interesting monuments, natural wonders, ancient relics and the likes. I was not disappointed! Here are the Most Interesting:
Interesting Thing Number 1: The tiny village of Lusigny-sur-Ouche
This village was jaw-droppingly, heart reneringly gorgeous! Words are not enough, so there is only one thing for it - youse had all better come and have a look for yourselfs. The Ouche river runs right through the town. It's no bigger than a brook at this stage (the source of the Ouche is just up a track a-ways. I took a stroll along the banks, looking to see if there were fishies swimming around, and - blow me down - there were! I knew there were fish in the river because lots of signs said "No Fishing". The biggest I saw weren't quite 'pan-sized'. Closer to 1lb, rather than 1 1/2 lb. there were a few other strollers, but all was very quiet ... I checked out the cemetery, but no one there was making much noise either.
Interesting Thing Number 2: The Town with No One In It
Yes, incroyable as it might seem, the city (big town) of Arnay-Le-Duc, the town I had lined up for lunch, was absolutely deserted! Not a soul! It's not a ghost town. There are plenty of shops, but all of them ferme (shut). The chemist was open - I bought some lip stuff. One boulangerie was open - I bought a demi pin. But nothing else. Curious!
Interesting Thing Number 3: Roman Monument in Middle of Paddocks
You see in Australia we have Interesting Things that tempt drivers to slam on their brakes, pull over and pay money to go in and have a sticky beak. Things like Big Bananas, Halls of Fame, miniature villages and Leyland Brothers Nature Parks. There is not a plethora of Roman Ruins, that's for certain! So when I saw the sign to the Colonne Romaine I did not hesitate. Right foot off the accelerator and straight next door to the brakes. And of course there is nothing around this edifice! It's at the intersection of four hedgerows. Not a building within cooee. Magnificent! Understated, but powerful. You can keep your Big Cherry down at Glenrowan, I'll take the Colonne Romaine any day.
Interesting Thing Number 4: Dead badger by the side of the road
Interesting Thing Number 5: Evensong at Abbeye St Pierre
Yes folks, Groomby happened along to Evensong. It happened by chance, having set up digs in a little hotel in Saulieu, I decamped to the countryside to look around the Morvan. Again my foot headed brake-wise when I saw some signs off to the right to an 'Abbaye'. I assumed these to be ruins of an abbey, but HOW WRONG WAS I??!!!
The abbey turned out to be much more than a pile of old stones. In actual fact it was a fairly new construction right in the middle of the forest, along quite a narrow, winding road. I parked the car and headed towards the chapel round the back. The front looked as though it was the entrance of an hotel, and I think it is a place for religious types to dwell in for a little while. Whole there were two or three people headed towards the chapel, the place seemed to be largely deserted (a bit of a theme for the day, I suppose). Anyhow, I went into the chapel and sat down because it seemed as if something or other was about to take place in the very near future. And gradually it did.
By this time there were a few people in the congregation (about 25). Soon a monk-looking chap came in through a side door, dipped his fingers in a small font, crossed himself and sat down on one of the chairs in the choir. A second monk appeared dressed in a similar black robe, but this time with the pointy black hood on. This monk (by this time - 6:00pm, and getting darker) was also black. Very black. He was a black monk in a black cassock. You don't see much of that in downtown Wangaratta. Very soon, more monks came in one by one, each dipping, crossing and then sitting, till the choir was filled with about 50 monks - mostly old (some VERY old) - but some reasonably young ones.
Then the service began. This comprised lots of chanting, separated by periods of intense silence. Immediately prior to the next chant one of the monks blew a couple of notes on a flute to give the starting note. There were about seven chants in all, various ones with us all standing, some with us all sitting. I followed the chap in front of me who seemed to be on top of the standing/sitting regime. I drew the line at the raised arms one at the end, though.
The service ended after about 30 minutes, but here was an odd thing. While some of the congregation and some of the monks sloped off (it was getting close to dinner time), lots stayed around. In complete silence they just hung about. I sat there for about 8-10 minutes and then headed out, leaving the remaining lot sitting quietly in the church.
All-in-all it was quite a moving (not religious for me, I'm afraid) experience. This was not the first time these people had done this. It will not be the last (although the last will not be far off for one or two of the monks). It was very clear that THIS IS WHAT THEY DO! In the 21st Century! Quite astounding.
