I’d made a few notes, but in the end we lazily made for the Arc de Germanicus, which we knew had been moved from its original site, where it had proved a blockage to traffic. It now occupies a large circular space close to the river.
Germanicus had been the nephew of the Emperor Tiberius, and the arch was erected to mark the monumental entrance to Gaul -Aquitaine – the ‘Mediolanum’, and the completion of the crossroads of Gaul, the ‘Via Agrippa’.
WE NEGLECT THE ROMAN STADIUM
Having in our travels in Europe (especially Italy) visited so many Roman stadia and amphitheatres, we decided it was just too hot to trail through the streets to find yet another one. So we just generally pottered around this attractive old town of white stone houses built mainly in the 17th century to the 19th, but left before it was time to eat dinner at any of the attractive restaurants.
Cross the bridge for cocktails
TAKE ANY ROAD…
We cruised around the area, keeping an eye open for a likely place, but what we eventually found were some umbrella-shaded tables overlooking the river –overspill from a large hotel just over the road.
MUSIC AND COCKTAILS:
There was music, and a band about to start up, and people were sipping cocktails. Now I have had very, very few cocktails in my long life, and I suddenly decided I’d like to try one. We spent a good hour relaxing while the sun went down; then made our way back to Taillebourg, meaning to try the better-class auberge. But we found it closed – also the restaurant in the hotel by the river.
River restaurant
FREE-RANGE CHILDREN CAN RUIN ANY MEAL
So we went back to the same place as the evening before. Only this time there was a large party of families with very noisy and unruly children, who were constantly running in and out, shouting and playing with the settings on the ready-laid tables. If that were not enough, the food that evening was abysmal.
We had the same nice waitress, who did her best to tame those children – but their parents were totally indifferent. I wondered – could this group be English? We’d always found in our Continental travels that French and Italian – and certainly German children, all knew how to behave in public. But no; a mother actually chided her child in rapid French. I felt a little better then, and mentally apologised to all the British parents who do keep their kids in order…
NO GOOD REVUE THIS TIME
As for the food that evening – I concluded there must have been a change of chef. I decided that instead of writing the five-star revue I had planned the night before, the kindest (and most honest) thing was to not put anything at all on Trip Advisor.
We took a last little walk along the riverbank while Graham experimented at using the dying light for ‘special effects’
Then it was back to Cynlyns. John and Valerie were not to be found – evidently enjoying each other’s company. We debated watching some television in the atrium lounge, but opted instead for a nice long read in bed. Clean clothes for the morning waited in our backpacks.
WE FOUND IT HARD TO LEAVE THIS GREAT B&B
We found it hard to leave this lovely haven, and indeed, John and Valerie seemed happy to chat over the breakfast table. Then there were photographs to take. Finally we made for our car and the next leg of our journey. Only a three-hour drive direct – but we were about to enter the Dordogne, regarded by many as the most scenically beautiful area in all France, so it was not about to be a quick drive-through…
Even so – we were setting out well rested and full of contentment, thanks to the seamless professionalism and genuine friendliness of Valerie and John in sharing their lovely home. We assured them that only illness would stop us from booking a week with them next year.
Miss SatNav sent us past Saint Savinien and onto a small hamlet – a maze of huddled houses bisected by small lanes that were little more than tracks. It kept stopping us outside a bungalow that was clearly not our destination. In the end Graham used his mobile phone to dial the number on our confirmation document – he would not listen when I tried to read the detailed instructions that Valerie had sent. (It is a truth universally acknowledged that – Men always know best!!!!)
Our Hosts – John & Valerie
WE MEET OUR HOST
We found without further trouble the white house with the navy blue door and window trims – very smart. As our car drew up the door opened and out stepped a large man with an even larger grin. He rubbed his right hand down his somewhat shabby tee shirt, and thrust it out to us.
“Welcome,” he said – “I’m John,” and it was clear that our new host was yet another Englishman. He offered to make tea, but I needed (you’ve guessed it) so he said “I’ll take you to your room.”
WE FIND LUXURY IN THIS B&B
There was a steep little staircase to climb, and I started to panic, but we crossed a short landing, and he threw open a door. We were in a very spacious, beautiful room, full of colour and containing a wide, long bed. There was a single bed, too, tucked into a sort of ingle on the opposite side of the room. Both had beautiful, expensive-looking covers. Good paintings adorned the walls and there was a very nice desk beside the door.
