Exploring The Luberon

Provence is a huge area in France encompassing many different regions, all interesting. Many people think that the Cote d'Azure on the Mediterranean is Provence and it is but only a small part. In my opinion, one of the most lovely and fasinating sections of Provence is the area known as the Luberon and I put together a driving tour of some of my favorite places. It really can't be done in one day but it would be possible to split it into two days with north of the Luberon mountains one day and south the next but be sure to take the chance to savor what makes the Luberon so special. From lavender fields to perched villages, rolling hills covered in vines, fruit trees or olive trees, the Luberon is a place to which you will want to return again and again. Be sure to keep your eyes open for advertisements on little signs announcing either vide greniers or brochantes for buying local Provencal products, antiques or maybe just someone's junk. Especially investigate at tourist offices if there are any festivals which are always fun and which give a unique view of what makes Provence what it is.

Most of the Luberon lies around the Grand and Petite Luberon Mountain range and there are intriguing things to see on both sides. The roads themselves can be narrow, always two lane, sometimes seeming more like one lane with barely room for two cars to pass each other. After a while you will get used to driving along, going around a corner and suddenly seeing a car or truck heading towards you. Just slow down and get over but be careful of the deep ditches that often run along side the roads for water run-off. I often won't give highway numbers but you will easily find the village you want by being alert as you come to round abouts which don't always give highway numbers but only which villages or cities lie in the direction of the exit. By the way, there is nothing wrong with circling a round about several times deciding which exit you need to take.

Heading north from the lovely city of Aix-en-Provence on D 956 you will reach Pertuis not, in my opinion, a very interesting city although it does have a nice tourist center in the old section of the city located in a nice tower. If you go west on D 973 in the direction of Villelaure, there is a really nice winery to visit, le Val de Joanis. It has a magnificant garden and a quality gift shop. Follow the directions for la Tour d'Aigues which you will reach by continuing through many round abouts on D956. la Tour d'Aigues has a charming ruined chateau and you can take a tour of the mostly empty interior. (You many notice that there are several villages with the word “aigues” in there names. This refers to their location in the valley of Aigues. Aigues is an old Provencal word meaning water.)


La Tour d'Aigues

Driving through la Tour d'Aigues continue on D 956 to the perched village of Grambois. It is worth the stop for a look at its petite square and the charming church. If it is Monday and if you have the time, there is a huge market-the largest in Provence- in the mornings on a town outside of the Luberon area called Forcalquier reached by taking N96, a major highway and taking D 12 or N 100 which is on the north side of the Luberons. From Grambois or la Tour d'Aigues follow the signs to Ansouis, winding your way through vineyards. Ansouis has a castle at the top of the village with tours given and a really lovely chapel attached and fantastic views of the country circling around. From Ansouis follow the signs seen at round abouts for Cucuron. Cucuron has a wonderful rectangle pond once used for tanning surrounded by two hundred year old plane trees. The inside of the village itself is interesting to walk around, and you can see how the typical person lives here.


Ansouis


Another alternative when in the area of Grambois is to take D33 in the direction of Vitrolles-en-Luberon, over the mountain and down into the village of Cereste. From there take N100 to Apt which is the site of a good market on Saturday mornings. It is fun to wander through the old streets and to visit the Cathedral of Saint Anne. On the way to Apt is the little village of Saignon well worth a visit. There is a stupendous view from a rocky cliff with lavender fields down below in the summer and, although there are only a couple of small streets, there is a beautiful fountain in front of a hotel and many photo opportunities. It makes a refreshing stop. From apt you can head on to Gordes or Roussillon.

Leaving Cucuron, follow the signs once more to Lourmarin, D 27. This will probably be your favorite village. It is a delight, especially on the Friday morning market day, full of all sorts of Provencal wares to buy as well as fruit, vegetables, cheeses and more. Wander around the alluring streets and sit and have a drink at one of the cafes for a spot of people watching.


Lourmarin

An especially lovely drive is the one on D943 from Lourmarin to Bonnieux, another perched village with breath-taking views of the valley below. From here you can visit Lacoste and Menerbes if you wish. I would recommend that you go to Roussillon, an ochre and rust colored village reflecting the ochre that was once mined there. There is a valley there to walk through too but it will leave your shoes covered in orange dust.


Roussillon

Gordes is nearby, a gorgeous perched village built totally of stone. There is a wonderful view of it as you approach.


Gordes

Not far away is the interesting village des bories, a deserted little city built entirely of rock and, lovely when the lavender is in bloom, Senaque Abbey. For those interested in antiques, Ile sur la Sorgue is a must although it is not within the Luberon. Sunday is the huge market day there but it is packed with antique shops and it is a delightful place to wander around as there are canals and water wheels everywhere. You can end in Cavaillon, a good place for wandering around, eating or shopping.

Corsica Part 3

After a nice breakfast (typical French with great bread) we backtracked a little as I wanted to see a village called SantAntononino. We were high in the mountains and as we took turn after turn we could see villages high on top of hills that we had just driven through across a valley or see the next village we would arrive at perched on top of a hill looking a long distance away but quickly driven into. We went back through Ile Rousse, a popular tourist stop packed with people and traffic as it is a sea side village in a beautiful setting with turquoise and dark blue water curving around the cliffs and beaches which we could see as we climbed again to find SantAntonino.



The whole area gives me the feel of Provence with rocks and boulders everywhere, and many perched villages, although there is a lot more vegetation called maquis here in Corsica. The village was one of those built totally of rocks easily found here with winding climbing steets also of stone reminding me of Gordes. There wasn't that much there to see other than the stellar view-just a few shops and places to eat. We stopped to see a 12th century church inside a cemetery with primitive carvings on the outside in the area.



Then we crossed what is called a desert here, although I'm not sure why. There were mainly rocks but there was vegetation, not sand with very little else to see. Maybe nothing can be grown there.
We made our way up and then down many curves and twists to St Florent, a little harbor village which we didn't like nearly as much as Calvi although my husband had good memories of it when he went sailing with friends years ago around the island. It didn't have the neat beaches and architecture of Calvi although there are apparantly beaches to be found only not easily accessed.
Our hotel was interesting. When we first pulled in we were appalled as we entered an unpaved parking lot full of weeds and unfinished walls. We would have driven on and found another place but we had already payed for our room with a credit card. We went through a garden which badly needed weeding to a dirty, messy office. Thank goodness our room turned out to be clean and it had a/c and a TV so all was fine. They even served drinks in the evening with a few munchies on a porch with a view of children's toys everywhere in the weed overrun yard and cleaning products and equipement on shelves with spiderwebs everwhere (I am a critical viewer of other people's housekeeping) and we met everyone staying there. The owner of the hotel is a Harley Davidson owner and so was one of the guests. He=2 0told us about really delightful sounding but remote beaches but it would require a four wheeler or be a three hour walk. A nice little lady sat next to me at the “cocktail hour”. She and her husband were from Paris and she told me that they had come to Corsica several years ago and fallen in love with it. Then she told me that on her first trip she and her husband had circled the island on their Harley Davidson motorcycle. This surprised me as she certainly didn't look the part sitting there with short gray hair cut in an old fashioned curly short style. I looked at her husband and he was more the type with a sleeveless t-shirt and beard. Just goes to show—you can't judge a book by its cover.