Anyhow, that's enough Interesting Things for now.
More later.
Interesting Thing Number 6: Rue du Merle (in Beaune)!
InsertedImage.jpg
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Movies in France
French movie houses usually run their foreign offerings in a dubbed format. When in Dijon I was lucky enough to find a cinema that runs movies in original language and watched Albert Moggs. It was most enjoyable.
Now that I have left Dijon I despair that I will not find another original language movie house because I am really looking forward to catching The Artist before I leave for home ...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Now that I have left Dijon I despair that I will not find another original language movie house because I am really looking forward to catching The Artist before I leave for home ...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Charolles vs Charlieu
Charlieu did not turn out to be as nice a town as Charolles. I know that industrial activities are essential for the provision of this great lifestyle we all enjoy, but is it really necessary to throw it in our faces every five minutes? You see that is the problem with your Charlieu. Right there. Too many trucks, too many little factories within easy viewing access.
The journey there and back (to Beaune) was something else, though. Driving back alongside the canal in the evening light was just "other worldly". Little clumps of ancient houses clustering around locks; gorgeous little villages off to the sides set in their own unique pasture-scapes; and the ever-beckoning tow path begging to be cycled along. I could go on and on and freaking ON about this, but I simply shan't. So there!
I have decided not to have huge dinners on this trip. It is best, I feel to have a cheap plat du jour for midi and then have something light (but yummy) at night. This last can be picked up from the charcuterie during the day and held in readiness for the late afternoon/early evening bog-in back in the hotel. Just to get you up to speed on this, I can tell you that I just tucked away a wonderful half a pin, half a sheep/goat cheese and a slab of excellent pate. No wine, you notice - sleep comes quicker and is of much higher quality if abstinence can be maintained just before bed I find, and quality of the dreams improves manifold. So there!
One highlight of the day (apart from the canal) was a huge Romanesque church sitting atop a hill in a town I passed through from Charolles to Charlieu. For the life of me I cannot remember the name of the town, but I thought it had some thing like 'Neufchâtel' in the town name. You just DO NOT get Romanesque churches on the road out to Beechworth like that, do you?
Now those of youse with a sharp eye will pick that this is NOT a photo of a Romanesque anything. Rather, it is a photo of a cloister in Charlieu!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The journey there and back (to Beaune) was something else, though. Driving back alongside the canal in the evening light was just "other worldly". Little clumps of ancient houses clustering around locks; gorgeous little villages off to the sides set in their own unique pasture-scapes; and the ever-beckoning tow path begging to be cycled along. I could go on and on and freaking ON about this, but I simply shan't. So there!
I have decided not to have huge dinners on this trip. It is best, I feel to have a cheap plat du jour for midi and then have something light (but yummy) at night. This last can be picked up from the charcuterie during the day and held in readiness for the late afternoon/early evening bog-in back in the hotel. Just to get you up to speed on this, I can tell you that I just tucked away a wonderful half a pin, half a sheep/goat cheese and a slab of excellent pate. No wine, you notice - sleep comes quicker and is of much higher quality if abstinence can be maintained just before bed I find, and quality of the dreams improves manifold. So there!
One highlight of the day (apart from the canal) was a huge Romanesque church sitting atop a hill in a town I passed through from Charolles to Charlieu. For the life of me I cannot remember the name of the town, but I thought it had some thing like 'Neufchâtel' in the town name. You just DO NOT get Romanesque churches on the road out to Beechworth like that, do you?
Now those of youse with a sharp eye will pick that this is NOT a photo of a Romanesque anything. Rather, it is a photo of a cloister in Charlieu!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, March 9, 2012
Charolles
Today I find myself in Charolles. Just in time for 'midi' (lunch for youse losers). I am on my way to Charlieu, where there is a house on a French Property for Sale website. I don't know why I bothered (there are buckets of similar joints advertised in immobilier (real estate agents') windows everywhere. But I am glad I did make the journey.
