Tracey & Andrew vs Massif Central: 1-1 draw

Being blessed with some sensational spring days (25 to 28 degrees), the time had come for our assault on the Auvergne mountains. The area is called Les Monts Dore, and is home to a plentitude of dormant volcanoes. These are up to 1885m tall and, when we arrived, still sported good patches of snow. We later discovered that the whole area had been covered in snow but ten days earlier....
We elected a 19km walk that would start in La Bourbole (890m) and take in Puy Gros (1485m), Col de Guery (1268m, and apparently France's second-most photographed spot), Col de St Laurent (1450m) and then back to La Bourboule. Graded as "easy-moderate", we figured it would make for a pleasant day.
Not far into the trek the question was heard: why do all walks start with a big climb? It was certainly something to get the heart pumping and the calves thoroughly tested. The track wended its way uphill by pastures (featuring a different sort of calf) dazzlingly verdant in the bright sunlight and through an all-but abandoned hamlet with partly-ruined buildings. Just before entering a beech forest we spotted a local serpent - about the size of a whipsnake, it looked as active as the cows we've being seeing that loll around napping in the meadows.
The beech forest could have come straight out of Tolkien (Shire-like peacefulness), with occasional streams burbling down the hill. Of course, we were still going uphill....and having occasional nervous moments as we searched for the next all-important red/white trail markers. For here's the thing about walking in France: there are many trails, and almost none of them are the right one. Thankfully, there are blazes to help you find your way. Alas, there are several different systems (red/white, yellow, orange, yellow spots) and you need to be certain which to follow at any given moment. More on that later....
After an hour of solid uphill walking we emerged from the forest into clearer pastures. An abundance of spring flowers were out - daffodils, irises, orchids, little pink & purple blooms that we don't recognise. Fences here are much flimsier, we reflected, than back home. Some look just like a single piece of string at about waist level - how do you control cows with that? Touch it and find out.....electrified fences here just aren't as obvious as ones we've seen before, but they pack an unwelcome zap....even the second time around, some of us just don't learn. A bit of dithering and another solid 40 minutes uphill got us to Puy Gros and the view was certainly worth the climb.
>From there it was a steep descent and some more cross-pasture walking. We'd been hoping to reach Lac du Guery in time to stop at the local auberge (inn) for lunch - otherwise it was dried fruit and chocolate. Spirits sank when faced with a sign saying 3km to go...and it was almost 1.30. Hope, they say, springs eternal and our stride quickened. We reached the auberge at 1.50, and were thankful to learn that "a little something" (un petit quelque-chose) would be OK as long as it wasn't too complicated. Nothing wrong with salted pork, boiled carrots and potatoes.....someone should open an auberge on the Tarn Shelf in Tasmania :-) Col de Guery wasn't far from the auberge and offered a terrific view over two volcanic pinnacles that flank the entrance to a calm valley.
At this point we changed trail blazes. That's okay, a change isn't so bad, the blazes we originally started following would have been a full week's walk. We stumped along in exposed highland pastures wondering if the Lake District in England, or some of Scotland, might look like this: flat, weather-blasted and worryingly short of shelter if the weather changed. Darker clouds had been gathering for a while and we again picked up the pace, striding past whole meadows covered with wild daffodils. In view of the changing conditions we decided to skip an ascent from Col de St Laurent and keep pushing on to lower ground. We followed our orange markers down a goodly descent to a car park, passing a trio of elderly locals on the way down.
Often when you're intent on one thing you lose sight of another. This time it was the need to change markers again and descend in the absolute opposite direction. We consulted our map, looked unhappily back at what had been a pleasant descent but now loomed as an entirely unwelcome extra climb to higher ground....when the afore-mentioned trio arrived. By this time we'd been walking for around 5 hours...mostly uphill.
We've had many occasions to be grateful for Andrew's years of French studies at school (even if it was all more than twenty years ago), but this was a really good moment. No we weren't lost, we were able to say - we knew exactly where we were and didn't like it. We'd missed a path and needed to go back. The youngest (maybe 60-70) of the trio would have none of it. Where's your car? I will take you there. And with no fuss, and a little chivalry for Tracey (make sure you put a warm top on lest you catch cold; please sit in the front), off we went. A ten minute drive of great generosity that saved us a good 90 minutes more walking. Merci beaucoup pour votre secours monsieur, vous etes tres gentil (many thanks for your assistance sir, you are very kind).

