Hameau de la Brousse
We’ve moved on to our next WWOOF host after Chateau Lassalle, after we said goodbye yesterday morning to the Cutts family in Aignan. It’s never easy to go after sharing peoples’ lives for a couple of weeks, doing the dishes, dealing with cranky kids, enjoying good meals and staying up too late, worrying about the weather… but we consoled ourselves with the thought that we’ll be back in the Gers in a few years, hopefully.
Steve took us to the train for what was for us a very easy 3 hours of train travel from Mont de Marsan to Bordeaux to Angouleme. Helene picked us up and ran some errands with us in the car and then we came back to Hameau de la Brousse, which is out in the rolling countryside very near the border between the Charente and the Dordogne. Hameau means hamlet, and this hamlet, a group of houses and barns, is owned entirely by three artists who have slowly renovated the whole place into houses, a gite, artist studios, performance spaces, etc. There is a huge garden and a park area in which there is a sort of natural amphitheatre, a river, a pond, limestone cliffs, and old quarrying caves that go into the cliffs. We’re out in the middle of nowhere and don’t mind at all, it’s so interesting.
There is quite a community of people here, several other WWOOFers, all younger than us of course, one from Austria, one from Japan, one from Norway, one from Belgium, a couple of friends of the owners, some paying guests, a resident artist, all of whom add up to a lot of mouths to feed. But with so many WWOOFers we get a lot done and the dishes don’t take too long. Things are surprisingly clean and organized for a place that gets so much traffic in the kitchen – this must be due to Helene and Michel’s skill at making lists of things for their WWOOFers to do immediately after breakfast. They are easy going and friendly and also organized and efficient – which is great, because it means meals are on time and the bed sheets are clean.
We’re eating very well – all the food appears to be organic and so far it’s been vegetarian although I’m told that only one of the WWOOFers is vegetarian. Last night it was sautéed carrots, millet mixed with bulgur, dandelion salad with vinaigrette, and strawberries and cream for dessert. Lunch today was scalloped squash, dandelion salad, leftover bulgar/millet, cheese, and more strawberries. And dinner this evening, spicy red beans and squash, rice, dandelion salad, and even more strawberries with cream. And always lots of sourdough bread and butter. And no, I’m not tired of the strawberries yet – they are fabulously fresh and delicious, straight from the garden. Helene isn’t tired of the strawberries either, tonight I saw her brazenly licking her plate after she’d eaten her dessert. Everyone rushed off after dinner to the theatre event happening down in the hameau’s park, something about “And Zeus created his woman…” but Reed was tired enough that he took himself to bed to read so I stayed in the room with him to help him get showered and ready to sleep. He’s having to adjust to being the only child again after having Ella to play with for the last two weeks. But there are plenty of friendly cats, a couple of dogs, and some chickens that he can visit with, and an amazing amount of really varied and interesting outdoor space complete with sculptures, caves, woods, stone steps, and numerous paths to follow. You can visit the website by clicking on the title of this post above.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Auch Kosh B'gosh
Street in Auch
Cathedral in Auch
Chateau Lassalle
Life has been lazy since the vernissage since I worked up a credit of my hours, leaving me only 6 or so to work over these past couple of days. Sunday I sat around reading and felt guilty when we were fed roast potatoes and lamb chops for dinner after having done nothing all day long except washed some dishes; and Monday I weeded in the vegetable garden for a few hours, washed dishes, tidied up the kitchen, and then cooked a huge quantity of baked macaroni and cheese for dinner, since we had thawed out a very large block of cheese on Saturday which somehow did not get served on Saturday night.
Steve had offered to take us somewhere and today he had business in Auch, the departmental capital of the Gers, so he knocked on the gite door at 9:30 and asked if we wanted to come along, which we did, since he also offered to take us out for lunch! Auch is about an hour drive away, to the east, and we drove through a couple of lovely towns on the way there and back, including Vic-Fezensac and Barran.
In Auch we parked in a big shady parking area under plane trees and walked a block down to the front of the massive Cathedrale de Sainte-Marie – from the 15th and 16th centuries, mostly gothic but with some Renaissance elements. The impact of it was slightly muted by the scaffolding obscuring half of the front façade, but the right upper façade had been restored recently and it was interesting to see the contrast from the older, dirtier and more pitted surface to the newly cleaned and renovated stonework. We discovered that this cathedral – an Unesco world heritage site - is on the pilgrim route to St. Jacques de Compostelle in Spain, and I was excited to see a real hiker come up the stairs from the river towards the cathedral on the marked pilgrim route; a woman probably in her 60s, all alone, with walking stick, back pack, dirty boots, and obviously tired knees.
