After our lunch we charged on for Coquelles, to find our Kyriad – cheap, and only 10 minutes from the Channel tunnel.
We arrived in a snowstorm at minus 2 degrees Celsius. The ‘lady’ receptionist was indifferent to the point of rudeness. She said we could not have a fresh coffee from the dining room – only one from the machine in the hall. We said ‘Please – We will pay. We have driven all the way from the other side of Poitiers.’ She reluctantly poured us each a small cup from the pod machine, charging €1.25 each, which was very expensive at that time.
I wished we’d opted for the evening meal there. The starters looked temptingly good, but we had declined, sight-unseen. In the event, after travelling some further miles, we could find nowhere. Our last night in France ended in the hotel room, nibbling a stale baguette end and drinking water. Serve us right for being such snobs…
In the morning there was an equally terse young man on the front desk, who reluctantly offered us a tiny cup of coffee for €2.50 each. Gerroff!
FOLKESTONE – AND HOME!
29th November.
White Cliffs of Dover
It was minus 2°C when we scraped the ice off the windscreen of our car, and we left with totally empty bellies for the EuroShuttle entrance ten minutes away. We were lucky, and grateful, to be able to drive straight onto the train standing ready – an hour earlier than we’d booked.
THE FULL BRITISH
Emerging at the other end we turned into Folkestone High Street and discovered ‘Dawn’s Delight’. There we enjoyed enormous Full English breakfasts with steaming mugs of tea for the amazing price of (if I remember aright) of £2.95 each – such a refreshing departure from most of Rip-Off Britain!
And after that we had a ride through frosty scenery all the way back to Cousin Clive and Marion’s house in Somerset. We gave some of Claude’s precious woods to a happy Clive. We called Marion in and invited both to pick ‘first choice’ of the Christmas presents we had bought. We also unloaded some Basilicatan and French goodies for them; but all this only after a cup of tea!
They live on the Somerset Levels and as so often, kindly fed us and put us up for two nights.
We returned home late in the afternoon on December 1st. 2016.
WE HAVE OUR MEMORIES TO ENJOY – WILL WE MANAGE TO GO SO FAR AGAIN?
We experienced amazing scenery; majestic mountains and lovely lakes: warm seas, hot sands – and in both France and Italy lots and lots of history, both ancient and renaissance.
BUT WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE,
THE GREATEST REWARDS IN TRAVELLING ARE THE PEOPLE!
(Clicking on the names above will take you to some of the posts describing them)
We have made so many good friends through travelling. Since that holiday we have had invitations to stay as personal houseguests from four of our B&B hosts, and have enjoyed boundless hospitality. Others, as stated, have nursed us and been very generous. The family from Thiers (now firm friends) stayed with us in early May 2019. They were intrigued by the mirrors we judiciously placed to ‘enhance’ the space in our tiny courtyard garden.
We hope we will be visited by the other friends we made – and that their bookings will always be full.
LAST DAY: WE TREASURE WONDERFUL FRENCH ‘AIRES’ – & ROUEN.
28th November:
Typical sign indicating to an Aire
We planned stopping at Rouen only for lunch. We had a long trip ahead – nearly 6 hours to reach Calais; even on the Toll road A28. Depending on good weather and no hitches, that is.
Let me mention here how all French Toll roads, (as well as a few others) have at reasonable intervals (20-30 miles usually) wonderful resting-places called ‘Aires’. Some have woodland walks; all provide picnic tables and always good clean loos. (Congratulations to the French public for respecting the needs of others.) Many Aires also provide drinking water and showers – all free. We really treasure these stops, and congratulate the French road designers for anticipating the needs of travellers.
We were still feeling a bit beaten-up after the ‘flu, and the weather had suddenly turned from 25 Centigrade in St Emilion to 10C. A big jump in two days, so all we remember of an otherwise unremarkable journey on the highway is the number of those wonderful ‘Aires’ en route. Those – and the barely-glimpsed city of Rouen.
The Great Clock on the Rue du Gros-Horloge – Rouen
ROUEN – WE WANT TO SEE MORE
We find to our chagrin that in mid-April 2017, as I came to the end of my account, that neither Graham nor I could remember any detail of Rouen, except that we liked it very much. We decided it would be an easy place to go back to for a few days or a week, as it beckoned further investigation. (See later blog of 2018 tour of France; coming soon.)
We parked somewhere near the cathedral and walked back to a promising-looking restaurant I had seen on a corner.
ROUEN – GREAT CHEAP LUNCH – GOOD FOOD – SERVICE –AMOSPHERE
Indeed it was. We were very lucky to get seats at a table by the window, because this was evidently where the local office and shop workers lunched. There was a constant stream. None of the staff spoke English, but there was a menu board with four choices for each course, and iced water and wine stood on every table. Le cap vers – 13 Rue de la République
OFFICE WORKER’S LUNCH – HAPPY TO WAIT OUR TURN
We indicated to the staff that we were happy to wait while they attended a large table of friends who had gathered to share their hurried lunch. And so, after a while we were rewarded with excellent friendly service after choosing our meals (at random) from the blackboard placed in front of us. Our food was delicious and very cheap – a lovely Last Lunch in La Belle France. If we do get back to Rouen, we will look for that café again.
So many pleasant experiences over the years have changed our previous (unfair) idea of Normandy as a flat landscape with only endless tragic war graves to draw one there!
Sorry, Normandy. We bow our heads in abject apology. Your towns and villages still have an amazing amount of lovely medieval buildings – and your museums offer such rich history.
Above all: Your people have always made us very welcome.
Azay-le-Rideau was where we had booked at a very small hotel for our next nights stay ; in itself a very modest town off the main road to Tours. Leaving St Emilion we took the D674 road to Angouleme
EN-ROUTE – LA ROCHE CHALAIS
En route, we stoppped off for a coffee and a quick bite for breakfast at La Roche-Chalais. Early Sunday morning found a cafe open close to the church on the high ground. It overlooked the river Dronne, which from our viewpoint appeared quite wide. A bridge with an impressive, single arching span crossed it.