Heading south from Beaune, having keyed in "avoid tollways" on my TomTom, the road followed alongside a beautiful canal. Now, if any man-made construction is going to capture my enrapture other than a railway, is a canal. I have tried not to be 'transported' in this way (please pardon the intended - pun?), but to see a canal, with its sealed towpath alongside it, and to come across the occasional lock, and even less occasional cyclist/cycliste is to take living in this planet to new heights.
There is a church across the way from the restaurant, an d some poor soul is being sent on his/her way. The crowd outside included a couple of fully-turned-out, uniform-wise members of the local gendarmerie. As I sit here the bells begin peeling again, perhaps to indicate that part of the mass where the Holy Spirit enters the bread and wine - but what would I know?
I took some snaps of the town here in Charolles for your edification and enjoyment. I have always had difficulty adding photos, so I shall wait for your responses to check if they are communicated by way of the blog.
Oh well, the funeral bells have rung once more and it is time for me to bugger off to Charlieu. Most of the peeps have left the restaurant, so I shall have to be on my way as well. "On my way" to take on quite a different meaning to the chap who is "on his/her way" in the church across the road ...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Heading south from Beaune, having keyed in "avoid tollways" on my TomTom, the road followed alongside a beautiful canal. Now, if any man-made construction is going to capture my enrapture other than a railway, is a canal. I have tried not to be 'transported' in this way (please pardon the intended - pun?), but to see a canal, with its sealed towpath alongside it, and to come across the occasional lock, and even less occasional cyclist/cycliste is to take living in this planet to new heights.
There is a church across the way from the restaurant, an d some poor soul is being sent on his/her way. The crowd outside included a couple of fully-turned-out, uniform-wise members of the local gendarmerie. As I sit here the bells begin peeling again, perhaps to indicate that part of the mass where the Holy Spirit enters the bread and wine - but what would I know?
I took some snaps of the town here in Charolles for your edification and enjoyment. I have always had difficulty adding photos, so I shall wait for your responses to check if they are communicated by way of the blog.
Oh well, the funeral bells have rung once more and it is time for me to bugger off to Charlieu. Most of the peeps have left the restaurant, so I shall have to be on my way as well. "On my way" to take on quite a different meaning to the chap who is "on his/her way" in the church across the road ...
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Dijon II
I am so SICK of people slagging Dijon! The people here don't seem to mind it. Observing the peeps strolling by (observed from my Salon de The of choice), I get the distinct impression that they are all comfortable in their own skins and keen to get on with the business of living in this bustling, vibrant, if geographically flat, city. Goodness me, persons dwelling in Shepparton seem to be happy enough to while away what's left of their lives in that city without a grizzle or a grump! And there are those who live in Melbourne to consider ....
Market day in Dijon is Tuesday. So don't go thinking that things are normal here at the moment. There are supplies to be picked up: fresh fish, fromage, perhaps a terrine or two ... Roses have been flown in from the equator and lettuces appear to be coming into season. Everyone is still dressed up on warm winter woollies, but there is a real sense of the coming warmer spring and later a hot summer. We've just about had enough of winter and that warmer sun that pokes its head out every now and then is most welcome, I can assure you!
Today is chill-out day for me. Circadian-rhythm re-establishment day. I'm thinking of a bus ride to the end of the line. Dijon is a 'uge city, I believe, judging by the number of buses. And here's some unbelievable news: there is soon to be a TRAM line. Yes! The rails are down and work is progressing at a great rate of knots. I am not at all sure that it is a replacement line either. It looks like a brand-newie!
... OK, here's an update. I am just back in town after a brisk walk to the end of the new tram line. Work is progressing along the entire length of this 10 km stretch of track with teams of laborers working flat-out. Billboard signs boast a welcome to the tram for Dijon residents in 2012. That's this year! I checked out the satellite images of Dijon and there is no sign of the line along the route I took today, so it's not a renovation, it's NEW!
So this brings me back to the opening sentence of this post: stop slagging Dijon! You've just gotta love a city installing a new tram line AND that boasts a famous artist who went by the name of Francois Rude! [He was quite good, too.]
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Market day in Dijon is Tuesday. So don't go thinking that things are normal here at the moment. There are supplies to be picked up: fresh fish, fromage, perhaps a terrine or two ... Roses have been flown in from the equator and lettuces appear to be coming into season. Everyone is still dressed up on warm winter woollies, but there is a real sense of the coming warmer spring and later a hot summer. We've just about had enough of winter and that warmer sun that pokes its head out every now and then is most welcome, I can assure you!