OH BOY – A BATH I CAN LIE IN:
The bathroom was next-door. It appeared almost as large. I was delighted to see a large corner bath with seating-steps. I had found difficulty in the last couple of years in getting out of our standard bath at home. Lying down in it, as I longed to do, had been out of the question. With Graham’s help – maybe even without, this pleasure could be mine again for the two nights we were booked in.
PLENTY OF LARGE, THIRSTY TOWELS
As I took in the rack of large, thirsty towels I found myself wishing fervently that I’d booked more nights – allowed us longer to enjoy this luxurious accommodation.
AN EYE FOR ART
More was to come. John showed us more of the house, which was filled with works of art collected over the years; paintings both ancient and modern, some very nice sculptures – and a good sprinkling of amusing mementoes, some of them appearing to come from the United States. These were explained when John led us through the kitchen to drink our tea in the large conservatory that shielded it from the bright, hot sun outside. Before us stretched a long, tree-shaded lawn.
The conservatory where we had Breakfast
– AND OTHER SIMILARITIES
“Val’s out there, planting vegetables”, said John. “She’s vegetarian. Oh – I might mention she’s American – ten years older than me.”
Was this said to put us at our ease because of our age difference? We’d ceased to think about it years ago, until forced to by my recent sudden onset of severe breathlessness and consequent loss of energy.
“Before we go and find her, follow me.”
LOUNGE WITH LONG, SOFT COUCHES – AND OPEN FIRE
We discovered that a large lounge was at our disposal (really, a lounge – long couches on three sides around an open fireplace; beside it a large, state-of-the-art TV.) Obviously, they were used to more guests; probably inviting in the tenants of their two gites.
A MEZZANINE GALLERY
From one corner a classy wooden staircase led up to a gallery where we spotted what might have been another seating area – or possibly an open mezzanine bedroom. I longed to go up and look. Perhaps I’ll get the chance, because we have made up our minds that if at all possible, we are returning next spring for a week in this lovely place. There is a ground-floor en-suite that will suit us perfectly.
NOTE; We have since been told by John and Valerie that they no longer offer B&B in their home; but are increasing their self-catering gites. I am confident they will offer the same high standard.
WE MEET VALERIE – WELL ORGANISED AMERICAN
We crossed the lawn to meet Valerie, busy planting her little patch of veg. She is tiny; smaller than me. (I’m 5 feet tall and considerably chunkier, though not obese.)
Valerie is a sylph – she looks almost frail, but it soon became clear that this lady is a dynamo of energy, and very, very organised. She is responsible for the bookings – and probably much else around the spacious house.
View from the Conservatory – Perfect B&B
JOHN – GARDENER AND PHILOSOPHER
John, we learned, is constantly caring for and developing the nearly three acres of grounds; and, we think, managing the gites. We recognised immediately that they are ‘our sort of people’. Shared values, such as ‘Life is for Living – not existing’; and that amassing a store of good friends is more rewarding than stacking up a bigger pile of shekels than the next guy, had found us new friends.
“If I’m not enjoying what I’m doing,” said John, “then I stop doing it. Life’s too short.”
We benefited hugely from the delightful fruits of their philosophy – their relaxed attitude that nevertheless embraced much hard work, and the generous sharing of their great good taste in the short time we stayed with them. This couple do not stand on ceremony, but they offer their particular take on perfection to be enjoyed by all their guests. www.leruisseaudanslemarais.fr/welcome/
Cafe by the River
THE CAFÉ BY THE RIVER
Valerie and John suggested some places where we could eat that first evening. The ‘café’ by the river had pleased a lot of their guests, and was inexpensive compared to the rest. We ended up there that evening and had a seat looking out over the water watching children splashing and fishermen doing what they do – which appears to be very little… That evening we had a very good meal – particularly my seafood starter, which really would have been sufficient in itself. Les Quais de Taillebourg: French, Brasserie, Creperie and Bar. Route de la Brossardiere, 17350 Taillebourg, France. +33 5 46 91 73 28 Website
9th May:
TIRED IN THE HEAT
We woke up still feeling a bit tired after our full day with stops for sightseeing the day before; and that very late night on the 7th. The weather had been consistently hot for the past week, reaching 93 degrees Fahrenheit – possibly throughout our drive down with no Aircon. That’s a bit hot for us particular Brits. We like to feel a cool breeze on a nice warm day…
I can remember only that we were constantly seeking shade and cold drinks in this period. We have consistently found hotter weather in the middle of France.
WE FIND KINDRED SPIRITS
So I think we just washed before going down to breakfast at nine am, though I was longing to get into that bath (as was Graham.) The plan was to go up after breakfast; but our hosts joined us in the conservatory, and we could not stop chatting; we all had so much in common.