ANGOULEME – the original home of the Plantagenets.
(Disappointingly, when we reached Angouleme we saw no trace of that fierce medieval Royal Family in both France and England. Athough we passed a castle it did not appear to be open to the public.)
We stopped for an hour or so, seeking lunch. Our road dictated us winding up and up, past a lovely covered market. We looked in vain for somewhere to park nearby, even turning back and driving in a loop.
Carrying on up the narrow hill we finally found a large open ‘Place’ surrounded by grand civic buildings. We were fortunate to park in a tiny side street, after first checking with a local lady. I noticed a sign pointing to The Ramparts, so urged Graham to just walk round the corner to see.
Angouleme – Avenue des Maréchaux
ANGOULEME – A GRAND PROMENADE – ANDA GREAT VIEW
We found ourselves in a wide street bordered on one side by railings. Looking over, you could see far below to a street of grand houses. A little further on was a large monument, with people seated on and near it, eating sandwiches.
Thinking of our time, Graham went back and fetched the remains of our good boulangerie breakfast and bottled water. We enjoyed this looking out over a wide view of a green park and golf course a couple of miles off to our left. The streets of the town wound ever down on our right, with a river a mile or two off. It was very dramatic, and pleasant in the November sun.
AngoulemeAngouleme – Rempart Desaix
SANDWICHES WITH 5TH PRESIDENT OF FRANCE
We found we were sitting beneath the statue of politician and mathematician Lazare Carnot, who was fifth President of France. (I hope I’ve remembered that aright. He was the 5thsomething, anyway).
Carnot Statue Angouleme
AZAY-LE-RIDEAU – THERE’S A SMALL HOTEL…
Not long afterwards we were crossing that river on our way to the small town of Azay-le-Rideau, near Tours.
After a little riding round we found our small hotel, tucked away in a side street.
Hotel Val de Loire
The Hotel Val-de-Loire is a well-run hostelry, perhaps slightly impersonal at the end of The
Season; (we arrived 27th November). That we could understand. However, our ensuite was bright and spotless. Nothing was neglected for our comfort. The extra pillows I had requested were in place, and the reading lamps worked.
Room Tip: As it stands back from a side street, all rooms are quiet.
WHEN EATING OUT – NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER
It was a pity that the hotel dining room was closed. We were told that it being a Sunday there would be only one eating-place open in the town – the Grill in the square. From the outside it did not impress. When we entered we were dismayed to see games machines downstairs. And the dining room was not thrilling – checked tablecloths, candles in bottles – a time warp.
GOOD SERVICE – THANKS TO DEPARDIEU LOOK-ALIKE
The young waitress totally ignored us, even though only one table was occupied. That is – until a family group came in. We were treated to a big, friendly grin from a younger version of Gerard Depardieu. This genial young local man maybe said something, because after that we had good service and a truly great meal at a very fair price.
A GREAT MEAL – SIZZLING STONES
Graham, in particular, was thrilled by his slivers of raw pork to sizzle on a hot stone. It was accompanied by a nice, fresh salad and a little tub full of those excellent ‘frite’ only the French seem to come up with! I cannot remember my meal; only that it was also very tasty.
So – not our chosen venue, but what a GREAT meal we ended up with!
AZAY-le-RIDEAU – TURN ASIDE FOR THIS TOWN AND VISIT ITS CHATEAU
Azay-le-Rideau is an attractive small town, with interesting little shops. The chateau is also exceptional we have learned – though we had no time to visit it. If this town is on your route, do try staying there.
Chateau-Azay-le -Rideau
Azay-le-Rideau
AZAY-LE-RIDEAU’S CHARMING LITTLE SHOPS
We bought some of the local goodies the next day, mostly from a small shop with two round tables, where we enjoyed Assam tea (made properly) and scrumptious cakes, willingly paying the somewhat high price. We also bought some of Madame’s expensive home made local biscuits. They looked wonderfully crisp and flaky, but proved to break up in your hand and taste disconcertingly like Weetabix. We had to scoff them all in the car before they totally disintegrated!
We took a lovely country route to St Emilion, less than an hour and a half away if using the main road.
Instead, we chose a country route through some ancient villages.
The land was flat. We felt we were travelling through a sea of vineyards. I cannot remember now in which villages we saw not a few recognisable ‘wine label’ chateaux. All are very famous – both for their history and the wines produced in their vineyards.
I noted Bergerac, St Antoine-de-Breuilly, St Magne-de-Castillon.
A very narrow road followed, over a small bridge and into a tiny hamlet, which announced a wine festival the very next day – Saturday, 26th November.
OUR CAR ISSPRAYED WITH CONCRETE
But that was after we had been deviated through the outskirts of a small town where extensive road works were underway; and in a suburban side street our car was sprayed with concrete from a mixing machine; it displays splashes on one side to this day…
Entering the town
ST EMILION – DRIVE UP THE HILL – AND YOU ARE IN the 14TH CENTURY
We were enchanted when we drove up the winding hill into the southern end of St Emilion. We quickly found the Logis De Jurats where we had booked a room for two nights.
Our host met us at the door. On the telephone that morning he had kindly agreed that we could book in early, owing to our hasty exit from Chateau de Horreur.
LIKE US – THEY HAVE LOVINGLY RESTORED THEIR OLD HOUSE THEMSELVES
He and his wife are Dutch. In faultless English he explained how they had bought the attractive old house as a long-empty commercial building…
In a very dilapidated state, it had taken two years to restore and convert to this B&B, doing all the labour themselves. Such effort we appreciated and admired.
A GREAT TRANSFORMATION
They had kept the stone walls, cleaned to a lovely cream shade, and had done the minimum to ‘prettify’ the building – indeed, if anything, it had a bare look. But a décor of white walls and navy-blue door in our small room was very clean and attractive. We felt that Ikea had helped in furnishing both bedroom and ‘cupboard’ en-suite, as maximum use was made of limited space.