The next day we drove back to Calvi after passing through a really bad traffic jam in Ile Rousse. All the highways in Corsica are two lane and when you enter villages and towns it can really be crowded. After picking lunch, we headed on to Piana climbing, twisting and turning as all roads seem to do here passing breath-taking views of the deep blue sea below breaking on cliffs, and finally entering the famous calenques which are cliffs and rocks in shades of red and rust in all sorts of intersting shapes. It is really lovely.



We had dinner at the gite where we spent the night in Piana which featured wonderful salads made up from vegetables from their own garden-jullienned zuchinni, carrots, onions and anise and another of jullienned beets. We were also served sanglier, wild boar, which, as expected, tasted gamey but I ate a little of it for the experience. The gite is set up rather like a dorm-we have a room with a bed (no a/c or TV), and the bathroom is down the hall with showers down stairs. I haven't done something like this since high school camp. There is a young couple here riding their bikes. They started in Accacio and plan to ride up all the way to Ile Rousse which is over 150 kilometers with lots of climbs. It is rather dangerous with cars as one must slow way down to get by approaching cars. We had a really fabulous sunset as we sat outside in the rather chilly air eating dinner. Everyone went and got coats, sweaters and long pants. I'm not sure if it is a cold spell, or due to the wind, or if it is normal for this part of Corsica.
The next day was spent in Cargese where we scuba dived which was disappointing due to the lack of much to see. The town itself was interesting with two lovely churches and a tiny harbor down at the bottom of the hill on which the buildings tumble down. Back to Ile Rousse the next day where we caught the ferry for a five hour ride to Nice.
We really loved Corisca. We loved it so much we are going back next June. It's undeveloped and simple and, best of all, close to France.

Corsica Part 2

We left Calvi and set off to do a bit of exploring. First we went to the west coast to see a chapel called Notre Dame della Serra which turned out to be closed but was set up on top of a cliff overlooking a spectacular view of Calvi and the bay. A statue of the Virgin Mary was on top of a big group of rocks.





There are huge rocks in this part of Corsica, some with very strange shapes with part of the shell of the rock broken off with a halow section inside. It isn't unusual to see buildings using these in their structures. The whole area reminded me of northern Arizona which has an area that is very rocky, especially one called Granite Dells near Prescott.

Next we went back through Calvi and then took highway D 151 which took us to Calenzana where we had lunch, then to Zilia, Lunghignano where there was an olive press turned by a friendly mule named Charley where we bought some olive oil and a t-shirt.



The road kept curving up and up until we reached the summet full of some vegetation but mostly rocks and boulders and, I bet, snow in the winter. We finally made it to our village called Speloncato which turned out to be charming with two unusual churches and interesting streets winding up to a view of a lake far down below. Our hotel, A Spelunca, was made from the former summer palace of Cardinal Savelli, a minister of Po pe Pius IX.



There were no elevators or air conditioning (or WiFi or TV) but it was very charming with antiques all around. Our room had a strange little cubicle and a plastic curtain for the toilet but here was a nice shower in our room. The hotel was totally full and we understand that after the 15th of July it is almost impossible to get a room anywhere in Corsica, especially in August when most of Europe and especially France take vacations. We decided that we very much want to retun to Calvi again and stay at the same hotel we were in, l'Onda, which is near the beach but it will probably be in June to escape the crowds. We had a nice meal at the cafe across from our hotel in Speloncato with lots of Corsican rose. When the sun set the temperatures cooled off and with the open window I was thinking we would have a cool night which we did. By the way, there were signs all over the hotel warning clients to close the windows and shutters when they were there or left the rooms due to violent winds. I'm sure they must really blow around here with the village on such a high mountain. When we went into our room for the night there was a wonderful crescent moon in the sky that we could see from our window. Such a nice stop.

Corsica Part I

We finally had a trip planned to Corsica, a place I had had on my list of places to visit ever since we came to France. Corsica is French island which is 114 miles long by 52 wide lying between France and Italy. Sardenia, which is Italian, is immediately to the south. Corsica through many conquerers and rulers finally ended up being French although apparantly there are radical citizens who want to have their own country and sometimes set off bombs. As late as the 50's it was very primitive and under-developed and the Corsicans were known for their violent disagreements, usually over honor, and the shooting and killing of offenders often as many as 900 in one year being killed. Once 36 people died as the result of a vendetta when a sheep was wounded. I think it is pretty much a thing of the past. Now there are people involved in drug rings usually set up in Marseilles from what I read. It is now a haven for tourists with all sorts of hotels and resorts. There are many rugged mountains with forests inbetween and it is known as The Granite Island. It is also the birthplace of Napoleon although his family had to flee to France during a political uprising there and Napoleon only returned there once on his way back to France from Egypt.




We set off for Toulon to catch the ferry to Corsica. Various ferries can be caught in many places along the coast from France but Toulon was our hopping off point due to last minute tickets. We got in line with other cars and were supposed to be boarded and on our way by 10:30 PM but another huge ferry pulled in first and ours finally did afterwards. They are all enormous, able to hold six to eight hundred cars. We didn't board the ferry until 10:30 and we didn't set off until 11:30. It turned out that this was going to be an overnight trip taking almost eight hours. If we had left from Marseille and gone to the town of Calvi in Corsica it would have been a five hour trip. Sometimes you just can't plan these things in time. Almost everyone in France that I told that we were going to Corsica always replied, “So are we!” It turns out Corsica is a very popular vacation spot for both French and Italians. We didn't have tickets for either rooms with beds or special chairs that reclined into beds. Luckily, we just went to the bar, claimed long couches and, in a few hours, were stretched out trying to sleep. Of course it was noisy, full of bright lights and people walked around for hours. Around 2 AM a little girl started acting up and yelling “No!” over and over. Luckily they took her out. Around 4 AM a baby started crying but hushed up before long. Actually, I didn't sleep much worse than I do on a plane from Paris to the States although Maurice got very little sleep.



Finally we landed in our port of Ajaccio. Imagine two huge ferries carrying hundreds of cars each, both unloading at the same time. It took us quite a while to finally get on the road. We didn't even take time to explore Ajaccio as we had to head north to Calvi where Maurice's son and his girlfriend had to find a space at a camp where they were going to stay for a few days for a music concert and they had to get there early enough so there were still some places to chose from. There are two ways to Calvi from Ajaccio. One is a picturesque, winding road along the coast and the other is cutting across the island, then heading north and then west to finally reach Calvi on the northern end of the island. On the map it looks like the coast road would be best but actually, because of the curves, it takes twice as long. As it was, we twisted and curved our way across mountains across the center of Corsica actually circling the base of what looks like an enormous chain finally reaching Calvi in about three hours. A camp site was secured. The camps seem very nice with huge buildings holding shower stalls, toilets and sinks, swimming pools, trees to camp under, a unit with small refrigerators to rent, and a short walk to a beach.
We then had lunch and set off to have a look at Calvi which has a beautiful harbor full of huge sail boats and yachts and then a climb to the top of the village for breath-taking views of the turquoise and blue waters below. Calvi seemed to me to be a typical French village full of ancient buildings, interesting churches and shops for tourists. That evening we sat on the beach with a bottle of Corsican rose wine and watched the sun set. Nearby a small bar was playing music, a mix of pop and techno and young people were on the beach dancing and enjoying the music. I think I was the oldest person on the beach. We then had a pizza at a little place at the camp before calling it a day.