JOHN – KING OF THE TRACTOR
Graham went off to accompany John on his mini-tractor, with which he cut the grass of the extensive lawns. (This sit-on-mower was his pride and joy. Valerie was ‘strictly forbidden’- and Graham, if he’d hoped for a ‘go’ was thwarted.)
WALLOWING IN THE BATH
Still, my husband was gone a couple of hours; but I didn’t mind. Valerie and I chewed the fat. Ex-hippies both; she in California, (though if memory serves I believe she grew up in the Mid-west. Forgive me, please, Valerie, if this is all entirely wrong.)
I worried that I was keeping her from her ‘duties’, but she assured me that they take life very much as it comes. This was an object lesson in avoiding stress and still achieving super-efficiency.
Graham returned and we both made full use of that lovely double bath, and it’s equally abundant shower. Clean and refreshed, we sallied forth to find a light lunch and explore a bit more of St Jean d’Angèly. (We had not gone into the centre the night before).
BACK TO ST JEAN D’ANGèLY
It took only eighteen minutes to go back and discover the centre of the old town. The buildings in the main ‘place’ were mostly of the stately Napoleonic era, mixed with tall houses of simpler aspect. Many had those typical lavender window shutters.
Echoing back to the Napoleonic eraThe Famous Well
A COOL DRINK – BUT NOT FROM THE FAMOUS WELL
In the middle of the ‘road’ a café had set many shaded tables. We enjoyed a cool drink there, before I ventured down to look at the curious and ornamental old water fountain (or well?). It is now empty, but contains a curious contraption – a sort of wheel is set into it. Perhaps it was once used to bring up water – in any case, Google searches reveal nothing.
ST JEAN D’ANGÈLY – PICTURESQUE ROOFTOPS
Graham left me under the awnings set down the middle of the street while he climbed long, steep steps to explore views from the top of the town.
He came back full of enthusiasm, and I spent at least ten minutes peering into his point-and-shoot camera at the tiny, sometimes indistinct pictures of rooftops, far-extending views and those special twin towers, which looked less hideous than they had at close quarters the day before.
Clock tower
– AND LANDMARK CLOCK TOWER
A further walk around took us down some medieval streets to the landmark clock tower, which revealed itself atop a high arch, which rose above the roofs of the old, very tall, three-storied, elaborately half-timbered houses.
When we had satisfied ourselves that we had not missed any more significant landmarks, we got back in our car and headed for Saintes, about one hour’s drive away.
We left the hotel at 9am, in order to reach the ferry port in Dover an hour before sailing. We had intended breakfasting at a remembered treasure:
Dawn’s Delight. 22 Cheriton High St, FolkestoneCT19 4ET
This admirable café is an ‘institution’ in Folkestone. We had counted on a good breakfast to sail on – but could not quickly locate it. It must have been at the other end of the town, so we arrived on the boat quite hungry. The breakfasts aboard were very expensive and from past experience less than thrilling, so we made do with a Café au Lait and a Pain au Chocolat each.
A SMOOTH CROSSING:
The crossing was smooth, and Graham left me lounging in a comfortable seat with my legs up, as per doctor’s orders, while he went off to take photographs of the white cliffs.
GOODBYE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ‘AU REVOIR’
Of course, I had to go out on deck to say goodbye to England. I’m never the only one to be gazing at our guardian cliffs until they disappear from view.
THE WHITE CLIFFS – MORE THAN A PRETTY FACE
On a previous trip we spent a day touring Dover Castle. One of the best – and if we hadn’t been members of CADW (Wesh Heritage) which earned us free admittance, we might have balked at the unusually high charge – which would have been a pity. It is worth every penny.
We would have missed the ‘bonus’ of delving into the miles of tunnels within those famous white cliffs. Started in the Napoleonic wars, and the centre of operations in the Dunkirk rescue in World War 2, when the hidden windows and tunnel openings enabled strategic views of the large ships and small boats (down to a rowing boat manned by a boy scout).
Not so White Cliffs of Dover
WHITE CLIFFS DISAPPOINTINGLY NOT SO WHITE –
The White Cliffs of Dover needed a clean up now. These iconic guardians of the entrance to England are presently marred by tussocks of scrub and dark streaks. Any other nation would see that they were kept gleaming white…
SEAGULLS SEEM TO STRIKE A POSE
Graham also made many studies of the harbour and shipping – not forgetting the seagulls. They seem to enjoy having their photographs taken as they so often strike perfect poses, or fly slowly past at close quarters.