GOOD VALUE B&B FOR ST EMILION
The rent was not cheap compared to most we had paid. Breakfast was an extra item that we did not take; but great thought had gone into seeing that every need was catered for – including a good tea and coffee maker in the breakfast room.
This was, after all, St Emilion. One does not expect to get cheap lodgings in such a famous, exceptionally beautiful and expensive town. And our hosts were very pleasant, and happy to chat (in excellent fluent English) on all sorts of subjects; so we were well satisfied.
We had all that afternoon and evening to explore the charming town of St Emilion. The next day, my requests to go back to the little wine festival were contested (we have an agreement regarding taking turns to make choices.)
We went instead to Bordeaux, which we felt was most impressive when seen from the other side of the wide River Dordogne. Such a pity it took ages of inching through traffic to get near the centre. We decided not to linger; the weather was still hot and a little sweaty. We instead returned to the large bar in Libourne where we had stopped that morning for coffee, this time buying refreshing citron pressè. The lady serving greeted us with a wide smile, as though we were old friends.
ST EMILION – DO NOT MISS THE TOURIST INFORMATION CENTRE
That evening we entered the upper end of St Emilion and discovered the impressive Tourist Information Centre behind a colonnade of stately 12th century arches (we think part of a cloister), fronting a very ancient building that was presumably once the abbey. We did not have time to tour the famous, stately old wine cellars; but they look marvellous in the brochure.
ST EMILION – ALWAYS EAT WITH THE LOCALS!
At last we got over our ‘flu – and were suddenly ravenously hungry. Picking our way down the winding, cobbled streets we passed many pretty little restaurants, but we guessed that they would charge equally pretty little prices. So we returned to our first port of call; the Restaurant Amelia Canta in the main square.
The Amelia Canta Resturant
ST EMILION – RESTAURANT AMELIA CANTA.
SO IT’S NOT IN THE TOP TEN – BUT IT’S VERY GOOD;
ALWAYS PACKED -AND IT’S AFFORDABLE
(We were watching our pennies; returning home from a long 10,000 MILE tour through Italy, Sicily and France).
This restaurant was always full in the three days (in late November) that we were in St Emilion. It was constantly lively; both indoors, and outside in the large courtyard. Best of all – it was used by a good proportion of locals. It had a wonderful, carefree atmosphere. Both the restaurant room and the courtyard outside were buzzing with happy chat and laughter – everyone clearly enjoying themselves.
Diners at the Amelia Canta Resturant
INSIDE AND OUT – THE AMELIA CANTA IS TYPICAL SOUTH OF FRANCE
Our Waitress
We found the food imaginative and of good quality – plus you could order glasses of quite good wines at reduced prices. We sampled several in this way before buying bottles from local traders.
I CALL THE YOUNGEST WAITRESS ‘BILLY WHIZZ’
Best of all – the waiting staff were all delightful; welcoming, always cheerful, despite being run off their feet giving good service to everyone. A Special Mention for the young waitress Alexandra (see pic.). She literally charged around as if rushing to a Rugby scrum. In one trip she was delivering food to one table, picking up dirties from another on her way back to pick up a bill, then seating people on her way to collect payment. She never muddled orders, was patient with boisterous children and always had a laugh and a joke. She merits an award!
Wandering the streets
ST EMILION – AN EXCEPTIONALLY BEAUTIFUL MEDIEVAL TOWN
St. Emilion is an exceptionally beautiful town in a country that excels in them. It is also one of the best-preserved mediaeval towns. In our opinion (determined by the extent of our travels) it is rivalled only by Sarlat-le-Canéda in this respect: (not so far away, in the Dordogne).
St Emilion boasts two grand old churches. One, in the main square, next to Amelia Canta, was built into the attractive golden rock. To our chagrin it seemed only parties of tourists could gain access. There are also the remains of a castle; the high tower commands sweeping views of the vast plain of vineyards all around.
ST EMILION – BUYING VERY GOOD AFFORDABLE WINE
Wandering the streets
We did not find time, and had not the money, to buy the very best vintages, so we did not get to explore the impressive and historic underground wine cellars beneath some shops – but the photographs showed them to be very beautiful.
ST EMILION – YOU CAN’T LEAVE WITHOUT WINE – FOLLOW THE LOCAL FRENCH RESIDENTS
We could not leave St Emilion without buying some of the local wine. There was not now any room in our car for much.
In the end we went down a side street to a small, private shop, which was selling bin-ends. We had noticed all the French bearing home baskets and bottles from it. Now, since we have sampled it, we are well pleased with our purchases. (We do not have the details; it does not appear, like the high-end wine shops, in the posh town guide. We suggest you treat yourself to a visit to the town and search for it yourselves – just follow the local residents! )
We entered the Gironde and went first to Auch, (just had to pronounce it in phonetic English!). Unfortunately, we never found the famous statue of D’Artagnan. Nor that of his creator, Alexander Dumas; or the Four Musketeers.
Instead, we parked in a wide, tree-lined boulevard, outside an impressive villa bearing a ‘for sale’ sign. Just over the road we enjoyed excellent coffee and lively conversation in a smart little bar.
Having plenty of time, we took the country road to Mont-de-Marsan, on the edge of the scenic area of the Gironde. We found it to be a pretty town full of interest, and despite having earlier bought filled baguettes for midday, we could not resist mouthwatering smells from a small bistro. We had a light lunch there instead.
Then, in high hopes of a bit of luxury (£65 per night on 24th November in the Gironde was on the high side) we joined the highway to Bazas, and – CHATEAU ST. VINCENT:
Chateau St. Vincent
A LETDOWN FROM THE START
We were impressed when we spotted the frontage of Chateau St. Vincent. We looked forward to a nice meal in an elegant dining room with a roaring log fire. To enter, though, we had to take a long way round to the back gate. (This was a surprise, as we had booked well in advance).