Dijon and Beyond

I have often been asked, “What are some good areas outside of Paris to visit?” There are many, many possibilities such as Giverny; Epernay and the Champagne region; Chartres; a trip to Normandy is even possible. If the person asking has more than one day available I often recommend making a trip to Dijon and some of the other villages and cities nearby. I made my first trip to Dijon by train from Gare de Lyon and arrived there in a little over an hour. The old city is a short walk from the train station and the tourist information building is passed on the way — so a map can be picked up. Walk through a nice pedestrian area, with a stop at a Maille shop if you want some mustard from the area and a cute little mustard jar to put it in. Cassis, a sweet liquor, is also made in the area and is seen in many of the shops along the way.
One of the distinctive things about architecture in Burgundy, the section of France in which Dijon is located, is the wonderful rooftops decorated in colorful argyle-like designs. There is also a wonderful delicate outline around many doorways shaped in a gothic design — seen in many castles and buildings throughout the region. The cathedral is an interesting one to wander through and the outside is loaded with statutes on the roof. I loved the museum, Musée des Beaux-Arts, a one time palace, full of great artwork and the very dramatic elevated tombs of Dukes of Burgundy: Philip the Bold and John the Fearless surrounded by hovering angels. Burgundy, or Bourgogne, was once a separate country from France and the dukes were the royalty there. They were often in disputes with France and even sided with England at times.
If you are lucky enough to have a car there is a wonderful town nearby to see called Chateauneuf. My husband and I had passed this village many times on the way to southern France and had wanted to visit it. It sits on the top of a high hill topped with a castle. Finally, we made plans to stop over night. It is a charming village where fewer than 100 inhabitants live and it is small enough to see in an hour. We walked around looking at old buildings with ancient carvings above the doors, some with those gothic outlines. There is a huge round tower not far from the center of the village and a rather magical walk through a forest leads to an old chapel and a moss covered wall with a bench in front made of huge slabs of rock. There are several view points of the valley below which are breathtaking with rectangular fields spread out below gentle hills and vineyards in their soldierly rows. We walked through the castle free of charge seeing 3 or 4 different centuries of work. I liked the chapel in the castle the best with a replica of the tomb of Philippe Pot, one of the rulers there. It is unusual in that eight black robed monk statues stand around it. The real tomb is in the Louvre and the monks there support the tomb with the "body" of Philippe on their shoulders. We learned some curious local history. The last remaining member of the original family was put to death when she poisoned a husband she had been forced to wed. The title was then passed to Philippe Pot.
In the village, there is also a sixteenth century church with a carved wooden pulpit, some remains of a cross and ramparts, where there are stunning views of the Burgundy Canal and countryside. We stayed in a nice hotel right next to the castle, the Hostellerie du Chateau, run by a young couple. It was very clean and there is a nice restaurant for evening dining. A great lunch was available right across the way at the Grill of the Castle. We just had steak and frites — but they were great, followed by an ice cream sundae chosen from a huge selection of flavors.
The next day we drove on a small road that followed the Burgundy Canal for a while and we decided we wanted to do a barge trip someday. We passed freshly tilled fields waiting for the spring crops to be planted and some growing what looked like green grass to me. Even in the winter it was a beautiful area with gently rolling hills to drive through as we made our way to the little city of Beaune. This is yet another interesting place to walk through. It has its own little Arc de Triomphe and many parts of an old city wall remain. And, of course, the argyle tiled roofs can be seen in many places. It's a great city to walk around with pedestrian areas and lots of great shopping.
And I didn't mean to forget to mention the wine — those wonderful Burgundy wines. This is the area to stop and try some really great vintages. There is a hall in Beaune called the Marché aux Vins where close to 40 wines can be tasted and bought. And, they ship overseas, if you are lucky enough to live in a State allows it. We did all of these stops in two days with one overnight stay in Chateauneuf and were back in Paris in time for dinner. It's just one more wonderful area to see close to Paris.

Hostellerie du Chateau
Chateauneuf, Bourgogne, France
Telephone: 03 80 49 22 00

Marché aux Vins
Rue Nicolas-Rolin
Beaune

Finding Europe in America

Few of us would consider Washington D.C. one of the side roads of Europe—but it can be thought of as a New Rome. I have spent the better part of the year in the D.C. area, becoming acquainted with a city that can hold its own with any of the European capitals in its cultural richness and its multiethnic diversity. What has been not only surprising to me but a fact of some chagrin is that I am more familiar with many areas of Europe than I am with this corner of the United States. And I certainly did not expect to find myself in France, as I did last night.

The French Embassy in Washington offers to visitors, which it welcomes in a particularly charming and very French way, a cultural program of exhibits, performances and concerts that showcase French culture. Last Sunday all the European embassies held open house. Our visit to the French Embassy introduced my companions to wonderful French wines, pastries and cheeses, the varied programs of the Alliance Française, and intrigued a gaggle of children with a display of French aviation achievements sponsored by Air France. French music playing in the courtyard and the Embassy staff greeting visitors made it indeed a step across the Atlantic to French territory.

Last night I visited the Embassy once again to hear one of the last and surely one of the best of this year’s series of concerts offered at La Maison Française in the Embassy itself. The Suspicious Cheese Lords, a male a cappella ensemble, enthralled a packed house with a program of little heard and previously unrecorded works of the Renaissance master composer, Jean Mouton. I was unfamiliar with Mouton, despite the fact that a large population of families by that name live in my Louisiana home town, all descended from a 17th century immigrant to Acadia, now Nova Scotia whose came to Louisiana in the great expulsion from there in the mid-1700s, an early example of ethnic cleansing. This earlier musical Jean Mouton, perhaps related to the Acadian and Louisiana families, was probably born in northern France in the mid-1450s. He is first recorded as a singer and a teacher in a church in Nesle, moving to the Cathedral in St. Omer by 1494 and becoming master of the boys choir at Amien Cathedral in 1500. He ultimately became a prominent member and Master of the Chapel for Queen Anne of Brittany from 1510 until his death in 1522. He compositions were widely influential in France and in other parts of Europe; he was praised by the Pope and celebrated by other European musicians. Now, more than 400 years since they were written, his major compositions are being recorded, performed and re-published.


The Suspicious Cheese Lords


This was a spellbinding concert. The Cheese Lords—their name derives from a corruption of the first line of one of their standard Latin motets—first coalesced in 1996, when Clifton (“Skip”) West III invited some of his friends to join him for food, friendship and singing. They continue to have dinner together during their rehearsals, and their focus on food extended to the cheeses served with wine and good French bread after the concert. The cheeses alone took me right across the Atlantic. An exhibition of Delphine Perlstein’s paintings enlived the atrium for the reception.


From Deborah Perlstein’s Tisse Sa Toile.


If you can’t get to Europe but you can get to D.C., think about a “vacation” in France—or Germany, or Britain, or Finland—attending the cultural programs at their embassies. The Open House at the German embassy last Sunday was particularly good fun as well, with bratwurst, free beer, a Bavarian band and an Alpine horn concert on the patio.

The special exhibition at the National Gallery on the Mall offers another taste of France. In the Forest of Fontainebleu: Painters and Photographers from Corot to Monet displays some 100 nineteenth century paintings, pastels and photographs made in the forest near Paris before 1870. Tracing the development of French landscape painting, it leads the viewer down a romantic road at the very dawn of new technologies as they led to a modern vision.


Claude Monet, Walking in the Forest of Fontainebleu

Europe’s side roads extend farther than we normally suspect! Next week, I think I’ll visit Britain. Until I can get back to Europe, I will seek European experiences here at home, and Washington isn’t the only place to find them. Wherever you live, you can travel a European cultural road until you can actually get there, even if you’re housebound.