We ate a good lunch at a café near the cathedral courtesy of Steve – Walt and Steve had the menu du jour with potatoes, turkey or beef, and haricots verts (green beans), and I had a tartine – basically a big piece of toasted bread – covered with goat cheese, ham, and honey, and then broiled until the cheese is all melted and warm. It came with a green salad and some roast potatoes. Reed ate a little of both Walt’s and my lunches and plenty of bread, and of course helped Walt eat his dessert, a big waffle with some raspberries and whipped cream. I’m told we’re to have confit of duck for dinner, which is an unexpected treat: duck thighs that have been preserved in their own fat, with potatoes sautéed in said fat.
In America the fact that the French people drink lots of wine and eat plenty of fatty food yet are still very healthy is known as the French paradox, but in Europe this phenomenon is called the Gascoigne Paradox, where the traditional specialty food and drink are red wine, armagnac, foie gras, and confit.. I hope that the Gascoigne Paradox applies to visitors like us, because I love confit and Steve does not stint on the red wine at dinnertime. It’s easy not to stint on the wine because you get it from the local “cave,” filling up your own gallon or larger containers with the stuff out of big tanks like at a gas pump. It is easy to drink, inexpensive, and good. You transfer it into your own empty bottles at home for serving at the table.
Cathedral in Auch
Chateau Lassalle
Life has been lazy since the vernissage since I worked up a credit of my hours, leaving me only 6 or so to work over these past couple of days. Sunday I sat around reading and felt guilty when we were fed roast potatoes and lamb chops for dinner after having done nothing all day long except washed some dishes; and Monday I weeded in the vegetable garden for a few hours, washed dishes, tidied up the kitchen, and then cooked a huge quantity of baked macaroni and cheese for dinner, since we had thawed out a very large block of cheese on Saturday which somehow did not get served on Saturday night.
Steve had offered to take us somewhere and today he had business in Auch, the departmental capital of the Gers, so he knocked on the gite door at 9:30 and asked if we wanted to come along, which we did, since he also offered to take us out for lunch! Auch is about an hour drive away, to the east, and we drove through a couple of lovely towns on the way there and back, including Vic-Fezensac and Barran.
In Auch we parked in a big shady parking area under plane trees and walked a block down to the front of the massive Cathedrale de Sainte-Marie – from the 15th and 16th centuries, mostly gothic but with some Renaissance elements. The impact of it was slightly muted by the scaffolding obscuring half of the front façade, but the right upper façade had been restored recently and it was interesting to see the contrast from the older, dirtier and more pitted surface to the newly cleaned and renovated stonework. We discovered that this cathedral – an Unesco world heritage site - is on the pilgrim route to St. Jacques de Compostelle in Spain, and I was excited to see a real hiker come up the stairs from the river towards the cathedral on the marked pilgrim route; a woman probably in her 60s, all alone, with walking stick, back pack, dirty boots, and obviously tired knees.
We ate a good lunch at a café near the cathedral courtesy of Steve – Walt and Steve had the menu du jour with potatoes, turkey or beef, and haricots verts (green beans), and I had a tartine – basically a big piece of toasted bread – covered with goat cheese, ham, and honey, and then broiled until the cheese is all melted and warm. It came with a green salad and some roast potatoes. Reed ate a little of both Walt’s and my lunches and plenty of bread, and of course helped Walt eat his dessert, a big waffle with some raspberries and whipped cream. I’m told we’re to have confit of duck for dinner, which is an unexpected treat: duck thighs that have been preserved in their own fat, with potatoes sautéed in said fat.