A dog barked fiercely at us as we parked our car in the empty yard. Finally, a man left a greenhouse-annexe affair and pointed to a long, dirty conservatory jammed with junk. We were left to search for the only door that would let us in.
NO WELCOME WHEN WE ARRIVED
We presently found ourselves in a large, dark hall filled with even darker, looming furniture. We waited at the desk a good ten minutes after dinging the bell.
SO FREEZING COLD – IT MUST HAVE BEEN HAUNTED
Eventually a lady wearing several woollen cardigans topped by a jacket under a fur gilet finally appeared. We could well understand her garb – it was icy cold in there, though warmer outside – about 10 Celsius…
She took us up a dingy, once-grand staircase onto a long landing with a beautiful polished wood floor and some antique furniture set amongst old toys. A nice bedroom seemed likely.
OUR BEDROOM WAS POOR
Instead, we were in for a disappointment. Our room was small, bare, and freezing cold. It had one of those cheap camp-bed affairs, and one inadequate see-through curtain. The shower-suite, in a sort of cupboard, looked quite smart, but we put off having showers until morning. She showed us a stone-cold radiator in our icy room. No attempt had been made to turn it on, even though we were pre-booked and had phoned to say we were on our way. Even now, she did not turn it on for us, but tossed down two small, thin towels and swept out.
Mercifully, the radiator worked. We made the room quite hot at first to warm ourselves up after a long, arctic wait. I left the bathroom door open to facilitate a passage of air, and after washing, etc. we climbed into bed to keep warm. Too dispirited to go out and hunt for food, and not risking a high-priced meal at this unwelcoming chateau, we ate the filled baguette we had bought that morning, washing it down with bottled water.
The bed was not a ‘real bed’, but a metal frame with a very thin mattress. It also had only thin, old covers. We had to pile our coats and other clothes on top in order to be warm enough to sleep.
WE WOKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT TO BUBBLING EFFLUENT
I awoke about 2am to use the toilet and to my dismay found the foulest of smells in the shower room. So upon leaving I shut the door.
About 4.30am we were both awakened by the sound of loud bubbling. The room was filled with the strong, unmistakeable odour of effluent. We hurriedly put our things together, not even washing or cleaning our teeth, and opened the window to the early-morning cold and damp. We climbed into the bed fully clothed until at 6am we felt justified in descending to complain. It seemed that we stood forever at the reception desk, from time to time dinging the bell for attention. The husband eventually came, but he could not speak English. When his wife finally arrived she was in a fur coat. By now we had waited an hour, standing in the cold.
‘YOU SHOULD HAVE PUT A TOWEL OVER’
“No need to complain: You should have put a wet towel over the drain hole in the floor,” she said, as though this was an obvious answer to the problem; and “why did you not phone me when you noticed it?”
We said we had no idea that she would be available at that hour, and in any case she had given us no mobile phone number.
Her husband brought out some forms for me to sign, but I refused, suspecting a ‘Disclaimer’. A lot of arguing ensued, but then I remembered the ‘complaints’ number on our printout of the booking confirmation.
We telephoned Booking.com on the spot. They promised to look into it, and suggested we only paid half – but wanting just to leave right then (by now it was 8am) we paid the full amount.
Happy to say Booking.Com refunded us later.
We have no idea if the owners have improved their accommodation at Chateau St Vincent, but can only suggest careful research before booking. It is not cheap. This was our second disappointing chateau booking in ten years. We just will not take the chance again – and so probably may miss out on some delightful places…
After turning out of the heavy gates we drove the short way into the town of Bazas looking for breakfast. There were only two cafés open. Neither was serving anything but croissants A cafe in the large and impressive town square was not yet open. Thankfully, behind a raised pavement edged by railings, and under a colonnade of large, wide arches, we saw the tourist office – and it was open.
Misty morning in Bazas
BAZAS TOURIST OFFICE – WELCOMING AND CONCERNED
The young woman within was very welcoming, even though she had just opened the doors. She listened to our tale of woe with genuine concern, and asked us to send a written report when we got home. (That was not to be until 1st December; and once home I promptly caught a virus, which sent me to bed for over a week and left me devoid of energy, so I’m not sure she ever got a copy of the report I wrote for Booking.com and later, Trip Advisor.)
Hotel de Ville – Bazas
BAZAS – A TOWN OF INTEREST AND CHARACTER
We had a quick look round the town, which made us wish we had more time to explore further. We decided reluctantly that there was no time to visit the cathedral. Instead, we entered a very interesting sort of ‘under-croft’ at the top end of the square. It had once housed the weekly market. It also had a large trough where clothes were communally washed (probably with many a quip) before the invention of washing machines. Now there were a few historical bits and pieces put in there – possibly to over-winter in the dry before a proper exhibition was erected in the following spring. An arch led out to the imposing Hotel de Ville.
Bazas is an interesting town, and we would like to go back (but not to that chateau!) The surrounding area holds much to justify such a grand tourist office. More staff came in to start work; they were all equally helpful and friendly.
From then on we had good service everywhere we stayed and enjoyed some truly great meals at a very fair price.
This is our very favourite B&B in the whole of France (as we so far know it!)
It is the exceptional hospitality from the hostesses that has sent us back repeatedly to this charmingly restored ancient farmhouse. It adjoins the famous Abbaye Villelongue – though not anymore belonging to it.
Abbaye Villelongue
WE COUNT ON A WARM WELCOME
Driving through that storm, we could not wait to get there. We eagerly anticipated the usual warm welcome. We little knew the shock we would cause.
A LONG TIME FROM MARCH TO NOVEMBER
In early March 2016 I definitely wrote an email to Claude asking her if it would be possible for us to stay for one night late in November. Would they still be open? I am pretty certain she wrote back to say arrangements could be made.
By November I was convinced in my own mind that I had followed this up at some point with the definite booking for November 23rd. But March is a long way away from November. Even if I did… And Claude is very efficient; I imagine any booking I made would almost certainly have been entered into a register.
