Travel

Like walking into a postcard…

| Mairead

(The camping car aire is to the right of the boats. Can you see the château?)

You know when you’re flipping through a magazine or a brochure and you see these pictures of some beautiful place and you think, wow, that’s just gorgeous, I’d really love to go there, then you turn the page and go on to something else. Well, for years I have a picture in my head that I saw in some brochure for the Canal de Bourgogne. It was absolutely magnificent. There wasn’t a particular location given for the picture, probably suggesting that all along the canal might be as magnificent… and it probably is. Anyway, I didn’t bother doing anything about it, either looking up the canal or asking anyone.

(The locals are very friendly)

Then on Wednesday there we were… in the picture in my head. It’s magnificent. Now I have some more pictures to keep in my head and you can have some of them too… At every turn there was something pretty, something reflecting light, something drifting along. In case you ever want to visit, here’s the location details: the village is called Vandenesse-en-Auxois, the château is called Châteauneuf-en-Auxois and the red marker on the map below (thanks to Google maps) marks the spot.

(The colours…)

It was too hot to walk up to the Château on Wednesday when we arrived and since there were no grocery shops in town and our cupboards were bare we went for a French lunch. Fortunately, there was a restaurant.) Might have mentioned before that the French are very precise when it comes to mealtimes. Lunch happens between 12.30pm and 2pm, not before and not after. It’s a four course all-included affair for anywhere from €10 to €15 or more. We arrived at 12.01pm as we were hungry and with all the cars parked outside we were concerned about getting a seat. The place was hopping when we arrived. There was a big group around the bar and a good number dotted around the tables. Monsieur took a moment as they do to welcome us and point to a table. We sat down.

(No cars… )

The table was set and there was a bottle of water. We drank the water and waited. We were wondering when the menu might come but the starter arrived at precisely 12.30 so we didn’t need to wonder anymore – there was no choice. That was actually a relief because every meal we eat in France has been delicious so whatever arrives will be ok with us.

(Can you make out the château in the mist?)

At this point the tables were full, mainly men, possibly coming from work. They looked right at home like maybe they came here everyday. And why wouldn’t they, the meal was lovely. I tried the sweet cheese – even when the Mademoiselle explained you pour sugar into it! I thought we misunderstood but no, one of the locals was doing just that. It tasted like a plain yogurt… with sugar.

Next time I’ll tell you about visiting the château, Mairead.

Boating around Besançon

| Mairead

(Can you see the assistant? She sitting waiting for us to enter the lock)

I nearly forgot to tell you about the boat ride. So let’s go back to last Thursday. A glorious day in Besançon I found the tourist office in the morning, got my hair cut, had lunch and headed back to the tourist office to pick up the boat. The walk took a bit longer than I imagined but thankfully the captain didn’t keep a strict departure time. As I was not French-speaking he gave me his notes in English to read as we went along. I nearly fell of the boat when I read that we would be going through locks! And the first one was right around the corner. His assistant was waiting to close and open the gates when we arrived.

(Not too sure what all that means but Ecluse means lock. On the wall of the mill beside the lock)

Lock successfully navigated we set off around the loop that is the river Doups and it was so relaxing. There was a warm light breeze and on every side nature. Imagine you’re sitting on the boat beside me (in one of the bright pink chairs) and let the pictures guide you on your own imaginary boat trip….

(Shade your eyes from the sun as you look up at our first glimpse of the citadel… did I mention I walked up there?)

(Can you see that gap? Under the house? Mind your head we’re going in!)

(Wave to the man walking along the tow-path. Look the captain has put on a light show overhead for us)

(And we’re out the other side of the tunnel… I know that bridge is very low but I promise we will make it underneath…)

(We’re at the automatic lock and there’s the automatic lock keeper… having the chats. Go on give him a wave, he seems very friendly…)

(See I told you – we made it under the bridge!)