Leaving Dover
CROSS-CHANNEL FERRY – PLENTY TO ENJOY
As our English cliffs disappeared from view we were fascinated by all the maritime activity on this busy waterway. Pretty soon the outside decks filled up; we were all peering for our first glimpse of the French coast. The time seemed to fly, but we had enjoyed a ‘breathing space’ before embarking down the ramp and on to French concrete…
We made sure to stop and explore Ostuni, which was on our way to join the coast road. Another remembered favourite, it is called locally The White City because from a distance its hill is crowned with sparkling white buildings. Once inside, we were enchanted by the steep and narrow, winding cobbled streets in the old town. Unsurprisingly, every house was painted a fresh, glaring white, which set off the pots of geraniums on steps and balconies, and the festoons of bougainvillea of every hue.
Ostuni-alleyway
NARROW LANES – TEMPTING LITTLE SHOPS
Ostuni-visitors-climbing-the-steep-streets
In the upper town we found many small, whitewashed shops in the narrow lanes. We were all attracted by nice souvenirs, like clothes being sold off cheaply at end-of-season. I bought some elegant scarves and pashminas for Christmas gifts on our return, and wished we could have found room in our car for some of the colourful pottery. I fell in love with some intricately pierced white china lamps, and antique terra-cotta amphora, which I would have argued to find room for could we have afforded them.
We may find many more examples of the potter’s art in this area if we are ever able to return.
VIVIEN AND I BEHAVE LIKE TEENAGERS
Vivien and I had great fun trying on hats in one shop. Hats do not suit me, but I was disappointed when she did not buy an immense floppy-brimmed job in bright mustard yellow. She looked fabulously elegant in it, and the colour suited her. There was also a treasure-trove of costume jewellery. I bought some for small gifts for friends when we returned home.
Ostuni is very close to Cisternino, where many Trulli are dotted by the road and in further fields only a couple of miles out into the country.
WE SEARCH IN VAIN FOR A REMEMBERED RISTORANTE –
I was surprised and a bit miffed not to find a wonderful ‘wine cellar’ restaurant we’d visited five years before – but later, when we stayed those two nights with Francesca after taking Vivien to her plane in Brindisi, I think we found it in Ciobica, the next little town towards Cisternino, but on the other road. Sadly, at that time of day, it was closed.
Within 40 minutes we were entering Italy, though we found no border and no guards to check our passports. You would hardly notice the tiny sign tacked onto the rock walls of the mountain tunnel: It read simply ‘Italy’ above the red, white and green flag. (That’s the EU for you! A world without borders would be a nice thing to aim for.)
One of the many colonnades in NovaraThis tower could be seen miles away – up close it was very impressive
We were taking a route to revisit Novara, though I now see that Rivoliwas right on our road. Since 2016 I have learned that Rivoliis a ‘Must – see’ place. We missed – but you need not. Novarais a mainly modern town, but beautiful, with spacious elegant streets and squares paved in cream marble and stone tiles – even the roadways. As we arrived a sudden cloudburst sent us scurrying from our car to the shelter of the gracefully colonnaded streets, which we followed towards our destination.
This gilded statue seemed to hover in the sunlight
We did not, sadly, this time find the square with the many fountains, but we did visit the beautiful Basilica di San Gaudenzio . It has an especially impressive four-tiered cupola by the famed architect Antonelli. (It is visible for miles).
A FINE BUILDING – GOOD INFO
It is a fine building with good info:
The interior, apart from its side chapels (most famous being those of The Guardian Angel, with beautiful frescoes – and another to The Good Death), is relatively empty compared to other Italian church interiors. But the pillars are attractive – painted in designs reminiscent of the contemporary Books of Hours. The inlaid marble floor is beautiful, too. Most striking is the almost hidden gold figure of a saint in flight. He is holding a banner. I believe him to be San Salvatore.
Other Special sights in Novara –I P Broletto’s arcaded building; the Cathedral of Santa Martia Asssienta (huge, impressive, amazing statues; Casa Bossi (a lovely Romanesque building – hidden gem with a great past).
NOT ENOUGH TIME IN THIS CHARMING CITY
As usual, we could not spend enough time in this charming city on this, our third visit. We had to find the E64 to Presezzo The total drive from Embrun takes 5 hrs; but mainly we suffered from the intense heat, since our car’s air-conditioning had been wrecked by a careless mechanic during the pre-holiday checkup– and not worth replacing in a 2005 vehicle.