THE WORST STORM IN AUDE HISTORY?
We could hardly see out of the Golf’s streaming windscreen. Graham had to inch through the last miles of country lanes taking us to St Martin-le-Vieil, and then on to the Abbeye de Villelongue. We arrived outside the farmhouse about 7pm, and were instantly soaked through as we jumped out of our car.
It was our fourth stay with them in their historic house, but this time for only one night. (I must confess here that due to the ‘flu we had both forgotten to remind them in advance of this November arrival.
The Front Door
CLAUDE’S HAMMER-HORROR MOMENT
Wet branches swung out to lash us in the face, whilst thunder rumbled from the billowing grey/black clouds just discernible against the night sky. A sudden ‘CRACK’ and forked lightning threw the house into sudden relief. We staggered forward against the tearing wind…
And so it was that two wet and bedraggled visitors hammered on the front door, hoping that the sisters in their flat above would hear us. As great luck would have it Claude appeared with an armful of wood from the store at the back of the house.
She gasped when she saw us through the small pane of glass in the door (and who could blame her?) She was soon joined by Renée, who frowned: but the door was opened and
“What are you doing here?”
A SLIGHT DISPUTATION
You can imagine our relief when they beckoned us inside; from the expressions on their faces we had both feared they would turn us away.
In the downstairs hall I reminded them of the booking made in March. Claude denied all knowledge of it. I think that because we had corresponded as friends she had forgotten she’d answered ‘Yes, come – welcome’, or words to that effect. After all, it had been eight months ago!
They were clearly put out, having ‘closed down’ for the winter. They appeared to ignore our profuse apologies. I felt about five years old; I expected to be told to stand in the corner…
THE SISTERS QUICKLY ADAPT – I SHRINK…
Nevertheless they quickly adapted. They even insisted on coming out to help us with our bags, ignoring our insistence that it was not necessary, as we were only bringing in small knapsacks. I felt awful; a guilty small girl again – and I expect Graham felt the same…
NOT EXPECTED…
“We have not prepared food for you,” said Renee, her voice clipped. She ushered us into their comfortable sitting room (TV in here – a large one, which was promptly turned off). Their pretty cat came over to greet us – she seemed to remember us from former stays.
“Please don’t worry about food,” I said, remembering the sumptuous four-course feasts they usually provided. “We have little appetite –we’re recovering from ‘flu – but well past passing it on,” I explained hastily. “If it is at all possible, just a small bowl of soup each would be welcome – but please don’t go to any trouble.”
I felt pretty certain that such accomplished cooks would have some stock and leftovers or something which they could quickly rustle up into a soup. As it was we warmed up in front of a blazing log fire, and in about an hour two welcome bowls of gruel appeared. I wistfully hoped some bread would accompany it, but I guess they had none to spare. BUT- we were given the bedroom on the ground floor, which was a new delight for us (it has an especially lovely bathroom).
One of 4 Bedrooms
A HOUSE WITH A LONG HISTORY
This exceptionally good B &B is in the beautiful home of Claude Antoine and her sister Renée who go out of their way to ensure every comfort for their guests.
The house has a long history. Many centuries ago it was the living quarters of the monks in the adjoining famous abbey. Then – I do not know how far back, it became the farmhouse for the Villelongue estate and the home of the sisters’ family.
In World War 2 it was taken over by the Maquis – the French Resistance.
HARD WORK – GOOD TASTE – PERFECTION ACHIEVED
All I know is that when the sisters moved back in, the house was in a sorry state, with little or no furniture. Now, thanks to very hard work and shrewd buying at auctions etc. it is sympathetically restored, and full of lovely antique furniture. In every spacious room the beds are large and very comfortable, and there are armchairs and coffee tables. (No TV’s though, which does not worry us, as we don’t speak French. We are delighted to enjoy the elegant country lifestyle here instead.)
WE SHARE THE SISTERS’ BREAKFAST
In the morning we were invited to share their breakfast. It was more modest than in ‘the Season’; but still we enjoyed the same delicious crunchy bread. There was a small selection of local cheeses and their usual range of homemade jams. There was even some excellent dark orange marmalade; “brought from England by a guest”.
They had quite recovered from their shock and annoyance at us, but Claude shook Graham gently. She laughed, and said “Next time you come for more than one night. Yes?” So we know that before too long we will have to plan a holiday that takes us to the Midi-Pyrenees again. (Not such a hardship, really…)
(NOTE: And we did – we stayed FIVE nights with them in 2018 at their special rate.)
When I was handed the bill I saw that they had charged us a bit less than shown on the 2016 Bill of Fare in the bedroom – and nothing for our food. When I pointed this out they shushed me.
CLAUDE HAS A GIFT OF RARE WOOD FOR GRAHAM
Claude had emailed in March to say she had some exotic wood for Graham, which was when I had replied to request this booking.
Turned Apple made of Osage Orange
CLAUDE AND GRAHAM FORAGE IN HER WOODSHED
While I dug out the Euros for Renee, Claude led Graham to her wood store and the log she had been saving for him. (There is generally a gift of interesting wood for my craftsman husband).
This time he had to somehow find room in our overcrowded car for a log of rare Osage Orange (Maclura Pomifera). She cut him a generous length.
ENOUGH RARE WOOD TO SHARE WITH COUSIN CLIVE
There was enough to pass some on to my cousin Clive to experiment with in his woodturning (he was thrilled when presented with it upon our return). Also, she insisted we take a small branch of boxwood. I was amazed that Graham managed to find room for it in the back of our car, already piled high with luggage, wine and presents).
They both came out to see us off. This time I ventured to hug them both closely.
THEY HAD NOT EXPECTED A HUG – BUT THEY GOT ONE JUST THE SAME
“You are true good friends,” I told them, when they at last laid down the backpacks they had carried for us. They both looked slightly startled. “You made Graham special soup last year when he was feeling poorly, and we stayed an extra day without notice. And now we descended on you without proper notice again, and you still made us welcome and went to some trouble for us. I call that true friendship.”
