Getting away

You will have noticed that I made no reference to the leaving of Beaune in any way emotionally. It was not possible at the time of writing. It was too painful.

What made it somewhat bearable, however , was the change in the weather. Gerard, our fellow 'syndic' member who, with his wife Simone had had us for drinks one evening to 'get to know' us, told us some incredibly low number of hours of sunshine to date this year. [The syndic is our body corporate.]. Ben, the husband of our property manager Libbi told us that the weather prediction for the next few weeks is very bleak indeed, with heavy frosts and lots of cold rain. Our two weeks of sun have turned out to be fortuitous in the extreme!

On the subject of Gerard and Simone, it apparent that the Big G is the captain. He is the captain at home. He was the captain at work (now retired from his job at Pernod Ricard) and appears to be very much the captain of the syndic. Roger and Anna had accompanied us to drinks and Roger's assessment was that we had made a hit. This view was probably rammed home manifestly at the moment I looked deeply into Big G's eyes and solemnly vowed that the Roses were hell-bent on doing nothing but the RIGHT THING by the commune of residents at 28 Rue de Lorraine.

Six of us ripped through two bottles of cremant (Burgundian champagne) that night , accompanied by some lovely hors d'oeuvre prepared by Simone's own hand (or so we assumed). The evening was politely pleasant an we 'etrangers' beetled up to Appartrment Rose to a slightly overcooked bouff bourgignon accompanied by lashings of potato, salad and Bordeaux red wine. How perfect!

But back to departure time ...

The rain could be heard on our roof all night. We had done much of the packing and sorting the night before (the practice known in our family of "Boadle-Frawley-ing"), leaving only a little bit of cleaning to do on the morrow. I must say that the sound of rain on our roof was most comforting and reassuring in a funny kind of way. It was raining and we were snug as bugs in our own beds, inside our own apartment, inside the walls of our own town.

When you come to stay it will be YOUR bed in YOUR apartment (and so on). Go on, make a plan RIGHT NOW to come.

Toodles!

Leaving Beaune

Well we're all packed and ready to catch the 9:00 am train to Lyon, then on to Milan. My only other experience with Italy was not a good one because I had spent a 9-month cycling in Britain (in 1980) and a goodly part of Spain, Portugal and Switzerland and was yearning for the parched plains of Australia. I was not in a good mood.

So Italy now beckons with a whole new perspective in prospect. We will catch up with Andy and Grazyna again and it will be a hoot to hear of their adventures since we saw them last in Beaune. Graz is learning Italian, so she will be pretty headlong into the culture. As you all know, I am pretty fluent in that language, so I hope I don't upstage Grazyna with my rapid-fire conversations with the locals.

Anyway, DJ is giving me the 'look', so I had better hop up out of bed and get on with some serious train-catching.

Toodles!

Pat's for lunch

Bloody hell, I haven't told you about our afternoon at Pat's joint! This is a serious oversight, as this WAS THE MOST MEMORABLE DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE! [All excepting our wedding day of course.]

Pat embarrassed me totally by arriving at our apartment while I was out walking. I arrived home to see her chatting away with DJ, Roger and Anna. She had her latest beau with her- a lovely chap called Andre. From Annecy. Pat invited us four for lunch the next day (Sunday). It was great news, because Pat's neighbours Daniel (pronounced "Danielle") and Michelle were going to be there too. I had met them on my earlier trips.

Pat's son Sache came and collected us in Pat's car and five of us scorched our way up the valley to Echevronne in a four-seat Renault. Well, what a lunch! The meat was wild pig ("sanglier") roasted to within an inch of its life. [Succulent AS!]. The cheese, the desserts, the veggies - all gorgeously presented and YUMMY!

But the wine! The wine was beyond belief. Grand Crüe, every one, but get this - the first two bottles (after the sparkling and the vin blanc) were dated 1998. The last bottle to be wheeled out was 1993! With dust and cobwebs ALL OVER IT. Dark, brooding and foreboding, this was a serious wine.

This wonderful, long lunch was enjoyed in Pat 's dining room in a 16th Century house that had once been the presbytery of the village church. Pat pointed out that the garden was the site of an ancient cemetery and it was not unknown for her to dig up bones and other body parts in the past. Now that's pretty special.

