Ramble – Ancy-le-Franc

After our visit to Tanlay, we drove the short distance to the small village of Lézinnes, where Mary had reserved rooms at a gite – a French Bed-and-Breakfast. Our arrival was not without trial. First, Mary said the gite was at 4, rue de la Gare, so down rue de la Gare we drove and when we arrived at number 4, here’s what we found:

Our B&B for the night?

Our B&B for the night?


Fortunately, we (fairly) quickly saw the gite at number 5, rue de la Gare:
Gite at Lézinnes
But one last hiccup: the woman who owns and runs the gite was sitting outside, enjoying the sun, and said she had no reservation for us – had never heard of us. But no one else was there, so she could offer us rooms. (Turns out that she did, indeed, have a reservation, but she had somehow missed it in her reservation book.) Anyway, the gite was quite nice, and had a lovely breakfast the next day.

That evening we went to a restaurant that Mary and Gilles had been to some time before (and did not have exactly good memories of, but the gite owner thought it had changed hands since then). We arrived, found it had not changed hands, but decided to give it a go. It was maybe ten tables, outside beside the Canal de Bourgogne, and was a very pleasant surprise. The food was excellent, the wine very nice, and the setting – alongside the canal on a warm evening – delightful.

The next day we made the short drive to the Chateau Ancy-le-Franc. This is another Renaissance chateau and, like Tanlay, was designed by an Italian architect, so it is pure Renaissance, and purely beautiful. A big difference between the Chateau Tanlay and Chateau Ancy-le-Franc is that while Tanlay is still owned privately and so limited in how much money is available for maintenance and restoration, Ancy was purchased by a foundation some years ago, which has poured a lot of money into restoring it.

Chateau Ancy-le-Franc is just simply beautiful. It adheres to Renaissance architectural rules: symmetrical throughout, simple ornamentation, everything tied together.
Ancy-le-Franc

Ancy-le-Franc

Ancy-le-Franc

Ancy-le-Franc
People who know architecture say that the courtyard at Chateau Ancy is the most beautiful Renaissance construction in France, and among the best in the world. Who am I to argue? I can only say that yes, indeed, it was beautiful.

We took an audio guide tour of Chateau Ancy, which was informative. The chateau’s rooms are much the same as when they were built or redecorated over the years. Again, though, photography was not allowed inside, so I’ve got pictures of the exterior only:

And when we left, there was Gilles, who had gone a bit ahead of us, waiting patiently.

Gilles
As we walked out, we went through the town of Ancy-le-Franc’s market. Most towns have such markets, and they are always interesting to visit.

After that, it was a drive to Langres, a town we’d visited last trip and were looking forward to seeing again, and to a dinner at a restaurant we all loved last trip.

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Ramble – Tanlay

We traveled the last few days with our friends Mary and Gilles Germain. I had asked that we do a ramble to include two Renaissance chateaux in the Burgundy region, so Mary and Gilles put together an itinerary that included the two, the excellent town of Langres, and a new place to us – Troyes (pronunciation to be explained later). I’ll do a post for each of the two chateaux, then one on Langres and one on Troyes. Here is our visit to Chateau Tanlay.

We arrived after a pleasant couple-hour drive from Chartrettes, where Mary and Gilles live and from which we started our ramble. We parked, walked to the chateau, looked at the building below and said, “Hmmmmm, beautiful, but not all that great a chateau.”

Our first look at Chateau Tanlay

Our first look at Chateau Tanlay

We walked a little farther and, well, sheepishly realized that what we’d seen is the gatehouse to the chateau. This was not to hard to figure out when we saw the actual chateau:
Chateau Tanlay

Renaissance chateaux are not terribly common in France, as most chateaux were built before the Renaissance. Tanlay (and Ancy-le-Franc, of which more in the next post) are even rarer in that they were designed by Italian architects, who had learned their business in Italy at the height of the Renaissance there. Renaissance chateaux are marked by perfect proportions and geometrical design, where earlier chateaux, derived from earlier defensive castles and designed by French architects, show some remnants of defensive structures.

We could see the interior only if we purchased the $12 guided tour. After some hemming and hawing, we thought, “Wait, what are we doing? We drove all this way and we’re not going to spend twelve bucks to see the place?” So we got our tour tickets and off we went.

The tour and the chateau were worth every freaking centime. The chateau was built between 1550 and 1568; it was acquired by the current owners in 1705. They still live in a wing of the chateau. I was asked to take no pictures during the tour, so I have nothing to show, except this picture I snuck in that shows some detail a wing of the chateau:
Chateau Tanlay

Some interesting history occurred in this chateau, but as it occurred in the 1570s, you might not be interested…

And finally, three happy travelers. Chateau Tanlay, not on any tourist guide itinerary, fascinated us. We agreed that we were all very glad I’d asked to visit it.