(And now we out from under the citadel…. oh did I mention… I think I did)

(Take a deep breath of that beautiful greenery)

(Over there. look. look, you can just make out our aire )

(…and there’s Denis taking a picture of us taking a picture of him… give him a big wave! I rang him when I realised you’d be on the boat with me!)

Do hope you enjoyed our boat trip around Besançon, please take all your belongings as you alight and mind the gap when stepping off the boat.

Just floating along, Mairead.

Loop Le Doubs

| Mairead

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(Can you see me on the boat, on the river Doubs, that loops around Besançon)

Yesterday after finding the tourist office and using their very good wifi, I went for a boat trip. But first… I got my hair cut, in French! This is the first time I’ve had my hair cut in France and through French. You might remember I have been working up to doing this. Part of my preparation was looking in hairdressers’ windows. I was checking for two things, opening times and pictures of hairstyles I liked. I felt that they wouldn’t put a picture in the window unless it was a style they could cut. So if I liked it and they could cut it we were a match made in heaven. A couple of times I liked the pictures but the opening times didn’t line up with when we were parked nearby, until yesterday… when a third thing lined up.

(That’s my hairdresser – the light blue shopfront)

I has passed the salon a number of times before yesterday morning. We were on our way to coffee and although the opening times suggested it should be open, it was closed. We have come across this more than a few times, when a shop or restaurant will have an Ouvert (Open) sign outside but the doors are firmly Fermee (Closed.) Oh well, no hair cutting here. Anyway, I thought no more about it, have my coffee with Denis and went off in search of the tourist office.

(Markers on the ground for one of the walking tours of Besançon)

On my way back I just happen to look into the salon and the door is definitely Ouvert! I walk straight in before I forget this is a good idea. The hairdresser and I say Bonjour and my with very next sentence I check if she can speak English. From her reply I ascertain she has about as much English as my French. Ok… well that’s probably enough. So I take out my halting French, remembering that hair in French is very like horse and I don’t want her to cut my horse and I slowly tell her I would like my hair, em… but I cannot for the life of me remember what the French for cut is. No problem, she is fluent in hand signals and as I am cutting the air with my pretend scissors-fingers she says, coupe (cut). Yes! We are doing this. Then I point to the picture in the window and say, like that…

(The beautiful river Doubs from the bank)

In case you don’t know it and this is of course a generalisation again but here goes: the French are very straight talking, they don’t tell a lie to spare your feelings and although my hairdresser was not talking, her look was very truthful. I could almost hear her thinking I hope she doenn’t think she will look like the twenty-something year-old in the window display. No problem, I understood her concern and used the international hand signal for give it your best shot. And we were off. We tried a little chit chat in our mix of French/English and all in all the experience was most enjoyable.

(Can you see the flag? Did I tell you I walked up there?)

But the time I was paying we both had become very confident in finding ways to understand and be understood, but it took me three goes to understand what she said next. Eventually, she made me understand that we had met earlier. No, I don’t think so. But yes, we had.

(Hair is very important here, even the statues have good hair)

One of the things I love about walking into shops and restaurants in France is that the owner/waitress/server will always, always greet you with a Bonjour! or a Bonsoir! and maybe a little wave. I feel like they are glad to have me as a customer. Sometimes the other customers will also say hello. Just lovely. It usually takes me a few days to stop saying hello as I walk through the door of Costa in Greystones. Anyway, do you remember before I went to find the tourist office I went for a coffee with Denis? We walked in and the owner said Bonjour and the customer enjoying her coffee also said hello…and both of us said hello to each of them. Well, the customer was my hairdresser!

(Here we are enjoying a selfie moment!)

It made me realise something – I don’t really look at the people I meet in cafes or shops…  I would have recognised her if I did. I meet a lot of people when we travel so I have a bit of an excuse, but maybe I could do better. After all I like being greeted so much maybe I would enjoy taking a little more time to pay attention to the greeter.

Boat trip story tomorrow, Mairead.