Conversation bubbled and squeaked throughout the afternoon, with Andre who had worked for Rolex and sported a most impressive heavy gold one. He is Swiss and speaks French and German, but not so much English. He was sitting at my end of the table.

Pat was seated next to Andre, just near the door to the kitchen. She bustled and busyed herself all afternoon, with absolutely nothing that was too much trouble. I think Pat is one of my favorite people in the world!

At the other end were Daniel and Michelle, whose French was brilliant, but whose English is on a par with my French. They are retired art and craft teachers and they both continue their work with great enthusiasm. Now what these two lacked in English language they certainly made up for with conversation. This sounds odd, but there were no lengths to which they would go to get a point across. They were such fun! Daniel with an enormous laid-back approach to life and Simone with her genuine interest in we strangers was such a refreshing and enjoyable experience. We walked down to their house after eating and they showed us around. Wonderful house, sculptures, handicraft and ambience to the whole property.

Throughout the afternoon, the gorgeous 5-year-old Stella (Sache's daughter) and the same vintage (age) black labrador Goofy entertained and annoyed us in turn (mostly entertained, I have to admit). I have referred to these two before. Goofy can't speak any human language, but Stella makes up for this glaring shortfall in English and/or French as and when needed.

Sache hadn't appeared for lunch, but materialised when the time came to take us home. We had drunk quite a lot of wine, but did not feel particularly intoxi-bottom. Needless to say , however, we tumbled to bed that night with very little else by way of victuals.

An overwhelmingly sumptuous day!

None of we Australian guests took photos of this day, so the word pictures painted above will just have to do.

Toodles.

Cycling

Bike riding has been most joyous. It is a pursuit that tends to be more enjoyable when undertaken on one's own vehicle. We collected our new bikes on the first Tuesday of our trip and were then able to travel out to the hardware shops and supermarkets that lie to the north of Beaune, right beside the tollway. We could now do it without the need to walk, or to wait yonks for a bus. Delicious!

Not only can we conduct house setting-up and maintenance in this way, but also venture well beyond the ramparts on tours to pastures green and wineries dormant. This we did on three occasions - twice to points south, viz Santenay and Chalon, and once to Point Snorth, ie Nuits-Saint-George.

I have regaled you with descriptions of these rides in prior postings, but no word can capture the splendor of this area. There are always new and wondrous sights to behold, as well as the familiar, everyday scenes of workers going about their daily tasks with good humour. Rolling through the vines, approaching a village or hamlet, then cruising their winding streets, by town squares and gorgeous parks, the cafes beckon for a stop and a coffee, all too easy to give in to.

We have worked out the best day's plan on the bike. First leave Beaune around 9:00 am. That's when the hire place opens and bikes for visitors can be collected from Cedric or Florian, two of the most helpful bike hirers IN THE WORLD. These chaps will let you know of any number of rides to be undertaken out of Beaune, all with good grace, understanding and enthusiasm, but I digress.

Leaving much after 9:00 am leaves too little time for lunch which, in France, waits for no man (or even DJ). So, morning coffee is taken in the morning, around 10:30 am in the town square of Meursault. This revives the cyclist and prepares him/her for a goodly grunt up an incline of moderate proportions and back onto some rolling countryside, passing an ancient windmill up on the hill to your right.

If lunch is not taken at the 3-hat at Puligny-Montrachet, or any of the other cafes in the town, one needs to bear in mind that the next opportunity lies quite some way off in Santenay, BUT ONLY IF ONE ARRIVES BEFORE 1:45 pm.

Roll on after lunch to the canal. Turn left onto the tow-path, on past the fisher-folk (men with extraordinarily long fishing poles) and canal-boaters, and on to Chagny, the train and home to Beaune.

Cost of train - 3.50 euros; cost of bike hire - 18 euros for the day. Value of day's experiences - priceless!

Toodles!

Restaurant Montrachet

One-Hat-Michelin. One-Hat-Michlin!! Did you hear that!??? DJ and I have done it. TWICE! One-Hat-Michelin. "How did this come to pass?", I hear you ask. Well, I shall tell you.