“Then as friends you will stay longer next time,” Renee said with mock-sternness.
Jackie with Renee & Claude
CLAUDE AND RENEE WAVED US OFF…
I joined Graham in our extremely mud spattered car. The sisters waited by their gate until Graham had turned our car – then waved us off all the way to the corner in the lane…
And with that, off we went to explore Auch, presented as ‘The birthplace of D’Artagnan’, just as though the Fourth Musketeer had existed outside the pages of Alexander Dumas’ book!
This is still our favourite B&B in France. It especially appeals if you have a creative streak. The breakfasts and dinners they offer are exceptionally generous and delicious.
Don’t just take our word for it –
ALL the many reviews (in divers languages) of this B&B are five-star*****
As we resumed our journey the sky darkened and presently we were in the midst of a storm. It slowed the driving, but diminished when we reached Narbonne. The town was on my list of places to stop and explore. We were both a bit tired, and so we went into the town and parked up by an ancient church, which had been turned into an art gallery. The girl on the desk was most unhelpful about letting me use their toilet, and so Graham and I hurried along to where we could see a tall tower, which must mark the centre.
The central Canal
BUT FIRST – A PROPER CUPPA
Presently we found ourselves beside a broad canal, and we followed it to the first café that presented itself. Miraculously, they served properly made English tea (the cuppa, that is). What a treat! We sank down onto a pavement chair and watched the comings and goings.
NARBONNE – PAST GLORIES – THE BELLE EPOQUE
We were admiring the building opposite; a rather baroque, large square place of several storeys. Carved in relief all along the top was information that this was an Emporium for Ladies A La Mode (as far as we could make out the French). Not any more. It looked largely empty, with several shabby little shops created out of the grand ground floor entrances. (We later realised that we were facing one of the sides of this once-imposing building).
The Old Department Store Building
NARBONNE HAS MANY FANCY LITTLE SHOPS
When we left we turned into a sort of passage behind the main street. It was full of intriguing little shops, and led out into another, much larger square. It had a sort of oblong trough in the centre, full of water. Perhaps the base for another fountain?
In front of that was the still attractive main frontage of what is now known as the ‘Monoprix Building’. Easy to locate, but such a comedown from its past grandeur.
WE LOVE HOW THE FRENCH DECORATE THEIR STREETS
The Ancient Fountain
Before us was that previously glimpsed tall tower. It was already decorated for Christmas. Like a giant gift parcel, it was tied up in broad red ribbon, with a neat bow in the centre.
‘Typical French wit,’ chuckled Graham appreciatively. We love French wit, which shows everywhere; in window displays and much street art. Even, as here, on buildings themselves.
This tower is part of what remains of the old castle. Attached buildings are beautiful, even in Civic use. (English Councils, take note!)
A BEAUTIFUL FOUNTAIN – ON NARBONNE HOTEL DE VILLE (town hall)
Still part of the castle complex, the town hall façade had been cleaned to show the attractive pinkish stone. Next to this beautiful fountain was a medieval, carved doorway. We walked in, admiring the tessellated floor, and the statues and other features in the round (or octagonal?) hall or atrium. Various offices led off, so we walked on. Through another arched doorway we found ourselves in a small, enclosed courtyard, with yet another eye-catching floor.
Gargoyle
NARBONNE – PALAIS DE ARCHEVEQUES
Had we more time, and the ability to read French, we would have loved to spend time looking at the town’s archives. Various illustrated displays showed a bronze statue of Romulus and Remus. We managed to track the original down in
The Museum of Arts and History of Narbonne. This was hidden in yet another inner courtyard where fascinating gargoyles were being restored.
After walking around this interesting town, we made our way back through a sort of ‘tunnel’ of yet more interesting little shops.
WOULD THIS BE ‘THE MISTRAL’?
A sudden high wind followed by driving rain caused us to hurry back to our car, which was just as well, because soon all was darkness and Graham had to negotiate narrow country roads in a raging storm.
We discovered Les Baux quite by accident, as I’ll explain later.
23rd November:
Travelling along the Languedoc coast I said to Graham: ‘Do you realise this is my brother’s birthday?’
I hoped Trevor did not feel neglected because I had not sent a card. He had no idea I was in France. We had deliberately not mentioned our long trip anywhere on the Internet (except when booking, of course.) Just before we had left he was somewhere on the high seas on a cruise. We knew he had just moved to a new address (as then unknown to us).
MAKING FOR OUR FAVOURITE FRENCH B&B
We were happy to be on our way to Villelongue D’Cote Jardin; our top favourite French B&B. It is a very old farmhouse attached to the Abbaye deVillelongue, near St Martin le Vieil, in the AUDE region.
SET YOUR SATNAV TO NEAREST VILLAGE
We had long ago learned the hard lesson to set our SatNav to
ST MARTIN LE VIEIL, as there are many places in France called Villelongue.
WE SEARCH IN VAIN FOR THE OCHRE –
To reach Villelongue we took the toll road (A8,A7,D54,D24). The weather was changeable, and we did not feel recovered enough to do a long country journey. There were some nice autumn colours here and there, but the ground was mainly flat. I had, however, expressed a strong desire to stop for half an hour in some famous Ochre quarries I had heard of. They were close to the road off towards Orange, but not that far, according to a guidebook I’d been lent. I had scribbled some very hasty notes.
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL
The road sign
I now told Graham ‘They’re in a place called Les Baux’. It’s just before the turn off for Orange’.
I perused like a hawk all the road signs we passed, but no Les Baux appeared, and no brown signs to ochre quarries. Not even on the turnoff to Orange. We seemed almost at Montpellier when in small letters ‘Les Baux’ appeared on a long list of motorway directions. Sighing at my insistence, Graham turned off onto the D27. That narrowing road seemed to go on for hours.