Citroën: A French Legend

I am not a person who pays much attention to cars. When my son says, "Wow, did you see that car?" I never have. I'm not too picky about what kind of car I drive. I just want it to be dependable and easy to park. But all of that changed when I saw my first Deux Chevaux here in Paris. There is just something special about it:it has personality, spunk. Just the fact that its name means “Two Horses” is spunky, even though it only means it has two cylinders. I would love to have one but as they are no longer making them and as we already have a car, I probably won't ever get my wish. There is an antique car show the first Sunday of every month in front of the Chateau Vincennes — and there is always at least one Deux Chevaux. I am hoping to talk one of the owners into giving me a ride. I want to see what it is like inside.
I found out that the Deux Chavaux was made by Citroën, a French company. I had no idea that Citroën was somebody's name until I was strolling through the Montparnasse Cemetery and saw the name Citroën on a gravestone. I have since found out that Renault and Peugeot are also family names. It wasn't until I met a young Australian who was absolutely crazy about Citroën and it's suspension (something about hydro-pneumatic suspension) that I got curious about the company. There are clubs all over the world of Citroën fanatics where they must spend a lot of time discussing where to find spare parts for cars no longer being made. There are 60 registered clubs in Paris alone.
It was an André Citroën, an engineer, who started his own company and by 1919 was the first to mass produce a European car that was unlike others. It came with electric lighting, a starter, a hood, and a spare tire. Citroën was a marketing genius who hired the Eiffel Tower and advertised his car on the side with a sign 30 meters high with 200,000 light bulbs. He talked the French government into letting him make safety signs that said things like, "Dangerous Bend — Slow Down — Thanks to Citroën". He did the first mass mailing of car catalogues to customers and started his own printing company. Josephine Baker sang at a car show, "I have two loves: my country and my Citroën."
The first documentary films were done by the Citroën company when a caterpillar car did an expedition from Beruit to Peking crossing the Himalayas and Gobi Desert. When the Deux Chevaux was dreamed up most cars in Europe were far too expensive for ordinary workers and farmers to buy. In fact, when the Deux Chevaux model was first introduced in 1931, it was not supposed to cost more than '2 cows'. This meant it had to be light with special suspension and could only go at slow speeds. It was, in fact, a type of bicycle with four wheels, although watertight, and able to roll along at 60 kph if the terrain was flat and there was no wind. There is also the story that it had to be able to be driven across a field by a farmer wearing wooden clogs, with eggs in the back seat that would arrive at his destination unbroken.
Eventually, in 1935, the company started having financial problems and Citroën handed over his shares to Michelin who had previously helped him. He then retired and just a few months later died. 1948 was the year the car itself got it's famous shape, the one I like so much. In 1976 Peugeot bought Citroën although the cars made by them still say Citroën and still have the little double chevron sign, which has always been the logo for Citroën.
There are many legends about Citroën. Supposedly two of the latest models were buried during W.W.II to save them from Hitler's hands and dug up after the end of the war. Charles de Gaulle escaped an assassination attempt while driving one; when that famous suspension allowed him to escape even though all four wheels had been shot out. Citroën has turned out to be yet one more thing about France that I had no idea about. I see them parked here and there in Paris and have whizzed past them on highways without a clue to their history. Ask most Frenchmen about it and they say "Yes, it is a French Legend."

Chartres

There are many treasures to be seen outside of Paris--interesting villages, imposing châteaux, and magnificent cathedrals. One of the most breathtaking of these is the cathedral of Our Lady of Chartres, whose two towers rise majestically to dominate the wheat fields of the surrounding countryside. A Gothic masterpiece built eight centuries ago to honor the Virgin Mary, Chartres cathedral is only an hour's train ride from the Gare Montparnasse in Paris.

 Crowds of visitors come to Chartres to see the cathedral and peer through the dark, vaulted space at the world-famous stained glass, admiring especially the "Chartres blue," which has not been duplicated in modern times.


 
The town of Chartres was a center for the cult of the Virgin throughout the Middle Ages, as it possessed a statue of Mary reportedly carved by St. Luke, as well as the "Sacred Tunic," supposedly worn by the Virgin at the time of the birth of Christ. Now it is one of most famous cathedrals in France, a splendid example of the "High Gothic" style of architecture. (The facade, however, is early Gothic; it was rebuilt after a fire.) Visitors will see that the floor of the cathedral slopes down near the front entrance; pilgrims slept at the cathedral, and the floors were washed off afterwards, the water flowing out the door.

Embedded in the cathedral's stone floor is one of the world's most famous labyrinths, a winding path that stretches the width of the cathedral's nave and twists and arcs through 11 concentric circles. The labyrinth at Chartres was built around 1200 and is laid into the floor in a style sometimes referred to as a pavement maze. The original centerpiece has been removed, and other areas of the labyrinth have been restored.

This labyrinth was meant to be walked. In the past it could be walked as a pilgrimage and/or for repentance. As a pilgrimage it was a questing, searching journey with the hope of becoming closer to God. When it was used for repentance the pilgrims would walk on their knees. Sometimes this 11-circuit labyrinth would serve as a substitute for an actual pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and as a result it came to be called the "Chemin de Jerusalem," or Road of Jerusalem.
 
In walking the Chartres style labyrinth one meanders through each of the four quadrants several times before reaching the goal at the center: a rosette design that is rich in symbolism, including that of enlightenment. The four arms of the Christian cross are also visible. Those interested in walking the labyrinth today must do so on Fridays, when all of the chairs that cover it are removed.
 
Visitors can also explore the subterranean chapels and crypt; tickets for guided tours are available at the bookshop outside and toward the back of the cathedral. Just beyond the bookshop are the cathedral's apse and a pretty garden overlooking part of the old town.
 
 One of the best ways to see the cathedral is to take one of two tours offered by Malcolm Miller. An Englishman, Mr. Miller has lived in Chartres for many years, making the study of the cathedral his life's work. He has been conducting tours for more than four decades, enlightening many thousands of visitors about the cathedral's history, archicture, and treasures. The tours, which run an hour and a quarter, are given daily except Sunday at noon and at 2:45 P.M. To Mr. Miller, "Chartres is like a modern public library except that the texts are in stained glass and sculpture instead. No one person can claim to have read all the books in a library! Almost 70, and having guided here for 45 years I am still learning!" Mr. Miller came to Chartres as a student and returned to teach, never dreaming he would someday be giving daily tours and would have written five books about the cathedral. You can tell, while taking one of his tours, that he loves to teach. It is wonderful to sit in an area of the church and have Mr. Miller point out different architectural components of the church or "read" an ancient stained glass window, top to bottom, left to right.
 
After the tour, you will be tempted to stroll around the church, check out the bookstore and look at the books that Mr. Miller has written, then perhaps meander around the village but, if you want to eat lunch, you must immediately set off and find your restaurant as they close very early by French standards. There are bistros here and there with one in particular across the way from the cathedral where later meals can be obtained.

The town of Chartres itself is a nice bonus; narrow, winding streets head downhill from the cathedral to the river, where ancient stones can still be seen standing. A map obtained from the tourist center gives an interesting, self-guided walking tour of the village. 