Score
Tracey & Andrew: 1 (for the ascent and walk)
Mountains: 1 (for baffling us and making us lose our way)
French courtesy: 1

Au revoir, Burgundy

Having enjoyed ourselves so much in Burgundy it was very sad to realise our final day was upon us. There was so much more we wanted to do, and we chose to visit Semur-en-Auxois and Fontenay Abbey.

The old medieval town of Semur is perched on a hill, which drops steeply away to a river. It's now also surrounded by a more modern precinct, but that's not noticeable from the old part. Having absorbed European fairy tales/fables and modern fantasy works, it was enchanting to step through the stone arch of the old town wall to enter thin, winding, cobbled streets lined with half-timbered houses and the grander stone dwellings of the better-off. The old town is very much alive: part the school playground is in the courtyard of the old keep and has a stone wall overlooking the river. Handily the town wasn't overrun with tourists (an advantage of visiting in May rather than in the summer). Down by the river was particularly pleasant, presumably much more so than in the town's heyday when it was the domain of tanners, smiths and other industry. The cathedral, while not quite in the same league as Notre Dame or Reims, featured in the old Pilgrims' Way of St Jacques. That trail is an ongoing feature for us (Vezelay is also a part), and we have plans to walk some of it once we reach the southwest. Not this day, however! We snagged a seat outside a local cafe, had a light three-course lunch, and soaked up a very pleasant 25-odd degrees. A day when it was a pleasure to put down the roof of our convertible to cruise the beautiful Burgundy countryside (we've named the car "Pierre" Peugeot, so if you read any reference to Pierre you now know to whom/what we refer).

Fontenay Abbey is said to have the finest cloisters in all of France, and it's difficult to dispute. The stone is pale and clean, and sunlight leaked its way through their corridors in a very soothing way. We've figured out that if you can visit somewhere around 1.45pm then go for it: most of the world will still be lunching, and you can enjoy sites in peace. It was particularly appropriate for the abbey, the buildings and ground of which aren't fussy and incline to the contemplative more than many places.

What would a day's outing be without a visit to one of Tracey's Pretties (chateaux)? We stopped by Chateau du Bussy-Rabutin to stroll through the gardens (where they have the easiest "maze" ever seen - it only has one path). We've concluded that, for us, most of the wow factor for castles and chateaux is from the outside so tend to skip the indoors (much of which is usually in a much later style than the exterior). Bussy-Rabutin is supposed to feature impressive paintings - but we'll need to see those next time around. And there will most definitely be a next time, because Burgundy charmed and impressed us and will draw us back in years to come.