In America the fact that the French people drink lots of wine and eat plenty of fatty food yet are still very healthy is known as the French paradox, but in Europe this phenomenon is called the Gascoigne Paradox, where the traditional specialty food and drink are red wine, armagnac, foie gras, and confit.. I hope that the Gascoigne Paradox applies to visitors like us, because I love confit and Steve does not stint on the red wine at dinnertime. It’s easy not to stint on the wine because you get it from the local “cave,” filling up your own gallon or larger containers with the stuff out of big tanks like at a gas pump. It is easy to drink, inexpensive, and good. You transfer it into your own empty bottles at home for serving at the table.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
La Vernissage
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Chateau Lassalle
Sometimes in the early morning the sun streams through the bedroom window of the gite directly on to me in bed so that I throw off the covers and just bask there for a while like the sun-loving little green lizards that are everywhere in France. The birds are singing in the trees out in the pastures and gathering bits of wool from the fence to line their nests, and if it’s sunny the sheep are up early too, baa-ing for who knows what reasons.
The other morning I was awakened by insistent and persistent baa-ing; it went on for such a long while that I finally decided someone was in distress. I went out in my pajamas into the dewy grass between our terrace and the sheep’s new pasture, expecting to see someone tangled in some wire, to discover a big lamb had climbed onto the concrete cover of what I’m guessing is a septic tank and he was stuck there, about 2 feet above the ground, too scared to jump and ignored by all the other sheep who were probably thinking, just jump! I made a purposeful move towards him without knowing what I was going to do and the lamb, more scared of me than the distance between him and the ground, suddenly leaped, landing without any harm. I went back inside to bed and enjoyed the calmer baa-ing that followed.
The sun shone in this morning and I luxuriated in it, knowing that the vernissage went off fairly successfully last night although the crowds were not quite as large as hoped. But the weather really has been quite unseasonably cool and rainy and people are not getting into the festive summer going out kind of mood that they normally would be in by now. Apparently there is even some flooding that affected Nanette’s home, the friend who came to cook the curry on Friday and who did so much in the kitchen last night for the vernissage. Her husband Geoff, on his way home at 2 a.m., drove down into a dip in the road that turned out to be as deep as the windows of the car, which is now ruined.
Steve and a journalist at the vernissage
I spent the whole day cleaning out refrigerators and preparing the temporary “kitchen” workspace out in the big shed where the exhibit and party was held. Steve created a counter by strapping a large tabletop onto an antique single metal bedstead (the head and foot “boards” were level with each other), and I scrubbed down one of Steve’s wooden workbenches as a place to dish up the food. We filled up the sparkling clean fridges with tabbouleh, drinks of all kinds, Thai chicken curry, and sausages and smoked duck and pate and then I swept and swept until the concrete floors in the work area and around the “bar” were presentable, while another friend of Karina’s arranged flowers in old steel florists’ buckets for the tables and the children made themselves useful for a short time by following my directions to unstack all the chairs and put them at the tables.
Karina at the vernissage
I spent all Friday afternoon baking brownies for the vernissage in the new oven in the chateau kitchen which was tricky because the heat only comes from the bottom and I was having a hard time regulating the temperature, which caused more than one batch to be burnt on the bottom before the top was even done. But I eventually got them done and they were delicious, made with rich French butter, dark cocoa powder, and type 45 flour which is meant for gateaux, or cakes. Considering how much work the brownies were and how essential they were for the meal I was quite surprised that the person given the job of bringing out the double-stacked and foil-wrapped trays from the chateau to the party kitchen was 4 year old Ella. She squeezed them a little but didn’t drop them, so kudos to her.
Ready for the vernissage
I’ll see if I can remember the recipe, it’ll be in weights since that’s how the French and English measure for baking instead of using volume.