Today is chill-out day for me. Circadian-rhythm re-establishment day. I'm thinking of a bus ride to the end of the line. Dijon is a 'uge city, I believe, judging by the number of buses. And here's some unbelievable news: there is soon to be a TRAM line. Yes! The rails are down and work is progressing at a great rate of knots. I am not at all sure that it is a replacement line either. It looks like a brand-newie!
... OK, here's an update. I am just back in town after a brisk walk to the end of the new tram line. Work is progressing along the entire length of this 10 km stretch of track with teams of laborers working flat-out. Billboard signs boast a welcome to the tram for Dijon residents in 2012. That's this year! I checked out the satellite images of Dijon and there is no sign of the line along the route I took today, so it's not a renovation, it's NEW!
So this brings me back to the opening sentence of this post: stop slagging Dijon! You've just gotta love a city installing a new tram line AND that boasts a famous artist who went by the name of Francois Rude! [He was quite good, too.]
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Dijon I
Second day in Dijon ahead of me, but it's seemings as though I have seen enough. I did the official walk yesterday, guide book from the Tourist Information in one hand and iPhone in the other I checked out all the sites. It is pretty flat, hereabouts, so no cathedrals perched atop hills, glowering down at the populace. It is NOT the sort of town to buy in, but we probs knew that ...
I even went to three museums/galleries - I am sure you will be impressed. One a Beaux-Artsy one, one a recollection of the Algerian War (the British weren't the only mongrel imperialists) And one a VERY boring explanation of hoe Burgundians nused to live.
Having shaken my head clear of boredom after that last one I headed off to a boulangerie and picked up a cheese and legume tartlet and apricot one for dinns and promptly got lost (briefly) and caught in a snow/sleet shower!
I scurried 'home' to my room and popped the TV one itch a view to scoffing my loot at an appropriate later hour. I looked at the clock and decided that the selected time was FAR too far off (it was 6:00pm by then), so I scoffed them down to my tummy. YUMMM!
Better control was exercised with the sleep issue. With eyes intermittently drooping, I lasted till the appointed hour of 20:00 before rolling over and plunging into the much anticipated World of Nod. Slept right through the nigt (almost) and have awoken fresher than a couple of really fresh daisies!
The Peeps at the Tourist Joint told me that the market is on today, but I have decided not to go. ... ONLY JOKING! Had you there, didn't I?! I shall sneak up and see if three is any sorts of food I can have for my breakfast.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I even went to three museums/galleries - I am sure you will be impressed. One a Beaux-Artsy one, one a recollection of the Algerian War (the British weren't the only mongrel imperialists) And one a VERY boring explanation of hoe Burgundians nused to live.
Having shaken my head clear of boredom after that last one I headed off to a boulangerie and picked up a cheese and legume tartlet and apricot one for dinns and promptly got lost (briefly) and caught in a snow/sleet shower!
I scurried 'home' to my room and popped the TV one itch a view to scoffing my loot at an appropriate later hour. I looked at the clock and decided that the selected time was FAR too far off (it was 6:00pm by then), so I scoffed them down to my tummy. YUMMM!
Better control was exercised with the sleep issue. With eyes intermittently drooping, I lasted till the appointed hour of 20:00 before rolling over and plunging into the much anticipated World of Nod. Slept right through the nigt (almost) and have awoken fresher than a couple of really fresh daisies!
The Peeps at the Tourist Joint told me that the market is on today, but I have decided not to go. ... ONLY JOKING! Had you there, didn't I?! I shall sneak up and see if three is any sorts of food I can have for my breakfast.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The Journey Out
I arrived safely, and that is all that matters. 'uge trips like this all have their own brand of annoyingness (babies crying, Chinese sniffing, an attack of the runs). The annoying thing about THIS particliar trip is that none of these sorts of irritating things happened and I spent an awful lot of the time WAITING for something to happen, but it didn't! How annoying is THAT?