Rocamadour Fete des Fromages

We set off in the chilly Auvergne light at 0715 to travel the almost three hours to one of the "Grail destinations" of the Foodivore European Tour 2010: the Rocamadour Fete de Fromages (Cheeese Festival). Granted, three hours seems a long way to go for cheeese....but not as far as we've really come. This day had been nearly two years in the planning.
By 1015 we'd parked and climbed up the unnecessarily-steep hill from Rocamadour to L'Hospitallet, where the festival proper was to be held (on the way in we'd seen exciting signs and canopies) by now it had reached about 32 degrees. We were passed by a herd of goats, all a-clanking of bells and bleating. They were on their way downhill to be blessed (this is a serious occasion, after all).
The festival grounds were an ideal field/park adjacent to the local rugby pitch. One side was lined with pavilions where the producers purveyed their provender; the other was a gently sloped grove of young oak trees within which were scattered numerous trestle tables and wooden chairs (none of this plastic muck). We were to be grateful for the grove later as the heat settled in. In between was a large fire pit for the cooking of meat (and there was plenty of that), a petting zoo, a chap doing woodcarving with an angle-grinder & chainsaw, and a kitchen area where they were preparing heroic quantities of aligot (cheesy mash potato). Having eaten truffade the night before (cheese mash with pork), aligot was out of the question.
How does one describe a cheeese festival? You gently make your way along the assembled pavilions, tasting the various wares (pouvons nous deguster les fromages/vins?...cheese and wine). You become aware of the nuances of fromage de brebis (ewe's milk) from between two weeks to fourteen months in age. Chevres (goats' cheese) that begin at barely-set cream to hard, nutty, well-aged items. Meanwhile, alongside you, the French go about their own tasting. To them the language of cheeese seems to come naturally. The typically French, fast-paced bubble of conversation is all around. Opinions are expressed, and all the stallholders seems to say the same thing: chacun a son gout (to each their own taste).
We grazed our way along half of the pavilions making the odd purchase here and there (chevre Rocamadour, tomme dur chevre, Lignot de Thomas). Having sourced a decent light white wine (for a bargain €4.50 a bottle) and some bread we retired with our trophies to the shade of the oaks. Armed with Opinel and tir-bouchon (knife and bottle opener) we made a fine pique nique . We were later joined by a couple (bonjour monsieur-dame!) who live about 15km up the road. The goats we'd encountered earlier were driven through the area, replete with traditional music from bagpipe-like instruments. The rest of the time accordion music gently rolled over the dining area. To describe it in this way runs the risk of making it sound like a stereotype - but in truth it was a crowd of local folk, doing what they like, in a most un-selfconscious manner. After all this is their way of life, and the cheeese is one of the things that gives tangible expression of that life and culture. Frankly you have to admire it: pick a good spot, fill it with bonhommie and good people, great food and sit back and relax.
Amusing moment of the day: having a stallholder ask a young Norwegian girl to translate French into English for the Australians. Perhaps our French was better than her English :-)
"We've made it" moment of the day: the stallholder who, upon learning that we loved stronger (pongier) cheeses, drew out a hidden brie de brebis (brie made from sheeps' milk) and offered us a taste. Naturally, we returned and bought more....and a slice is being eaten as this is written :-)

If you're unaware of the village of Rocamadour itself, there is much more on offer than just a cheese festival. It's a medieval village built on the side of a deep rocky gorge. Quite spectacular.

Burgundy

Burgundy began well. On the way here we stopped for our usual light lunch (3 courses and a carafe of wine). The third course was cheese (as is often the case). We were presented with the entire cheese board from which to help ourselves. It was stated by the waiter we would know our limits...of cheese...really...this place obviously hadn't met us.

The Burgundy markets
Saturday in Beaune, Sunday at Chagny, Tuesday at Dijon...there's one somewhere every morning in this region. However, beware: if you haven't completed your purchases before le midi then you're out of luck. Everyone's packing up and bolting off for lunch as quickly as they can. The markets are fabulously diverse, sometimes excellent value for money; sometimes not (€140 per kg for particular mushrooms, €26 for 2 chickens but only €12 for Armagnac).

• Piglets the size of cats displayed as a lure to get people to try cough lollies (we don't get the connection, but the piglets are cute).
• Dijon markets. Three good wedges of cheese for less than a single slice of terrine (admittedly, the terrine was fabulous, but the price outrageous). Choice of fresh livers (duck, chicken or rabbit), of which we chose the last two to accompany a comfort-food dish of risotto with goat's cheese and chicken. All the produce you could wish for: comprehensive range of vegetables and fruits; endless varieties of cheese; meats from horse to guinea fowl (those familiar with our trials and tribulations at home will understand the fascination with the latter), and cuts from prime to the more nose-to-tail (all right, haven't seen nose yet but virtually everything else).
• The works of art that are petit fours (small dessert items). It's just not fair to make food look this good ("shiny thing - must have shiny thing").
• The much advertised on road warning signs of deer finally seen on windy roads through the forest. Four so far, and counting.
• Boulangerie just 40 seconds up the street; canal de Bourgogne just 20 seconds in the other direction.
• Lusciously rich wine-based sauces. Oeufs en meurette, Boeuf Bourgignon.
  