It led through two pretty and prosperous-looking villages. One was exceptionally attractive. Was it La Cazou – or (most probably) the other, called ‘Maussane-les-Alpelles’, that helped Graham perk up? Or maybe the third one, named La Remise?
NO ORANGE AND YELLOWMOUNTAINS
The slow journey seemed endless, and mostly rather boring. At last came a small roadsign with more directions to Les Baux. We drove down a narrow, straight road, with trees and buildings on our right.
“I wonder where these damn quarries are,’ I said gloomily. ‘We ought to be seeing yellow and orange mountains by now – I saw the pictures.’
‘We’ll, it’s only 1 kilometre now, so we may as well carry on,’ he answered.
LES BAUX – NO OCHRE – BUT WE FIND MAGIC
The road to Les Baux
I feared I’d get a lecture about wasting time when suddenly, the road ended in a track. Before us, out of the flat plain, loomed an enormous high, jagged white rock face resembling an almost symmetrical cone.
‘What on earth is that?’ he said.
‘It appears to have a window cut in it – but it’s so large – and why there? But it can’t be natural; it’s too perfect a shape.’ As we got closer the escarpment looked almost castle-like.
The answer came almost immediately. A white finger post pointed us to ‘Les Baux; bastion of Les Seigneurs & le Roi.’
LES BAUX – BASTION OF KINGS
‘Roi means royal,’ I said. ‘I do know that word, at least.’
‘And ‘bastion’ means something like castle, or stronghold’, said Graham.
We got back into our car and he drove up as far as he could, winding round the escarpment until we came to a flat parking space. I was happy to see some toilets built into the rock face. Ignoring the wind plucking at my cape I hobbled toward them, praying they would be open. Fortunately, I was lucky. (Sorry how often they crop up in this narrative; but believe me, when you reach a certain age…)
A Narrow Street in Les Baux
FREE TOILETS – FREE PARKING – BRITISH ATTRACTIONS TAKE NOTE!
Meanwhile, Graham had gone up to the small sentry-box affair to pay our fee, but was told all was free, presumably because of our Blue Badge – or maybe it was some local saint’s day?
We spent a pleasant hour or so relaxing over excellent coffee in a pretty café-bar, where I discovered that the most stupendous views were from the lavatory window. I told Graham it didn’t matter if he didn’t want to ‘go’; he must take his camera with him, and make sure to look at the baronial fireplace in the next room on the way!
LES BAUX IS WELL WORTH TURNING OFF TO – IT’S UNIQUE!
Lovers in a Narrow Street in Les Baux
Les Baux is simply amazing, and extremely beautiful. You can get some idea from Googling it on ‘images’ – but you really need to visit if you can. And walking around we found the window-space we’d seen from the road. It was simply immense and surrounded on the ‘inside’ with decorated carvings.
A Pyramid of Pots
LES BAUX HAS INTRIGUING AND PRETTY LITTLE SHOPS
All the way up we passed along narrow, cobbled streets of charming stone medieval houses, and were charmed into entering many of the interesting small shops. Embroideries, handmade soaps and perfumes from local flowers – cakes and other local food specialities. All were presented with that unique ‘panache’ the French are famous for. I’m afraid we looked a lot, but did not buy much. Cash was depleted at the end of our long holiday.
SIEGE ENGINES AND BIRDS OF PREY
Graham, though very interested, did not want to climb up to the top, as his foot was hurting. So he missed seeing the birds of prey, and the siege-engines we were later told about. My breath was running out; but I somehow discovered that I’d had the location of those ochre mines right, but not the name of the place! Anyway, it was a serendipitous mistake. We would not have missed Les Baux for the world.
LA COTE D’AZUR – WHAT A RIP-OFF – WE DIDN’T EVEN SEE THE SEA
To reach Brignoles, our destination for that night, the quickest way was on the A8 ‘Coast Highway for the Cote D’Azure’. I have decided that I hate that route; especially as it rained all the way. This toll road was lined by 1930’s 2-up-2-downs. We were charged upwards of three Euros when we passed by each of the Riviera towns from San Remo and Monte Carlo to Frejus, above San Tropez. There were about four of them as I recall, but they were not visible – no sight, nor even a sniff – of the desirable sea. We thought it a very unfair rip-off.)
HOTEL HIDDEN IN A CAR PARK
We had chosen Brignoles for our first overnight stop. Just because it was the first small town in France past all those exhausting tunnels above Genoa. Back in La Casa di Plinio in Pompei, Martina had hastily booked for us a night at an Ibis hotel, having heard they were cheap and good.
After much circling around and around an industrial park we eventually found the Ibis Hotel. It was hidden away next to a small slip road running by the toll road we would take in the morning. We were pleased to see armchairs in the lobby. All were occupied by young women sipping coffee, clustered around tiny tables.
A very pleasant, handsome Frenchman was running the place. When I showed him our booking form he told us we were not staying there –we had booked the ‘Ibis Budget’ hotel next door. I felt cheated, as I thought the price I’d paid (around £45 – though I may be mistaken) would have covered a room in the modest building we were standing in.
WE GET LOST – THEN HAVE TO LEARN A CODE
We searched high and low for the ‘Budget next door’ and in the end had to go back for Mine Host to point the way – obvious when you knew where to look!
He showed us how to tap in numbers on a machine to give us a card with OUR room Number. This would effect us entry into the secured front door, and later, our room. Nobody was manning the front desk. They would be in from seven pm until 10pm he said. He added ‘You can buy breakfast in the main hotel in the morning’.
We thanked him and I opened the front door for Graham to bring in our nightly backpacks. There was a drinks machine in the lobby, and one selling crisps and chocolate.