The Mountain Goat of Besançon

| Mairead

(The fog at Arc et Senans this morning)

We’ve had a couple of grey chilly days but the forecast for today was sunny. Then I opened the blinds and we were surrounded by fog – very beautiful but not sunny. So I dressed in layers again. We were heading for the city of Bresançon (just east of Dijon) and in particular the citadel, another Unesco Heritage Site. We arrived at the aire at about 9.30am, parked up and headed off for a coffee. The aire is in a great central location right beside the river Doubs and the tram line. I don’t know where the tram goes but I am looking forward to finding out.

(Here’s the river Doubs and you might be able to spot the tram lines on the left)

There were plenty of little coffee shops dotted along the old streets, we picked one and afterwards I went off in search of the citadel. the fog had lifted and it was getting a bit warmer, I was starting to regret my layers and long trousers as I followed the signs up a very steep hill. Fortunately, I always bring a rucksack so I stuffed my furry fleece inside and pretended I was enjoying the view until I got my breath back. Of course as soon as I got my breath back I was enjoying the view.

(I walked under this gate, erected in 175 AD (that makes it 1,843 years old!) to honour Emperor Marcus Aurelius. It’s still used, the bus to the citadel goes through here. There was a bus?!)

The citadel used to be a military academy but now it has museums and exhibits and even a zoo. The bit I was most interested in was the walk around the walls. You might remember from our trip earlier this year in Portugal that we kept finding old walled cities and I was learning to enjoy walking fearlessly on high walls. Well, would you believe I’m like some class of a mountain goat now thanks to all that practice in Portugal. Plus the walls here are very safe – they have two railing one on each side.

(Some of the many steps)

It was definitely worth the climb. The views of the river were amazing and I hope you will be very impressed with the altitude and the fact that I was able to take pictures when I got up there… If I could have taken off a few more layers I would have because by then the sun was the hottest it’s been for days and there’s no shade on a citadel wall. I just had to perspire gracefully.

(There’s a little park inside the first gates and I took this picture to remind myself. It smelled so much like autumn at home, kind of damp and kind of fresh. That’s a good smell!)

Coming back down to the town was so much easier and it was lunch time so I rang Denis and we met at a little restaurant, I’d spotted on the way and ordered the dish of the day. While we waited I drank a pint of water while fanning my very red face with the guide-book. It’s a generalisation but I’ll say it anyway – the French smell great. They really do. We, on the other hand, don’t alway smell great. Me in particular, today – definitely not smelling my best. It might have been kinder to go back to the van and have a quick shower. Unfortunately, the French are also sticklers for time and it was now 1.15pm and lunch would be completely over at 2pm. So no shower.

(Look how high up I am! I walked all the way up from that river. Definitely hit my steps goal today )

It was a small restaurant, very cosily decorated with lots of crafty things hanging around. There was just one person serving. She didn’t seem to notice the malodour (I looked that up and it applies…) and was in fact very helpful in explaining the dish in halting English. It was the kind of place where you could believe her mother was inside in the kitchen cooking. And if she was then her mother is a very good chef, the meal was superb (that’s actually the word the French say whoever I say, trés, trés bon so I think I’ll start using it to improve my French.)

(Here’s the view from the wall towards the city)

There were calamari rings, a huge artichoke (I tried to eat all the artichoke – it was my first artichoke, now I know) amazing garlic potato slices, cooked red peppers, green salade (that’s the French way to say salad) with a dressing I would like to have again and fluff eggs (never heard of before, but that’s what the lady called them.) I love French food and because of the amount of garlic on the potatoes the whole embarrassment about smelling a little off, is gone…

We both reek of garlic, Mairead.

The Salt Factory

| Mairead

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(Entrance to La Saline Royale at Arc-et-Senans)

Today we are at a salt factory – not like any factory I’ve ever seen and nowhere near the sea in a place called Arc-et-Senans in the Franche-Comté region. (Just to the right of Burgundy and famous for that comté cheese you love, Ashleigh!) The factory is not in production any more so in order to explain it we’ll have to go back to the 1700’s when salt was like gold. It was used to preserve food before refrigeration and it was heavily taxed to bring in revenue. In fact, it could be one of the things that led to the French Revolution… could be.