In many ways trying to condense Burgundy misses the point. This is a broad-ranging region equally praiseworthy for its history (the amazing tiled rooves! Alesia! the gorgeous fortified town of Noyers), its scenic splendidness, its tranquility (anyone who has ever savoured the serenity of a fresh morning in the Huon Valley would recognise traces of that in the Ouche Valley), the elegant chateaux found in most villages, its food and (of course) its wine.
Let's be upfront about the wine: the good stuff costs. However, the quite-decent stuff is quite reasonable (€6-€14 per bottle). The best value for money, though, has to be the Cremant de Bourgogne. They can't call it Champagne, but that's more liberating than constricting. The cremants are fruitier, and far more affordable (think €8-€18, rather than €20-€350).

La Maison Verte
This has been our home for the past ten days, and the word home is used deliberately. This isn't some tacked-together self-catering motel-like room. You could sleep eight people here without difficulty; there are 3 bedrooms & 2 bathrooms (just for us); the kitchen is ready for the enthusiast (although as everywhere, bring your own sharp knife); the salon upstairs is a perfect spot to retire after dinner for a digestif (small alcoholic beverage); the garden is gloriously full of blooms; there's a fabulous well-sheltered outdoors area in which you can cook or linger; the pillows are the best in France thusfar; bicycles await the active (we love riding along the canal); we could go on. We will return, and will exhort anyone seeking a tranquil home with easy access to the best of Burgundy (perhaps France) to come and stay here.

There are many beautiful villages in Burgundy. We particularly like Beaune (not too b-b-b-bad), with it's medieval centre; Chablis with it picturesque canal; Vezelay, the start of the Pilgrim trail; and of course, our own hamlet of La Bussiere sur Ouche (population 80), which has a starred Michelin restaurant in the old abbey.

(we've got a bit more to add to this post, so keep an eye out for more...just wanted to post now)

Champagne (doing the pigeon, part 2)

Pigeonnier
In the Champagne region we stayed at Chateau de Mairy in Mairy Sur Marne, which is a tiny hamlet just outside Chalons en Champagne. We were originally to stay in a room in the chateau but when it was booked out by a large family, they offered for us to stay in the 3 story tower located on the chateau grounds. Now, to us a tower sounded rather exciting, so naturally we agreed. However, reality doesn't always live up to fantasy (princess in her tower kind of thing). The tower was certainly different to anything else we've ever stayed in. It was originally a pigeonnier, which is where the rich chateau owners kept their many thousands of pigeons. On the top floor was the bedroom which contained a 20ft ceiling, as you look up and around you there are thousands of pigeon nesting holes (thankfully no longer containing the birds or their deposits).On the ground floor was the kitchen and dining area and the second floor, the sitting area/lounge. Sounds great so far - back to reality: the stairs were closer to a ladder in their steepness and width; the tower had solid stone walls about 4ft thick, not conducive to warmth and light; the tower was a few hundred years old and not everything yet had been renovated for modern comfort (befitting a princess); and, when the chateau had been built the railway line hadn't but was now located just at the back of the chateau grounds, ignoring the noise factor, the tower did shake a little every time a train went by...which they did a lot (admittedly between 10pm and 6am they were very infrequent). However, the said we did enjoy the unique experience and particularly liked the 6 cats that lived there also.

The Champagne region was generally lovely with wide rolling hills of grapevines, expanses of vibrant yellow canola fields and typical French villages with their ancient stone buildings, churches and very thin streets...not to mention the great champagne. We toured the champagne house of Moet & Chandon. The miles of old stone underground cellars were very exciting indeed. So much champagne, so close. One small dark cavern could contain 40,000 bottles and there were hundreds of caverns that we saw and that was only a fraction of it. It took a bit of will power to not grab a few bottles on the way through. Apparently during the war they bricked up some areas for safekeeping the champagne, they still today come across hidden areas still safely holding the bottles, now well aged. The fizz was excellent, by the way. We're not experts, but are beginning to better understand the contribution each grape variety makes to champagne and how the wines come to taste as they do.