Carol's Chateau Lassalle Brownies
115 grams butter (1/2 cup I think)
7 g sugar (2/3 cup I think)
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 g dark unsweetened cocoa (1/3 cup I think)
2 g all-purpose or pastry flour (1/2 cup I think)
¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. baking powder
Melt butter. In mixing bowl, mix sugar and eggs, add melted butter and vanilla and mix well. Combine dry ingredients in separate bowl and mix well, add to butter mixture and whisk gently until just combined. Spread in a buttered 8 x 8 baking dish and bake at 350 degrees F (175 C) until just barely done, probably 25 minutes. Don’t disturb the pan while baking. The top will look shiny and not quite done but will spring back if you touch it very gently and won’t sink when you take it out of the oven. Let cool in the pan, or let cool for just a few minutes before slicing into squares and removing gently from the pan while still warm, with a flexible spatula.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A walk in Aignan
View east from the gite at Chateau Lassalle
The Romanesque church in Aignan
View of Aignan, looking towards Pyrenees obscured by haze
Yesterday the afternoon got sunny after a rainy morning so after I cleaned up from weeding and painting some new shutters I walked into town and then through town to the communal forest and the little lake hiding way back in its depths. The lake is man-made and there’s also a small man-made sandy beach with some water slides. A boy was fishing from the bank and had some small successes in the short time that I was there. Because of the recent rain the air feels humid and the ground smells ripe, the woods were thick and overgrown. One farm I walked by had fresh haybales at the edge of the field, smelling warm and sweet. The neatest thing I saw was the old lavoir, a kind of communal clothes washing fountain, just outside town. There was a pond above it full of water lilies, its water dripping through a crack in the wall into the lavoir itself which is now slimy with algae. The benches on two sides of the square pool were still intact and the tiled roof supported by very old handhewn beams is also still intact. We mentioned it to an Englishwoman last night who was visiting - former area residents who have moved back to London - and she thought it would have been so fun to go and do the washing with all the other women… and Karina noted with some irony how much “fun” it would be to haul all your laundry down the hill and then back up it again, wet and heavy.
The Romanesque church in Aignan
View of Aignan, looking towards Pyrenees obscured by haze
Yesterday the afternoon got sunny after a rainy morning so after I cleaned up from weeding and painting some new shutters I walked into town and then through town to the communal forest and the little lake hiding way back in its depths. The lake is man-made and there’s also a small man-made sandy beach with some water slides. A boy was fishing from the bank and had some small successes in the short time that I was there. Because of the recent rain the air feels humid and the ground smells ripe, the woods were thick and overgrown. One farm I walked by had fresh haybales at the edge of the field, smelling warm and sweet. The neatest thing I saw was the old lavoir, a kind of communal clothes washing fountain, just outside town. There was a pond above it full of water lilies, its water dripping through a crack in the wall into the lavoir itself which is now slimy with algae. The benches on two sides of the square pool were still intact and the tiled roof supported by very old handhewn beams is also still intact. We mentioned it to an Englishwoman last night who was visiting - former area residents who have moved back to London - and she thought it would have been so fun to go and do the washing with all the other women… and Karina noted with some irony how much “fun” it would be to haul all your laundry down the hill and then back up it again, wet and heavy.
Friday, May 23, 2008
A little bit of French heaven
Friday, May 23, 2008
Chateau Lassalle, Aignan
We seem to have landed in paradise, or at least almost paradise; here there is weeding and renovation work and I think in paradise there won’t be weeds…. But nevertheless we are in WWOOF heaven.
Our hosts are Steve and Karina, originally from England, who are the same ages as Walt and I; they have 2 boys aged 12 and 9 and a little girl aged 4 who is outgoing and well adjusted and seems to like playing with Reed just fine. There’s only been blood drawn once and that was from Reed’s nose, when he bashed it on Ella’s head when they were jumping on the trampoline. Steve and Karina moved to the Pyrenees in France in the early 90s and bought Chateau Lasalle about 7 years ago. It’s a substantial stone house with parts of it dating back to the 1500s and maybe even earlier than that. Steve does a bit of everything – taking care of the land, gardening, working on the house, running an antique business, putting on art shows – and Karina is a freelance journalist. I've put a link to their website, www.oldfrenchstuff.com, in the title of this post.
We’re staying in the two bedroom gite that used to be a concrete block pig stable that Steve transformed into a lovely and comfortable little dwelling with a view of the east pastures where the sheep and two donkeys graze. You can always tell when people have a sense of design and Steve and Karina obviously do; the gite is decorated simply but with southern French style: lovely old pieces of furniture, lots of cushions with richly colored fabrics, blue and white walls, terracotta tiles on the floor, yellow and mint and pumpkin orange trim, framed antique postcards of the Chateau and Aignan, etc. And they feed us lunch and dinner every day; lunch is usually bread, salad, ham and salami and pate, and cheese. For dinner we’ve had roast chicken with chickpeas, roasted red peppers, and sweet corn; and last night was garlic parsley mashed potatoes and stewed beef from a taureau, a bull, which was killed in the bullfight held in Aignan twice a year or so. Apparently every little town in these parts has a bullring. Steve and Karina never go to the fight itself, but enjoy the meat, which is very rich and tasty. Steve says these bulls live a fabulous life, with acres and acres all to themselves for 3 years, until it all ends in a single bad afternoon. We drink wine that they get from the local cooperative; they take their empty bottles in and fill them up from the tap, like getting gas in the car. It’s cheap and good.