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(There was a map…)

So imagine this, we are back in the time of royal France. The king is Louis the fifteenth. He has great power and he happens to have a mistress, Mrs Barry (I don’t want to start any rumours but that’s a very Irish name…) who will come into this story later. At the time there’s a salt factory right beside a lake full of saltwater (ok I’d have to understand a lot more than nothing about geology to explain this but… I have accepted and would suggest you do the same that some earth movements pushed a bit of land, formerly in the sea, now dry with salt stuck to it into the middle of Franche-Comté) in a place called Salins-les-Bains and they wanted to extend production but couldn’t due to it’s location in a valley. Along comes Claude-Nicolas Ledoux.

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(The factory director’s house)

Claude is going to be the hero of this story. Claude came from a middle class family but had aspirations to be an architect. His mother encouraged his drawings as a child and he got money from some monks to go to college. He was very enthusiastic and eventually his enthusiasm paid off and he came to the attention of Mrs Barry (remember? the King’s “friend“) who told the king about him. He designed a very fancy music studio for her in her huge garden (not entirely sure how but she seemed to have plenty of money.) Anyway, one day the King visited her music studio and was very impressed. Between the gigs and the reels Claude ended up getting a job as Commissioner of the Saltworks (all of them) in this part of France (I now realise there must have been many salt factories… probably to do with geology again…) Now, I’m not sure how this job related to being an architect but Claude made it work and learned loads about saltworks factories.

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(Worker’s apartment buildings on left and right. In the middle, the main gate which also contained the bakery… remember we are in France)

Then with all this information he came up with a way to improve things at the hemmed-in factory in the valley – he would move it! Creating salt from salt water requires lots of heat and the way they generated heat was by burning wood but they had pretty much used up all the wood around the valley factory and were dragging wood from all over the region to supply the fires. So, Claude figured it would be cheaper to move the water than the wood and he proposed building a new factory in a forest. He was really pleased with himself and while he was proposing that he went ahead and designed some lovely factory buildings. He had to scrap the first set because the older architects on the job thought they were a bit too fancy and they were also a bit too expensive. Claude was not disheartened, he pared down his initial idea and his proposals were accepted… well mostly.

 

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(There was a lovely exhibition in one of the buildings and I particularly liked this one exhibit about a tree)

I nearly forgot to say, they moved the salt water to the new factory location via wooden pipes! Over distance of… 16Km! Isn’t that amazing? Probably isn’t very amazing really, because they were moving water all over the place at that time in canals and so they had a lot of expertise in this area but still, I’m impressed. Anyway, back to Claude…

(The semi-circle layout of Claude’s factory here at Arc-et-Senans)

Claude was well before his time in his appreciation of living conditions and as well as beautiful buildings for the factory he included apartments in beautiful buildings for the factory workers and their families. He also included gardens for them to get back to nature after a hard day at work. He wanted to build a town around the factory too. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen. There was no town and the workers were working such long hours that they never got to enjoy the gardens. His own life took a bit of a downturn too because along came the French Revolution and anyone with connections to royalty was in big trouble. I think he might have spent time in prison and some of his buildings were destroyed, but in spite of all that he continued to design and in the museum here there are models of lots of buildings he designed that never got built.

(Our view this morning beside the salt factory)

So here we are back in the 21st century and the factory is a museum, a Unesco World Heritage Site and a hotel. Just over the wall there’s a camping car aire where we are parked. Claude is long gone but definitely not forgotten. In fact, you can almost hear him… listen…. My passion for drawing, lead me to Mrs Barry, the king of France and even a prison cell but I’m not sorry, Claude.

Go Claude! Mairead.

Quiet town in France has deadly secret…

| Mairead

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(Quiet little town… or is it?)