You can take a 3 Km walk to explore the sites of ancient Chartres; signs are posted to lead visitors along the way. The stroll begins at the cathedral; turn left, and you will find the Centre International du Vitrail (an exhibition and research center of stained glass). Go back to the cathedral, and behind it you will find the Musée des Beaux-Arts, a museum housing 12 paintings of the apostles by Leonard Limousin. Continue through the gardens and you will reach la Fontaine de St.-André, which was once the main water supply for the city. Then you follow the river until you reach the Reine Blanche, which is famous for its sculpted wooden staircase. Nearby is the Eglise de St.-Pierre with its wonderful stained glass windows. Next, follow the hill to the Maison de l'Archeologie and then to rue de la Poissonnière before returning to the cathedral.
Practical information:
 
Reservations are not needed for Malcolm Miller's public tours--just wait by the bookshop at noon or 2:45. Information: (33-2) 37.28.15.58, fax (33-2) 37.28.33.03. Cost: 10 euros, and more than worth it. He is occasionally out of town so you might want to call before going if you want one of his tours.
 
Trains to Chartres from Paris leave the Gare Montparnasse at least once an hour. The fare is approximately $14, and the trip typically takes a little over an hour. The walk from the train station in Chartres to the cathedral takes just about ten minutes.
 
The noted restaurant La Vieille Maison is on one of the narrow streets near the cathedral, in a historic building dating from the 14th century. The food is wonderful. 5 rue au Lait (tel. 02-37-34-10-67).
 
Moulin de Ponceau, on the river below the cathedral, is a great place for lunch (if you arrive before the 2:00 p.m. closing).
 

England's Side Roads in the Spring

I think it was T.S. Eliot who said, “April is the cruelest month…” He was writing in England, and about England, and I think must have had some terrible personal experience when he wrote it. I visited England one year in February, another year in March, another in April, and several times have traveled the back roads of both England and Ireland in May, and I have seldom been anywhere more beautiful. In February, the crocuses sprinkled “The Backs” of the colleges along the Cam in Cambridge. In March, the daffodils were clouds of yellow blowing in the breezes in St. James Park in London and even broke through the snow in Wiltshire. In April, flowering trees brought surprising color to even the dreariest subdivision, and May was an explosion of yellow broom and white hawthorn. June may be best of all, with rhododendron hedges embracing the roads all over southeast England, and the roses climbing over doorways and spilling into tiny streets in villages everywhere.



Recently talking with a group of friends planning to visit Britain, I suggested that they drive themselves through parts of the country. They were immediately against the idea, expressing nervous fears of driving on “the wrong side of the road.” I know this is a daunting idea to many Americans, sadly. It is only with the independence that a car permits that some of England’s best rewards can be found. Driving through Britain in the Spring is perhaps one of the most intoxicating travel experiences one can have.



Backroads travel is hard to do by train or by public transportation, and hiring a driver with a car can be prohibitively expensive. But for a price that will be more cost effective for two or more even than the train, even with Europe’s gas prices-- nowadays not much more frustrating than America’s—and a few days taking careful practice on back country roads, travelers willing to launch themselves into the countryside will be richly satisfied. Driving allows pub lunches and cream teas unobtainable in the larger cities, sojourns in smaller, friendly, locally-owned Bed-and-Breakfast guest houses, and visits to hard-to-access tourist sites.

Our most memorable travel experiences have been in staying with folks all over Britain who not only served exceptional breakfasts but accompanied them with insight into the history of the region, told us of sites we would otherwise have missed, and generally introduced us to the real culture of Britain. A brief online or letter request to the tourist authorities in the region you plan to visit will bring all the information you need about lodging options, restaurants, and local landmarks. Taking to the low road—the not-so-beaten-path, is the best way to feel a part of the place. And driving through arches of rhododendron or fields of hawthorn simply can’t be experienced any other way—nor can staying in a rose-bowered guest house.

The Coolest Thing I Have Ever Done

The Coolest Thing I Have Ever Done


I'm in Paris, full of marvelous things to see and do. Treasures and history are on every corner. I'm with a group of people and a man turns to me and says, with his eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas, "This is the coolest thing I have ever done!" What was he talking about? Walking down the Champ-Elysées? Looking at Paris spread out at his feet from the highest level of the Eiffel Tower? Maybe a meal at Tour d'Argent? He probably had done all of those, but none of the above was what he was talking about. So what was it?

It was a ride on a Segway, a new-fangled mode of transportation that had people stopping and staring, pointing and smiling. It is a human transporter allowing people to go up to speeds of 12 miles an hour in any pedestrian environment. I suspect it was first invented to help people with limited mobility, but it is so much fun that everyone wants to hop on and try it.



The only place in Paris that you can rent a Segway is at Fat Bike Tours, an American owned and run operation, owned by David Mebane. He has the exclusive contract with Segway as the only tour operator to have these machines.

I joined a group one day for a trial run. A quick orientation is needed before you set off. There are three keys for starting a Segway, each producing a different speed. The red key, being the fastest, is no longer available to tourists after two couples left a guide in the dust speeding for the fun of it, not as tourists getting a look at Paris. Our great guide, Brittany, had to hold on to our Segway when we first stepped on because at first you wobble back and forth, then suddenly you are balancing-- some sort of gyroscope system underneath the machine keeps you balanced. Then you just lean forward and pull back on the handles to stop or to reverse if already stopped. The turning device is on the left handle. This is the part I enjoyed most, as you turn very quickly and easily and maneuver like something out of Star Wars. The Segway was easy to ride and great fun.

Then we were off on our tour, seeing the Eiffel Tower, Invalides, the Louvre, Ecole Militaire, Alexander III bridge, Place de la Concorde and more. We were covering ground 2 to 3 times faster than the pedestrians we whizzed by on the sidewalks. We could go up or down small curbs easily and quickly come to a stop. I imagine that those who have a little trouble with mobility would love the Segway. All that is necessary physically is being able to step up and down. Plus, you must weigh at least 70 pounds.

Part of the fun of the tour on the Segway is the attention we attracted. As we drove by, people stared either with a smile, because they could see how much fun it was, or with a frown, wondering what in the heck this new-fangled contraption was (however you say that in French). Bikes aren't allowed in parks, and we saw security men and policemen trying to decide if we should be made to dismount and walk our Segways. We found that as long as we didn't go right up to the Pyramid at the Louvre they would let us continue to ride.

When we stopped there to take a look at the Pyramid from a distance, people surrounded us and asked, "Where can you rent these?," "How do these work?," "What are these?," "Can you buy them here in Paris?," and on and on. I have a feeling that Madonna gets this kind of attention when she goes out for a walk. For just a few hours on one day, it was a rather heady feeling. We saw a bike tour go by us and I saw the riders look at us with envy.

David, the owner, told me that after a Prince of Saudi Arabia tried the latest Segway, he immediately went and ordered 30 of them for his use back home, as well as for his family and employees. Plaza Athenée has struck a deal with David to put carrying bags with their name on them for groups coming from this prestigious hotel to do the Segway Tour.

I asked David why this tour has become so wildly popular and he said he thought it was because it was so new--the latest rage. Maybe in a year or so the fad will pass, but it sure is a draw at the present time.



Is it potentially dangerous? I guess it could be. The Segway stops so quickly and easily that I don't think it would be easy to run into a pedestrian. It is possible to fall off, and I'm sure a few people will run into a wall or get a wheel caught in some gravel. No one in my group had any problems once we became familiar with our Segways. All I know is that it was a really fun thing to do and, possibly, "the coolest thing I have ever done."

These tours are very quickly booked. Call or email ahead of time to book.