Smooth connections all the way, just as DJ had planned. the one teency 'glitch' was that the hotel at Shanghai was much closer to the city than the airport, so a much longer trip than envisaged, especially after an initial trip to the OTHER Hotel Baolong Homelike Hotel deep on the heart of Downtown Shanghai. [We had been assured that this establishment was "a bee's dick from the airport". I cannot envisage a bee of the required proportions necessary to fill these dimensions.]. A good 40 minute flog to the airport next morning in very light Sunday traffic was necessary, even from the RIGHT Baolong Homelike Hotel.
Oh yes, one annoying thing (my own fault, really) is that I was not expecting a stop-by at Beijing once the plane's wheels left the Tarmac at Shanghai. My heart leapt on takeoff that the plane was not full! Over there was an empty window seat! Next to me we're TWO empty places! Whoopsy-doo! One slightly unfathomable indicator -- one that my heart would not acknowledge -- was that the monitor indicated "One hour 40 minutes to destination". "Technical glitch", my heart said. Bloody Air China! I forgive youse!
It was as the engines of the plane started roaring, the wheels were lowered, and the "Fasten seat belts" sign came onto the monitor in perfect Chinese character script that I knew that the jig was up. One and one half hours, and a couple of customs strip-searches later I was back in the air, in an aisle seat (I love window seats), but with the spare seat still intact on my right I, and quite a few more passengers were hurtling through the stratosphere to our destination - Paris. [Well, at least that is where I ASSUME all these other people were headed ...]
Yes, all has progressed very nicely so far. No Internet connection so far, but it gives me a chance to get this blog up and going. It is 3:20am as I write this. I dutifully set the alarum bell on this iPhone, but singularly forgot to check the time setting and it didn't automatically adjust, as I had anticipated. I was awoken from deep slumber about two hours after drifting off, at 6:00 bloody SHANGHAI time!
What was that I said about no incidents to date?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I arrived safely, and that is all that matters. 'uge trips like this all have their own brand of annoyingness (babies crying, Chinese sniffing, an attack of the runs). The annoying thing about THIS particliar trip is that none of these sorts of irritating things happened and I spent an awful lot of the time WAITING for something to happen, but it didn't! How annoying is THAT?
Smooth connections all the way, just as DJ had planned. the one teency 'glitch' was that the hotel at Shanghai was much closer to the city than the airport, so a much longer trip than envisaged, especially after an initial trip to the OTHER Hotel Baolong Homelike Hotel deep on the heart of Downtown Shanghai. [We had been assured that this establishment was "a bee's dick from the airport". I cannot envisage a bee of the required proportions necessary to fill these dimensions.]. A good 40 minute flog to the airport next morning in very light Sunday traffic was necessary, even from the RIGHT Baolong Homelike Hotel.
Oh yes, one annoying thing (my own fault, really) is that I was not expecting a stop-by at Beijing once the plane's wheels left the Tarmac at Shanghai. My heart leapt on takeoff that the plane was not full! Over there was an empty window seat! Next to me we're TWO empty places! Whoopsy-doo! One slightly unfathomable indicator -- one that my heart would not acknowledge -- was that the monitor indicated "One hour 40 minutes to destination". "Technical glitch", my heart said. Bloody Air China! I forgive youse!
It was as the engines of the plane started roaring, the wheels were lowered, and the "Fasten seat belts" sign came onto the monitor in perfect Chinese character script that I knew that the jig was up. One and one half hours, and a couple of customs strip-searches later I was back in the air, in an aisle seat (I love window seats), but with the spare seat still intact on my right I, and quite a few more passengers were hurtling through the stratosphere to our destination - Paris. [Well, at least that is where I ASSUME all these other people were headed ...]
Yes, all has progressed very nicely so far. No Internet connection so far, but it gives me a chance to get this blog up and going. It is 3:20am as I write this. I dutifully set the alarum bell on this iPhone, but singularly forgot to check the time setting and it didn't automatically adjust, as I had anticipated. I was awoken from deep slumber about two hours after drifting off, at 6:00 bloody SHANGHAI time!
What was that I said about no incidents to date?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Getting Here
The Journey Out
I arrived safely, and that is all that matters. 'uge trips like this all have their own brand of annoyingness (babies crying, Chinese sniffing, an attack of the runs). The annoying thing about THIS particliar trip is that none of these sorts of irritating things happened and I spent an awful lot of the time WAITING for something to happen, but it didn't! How annoying is THAT?