We stayed in a noisy place last night so I’m tired today. We often see comments on the app about aires where noisy youths having late night parties in the car park keep the motorhome people awake. We usually give these aires a miss and go somewhere quiet. Yesterday’s aire in a small town seemed very quiet during the day. In fact everything was closed and the path I hoped might lead me on a journey around the town and into the countryside stopped around the back of the church. Nothing much going on here. Or is there?

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(There was a château, but it was closed)

Anyway, there we were, settling down to sleep when it started. Well I supposed it had been going on all day but you just don’t notice it when you’re awake or when you’re happy to be awake. As soon as you want to be asleep all the noises seems much louder. Surely it would stop soon? And it did but it started up again an hour later… and every hour until 7am. We were gone by eight.

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(The culprit… and that’s us parked behind the hedge on the right)

Have you guessed? Our noisy youths weren’t young at all, they were the church bells… I suppose parking so close to the potential risk of a huge church bell ringing all night is on us. So, today I will be extra nice to myself. I will hydrate and rest. I will ignore any comments from Denis that seem negative, because maybe I’m just a little extra sensitive. I will make myself a nice cup of tea and sit outside (with a few additional layers, it’s cold today) on the bench generously erected by the local community. And I will never, ever pick an aire beside a church again.

Zzzzzz, Mairead.

Where are we, now?

| Mairead

We’re in Beaujolais! Another day, another wine-producing region! But before I get into that I want to show you where we’ve been – Burgundy, on our map of France…

(This is a rough estimate of the location. You can see it is very close to Switzerland.)

There’s only so much information you can take in when you visit a country but if you keep returning you take in new things each time and you understand old things you heard previously. Now I know where Burgundy is… I think. You see, next time I visit, or maybe later today when I get into conversation with a French native, I might realise what I thought I knew was not in fact true at all! It happens to me a lot. Until I drew the circle on the map above I thought we were close to the south of France, when in fact we are closer to the north of France.

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(Higgledy-Piggledy in Auxerre)

I’m reading a book at the moment about a fictional private detective in Berlin before the second world war. It’s written in English by an English writer (do you know, I could be wrong about that too, he might be Scottish?) and the detective gets beaten up a lot so I’m not sure I’d recommend it. Actually, I’m not sure why I keep reading it because the fictional detective is also annoyingly sexist but for all his/it’s faults I’m hooked. Anyway, at some point in the narrative the detective is remembering his time as a soldier in the first world war and in particular being in the trenches in Ypres.

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(Swans landing on the river in Auxerre)

Well, we were at a really good war museum in Ypres last summer. The kind that has you fighting with your companion afterwards for no good reason other that you are so upset by what you have seen. (Yes, no, that doesn’t really seem good I’ll grant you.) Anyway, as I’m reading my fiction book I’m thinking, oh yes I know what that’s like, I saw the stuff in the museum. And then I remember…

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(This lovely man, in Saint-Gengoux-le-National, had time to say Bonjour to each person who passed, including me, while repainting every crossing in the town)

All the stuff in the museum was from the perspective of the allies. From that perspective the baddies were the Germans. We all know the baddies were the Germans… weren’t they? But this detective (yes, fictional) in my book was German, he is the baddie, but wait, no, he was having a very hard time in the trenches, he was fighting for his life, surely that’s what I’d do… It’s only a fictional book and I’m not even sure I like it but just that one line about being in the trenches scrambled my mind. Things aren’t always as straightforward as they seem.

I think I’m right about that, Mairead.

Au Revoir Voie Verte!

| Mairead

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(Look a little flower on the Voie Verte)

We seem to have finally left the Voie Vert, the greenway on the old railway tracks. I am missing it. We are in a small village surrounded by vineyards now so we haven’t left the countryside but the pleasure of walking and cycling in amongst the trees, vines and vegetables is gone.