Fat Bike Tours-Paris
Dates : Every day March 1st-October 15th
Times: Day tour at 10:30am, night tour at 6:30pm
Prices: Day tour 70 Euro, night tour 70 Euro, both tours 125 Euros
Meeting Point: Both tours meet in the area under the Eiffel Tower
Phone : 01 56 58 10 54
Web site :http://www.fattirebiketoursparis.com/
email: info@FatTireBikeToursParis.com

le Refuge

My husband and I decided to go on a short hiking vacation in the French Alps with another couple. Maurice has been hiking many times over the years and knew a beautiful area with great hiking trails and places to stay. He told me it would be a little basic but I thought, "How bad could it be?" I pictured a little building made of wood, planks for the flooring, maybe some showers like the ones I experienced in gym class--those stalls all lined up but with doors. To me, basic means no curtains on the windows. I was to learn that basic means something else to a French hiker.

We set off early one morning from Paris heading south to Lyon and then east through Grenoble and into the French Alps. The roads got higher, narrower and more winding and rivers and streams could be seen far below. At times we had to stop to let cars pass which were coming from the other direction on the narrow road. Eventually, the road ended when we had come to the end of the world in a little village called La Berarde. We spent the night in a simple hotel there; the first in the area, it was built in 1909. We even took a short hike out into the valley, an hour each way, and saw the river up close and glaciers shining in the distance nestled on top of various mountains. It is not an area full of wild nightlife, and the altitude made us sleepy anyway, so we were in bed early.

The next morning we each packed, as lightly as we could, the backpacks we would carry, including the ingredients for a picnic at the top. Up the trail we started, the end of which we would find a refuge, famous places all over the Alps for hikers and visitors to the mountains needing shelter and a place to sleep. The first part was hard going, all uphill and the trail was covered in all sizes of rocks left behind when a glacier, centuries ago, slid its way down the mountain making a valley and leaving behind a clutter of rocky debris.



My backpack got heavier and heavier cutting into my shoulders. We reached a fairly flat area, crossed a stream a couple of times, walked in a green area with trees, which was pleasant. Waterfalls could be seen tumbling down the mountains that rose up on either side of us. Then it became difficult again--more rocks and all uphill. Eventually we could see the refuge up the mountain in the distance looking like something out of Lord of the Rings or maybe a labor camp, institutional in appearance. The men were losing patience with us women and finally left us behind in disgust and, scurrying up the boulders, got to the refuge first. They were waiting at a table outside in the sun, smiling, when we finally arrived, sweating, hot and with shaky legs. I had thought all the walking and stair climbing I’d done in Paris would prepare me for hiking. I was wrong.

We sat there and had a nice picnic. Then I wandered inside to find the toilet. Imagine the horror of someone with burning thighs and weak knees when opening the stall door and seeing a Turkish toilet, a spider-web-covered black hole in the ground. Oh the trauma.

I found the proprietor. "Where are the showers?" this innocent asked.

"There aren’t any."

I began to understand what "basic" meant. I looked at a long sink beneath some windows. I realized that this was going to be where any cleaning up would be done. There was a sign in French that my friend translated into, "This sink is for personal cleaning purposes only. Any dishes must be washed outside in the torrent." I was glad we hadn’t brought any dishes. I could see them being washed away in the fast-flowing stream down to the valley below.

I remembered that I had forgotten to include a towel in my backpack. "Do you have any towels for rent, or that someone may have left behind?"

"No."

"I don’t suppose there is any hot water?"

"No, all the water comes straight down the mountain from the glacier." The glacier could be seen high up on the mountain behind the refuge, melting in the summer heat.
This meant that the water would be ice cold. It occurred to me that I could have left a whole change of clothes behind in the car and not have lugged them up the mountain on my back. I also found out that we had to haul our own garbage with us when we went back down. Had we known that, we would have had one of the sandwiches sold there and not made so much trash with our picnic.

Then I went upstairs to check out the sleeping arrangements. My husband had told me that it would be a dorm set-up. I pictured rows of bunk beds. What I found was two giant bunk beds that ran from wall to wall with a row of mattresses all together where everyone would be "cheek and jowl" that night, rather like the beds I have seen in concentration camp movies. There were folded-up blankets, dirty looking mattress covers and pillows which, I discovered when I laid my head down that night, smelled. I don’t think they changed anything between visitors. I wonder if they only change the beds once a season? I wouldn’t be surprised.

Luckily, the refuge wasn’t full that night but Maurice told me that he had been there before when they had been packed in that bed like sardines, having to turn as one or not at all. I feel fortunate that I didn’t have to spend the night between two strangers. Both my friend and I rushed to grab our places at the extreme corner walls, using our husbands as barriers from strange men.

Later we sat outside, where the setting sun turned the clouds pink. We saw a small herd of chamois, a type of mountain goat, eating their way down the mountain. And a cute marmot, a type of badger, could be seen poking its head up and then waddling out to a rock, soon joined by its baby. Our dinner, surprisingly good, was served in a fairly dark room and we wondered why they hadn’t turned the lights on as night fell. We soon discovered that the refuge had a generator but they never turned it on. I quickly ran downstairs to brush my teeth to save myself having to find everything in the dark. I cleaned my face with a cotton pad, having lugged my beauty products up the mountain, too. By 8:30 we were all in bed. If you had anything you wanted to do, it had to be done with a flashlight. I read a little while with a small flashlight on my chest. By 9:00 we were all asleep.

Twenty-five loud, soiled hikers suddenly burst into our dorm room, arriving late and setting up their sleep areas. All during the night there was snoring (and a few other disagreeable sounds). All night, people climbed in and out of the squeaking bed, carrying their flash lights, then walked across the creaking wooden floor to noisily open the toilet door. One group got up at 3 AM to hike across a glacier while it was still frozen. A second group got up at 5 AM to hike with a loud, "Time to get up, boys." We managed to sleep until 7:30.

The trek downhill was, of course, much simpler and faster. With a sigh, we reached the bottom. Maurice had planned another hike up to another refuge but the women rebelled. I, for one, just could not face another sweaty hike followed by no shower and then a night in a room with a group of smelly strangers whose bandaged feet protruded from the bunks. I guess I’m just not cut out for this stuff anymore. I’ll leave it to young, rugged men. I love the scenery, love the walking, but give me a comfortable clean bed, a place to take a shower and a standard toilet. That is basic enough for me.

A Taste of the French Alps

Having a chance to visit the Alps and, in particular, a city called Annecy, I had to get out a map of France and to find it is in the eastern part of the France, in the French Alps. When I finally got to see Annecy first-hand, I wasn't prepared for its beauty. It is situated around a stunning lake and has a charming old city full of beautiful buildings and an old prison around which a stream splits and flowers spill out of containers on every corner.



This, I knew, was to be the beginning of my love affair with the French Alps. I have since been into the French Alps to a town called Bourg St Maurice. I like it with it's own little old town lined with cobbled streets. The village is in the center of the Haute-Tarentaise region and is the starting point for an entry into Italy up and over a mountain pass, or the way up to a ski resort called Les Arcs. My husband and I have skied at Les Arcs, and it's huge with runs all over the mountain.



In the summer, I've seen people taking off the side of mountains on hang gliders, and there is excellent hiking. We trekked over a mountain trail, through fields of lavender flowers, to a little Russian-looking chapel at the top of a mountain built sometime in the 1800s. I wondered what inspired someone to want to build in such an inaccessible place, and how hard it must have been to get everything up there.



