Back in France!

Burgundy

I've so enjoyed our time in Austria and Germany, but how much I'm looking forward, once again, to being in France!  When we made our final train change, in Lausanne, Switzerland, there was no doubt that we had entered France, if only by stepping aboard her train.  Our conductor (I'll call him Jean-Claude) made his entrance:   slender in chic gray pleated-front trousers, white button shirt with button tabs at the short-sleeve cuffs, a lavender and pink checked necktie, and on his short brown hair, a gray cap, perched atop his head and tilted jauntily toward his eyes.  Tres bon.

When a passenger across the aisle from us was speaking quietly into her cell phone, Jean-Claude pursed his lips, raised his finger, shook his head, and in French, must have said "can it."    The cell phone quickly disappeared.  Then he turned to the two sweet grandmamas sitting just ahead of us, and proceeded to gently handle a sticky situation (Greg and I assumed it must have been the lack of the appropriate ticket for first class for one of them). Once this problem was resolved (the cell phone user probably an adult daughter who wrote the conductor a check), peace returned.

I was so taken with the grace and authority of Jean-Claude that I thought to myself, "What can make this trip more interesting?  I know!  Food!"  And on cue, I'm not kidding, I heard the unmistakable jingle and clatter of the beverage/snack cart.  But alors, no!  It was not to be!  It was a cart loaded with wine, dinner, sodas, water, and ... wine!  All free!  Mais oui!  I have indeed entered another French paradise!  (to repeat a sentiment from one of my early emails)   And most wonderful of all -- ok, enough of the superlatives -- but you'll probably agree that this next part is pretty cool ...they offered a complete vegetarian meal!  I'm not kidding:  a chilled chopped vegetable salad with feta in a mild vinigarette dressing, roasted and chilled perfectly seasoned eggplant, a potato salad mildly tasting of Dijon (it was, after all, where we were headed), a French roll, and the region's specialty, chilled blueberry tart.  And our steward (I'll call him Francois) came back down the aisle bearing the wine bottle.  Did I mention that all of this was free?  (Well, for the price of the ticket)  So, on a return trip down the aisle, Francois pushed the cart offering more of anything, and being good, I had a china cup of hot coffee.  (I believe in pacing myself.)  After all, it was 7:30 pm and we had one last train change, in Dijon-Ville, for Beaune, only 18 minutes further away.

The only other bit of excitement we had on board was the appearance of an officer and a silky black muscular dog who made a swift and thorough sniff-through of every seat and bag on the train.  The train had come to a stop for this procedure, and following it, we watched handler and dog outside our window in the grass where said dog scampered, played, and relieved himself (the officer did not).

Hotel Rousseau

So, a quick change at Dijon-Ville and we were off on the last leg of our journey to Beaune, arriving about 8:30 pm.  Pulling our suitcases around to the front of the station, we peered across the quiet road to an outdoor cafe and to the waving arms of Chris and Tisha. They grabbed our bags and led the way to Hotel Rousseau, lodging I had found in Rick Steves' now missing travel guide.  We entered through a gravel parking enclosure that sat at Madame Rousseau's front door.

    Our keys were huge metal ones, easily from the 19th century, and we entered a side hallway, off the main one, and unlocked the door to our room directly across the hall from Chris and Tisha's room.  Floral wallpaper met us, an antique bed facing the door;  an armoire, tables, chairs, and more florals in bedding, table scarves, chair cushions, and rugs on the wooden floor.  Our en suite tiled bath was probably the newest thing in this big old home, with all necessary accoutrements, and stiff towels that were obviously dried on a clothesline.  

Note the wine bottle lamp on the mantel.

The double doors behind us in the photograph were the main entrance to the house/hotel.  Just through those doors was a central tiled hall, cutting the house square down the middle and ending at double French doors out to the back garden, where roses and pots of flowers caught the sunlight.  This outdoor space was graveled, and from the doors, I saw a potting shed with sink, and some other random structures, perhaps a stable or garage at one time.  Tables were set up in the hall for breakfast, as were smaller tables in the garden.   Madame Rousseau served us at the hall tables, I believe, because the mornings were so warm.  As we entered the double doors, we found a curved wooden staircase on the left and live ivy twining its way along the bannister from the second floor down to the first;  there was also a very animated bird in a cage somewhere up above -- I never went exploring to find out exactly where, but his cheerful chirping met us at breakfast.   My first morning there, I noticed the layout of this wide central hall, and the fact that the rooms on this floor to the left were up one step and had doors to close them off from the hall.  It occurred to me that back in the very early days, this hallway probably served as a drivethrough either for horse and buggy or for auto.                                                                                

Light show projected gorgeous displays

When we arrived, we stowed our stuff and set out to find dinner for Chris and Tisha, since they had delayed dinner, wanting to be sure to meet our train first.  As I might have mentioned in email updates, the Europeans traditionally eat dinner later than we, so even though it was nearing 10 pm, the restaurants were all busy and the waiters were attentive.  Sitting at the patio in the lovely night air, Greg and I each enjoyed a glass of Burgundy's finest while Chris and Tisha ate, and we faced a computer-produced light show on the building across the way on what might at one time have been an old church.

Our plan for  Beaune was to cram a lot in a little time, and my excitement was building for the next morning! We were renting bicycles to ride through vineyards and into four neighboring villages:  from Beaune, our home base, through Pommard, then to Volnay, next to Meursault, and last into Puligny-Montrachet, where we had a picnic under a shade tree.  A German couple on holiday shared their table with us, and was eager to hear about our trip;  when they left, they were replaced by a Dutch couple who also stopped by to chat;  their motor home was parked nearby in someone's backyard.

When Greg and I were honeymooning in Istanbul and then in Greece, where we met our friends, Sue and Roy, to sail the Aegean, I couldn't stop smiling.  Well, that's exactly how I felt on this bike ride through the beautiful vineyards and the quaint towns.  The weather was warm, the skies gorgeous blue, and Beverley full of smiles!  Let the pictures below speak for me:

One of the local vineyards

 

Town square sculpture devoted to vineyard workers

No traffic, bicycles dominate!

Shade and rest for Tisha and Chris

No explanation required

Following our ride into the vineyards, we returned to Beaune for wine tasting at La Cave de L'Ange Gardien (the Cellar of the Guardian Angel), representing the vineyards of  Pierre and Nicole Jaboulet-Vercherre.  We had opportunities for tastings along the way, but had decided to return closer to our hotel for the tasting, and it was an excellent decision, for Pierre was gracious, attentive, and entertaining.  Later that evening, while we were at dinner, Pierre delivered a case of 12 bottles to Madame Rousseau's, six of them ours, and six for Chris and Tisha.  Yum.

Pierre says he makes wine the "old" way

Thus ended Sunday, our first full day in Burgundy, and what a day it was!   Monday we had half a day to explore more of Beaune before catching our train to Paris.  More about that is coming your way.