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(Saw this funny tractor pruning the vines yesterday morning)

I hadn’t noticed until I travelled on the greenway that my feet wander towards where my eyes are looking. Well that explains why I am such a nervous cyclist in traffic. It’s because I have a knowing about my wandering and I’m concerned the motorist in the fast cars do not. There were no nerves on the greenway. A few cyclists had to ring their bells at me but they’re just not fast enough to kill me and I was out of the way in no time.

(Look! A bench under a tree!)

It’s possible I’m boring you with all this talk about this area and the greenway but I want to be sure you know how lovely it is. It is very lovely. Like, can you imagine, getting a flight to wherever the planes come to in Burgundy? Hang on I’ll google it….Ok there’s a flight on  Saturday 20th October at 1.10pm with Aer Lingus British Airways non stop return Dublin to Lyon, coming back on Wednesday 24th October for €159. Just the one carry on bag in that price so pack light – there was a great laundrette in the Super U in Prisse. Then there’s a train from the airport to Lyon and another from Lyon to Mâcon, takes 1 hour 43 minutes and costs €36. Then you’re on the Voie Verte! Oh hang on they’re still constructing the bit at Mâcon… hmmm, might have to wait until next year for that.

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(Somewhere to stay!)

Ok are you still imagining? The thing is there are loads of these walks, like the one by the Canal du Nivernais, you remember where we met Valerie and Stewart and Laura and Ronan? And there’s one along the Loire, another along the Saône, there are two other canals, there’s one through vineyards and even one for thrill seeking cyclists (I’l be keeping away from that) called GTM. The map says there’s 1,000 Km of cycle routes (cycle means walking is ok too) in Burgundy. There’s a website and I think it’s in English (yes it is) called http://www.burgundy-by-bike.com. Even the pictures are lovely. You’ll have to imagine places to stay too. I’m imagining it for you and it’s really lovely.

I want to come back here… Mairead.

PS Two things: No, I’m not working for the Burgundy tourist board… and Booking.com have been sending me emails about Mâcon since I googled your imaginary flights… how do they know what we’re imagining?

Nice Little Things

| Mairead

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(The market in Saint-Gengoux-le-National)

I love this Voie Verte greenway. Everyone who travels on it seems very happy. All the bonjours are lovely. We have moved on again but we are still on the greenway. About an hour by road south to a little town of Prisse. First things first, I did go to the market this morning. It wasn’t very big but it was big enough to get a tablecloth and some blue cheese for Denis and a picture of the man with a big knife who cut the blue cheese.

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(Here’s the cheese man)

We arrived in this town, Prisse (funny name) just before lunch. The aire itself is on a wine farm at the edge of town and the greenway runs beside the vines! Actually on our way here we saw the TGV (very fast French train) speeding along beside the motorway. Made me think of fast tracks and slow tracks and how we seemed to have found the slow tracks.

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(All the tablecloths)

After lunch I went to visit the town of Prisse (still funny). It was very small and very quiet but I followed a signpost to the post office and there was a bend in the road just ahead. I wondered if there might be something interesting beyond it. There was. A huge new supermarket!

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(The old railway station road… the old railway is the greenway now)

Maybe that doesn’t seem interesting to you but supermarkets can provide a lot of useful things for the traveller. Yes groceries but this one also had diesel and toilets (I’ll say no more) and a surprise… a laundrette. I didn’t have any washing with me but on our way to the next town we’ll be stopping here. They also had great French craft magazines (can’t read them but can follow the pictures…) Then I noticed the greenway ran just around the back of the supermarket, so I returned to the grape farm aire via a new route. I love when that happens – finding a new way.

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(A pink rose on the greenway)

It’s the little things, always the little things. Actually, just yesterday I realised that I love the nice little things but the opposite is true of the little things that are not so nice. I hate them as much as I love the others, if you see what I mean… Like biting insects. Or a stone in my shoe. Such tiny, tiny things but they tend to focus my mind and I somehow forget about the wonderful day I was having. For now though I’m focussed on the nice little things and going for another walk on the greenway tomorrow.

Prisse, Prisse, Prisse, Mairead.