We found a great restaurant in Bourg St. Maurice called Restaurant La Tartiflette. It's a wonderful place to try the food from the Savoie region such as Tartiflette, a dish made with potatoes, bacon, onion, and the local Reblochon cheese , or Diot, a local pork sausage with Crozets a Savoie pasta. Try the Vin de Savoie, such as Apremont, as well as one of the killer desserts, like the ice cream dish called Vertigo or Diablo. (Just don't plan any strenuous activity afterwards, as this is not food for the diet conscious!) Be sure to say hello to the very friendly, and entertaining owner of ten years, Rene Bignon.

While we were in this area one summer we did several driving trips to explore the many little villages. All of the drives involved hairpin curves, and there was seldom a time I didn't get a little car sick. One day we went across the border into a little Italian town for lunch. We crossed a pass called Col du Petit St Bernard where a good deal of fighting took place during World War II and there is a statue of St. Bernard de Menthon standing at the top. Another day we headed off for a little town called Bonneval-sur-Arc. It lies south of Mount Blanc and to get there we had to go over a pass called Col de l'Iseran, the highest pass in the Alps. There are areas here where the snow never melts. When we started out it was a sunny day, but as we got higher we entered thick fog and had to creep along, almost deciding to turn around. We finally got above the clouds and as we reached the summit, it started snowing (this was only August!). Then we descended the mountain, going again through fog and finally entering the area of Bonnelval-sur-Arc, which sits in the valley of the Arc surrounded by high peaks. It is a little town left totally untouched by development, with no satellite dishes or phone or electrical wires in sight. The tourists are all put up at a nearby village, and no cars are allowed. The buildings are all built of rough granite blocks, and the roofs are covered in slabs of stone. It all has such an ancient feel. It rained the whole time we were there, and it was cold so we went into a little restaurant and had some hot tea and a lunch of salad and local cheese and sausage to get warmed up. Coming out, we passed some hikers dressed in shorts and looking, to my unseasoned eyes, very wet and miserable. The whole area is covered in hiking trails that are used a lot during the summer months. I could see ski lifts for winter skiing.

My husband's uncle had told us to be sure to do the drive to Beaufort, as it was especially beautiful, and he was certainly right. After many a hairpin curve, we entered a little valley where one of the most beautiful lakes I have ever seen sat—Roseland Lake. It was a milky turquoise color sitting in the sun. I have since read that it is manmade and covers an old village, but it is still breathtaking when first viewed.



As we drove along we could see a glacier in the distance, and we passed cows everywhere eating grass that eventually becomes the famous Beaufort cheese.



The charming town of Beaufort has a stream running through the center and flowers everywhere—and, of course, a picturesque church. What's a wonderful thought to me is that we have barely scratched the surface of all there is to see in the French Alps. I am not much of a hiker, but I am inspired to become fit enough to start taking hikes around this beautiful area. Hiking is very popular in Europe, and now I know why.

Restaurant La Tartiflette 29, avenue del la Gare BourgSt. Maurice 04-79-07-07-94

Exploring the Bordeaux Region of France

Bordeaux: the name conjures thoughts of legendary wines in hues of deep red, French châteaux and rolling vineyards whose names are associated with quality; that specially-shaped bottle filled with the nectar of the gods, the wine known the world over as the crème de la crème of wines.

Is it any wonder that anyone lucky enough to possess a bottle of Bordeaux wine feels blessed? Names like Mouton Rothschild, Lafite Rothschild, or Latour are instantly recognizable even to the amateur wine connoisseur.

Like most areas that I have found in France, Bordeaux is an area where one should spend more that a few days in exploration. First comes the ancient and beautiful city of Bordeaux itself; the nearby coastline can be visited en route to the area if you want to sit on a beach and enjoy the Atlantic. I had never associated Bordeaux with the ocean until, in an interview with French designer Philippe Starck, I learned of his plans to one day retire there, to raise oysters of all things. I had to get a map out to see that it did indeed run along the Atlantic.


A fishing hut on the ocean

The region where the wine is grown is divided in two by the Gironde River. Great vineyards grow on either side in the soil, which is heavy with rocks and pebbles that drain water away from the grapevines as well as holding in the heat during the night, something that leads to the magic of the flavorful grapes’ becoming the region's signature wine.

On the west side of the Gironde is the Médoc region, where the some of the most famous vineyards are found, those with the stronger, more robust taste. On the east side, lighter wines are made, such as St-Emilion. The sweet white Sauternes are made further to the south, and the little town of Cognac lies to the north.

We didn't have a long time to stay in the Bordeaux area, but we discovered that a great way to see the region when driving south from Paris is to start at Royan. This town was totally destroyed during WWII, but has a great beach. Taking the ferry, which leaves every hour from the dock, gave us the pleasant experience of being mildly adventurous. Landing at the northern tip of Médoc 30 minutes later we took the small D2 road and headed south, passing fabulous châteaux that dotted the landscape. Many are private homes and can’t be visited, but you can take a tour or do a wine tasting at most that you see in the tourist areas.

The town of Paulliac, the name associated with one of the greatest Bordeaux of all, has a great tourist information/wine store that is a must. Hundreds of bottles of Bordeaux are offered for sale there, and every one of them is sold at the same price as at the châteaux themselves.

The problem we had was deciding which of the many bottles to buy. It was a little like throwing a dart and seeing where it landed, or just closing your eyes and taking whichever your hand landed upon. So we decided to taste and try and then settle on a budget, since the wines come in a great variety of price ranges. There was a small selection of open bottles where, for a small charge, you could taste some of the wines for sale. We walked around seeing names or regions that we recognized, but how to decide? We finally picked three middle-priced Bordeaux wines marked as ready to drink (but better if allowed to age), just to have a variety.

Continuing south we stopped at Château Beychevelle, where we got a free guided tour. There is a little Viking boat with a sail at half mast on all the château’s labels and the Vineyard does, in fact, lie on the Gironde River, where many ships through the years used to stop to load or unload or to wait for the tide to rise. For me, the surprise highlight of the tour was going to the back of the château to see the gorgeous grounds stretching down to the river, which have been given the name of Versailles of Bordeaux, with reason. No wine tastings were offered here, but we bought three bottles anyway, and they turned out to be excellent.


The grounds of Chateau Beychevelle

We reached Lamarque and caught a ferry again, this time to Blay, with its citadel, very much worth a visit. Our next stop was the medieval city of St.-Emilion. Besides having good wine (we bought three bottles from different vineyards to compare, on the recommendation of the owner of one of the many wine stores there), this city is a delight to explore, especially the cathedral built entirely underground; it was carved out of a huge rock and took monks over 300 years to finish. St. Emilion himself had a small chapel that he carved out in the soft stone.

The best way to see this region is to stay in the area for a week. Highlighting our own too-short stay too was the bed-and-breakfast called La Sauvageonne, where we stayed near the small town of St.-Cier-sur-Gironde. A little oasis in an ocean of vineyards owned by delightful Marc Rudat and Alain Bienfait, it is one of the nicest inns I've seen. The rooms were huge, with luxurious bathrooms to match. For those wanting a longer stay, a gite with a kitchen is available.

Strolling around the grounds was heaven, and best of all, there was a swimming pool that we took full advantage of during hot afternoons. Alain himself prepared and served us one of the best meals we had during our time in Bordeaux, consisting of braised pork tenderloin and vegetables, a crisp salad dressed in a tangy vinaigrette, and Poire Belle Helèn for dessert. As we just happened to have a great bottle of Bordeaux from Château Beychevelle to go along with our sumptuous dinner, we couldn't have had a nicer time. Bikes are available to wend your way through nearby vineyards or down to the Gironde Estuary to gaze at the water or maybe spot a bird or two.