OUR ROOM WAS A PLEASANT SURPRISE
Hmm, I thought; but when we found our room we were pleasantly surprised. All white, small but very clean. It was well appointed, down to a hairdryer attached to the wall in the bathroom. Also, an ironing board and iron were in the tiny wardrobe. There was a good shower, adequate fluffy towels, and even a range of free toiletries. The bedside reading lamps worked, too – so not such a bad deal, after all. www.ibis.com/Brignoles
BRIGNOLES – A VERY ATTRACTIVE SMALL FRENCH TOWN
When we had washed and changed we emerged to find a very friendly girl at the front desk. She gave us directions into the nearby town, which we found very pleasant. It was raining, so we drove round for a bit before parking, then walking to the very attractive main square. It looked really ‘French’.
Light failing on wet pavements, Brignoles
A PRIEST TRIES TO DIRECT US
Here Graham stopped a priest and asked for a nice local French restaurant. The patient priest, huddling under his umbrella, kept trying to direct us to the ‘best Chinese in town’. I expect he was trying to help out the owner.
BRIGNOLES – A LOVELY AUTHENTIC FRENCH RESTAURANT.
However, I had seen an attractive small place in a back street,and remembered the way. We walked there and discovered an empty, rather dignified square right opposite. I waited while Graham walked to fetch the car and park there.
(It appears under Graham’s name, because I use his web page):
“It was sad that we were just getting over ‘flu and travelling slowly back to England when we found this charming restaurant in a side street. If we ever go back we will book a bedroom there, too – because their prices are very reasonable for a high standard of country living – French style.”
DELICIOUS FOOD IN LA HOTEL/RESTAURANT DE PROVENCE, BRIGNOLES.
I cannot now remember what we ate, but only that it looked attractive and tempting, and what we could manage to eat was delicious. It was, after all, the first full meal we’d ordered since catching ‘flu over two weeks previously. We had to apologise for the food left on our plate, and explained that it was in no way a shortcoming in the cooking. The hostess/waitress was very understanding. We left full of gratitude. Do try this pretty dining place.
(ADDRESS: Place du Palais de Justice, 83170, Brignoles, France. (phone: +33 4 94 6901 18)
I suppose that for the Italian Riviera the price of our hotel was quite good.
We had a job finding it; on a hill, past the picturesque central harbour. There was a
steep incline from the road to the hotel.
RAPALLO – YOU NEED GOOD BREATH AND GOOD STRONG LEGS
To reach the front door I had to struggle up a lot of ornately balustraded steps. Graham had to toil up the hill with our luggage (which had to be left in a car park a good way down the hill). We then tackled even more steps up an impressive staircase to our room on the first floor.
THEY COULD HAVE WARNED US REGARDING ALL THE STEPS
All those steps and inside stairs could not be helped in a Victorian house on a steep hill, but they should be stated in booking info, I think. Parking was a short walk away down the hill (or up, if you are hand-carrying luggage!) The restaurant was closed in the evening, necessitating a long trip round to find somewhere suitable to eat.
Hotel-delle-Rose
HOTEL DELLE ROSE, RAPALLO –
VICTORIAN HOTEL – FADED GLORY
It had been a rather grand Victorian villa or guesthouse, and the present decor rather let that down: a pity. We both felt ‘this place could easily have been exceptionally pleasing, with very little extra expense.’
DÉCOR DISAPPOINTING – IT COULD HAVE BEEN REALLY ATMOSPHERIC
I think we just felt a disappointment that the interior did not reflect the impressive exterior. The once dignified rooms had been hacked about and several extra ‘squeezed in’. Some of the bedrooms, like ours, had been divided, which left them very high-celinged, with cut-off ornamentation. A pity – but understandable, I suppose. The owners were, after all, in business.
Hotel delle Rose – staircase
– BUT COMFY BED AND GOOD BUFFET BREAKFAST
However, both the room and our bed were satisfactorily clean and we slept well. The breakfast was very good for an Italian buffet. The staff in attendance, with one rather rude exception, were mostly helpful.
Room Tip: Try not to book higher than 1st floor unless you think a great view worth the climb!
In the morning I persuaded Graham to go down the hill and into the town of Rapallo. We passed fine Victorian buildings encircling its pretty harbour full of sailing boats.
A short drive further on was the fishing village of Portofino. In Google ‘Images’ it resembled closely the highly coloured tumble of fishermen’s cottages down to the sea that we missed by cancelling our room in the Cinque Terre. My husband objected strongly to the narrow road hugging the cliff on one side, the sea slopping up to the rocks below us on the other.
PORTOFINO – SO PROMISING – MUST WE MISS IT?
I argued strongly, wanting to explore the small forts guarding each side of the small harbour, and our last chance to see a multicoloured village of Italy.
Graham moaned all the way, pointing out that he couldn’t turn round and we had a whole day’s journey before us. Useless for me to quote ‘The entire journey takes 4hrs 23 minutes driving time – that’s all. The road to Portofino is less than a mile.’
PORTOFINO – A VERY SLO-OW RO-OAD
However, it proved to be a very slow, winding precipice road. When we reached Portofino it was to find the pretty little square full of tourists. *** (Of course, we regarded ourselves as quite a different species – travellers, if you please…)
PORTOFINO – AFTER ALL THAT –
We got out of the car to take the short walk down to the beach, but turned back when we discovered they were charging for the pleasure – just like the sharks back in Britain! And there was a queue! Even I balked at delaying further, and the exploitation.
PORTOFINO – WE TURNED AWAY!
I was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive back – right through Rapallo before we found our road. By then it was at least 10.30am.
GENOA – A HIGHWAY I HATE – AND IT ALWAYS RAINS
The quickest way to reach each nightly stop meant driving once more through the outskirts of Genoa. As twice before, it rained relentlessly. We were constantly popping in and out of tunnels. Heavy traffic insisted on overtaking us, even in the sometimes stifling tunnels – (great for my COPD, to say nothing of the ‘flu.)
SAD TO BE GLAD TO BE LEAVING ITALY
With great relief, we finally emerged from the last tunnel. What a shock, to find all road signs in French! No warning – no customs checks. The road was lined with trees in autumn colours. We said ‘farewell’ to Italy, and ‘Hello!’ to La belle France…