All this is in exchange for Walt and I each working 30 hours a week. Next weekend is an opening – another vernissage!, for those who remember our first experience at Verderonne last September – and we are busy making the front garden and terrace look terrific, as people who come to the opening will be offered a meal for a certain amount of money and they’ll be served outside if it’s nice. I’m weeding garden beds and raking gravel pathways, and Walt is helping Steve prepare the soil and get a new hedge planted around the perimeter fence of this part of the garden which will look nice and also keep the dogs in. My back is killing me but once my muscles get back in shape for bending over I’ll be fine. Next week I’ll help Karina start to get the food ready. I think I’ve just agreed to bake a load of brownies to put in the freezer, and I need to help her think of a starter too. It’s tricky, because she doesn’t know how many people will eat. So she has to prepare loads, and then put whatever’s left in the freezer.
The vernissage is a display of about 40 posters from 1968, especially from the month of May, a time of great civil unrest in France – they even call the people who were participating in the demonstrations “sixty-eighters” – soixante-huitards, I think. Steve is framing all the posters, which Karina inherited from her parents who were quite active in the demonstrations and were in prison in 1968. Her mother must’ve gotten out sometime, though, since Karina was born in July of 68.
The weather here is warm, and yesterday we ate ripe cherries from the tree; today we had salad from the first lettuce harvest of the season. The wisteria climbing up the front pillars of the house bloomed a month ago and so did the iris, and the lavender is just about to burst into purple glory. Everything is lush and green, and this morning we worked in the rain for a while, not minding it since it wasn’t cold. We sleep with the French doors in the bedroom open and wake up to birdsong, and sometimes a little donkey braying.
Chateau Lassalle, Aignan
We seem to have landed in paradise, or at least almost paradise; here there is weeding and renovation work and I think in paradise there won’t be weeds…. But nevertheless we are in WWOOF heaven.
Our hosts are Steve and Karina, originally from England, who are the same ages as Walt and I; they have 2 boys aged 12 and 9 and a little girl aged 4 who is outgoing and well adjusted and seems to like playing with Reed just fine. There’s only been blood drawn once and that was from Reed’s nose, when he bashed it on Ella’s head when they were jumping on the trampoline. Steve and Karina moved to the Pyrenees in France in the early 90s and bought Chateau Lasalle about 7 years ago. It’s a substantial stone house with parts of it dating back to the 1500s and maybe even earlier than that. Steve does a bit of everything – taking care of the land, gardening, working on the house, running an antique business, putting on art shows – and Karina is a freelance journalist. I've put a link to their website, www.oldfrenchstuff.com, in the title of this post.
We’re staying in the two bedroom gite that used to be a concrete block pig stable that Steve transformed into a lovely and comfortable little dwelling with a view of the east pastures where the sheep and two donkeys graze. You can always tell when people have a sense of design and Steve and Karina obviously do; the gite is decorated simply but with southern French style: lovely old pieces of furniture, lots of cushions with richly colored fabrics, blue and white walls, terracotta tiles on the floor, yellow and mint and pumpkin orange trim, framed antique postcards of the Chateau and Aignan, etc. And they feed us lunch and dinner every day; lunch is usually bread, salad, ham and salami and pate, and cheese. For dinner we’ve had roast chicken with chickpeas, roasted red peppers, and sweet corn; and last night was garlic parsley mashed potatoes and stewed beef from a taureau, a bull, which was killed in the bullfight held in Aignan twice a year or so. Apparently every little town in these parts has a bullring. Steve and Karina never go to the fight itself, but enjoy the meat, which is very rich and tasty. Steve says these bulls live a fabulous life, with acres and acres all to themselves for 3 years, until it all ends in a single bad afternoon. We drink wine that they get from the local cooperative; they take their empty bottles in and fill them up from the tap, like getting gas in the car. It’s cheap and good.