Smooth connections all the way, just as DJ had planned. the one teency 'glitch' was that the hotel at Shanghai was much closer to the city than the airport, so a much longer trip than envisaged, especially after an initial trip to the OTHER Hotel Baolong Homelike Hotel deep on the heart of Downtown Shanghai. [We had been assured that this establishment was "a bee's dick from the airport". I cannot envisage a bee of the required proportions necessary to fill these dimensions.]. A good 40 minute flog to the airport next morning in very light Sunday traffic was necessary, even from the RIGHT Baolong Homelike Hotel.
Oh yes, one annoying thing (my own fault, really) is that I was not expecting a stop-by at Beijing once the plane's wheels left the Tarmac at Shanghai. My heart leapt on takeoff that the plane was not full! Over there was an empty window seat! Next to me we're TWO empty places! Whoopsy-doo! One slightly unfathomable indicator -- one that my heart would not acknowledge -- was that the monitor indicated "One hour 40 minutes to destination". "Technical glitch", my heart said. Bloody Air China! I forgive youse!
It was as the engines of the plane started roaring, the wheels were lowered, and the "Fasten seat belts" sign came onto the monitor in perfect Chinese character script that I knew that the jig was up. One and one half hours, and a couple of customs strip-searches later I was back in the air, in an aisle seat (I love window seats), but with the spare seat still intact on my right I, and quite a few more passengers were hurtling through the stratosphere to our destination - Paris. [Well, at least that is where I ASSUME all these other people were headed ...]
Yes, all has progressed very nicely so far. No Internet connection so far, but it gives me a chance to get this blog up and going. It is 3:20am as I write this. I dutifully set the alarum bell on this iPhone, but singularly forgot to check the time setting and it didn't automatically adjust, as I had anticipated. I was awoken from deep slumber about two hours after drifting off, at 6:00 bloody SHANGHAI time!
What was that I said about no incidents to date?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I arrived safely, and that is all that matters. 'uge trips like this all have their own brand of annoyingness (babies crying, Chinese sniffing, an attack of the runs). The annoying thing about THIS particliar trip is that none of these sorts of irritating things happened and I spent an awful lot of the time WAITING for something to happen, but it didn't! How annoying is THAT?
Smooth connections all the way, just as DJ had planned. the one teency 'glitch' was that the hotel at Shanghai was much closer to the city than the airport, so a much longer trip than envisaged, especially after an initial trip to the OTHER Hotel Baolong Homelike Hotel deep on the heart of Downtown Shanghai. [We had been assured that this establishment was "a bee's dick from the airport". I cannot envisage a bee of the required proportions necessary to fill these dimensions.]. A good 40 minute flog to the airport next morning in very light Sunday traffic was necessary, even from the RIGHT Baolong Homelike Hotel.
Oh yes, one annoying thing (my own fault, really) is that I was not expecting a stop-by at Beijing once the plane's wheels left the Tarmac at Shanghai. My heart leapt on takeoff that the plane was not full! Over there was an empty window seat! Next to me we're TWO empty places! Whoopsy-doo! One slightly unfathomable indicator -- one that my heart would not acknowledge -- was that the monitor indicated "One hour 40 minutes to destination". "Technical glitch", my heart said. Bloody Air China! I forgive youse!
It was as the engines of the plane started roaring, the wheels were lowered, and the "Fasten seat belts" sign came onto the monitor in perfect Chinese character script that I knew that the jig was up. One and one half hours, and a couple of customs strip-searches later I was back in the air, in an aisle seat (I love window seats), but with the spare seat still intact on my right I, and quite a few more passengers were hurtling through the stratosphere to our destination - Paris. [Well, at least that is where I ASSUME all these other people were headed ...]
Yes, all has progressed very nicely so far. No Internet connection so far, but it gives me a chance to get this blog up and going. It is 3:20am as I write this. I dutifully set the alarum bell on this iPhone, but singularly forgot to check the time setting and it didn't automatically adjust, as I had anticipated. I was awoken from deep slumber about two hours after drifting off, at 6:00 bloody SHANGHAI time!
What was that I said about no incidents to date?
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)