Reims cathedral
Neither of us are compulsive visitors of each and every church or cathedral that we come across, but we made a special trip for Reims. It didn't disappoint. It's exterior is imposing: more so than Notre Dame, which we think may be accentuated by the surrounding buildings being no more than three-storey (as opposed to six or seven around Notre Dame). The doors are lavish, and so much easier to view in peace without the herds of sheeple that mill around ND :-)
The interior is a soaring hushedness, and the variety of glasswork is a particular highlight. Sure, there are 15th century pieces in the style one expects, but there are also more abstract works and (famously, we believe) works by Mark Chagall from the 1970s that look more like watercolours than stained glass.

A walk in the green forest: the Cripples of Verzy

We headed out for one of the less-advertised experiences in Champagne: forests on the hills above the vineyards. Having found many months ago in the State Library of Tasmania a publication "500 walks in France" (2003), we'd copied (electronically) details of these and have been using them as inspiration. However, the "details" are quite sketchy. (Stay tuned for more adventures inspired by this book!)
The forest was hushed and luminous in its early spring pale-greens, sometimes contrasting with the dark (occasionally muddy) brown of the forest floor and other times a carpet of vibrant green moss and varied ground coverings. It was frankly enchanting. Here and there deer prints could be seen. In one spot the snoutings of wild boar could be seen. Birds maintained a varied soundtrack, but were rarely seen.
After an hour or so of strolling we came upon the "cripples of Verzy". It's difficult to explain how unusual the trees are, particularly in this setting, but perhaps photos will illustrate somewhat. They're a fagus, and are rarely more than a few metres tall. The impression is one of bonsai. We speculate that in all seasons they're distinctive, as the passage of the seasons reveals more or less of the wizened trunks.
photo 3490 to come

Amsterdam

Amsterdam was a surprise in many ways...and not in the way that some people might think.

• The contrast of the beautiful white swans floating through the canal for which on the shores contain the red light district (something for all tastes).
• The amount of space on the barge (Hendrick) on which we stayed - in utter contrast to our "cosy" barge on the Mayenne river earlier.
• How quiet living on the river in Amsterdam was.
• The insane number of people the congregate for the giant street party that is Queen's Day (2 million people)
• A delightful lunch with Wilma and Ronald at Hotel Americain. As we told them, we'd never had selected it based on the name....but the interior is a wonderful blend of belle epoque and art deco, with food to match. Lunch followed a revealing meander through the old town, during which they shared details of the history of what we were seeing, as well as a 17th century bar for a pre-lunch Jager!

Much reamains unseen and yet to be done, so we expect to return some day.

Bruges

Those who have seen In Bruges may have an impression of Bruges as a
quaint old town, insulated from the incursions of anything later than
the 18th century and devoid of attractions for anyone under the age of
seventy. In some measure this is true.

In others, this is a superficial description that fails to express the
calm and charm of the old town. Some of what we found:

• Majestic swans maternally building the nests around them alongside their mate, who assists with nest-matter gathering (and also seeing off the occasional opportunistic smaller critter)
• Winding mazes of cobbled streets which lead you away from your intended destination....and then reveal new charms
• Cruising the canals to see venerable buildings and charming overhanging bay windows
• Thanks to sustained sandblasting of old buildings, an occasional Disneyesque sense of being in a reconstruction rather than an original town
• Lounging under the warm spring sun and playing petanque in the courtyard garden of Bruge's oldest pub (circa 1515)
• Cycling alongside the canals, taking in sights as diverse as ducklings and windmills
• Dining at an excellent restaurant Pro Deo (sadly for them, but good for us, we were the only ones there) in the quiet side of town, where they serve farmed eel that trounces all prior eels in the flavour stakes (far less bitter and oily)
• Sampling the national speciality - beer - in locations that offer 300 (place name to come) or 600 (place name to come) varieties
• Tasting a selection of Belgium chocolate (which, despite them all looking varied, tasted exactly the same).