All this is in exchange for Walt and I each working 30 hours a week. Next weekend is an opening – another vernissage!, for those who remember our first experience at Verderonne last September – and we are busy making the front garden and terrace look terrific, as people who come to the opening will be offered a meal for a certain amount of money and they’ll be served outside if it’s nice. I’m weeding garden beds and raking gravel pathways, and Walt is helping Steve prepare the soil and get a new hedge planted around the perimeter fence of this part of the garden which will look nice and also keep the dogs in. My back is killing me but once my muscles get back in shape for bending over I’ll be fine. Next week I’ll help Karina start to get the food ready. I think I’ve just agreed to bake a load of brownies to put in the freezer, and I need to help her think of a starter too. It’s tricky, because she doesn’t know how many people will eat. So she has to prepare loads, and then put whatever’s left in the freezer.
The vernissage is a display of about 40 posters from 1968, especially from the month of May, a time of great civil unrest in France – they even call the people who were participating in the demonstrations “sixty-eighters” – soixante-huitards, I think. Steve is framing all the posters, which Karina inherited from her parents who were quite active in the demonstrations and were in prison in 1968. Her mother must’ve gotten out sometime, though, since Karina was born in July of 68.
The weather here is warm, and yesterday we ate ripe cherries from the tree; today we had salad from the first lettuce harvest of the season. The wisteria climbing up the front pillars of the house bloomed a month ago and so did the iris, and the lavender is just about to burst into purple glory. Everything is lush and green, and this morning we worked in the rain for a while, not minding it since it wasn’t cold. We sleep with the French doors in the bedroom open and wake up to birdsong, and sometimes a little donkey braying.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
French customer service not an oxymoron
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Aignan, Gers, Gascogny, France
A long day of travel can sometimes be uneventful and sometimes can be full of surprises, like yesterday, when the guard on the train came through and started asking everyone about their destinations and telling them in many cases they’d have to get off and change to a bus at Limoges because of a fire on the tracks or station at Perigueux. No trains running between Perigueux and Bordeaux, I guess. Our ticket said we were supposed to go straight through from Lyon to Bordeaux with no changes. So we didn’t understand what was happening and he didn’t take time to talk long with us, which left me feeling quite frustrated; but a helpful young Welshman who was fluent explained what was happening. So we loaded our stuff onto our backs and disembarked at Limoges along with many others, and then I showed the guard our ticket and our final destination and asked if it was possible we’d be still arrive at the same time to make our connection and he said in more French words, Stay on the train until Perigueux! I’ll talk to you more in a little bit! So back on the train we went.
Turns out there was not a hope of us catching our connection from Bordeaux to Mont de Marsan, since we had to take a bus instead of the train from Perigueux to Bordeaux, stopping at all the stations that the train would have instead of just cruising along at 110 km per hour on the motorway. It was a leisurely trip for 100 km through the beautiful evening light down many a winding road. We left around 7:30 and finally got to Bordeaux at 10 pm, just after sunset, after seeing so many picturesque little villages we started to feel there would be no end to them. Then, Bordeaux! Entering Bordeaux across the Garonne River on what is I believe the St. Emilion bridge, lit with lovely rococo streetlamps, and all the street lights on the strand and the massive yet delicate looking buildings reflecting in the water, well, it was tres jolie, to say the least. It was a much better view than I ever had when I visited the city 18 years ago and stayed at the auberge jeunesse/youth hostel. I was so glad we ended up on the bus at that point because we would have never gotten that incredible view if we’d come on the train. Even Reed was enchanted.
After leaving the Jura, we’d meandered slowly across the high elevation of the Massif Central, looping slowly from Lyon up to Roanne and Montlucon and then back down to Limoges. The northern Auvergne was beautiful and remote, but obviously just enjoying their spring. But when we got south to Perigueux and then down further to Bordeaux, you could just feel the warmth radiating from the earth, like the Jura was Canada and Gascony is Southern California.
Don’t let it be said that the French don’t understand customer service. Sometimes they may choose not to do it – maybe keeping their job doesn’t depend on their people skills - but when they do it they do it extremely well. Kind of like experiencing the affection of a cat as opposed to that of a dog. Because of the train delay we had to spend the night in Bordeaux. Arriving at 10 pm, we first schlepped our stuff across the street to the hotels we could see – all full. So when we returned to the train station information and help office and explained that we’d just come in on the bus because of the fire at Perigueux and therefore had missed our connection, not only did they immediately start looking for a room for us, they gave us some boxed lunches, bottles of water, and when they were unable to find a room at the usual places where the hotel will bill the railway, they apologetically asked if we would be willing to stay where we would pay up front but then be reimbursed by the railway. They also paid for the taxi to and from the hotel and the station. And they upgraded us to first class for the last leg of the journey.