We knew about Resaurant Montrachet from our trusty bike hire chaps - Florian and Cedric, and had cycled past some time last year, pausing only to press our noses up against the window pane. This time we made plans to EAT THERE. Think of THAT!

Andy and Graz and we two tootled down one day in a hire car, and Roger and Anna and we two (again) cycled down one week later plus one day. That is, on Wednesday one week and Thursday the next. Twice WAS a little over the top, but R & A's son Hugh had just won a job at Vue de Monde in Melbourne and we were desperate for some bragging rights with him.

Well I have to say that I completely enjoyed the experience, even though I am certainly NOT the type of chap who enjoys fine dining (said as one would imagine Christopher Pyne saying it). There was more style evident these days as one would encounter anywhere on the north-western hemisphere. Thee courses were interleaved with palate-refreshers to absolutely die for! The courses themselves, it goes without saying, were delicious. All for the bargain-basement price of 28 euros! This smacks very much of a loss-leader to me, and probably was, but it allowed a pleb like moi to cut it with the hoi-polloi, if only for a couple of hours (times two).

It most likely that I will never again experience a Michelin anything ever again in my life, unless Hughy Allen invites me to a nosh-up in some high-faloutin' restaurant he runs for Shannon Bennett. And I don't deserve it - let's make that clear.

Looking great was easier last week with Andy and Graz because we were in a car on our way to Vezelay. With the Allens it was tricky because we were on our bikes, but with good clobber in bike bags and backpacks. A convenient park near an ancient cemetery provided the cover we needed for a quick change prior to sashaying in. Afterwards the gang used the conveniences, while I quickly changed my dacks in the street while watching the bikes.

That's enough for now. I'll leave you with a few shots from the trusty iPhone.

Toodles!

Daffodil thieves

WHO would ever think of DJ as a Daffodil Thief? Well, it's very sad to say, but its TRUE!! I shouldn't be surprised, really, because she does have FORM in this regard.

There was a time on an earlier trip when DJ and another friend whose moral compass I rate at a high level - Nada Cunningham - leapt a fence and gathered poppies from the roadside.

DJ and Susan Anderson once ripped down a poster advertising an art exhibition in Haute Provence (concluded the week before, to be fair) and took it for her own use.

... So here we see DJ AT IT AGAIN, this time with the assistance of GRAZYNA KULIG! Attached find the PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE of this nefarious behaviour.

Dear Jude, I arks you: "What would happen if EVERYONE who went by picked the daffodils!???

Toodles!

Bike ride

The four of us cycled south on Wednesday, off through the vineyards of the Cote de Beaune. The weather could not have been better, with cool breeze and blazing sun. Very friendly bike hire chaps - Florian and Cedric - saw us off at around 10:00 am (no one gets carried away with early departures here in Beaune) and we were soon wandering the slopes of the old Cote d'Or. There are a few up bits, but overall it is a gentle roll along through Pommard, Volnay, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, Chassagne-Montrachet, down to Santenay, along the canal for a while and finally back to Chagny for a train ride home to Beaune (around 3 euros each).

You're right, of course, we did the same trip last year with Ally - "It's what you do". DJ and Grazyna got a little bit burnt, but only on un-sunscreened legs, so there's a lesson for us all.

One teensy mistake we keep making is almost missing lunch. DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU IN FRANCE! Lunch goes off at 1:45 pm, so get to a restaurant in plenty of time. We paid the penalty today and only ended up with a scrummy cheese platter and salad, but there was no other choice at Restaurant Terroir ... We will return to this little gem, however, it looked great inside and comes with good recommendations.

The 45 km ride was just long enough for the gang and we caught the little train back to Beaune, where Florian happily retrieved his bikes and sent us off home for a lovely meal of left-overs from earlier gastronomic triumphs.

Wandering through vineyards in this way cannot be beaten - not on foot (too slow); not on a motor car (too quick); and certainly not hopping (too awkward, too silly). Rolling countryside, delightful villages, great company and the prospect of fabulous food. Words are not enough at times, are they?!

Toodles