Lap of Luxury.
DAY 10: 11th & 12th September:
PRESEZZO – FIRST OVERNIGHT STOP IN ITALY
This is where we really lucked in. I don’t think we could have afforded this hotel while booking a three-month tour – our one and only. Luckily it came up on Booking.com with a generous special offer, and so we were able to enjoy staying in the lap of luxury for two nights.
A most strikingly beautiful conversion from a former ancient farm, we enjoyed everything about our stay.
BATHROOM WORTHY OF A POEM
Our semicircular ivory and malachite-tiled bathroom was worthy of a poem. The truly spacious bedroom had a curtained sitting area with couch, full sized TV, large refrigerator, and ample cupboards. I threw myself down on the enormous bed, exhausted from journeying (why is sitting in a car passenger seat so exhausting, I wonder?).
We enjoyed having drinks brought to us on the terrace, and walking through the many varied rooms – each with a different decor. Modern sculptures and paintings were successfully blended with antique furniture in many of the dining rooms – all uniquely different. There was an elegant small indoor bar, where you could ‘dive’ down steps through a cave entrance to find the gym and indoor swimming pool (there were smaller versions of both outside in the grounds). This place was such heaven that we did not explore the area far.
Settecento Hotel Via Milano, 3, 24030 Presezzo, Italy. (Our photos did not come out well, so please look it up for yourselves if interested).
Because of the heat we did not go to Bergamo on our free day in Presezzo, as planned.
The route we took on our day drip to Lago Isleo
Lazing by a Lovely Lake.
Instead, we visited the very small LagoIseo – and took a boat to the island in the middle. It was beautiful, though we soon got tired of walking – it was so hot. So we went back to the gelato by the quay and had Italian ice creams, then caught the little boat back to make use of the great facilities in our hotel for a welcome rest. I would LOVE to go back to both the lake and hotel. Here are some photos:
We would love some Ice Cream
All the Italian Northern lakesare beautiful – with anisland and a castle on top
The cypress that grow in the lake are very special
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 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.
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.
The next day we visited Syracuse – city of living history. Principally because we love history, Central Syracuse impressed us the most of the whole island of Sicily. In truth – Syracuse (or ‘Siracusa’ as the Italians call it – and it is THEIR city) is a place so full of beauty, history and charm that we know we only touched the surface. If we are ever able to return to Sicilia we will make Siracusa our base.
SYRACUSE – FIRST THINGS FIRST – WE PARK IN THE BUSY HARBOUR
As I remember, it took a long time to traverse the road from the highway that led down to Syracuse. Like most early settlements, it was built by the sea. Following the signs to ‘Harbour Car Park’ we saw, as we got close, the spars of yachts and other boats, large and small. Then we entered a wide, clean street lined by smart hotels. We emerged by the most impressive: a quietly grand, pinky-terra-cotta building of some age. It took up the entire corner at the end of the horseshoe-shaped enclosed harbour.
Near the Harbour
Even more imposing was the ‘palazzo’ we could see beyond the large bridge spanning the river that disgorged into the sea. We parked, and strode into the small piazza where they sold tickets for boat trips. But we were both thirsty, and there was a tempting little bar facing the sea.
Cafe
SYRACUSEHARBOUR – AN EXCELLENT LITTLE BAR
A pretty, friendly girl served us with Peronis, while I admired the covered snacks that lined a long, covered ‘cooler’ counter. It was too early for lunch. Later, when we stopped at a place that gave us the ‘end of season’ treatment, I bitterly regretted that we had not gone back to that bar – but we did not wish to retrace our steps so early.
Cats attracted by a birdcage on a balcony
SYRACUSE – WE CLIMB NARROW OLD STREETS
There was quite a trek up narrow, winding streets of elegant, tall houses. I would guess them to be late eighteenth century – like our Georgian era. Cats hogged every patch of sun until frightened off by motorbikes. These roared down (and up) at fairly regular intervals, somehow dodging around us in the confined space. Then the cats would reclaim their patch of sun. Italian love of cats may be because they keep rats and mice at bay in these warm old towns. Every so often we would find ourselves in a small piazza, generally with a fountain in the centre. Some of these had stately and elaborate stone carvings as a base.
SYRACUSE – THE BEST THINGS ARE ALWAYS AT THE TOP
Emerging from the deep shadows of a narrow street we were lured by the airs of Vivaldi being expertly played on a guitar. As soon as our eyes adjusted to the brilliant sunlight, we found ourselves in a very large and elegant piazza. Graham was enchanted by the expertise of the romantic-looking, curly-haired young man who sat outside the cathedral, absorbed in his music. He was very talented indeed. After taking several photographs, and engaging in conversation, Graham asked permission to make a small video. After buying a CG, and exchanging email addresses (sadly mislaid since), Graham left a generous tip and we resumed exploring.