Our room was in the non descript Accor Etap hotel but it was clean and comfortable and had a shower with hot water. Fortunately we had traveled with a great deal of food – leftover quiche and meatballs and fruit and a baguette BLT and so on – but the fresh bottles of water they gave us were very welcome, since the very slow train we were on most of the day had no beverages available and our 3 water bottles had been emptied much earlier in the evening. By the time we were in bed it was my birthday and I got kisses from both my boys in honor of the occasion.
Aignan, Gers, Gascogny, France
A long day of travel can sometimes be uneventful and sometimes can be full of surprises, like yesterday, when the guard on the train came through and started asking everyone about their destinations and telling them in many cases they’d have to get off and change to a bus at Limoges because of a fire on the tracks or station at Perigueux. No trains running between Perigueux and Bordeaux, I guess. Our ticket said we were supposed to go straight through from Lyon to Bordeaux with no changes. So we didn’t understand what was happening and he didn’t take time to talk long with us, which left me feeling quite frustrated; but a helpful young Welshman who was fluent explained what was happening. So we loaded our stuff onto our backs and disembarked at Limoges along with many others, and then I showed the guard our ticket and our final destination and asked if it was possible we’d be still arrive at the same time to make our connection and he said in more French words, Stay on the train until Perigueux! I’ll talk to you more in a little bit! So back on the train we went.
Turns out there was not a hope of us catching our connection from Bordeaux to Mont de Marsan, since we had to take a bus instead of the train from Perigueux to Bordeaux, stopping at all the stations that the train would have instead of just cruising along at 110 km per hour on the motorway. It was a leisurely trip for 100 km through the beautiful evening light down many a winding road. We left around 7:30 and finally got to Bordeaux at 10 pm, just after sunset, after seeing so many picturesque little villages we started to feel there would be no end to them. Then, Bordeaux! Entering Bordeaux across the Garonne River on what is I believe the St. Emilion bridge, lit with lovely rococo streetlamps, and all the street lights on the strand and the massive yet delicate looking buildings reflecting in the water, well, it was tres jolie, to say the least. It was a much better view than I ever had when I visited the city 18 years ago and stayed at the auberge jeunesse/youth hostel. I was so glad we ended up on the bus at that point because we would have never gotten that incredible view if we’d come on the train. Even Reed was enchanted.
After leaving the Jura, we’d meandered slowly across the high elevation of the Massif Central, looping slowly from Lyon up to Roanne and Montlucon and then back down to Limoges. The northern Auvergne was beautiful and remote, but obviously just enjoying their spring. But when we got south to Perigueux and then down further to Bordeaux, you could just feel the warmth radiating from the earth, like the Jura was Canada and Gascony is Southern California.
Don’t let it be said that the French don’t understand customer service. Sometimes they may choose not to do it – maybe keeping their job doesn’t depend on their people skills - but when they do it they do it extremely well. Kind of like experiencing the affection of a cat as opposed to that of a dog. Because of the train delay we had to spend the night in Bordeaux. Arriving at 10 pm, we first schlepped our stuff across the street to the hotels we could see – all full. So when we returned to the train station information and help office and explained that we’d just come in on the bus because of the fire at Perigueux and therefore had missed our connection, not only did they immediately start looking for a room for us, they gave us some boxed lunches, bottles of water, and when they were unable to find a room at the usual places where the hotel will bill the railway, they apologetically asked if we would be willing to stay where we would pay up front but then be reimbursed by the railway. They also paid for the taxi to and from the hotel and the station. And they upgraded us to first class for the last leg of the journey.
Our room was in the non descript Accor Etap hotel but it was clean and comfortable and had a shower with hot water. Fortunately we had traveled with a great deal of food – leftover quiche and meatballs and fruit and a baguette BLT and so on – but the fresh bottles of water they gave us were very welcome, since the very slow train we were on most of the day had no beverages available and our 3 water bottles had been emptied much earlier in the evening. By the time we were in bed it was my birthday and I got kisses from both my boys in honor of the occasion.