The grounds of Les Sauvageonne


Les Sauvageonne (Bed & Breakfast)
2 les Mauvillains
St.-Palais, France
05 57 32 92 15
www.relax-in-gironde.com

Getting there:
There are hourly TGV( high speed) trains from Paris to Bordeaux.
It is a 6 hour drive from Paris to Royan on highway A10, where a ferry can be taken to Medoc.

Eating:
Médoc area:
Le St-Julien
4km south of Paulliac via D2, 05 56 59 63 87
Built in 1850, this old village bakery with beamed ceilings servs elaborate regional cuisine.

St.-Emilion:
Le Bouchon
3 Place Marché, directly across from the underground cathedral
05 57 24 62 81
Simple meals in a great location.

Information on Bordeaux and its wine
www.greatwinecapitals.com

If you are interested in a specific wine and vineyard, call or e-mail ahead for reservations; there is seldom space left in any of the tours on the day you arrive. Some vineyards, such as Mouton Rothschild, charge a fee for tours, with an additional amount for a wine tasting.
--

Something Different in Paris

Even though I had heard that there was a pet cemetery on the outskirts of Paris, I was more interested in walking around the cemeteries for people, like Père Lachaise and Montmartre. It was only after a friend talked me into going with her to the pet cemetery that I wondered what had taken me so long.

It isn't that difficult or that long of a Métro ride to get there—just take a short walk from the end of line 13 in Asnières to find the Le Cimetière des Chiens D'Asnières-Sur-Seine. It's in a fantastic location right on the Seine and, although most of the tombstones are very small, it does have the feel of the typical French cemetery. As All Saints Day had occurred a week before my visit, the cemetery was full of yellow chrysanthemums, a custom in France. People had visited the graves of the pets here just as families visited departed relatives in all cemeteries across France.



There was a sweet feeling about the place as well as some melancholy. I think I would have felt the same if it had been a cemetery for children. To the owners of these pets, their animals were their children and we came upon graves with tiny miniatures of animals on them or old chew toys. One dog's grave had a hollow plastic ball full of old tennis balls that he must have loved to play with. There were photos of the pets and names like Fifi or Susan. One grave had written on it: "I have been mistreated by other people, but never by Gaston, my friend, who loved me unconditionally."



At the entrance to the cemetery stands a huge sculpture with the carving of a Saint Bernard carrying a child on its back. The dog represented is Barry, who saved the lives of 40 people in the Alps before he lost his own life attempting a rescue for the 41st time. There is also a large tombstone—with a statue of a German Shepherd Statue on top—that memorializes all of the police dogs who die in action. The grave for Rin Tin Tin had me puzzled until I did some research and found that the original Rin Tin Tin (a French cartoon name, by the way) was taken to the States by an American soldier and the rest is history




Not only dogs and cats are buried here; there are also tombstones for three horses. I was surprised to see a stone for a rabbit and also one for Cocotte, a chicken said to have lived for 25 years and to have been a wonderful companion.



My friend and I are both cat lovers and so we loved seeing the many cats that live among the tombstones. (They do other things among the tomb stones as I discovered when I got home and traced a horrible smell to the bottom of my shoe). Most of them were tame and friendly-looking; one could pet them or feed them, and they managed to weave their way around our legs as we wandered around. While we were there, some ladies came and fed some of them. We overheard one saying her cat had recently died and she came to the cemetery twice a week to walk around. It brought her comfort.
Would I recommend a first-timer to Paris visit this cemetery? Not really, as I think Père Lachaise and the Montmartre cemeteries should be seen first. But, if you have been to Paris several times, and you are a pet lover, I think this would fill the bill for something different. I found it to be a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon.



Nearby, we found the restaurant, Le Père Lamotte. It looked very plain on the outside but served some very great-tasting food. I had a salad, baked fish, 2 vegetables and a soda for 13€. Additionally, there were also some interesting shops on the streets selling Middle-Eastern spices, fabric and housewares.

Le Cimetière Des Chiens
4, pont de Clichy
92600 Asnières-sur-Seine
Restaurant au Père Lamotte
23, Bd Voltaire
92600 Asnières

German Christmas Cookies-A Year Round Delight

German Christmas Cookies—A Year-Round Delight

The Christmas markets in Cologne spread throughout the city, and offer different delights, but all offer at least one variety of Christmas cookies, and usually many more than one. At the Christmas market in Strasbourg, France, another one worth a visit, visitors step off the train into a large tent filled with booth after booth offering a dizzying choice of cookies.

Most of the cookie recipes are relatively simple to make. The smell of fresh baked cookies filling the kitchen on a cold day is wonderful and not just at Christmas. In these often grey January and February days, making cookies with children or grand-children can fill the house with warmth and good memories.

Here are a few typical German cookie recipes that can be adapted in various ways to suit the season. Red and white Valentine icing and sprinkles make them perfect for February, green and white St. Patrick’s Day icing and sprinkles for March.

This first recipe will be familiar to many, as a variation of it is made throughout the American south. In Texas and Louisiana they are called Pecan Sandies, and are popular there at Christmas time too. They are easy to make and always well.

Nusse

1/2 pound butter or margarine (butter makes a MUCH better cookie)
¼ c. sugar (Splenda or another sugar substitute CAN be used but the result will not be as rich tasting)
2 ½ cups flour
1 cup pecans, chopped fine
2 teaspoons vanilla
Confectioners Sugar

Cream together the butter and the sugar, add the vanilla and the flour making thick dough. Mix in the chopped pecans. Roll the dough into balls or half-moon shaped cookies and bake them in a 300 degree preheated oven for 20 minutes. When cool, roll them in powdered sugar. These will keep for days in a closed tin box.

This next recipe is also quite easy and makes enough cookies to feed a hungry crowd. This is basically a shortbread recipe that is popular in England and in Scotland as well. The cookies can be served plain, or decorated with sprinkles or nuts. They have a rich, caramel taste. They are good if simply marked crossways with the tines of a fork, or with a single pecan or walnut half placed in the middle of each round.

German Sugar Cookies

1 pound butter
1 pound sugar (2 cups)
4 to 5 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla
Grated lemon rind (optional)

Cream together the butter and the sugar. Add the vanilla and the baking powder. Gradually add in the flour to make thick dough. Roll the dough into a ball and refrigerate 10 to 12 hours or overnight. It can be rolled out and cut with cookie cutters or rolled into a strip, and then individual cookies cut off in rounds.
Spread on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake at 375 for ten to twelve minutes, until a golden color. You can decorate the cookies with nuts before cooking them or with icing and sprinkles after they are baked. This will make several dozen cookies, again depending on the size you wish.


Oma’s Cookies

1 pound. butter
1 1/2 cups sugar
6 cups flour
4 eggs
1 lemon rind, grated

Beat together one egg and the grated lemon rind. Then cream together the butter and the sugar, add the lemon/egg mixture, and then the rest of the eggs one at a time. Gradually add the flour. Mix the dough with your hands until all the flour disappears. Refrigerate the dough 10 to 12 hours, or overnight.
Roll out the dough to about a ½ inch thickness and cut with cookie cutters. Spread on a greased cookie sheet and bake at 400 for 8 to 10 minutes—cookies should be golden with a light brown edge. Cool, and decorate as wished.

Cookies, hot chocolate and a nice fire on a January or February day can magically re-create Germany at home until a trip there can be scheduled.