SYRACUSE DUOMO – UNIQUE IN BEAUTY AND HISTORY
The Duomo
We especially admired the Duomo (Cathedral). It had a very clean, elaborate, baroque frontage – all rosy-white. But the gasp factor came when we went inside and found ourselves in a vast, mainly empty space with pitted columns of enormous girth. We had to look right up to see the tops – so high was the ceiling. To our right, beyond the nave, we could discern many chapels hidden behind them.
A DAGGER IN HER THROAT.
One of the inner chapels was dedicated to St Lucia– one of the three patron saints of the city. There she stood, richly dressed in real clothes, with a large, fearsome dagger stuck in her neck. She gets regularly paraded like this throughout the city.
AN EARLY CONVERSION.
Inside the Duomo
We learned that the whole building is an early conversion, using parts of an ancient Greek temple to Athena. Indeed, on one side of the exterior you can see where the walls have been contrived. They were built in-between the ancient columns, still standing strong in their entirety.
SYRACUSE’S ANCIENT TREASURES – HIDDEN BENEATH THE BAROQUE.
We had to pay a small sum to enter. It was explained that our tickets also included the remains (next door, and below the level of the cathedral crypt) of a much older, (5000 year-old) temple to Artemis. She was the daughter of Zeus (chief god) and Leto. Artemis was Goddess of Hunting, like the Roman Diana. We also saw the few remains, below the Duomo, of the 5th-century BC great Greek Temple of Athena aforementioned, which had been ransacked to build the present cethedral above it. Archeological site excavations by Paolo Orsi in 1907-1910 show that Greek temple to have been built on even older foundations. They uncovered a wealth of archaic and pre-Hellenic artefacts. Many are held by the Museo archeologico regionale Paolo Orsi in Syracuse.
Part of the Old Temple
THE PLINTHS FOR THE SHATTERED COLUMNS STOOD HIGHER THAN ME
We had to approach the ruins of the older temple (to Artemis) through a rather scruffy, neglected garden. Some shallow steps led down until we finally stood at the bottom, on a wooden walkway. A marvel met our eyes: We appeared to be about three feet above the uneven floor level of an enormous chamber. The sheet of explanations stated that most of the pillars had been broken up or transported to build the temple to Athena that was the basis of the Duomo next door. Even so, I got down and stood on the base of one of the plinths upon which the original pillars were erected, and the square block of stone reached to above my head.
5,000-YEAR-OLD SPECIAL SEATS REVIVE OLD MEMORIES
As we progressed along the walkway more marvels emerged. Namely. a glass-covered relief model of the original layout, and then an intact row of stone latrines. They reminded me of the old ‘karsies at the bottom of the garden’ that I had to use each time I was evacuated to the country as a child. (I wondered if those very, very Ancient Greeks had the equivalent of little squares of newsprint strung on gut dangling down beside them…) These were grander, as they had armrests carved between each hole. I had a vision of Greek worthies sitting solemnly reading their scrolls like Mr Bridger in ‘The Italian Job’.
The Latrines
WE DISCOVER THE BACK HARBOUR (ORTIGIA ISLAND)
By that time we were quite thirsty, but we took that stroll round the back of the headland, and found a completely different harbour from the one we had first encountered. There was a feeling of it being much as it would have been in the Renaissance, with sailing ships pulling up to disgorge cargo into the smaller warehouses that lined the long sweep of the quay.
Syracuse harbour
HUNDREDS OF PHOTOS – SPECIAL MEMORIES
Graham has many, many photos of this wonderful ancient city. Its old side streets captivated him, as well as the grand squares with their fountains. Below is a taster of the many ‘quiet corners’ where people live their lives, relatively undisturbed by tourists.
A Quiet Corner
A Cartouche
HIDDEN FROM TOURIST EYES
While in that area we explored some other, lesser-known towns inland, and closer to Mount Etna. Most of these betrayed the very real poverty Sicily is still suffering. We got curious stares as we entered one town where we had to turn around because the road leading out from the main square and down the mountain had completely collapsed, right in front of a house! We felt great empathy for these struggling people, and could not help wondering why more of the riches culled from tourists like us could not be shared to improve the lot of these inner, less-penetrated towns and villages.