French/Swiss Fondue
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
On the train between Lyon and Bordeaux
We were invited over Saturday evening for a “Swiss fondue made with French cheese” at Jean-Claude and Regine’s at 7:30 pm. Apparently there are several ways of doing fondue and the Swiss cook their cheese – gruyere and emmenthal - with the wine but with French cheese you make a sauce of potato starch, white wine, garlic, and kirsch, and when it is well cooked and thick you add the grated Comte cheese after you turn off the stove. When the cheese is melted you put the pans on the little burners on the table. Then you use your little fork to spear a piece of bread, which you then swirl through the cheese a few times in a circle – this is very important for the fondue, the swirling – and then remove it, set it on the edge of the pan and twirl it a bit to get the strings of melted cheese wound up, and then finally eat the bite. I was quite full after just one piece of bread cut into about 10 pieces. It’s very filling and rich. Afterwards we had some hot tea but no dessert because after fondue dessert is “dangerous for the digestion.” I wouldn’t doubt it!
Their house is still being rehabilitated after the major foundation and lime mortar problems due to the drought a couple years ago – lots of new piers going down about 10 meters to stabilize the structure. During dinner we learned that Jean-Claude’s father in Switzerland had been a gruyere maker. He didn’t have his own cows but there was a truck that collected the milk twice a day from the dairy farmers in the area and then the gruyere was made from that. It was Jean-Claude’s first job, making gruyere. We learned this about him after it came out that he was a jazz pianist too – he plays only by ear amazingly well, it was like having Scott Joplin in the room – and he showed us his new electric piano and let us try it out. It was amazingly like a real piano, with a piano’s touch on the keys and even a pedal. After the piano playing we had an aperitif of Champagne with vin de Mirabelle – a liqueur made from tiny yellow plums. The wine was poured several times during the evening, especially after I revealed that my 40th birthday was coming up. And then the Swiss chocolate came out despite the warning about no dessert, and we were sent home with a bottle of wine to drink on my birthday and a bag of Swiss chocolate to remember them by.
Their daughter Emilie hopes to be an au pair in an English speaking country and although I didn’t think anything about it at the time, the next day I found myself hoping that she will come stay with us next summer, to help Reed learn French and so that Walt and I can continue learning. Having a nice girl like Emilie would be a real help.
On the train between Lyon and Bordeaux
We were invited over Saturday evening for a “Swiss fondue made with French cheese” at Jean-Claude and Regine’s at 7:30 pm. Apparently there are several ways of doing fondue and the Swiss cook their cheese – gruyere and emmenthal - with the wine but with French cheese you make a sauce of potato starch, white wine, garlic, and kirsch, and when it is well cooked and thick you add the grated Comte cheese after you turn off the stove. When the cheese is melted you put the pans on the little burners on the table. Then you use your little fork to spear a piece of bread, which you then swirl through the cheese a few times in a circle – this is very important for the fondue, the swirling – and then remove it, set it on the edge of the pan and twirl it a bit to get the strings of melted cheese wound up, and then finally eat the bite. I was quite full after just one piece of bread cut into about 10 pieces. It’s very filling and rich. Afterwards we had some hot tea but no dessert because after fondue dessert is “dangerous for the digestion.” I wouldn’t doubt it!
Their house is still being rehabilitated after the major foundation and lime mortar problems due to the drought a couple years ago – lots of new piers going down about 10 meters to stabilize the structure. During dinner we learned that Jean-Claude’s father in Switzerland had been a gruyere maker. He didn’t have his own cows but there was a truck that collected the milk twice a day from the dairy farmers in the area and then the gruyere was made from that. It was Jean-Claude’s first job, making gruyere. We learned this about him after it came out that he was a jazz pianist too – he plays only by ear amazingly well, it was like having Scott Joplin in the room – and he showed us his new electric piano and let us try it out. It was amazingly like a real piano, with a piano’s touch on the keys and even a pedal. After the piano playing we had an aperitif of Champagne with vin de Mirabelle – a liqueur made from tiny yellow plums. The wine was poured several times during the evening, especially after I revealed that my 40th birthday was coming up. And then the Swiss chocolate came out despite the warning about no dessert, and we were sent home with a bottle of wine to drink on my birthday and a bag of Swiss chocolate to remember them by.
Their daughter Emilie hopes to be an au pair in an English speaking country and although I didn’t think anything about it at the time, the next day I found myself hoping that she will come stay with us next summer, to help Reed learn French and so that Walt and I can continue learning. Having a nice girl like Emilie would be a real help.
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