Laurie, Mary and Gilles

Laurie, Mary and Gilles

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Paris III – other stuff

We love to walk in Paris. I’m not sure there’s a better city in the world for walking, so we do a lot of walking. Here are some highlights of our walks in Paris this last week.

Berges de Seine
Berges means the banks of a river. I have, since our first visit to Paris 20 years ago, wished that there were more places to sit and watch the activity on the Seine. Well, no more will I wish that. Two weeks ago, Paris opened up a section of the river on the Left Bank, from Pont d’Alma to Pont Royale, that is 100% for sitting, walking, resting, eating, drinking and just watching. It is fabulous.

Parking
It seems that you can park anywhere in Paris as long as three things are observed:
1. There’s not a “No Parking” sign to be seen;
2. You don’t block an intersection (sometimes ignored);
3. You don’t block a crosswalk (often ignored)

This picture shows a few cars obeying the parking rules: there’s not a “No Parking” sign; they’re not blocking traffic; and they’re not blocking a crosswalk. Hence, parking like this is fine. Note that both black cars are parked here; it looks as if the right-hand one is driving around the corner, but no…it’s stationary.

Actually, it also seems that you can disregard the above three rules if you just put your blinkers on. That seems to make parking anywhere okay.

Sure, no problem

Sure, no problem

Scenes from our walks…

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Paris III – Chateau de Vincennes

Warning: history follows!

On the eastern edge of Paris, outside the Périphérique (the highway that surrounds central Paris) one can step back into the 14th century with a 15-minute Metro ride. Today, rather than take that 15-minute Metro, we took a 30-minute bus ride into the 14th century and it was amazing.

In the 12th century, the French monarchy decided it really needed a hunting ground near Paris – I mean, after all, who wants to go to an actual forest to hunt? So inconvenient – and so built a hunting lodge, with an enclosed hunting ground to keep the game close-by – I mean, after all, who wants to actually hunt for something before shooting it? So tiring – at the Bois de Vincennes. In the 14th century, Charles V converted the hunting lodge to a fortress, with an enclosed community, strong walls, defensive towers and, in the middle, a huge keep, also known as a donjon, that would protect him against any invaders that penetrated the first set of walls. And despite the audio-guide’s assertions that Charles V did that to protect himself against the English in the Hundred Years War, all other histories say he did it because he hated Paris and its residents and they reciprocated the feeling. Charles V, King of France, was scared to death that Parisians would attack and overpower his army.

Regardless, the Chateau de Vincennes stands today, much as it was when Charles V lived there from 1364 to 1380. The walls stand, two of the four gates into the fortress remain, and most impressively, the keep itself has been restored to as it was in the 14th century. Here’s the keep:

The Keep

The Keep

The main gate was called the Town Gate, because it opened into the town of Vincennes, not that anyone from the town of Vincennes was ever allowed to enter the fortress. This is the current view of the Town Gate from the town:

Town Gate, from the town

Town Gate, from the town

Here’s what the chateau area looks like from the top of the Keep’s walls. This shows maybe 20% of the area enclosed by the Chateau de Vincennes.

View from the walls of the Keep

View from the walls of the Keep

These places, while beautiful today, were cold and dark and essentially nasty, particularly during winters. Here is the fireplace in Charles V’s main chamber; that should have kept him warm:

Now here's a fireplace

Now here’s a fireplace

Finally, Charles V build a church in the chateau, called St. Chapelle, same as the St. Chapelle on Ile de la Cité in Paris. Like the St. Chapelle of Paris, it was meant to hold a holy relic, in this case a thorn from the Christ’s actual Crown of Thorns.

St. Chapelle

St. Chapelle


In previous blogs, I may have stated my disbelief about all these relics. If you gathered together all the pieces of Christ’s Crown of Thorns or all the pieces of Splinters of the True Cross, you’d have a dumpster full of thorns and a tree trunk of wood splinters. When a King went on a Crusade, he had to bring back something to show what a good thing he’d done. And the people of the lands he invaded knew that, and many a monarch was sold many a fake.

Anyway, Chateau de Vincennes fascinated us. There was almost no one here; I guess it’s too far outside the tourist track to draw in many folks. But if you’re interested in seeing where a king lived in the 14th century, this is the place to go. It’s well worth that Metro ride.

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Paris III – the Louvre

We spent Wednesday afternoon, Thursday and Friday morning in Paris this week. Our friends Mary & Gilles have graciously allowed us to stay at their apartment in Paris whenever we want, and I can tell you that it’s quite nice to be able to go in, stay a night or two and know that we don’t have do everything on our list of things we want to do; we can do them next trip.

Wednesday night we went to the Louvre, as it’s open Wednesday and Fridays until 9:30 and we hoped that the hordes of tourists might have thinned out later in the evening. We went specifically to see the new Islamic Art exhibit, as we have seen lots of Islamic art in southern Spain over the years and like it a lot. There weren’t many people in that exhibit, so it was nice and quiet.

I won’t be be able to say anything new about the Louvre. To say it’s huge understates its size; “hugely-immensely-monstrously-amazingly-humongous” touches on it. Here is one hall that contains a part of the Louvre’s Italian painting display:

The other half of one hall containing Italian paintings. This hall does not contain all the Louvre's Italian paintings.

The other half of one hall containing Italian paintings. This hall does not contain all the Louvre’s Italian paintings.

One half of one hall containing Italian paintings.

One half of one hall containing Italian paintings.

And, of course, I have to show my standard, every-visit picture of people taking pictures of the Mona Lisa (which, in French, is called La Joconda, the French spelling for La Gioconda, its Italian name). I read one Internet discussion about the Mona Lisa that had this typical phrase in it: “…people stand there for a long time contemplating its beauty.” No, they don’t. People come in, pull out their cameras or cellphones, take a picture of the painting, and leave. I have never seen one person contemplating the painting. Do you seen anyone here contemplating the Mona Lisa?

People taking pictures of the Mona Lisa. Why?

People taking pictures of the Mona Lisa. Why?

For me, there are hundreds of paintings in the Louvre that I’d rather see. I am definitely underwhelmed by the Mona Lisa.

We left about 9 p.m. Here’s the very tired crowd outside the pyramid. It was a hot day and I suspect many of these people had sensory overload – the Louvre is crowded and noisy.

Tired people outside.

Tired people outside.

And please! what is it with people taking young kids there? There is nothing in this entire museum that a six- or eight- or ten-year old kid is going to enjoy. We saw lots of tired, cranky kids being dragged around by tired parents at 8 o’clock at night. Crazy.

More on our Paris days to follow…

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Another Successful Adventure

The town of Fontainbleau has a huge market three mornings a week, Sunday being the biggest. We’ve been many times with Mary and Gilles, but last Sunday we ventured into it on our own. I won’t say it was without its moments, but we were successful:

Fontainbleau Market
In the plastic container is paella, made in two huge paella pans right in the market. The woman makes two pans of paella and when it’s sold, she goes home. It was delicious, as good as we’ve ever had in Spain.

Other purchases:
– cherries, which are finally in season and really, really good.
– radishes.
– lettuce. I’ll take a picture of a head of lettuce by itself sometime; they are huge and Laurie says the best she’s ever seen.
– cheese – three kinds plus a local specialty: a concoction of cheese and other stuff that ends up as a dessert. This is the second cheese dessert I’ve had, and we’ve seen several others we’ll give a try.

The only language problem we had was when the cherry man told me the price and I didn’t quite understand. It was 5.90€; I got the 5€ part, but in French, 90 is “quatre-vingt dix;” that is, “four twenties and ten.” I just didn’t pick that out, and the clerk, with humor, took the correct change from my handful of coins. Could have been worse, I guess: 98 is “quatre-vingt dix-huit:” four twenties, ten and eight. Crazy language!

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Montigny-sur-Loing

We’ve been here almost two months now and we’ve come to know our French “home town” pretty well. We’re kind of known – the folks at the boulangerie know I’ll be every day or so and know that, though I order almost the same thing every time, I will still slaughter their language. It really does feel like home now.

By popular demand (Laurie’s), I’m just going to post some pictures of Montigny-sur-Loing (which means, “Montigny on the Loing River”).

A road sign on one of four routes into Montigny. The photo isn't crooked; the sign is.

A road sign on one of four routes into Montigny. The photo isn’t crooked; the sign is.

An overview of Montigny, from rue de Point of Vue , of course. This is the old part of the town; there is a larger more modern part, too.

An overview of Montigny, from rue de Point of Vue , of course. This is the old part of the town; there is a larger more modern part, too.

Three public buildings, all new. I suspect they were built five years or so ago. We can see the old City Hall (the “Mairie“) near the new one and it is small and worn out.

Our Street, rue Montgermont

Montigny-sur-Loing
Yes, this is a two-way street. The rule for right-of-way is easy: if you’re on the side with the parked cars (they’re allowed to park on only one side), you yield right-of-way to any car coming up the street. That means you have to tuck in between parked cars somewhere. At first, I thought this was difficult and a little nerve-wracking, but as there are streets like this everywhere, in towns smaller than ours and Paris, I’ve become used to it and don’t even break a sweat. Unless it’s a bus coming the other way…

There are also lots of streets that use a technique to slow down traffic: they allow parking on one side at any point in the street, but what side cars can park on changes every 100 yards or so, which means the right-of-way changes also. On those streets you really have to watch to see where the on-coming cars are in relation to where you are so you know if they have priority or if you have priority. I’ve got it figured out, so I’m comfortable with it, but Laurie, as the passenger, still grabs the dashboard frequently.

Montigny-sur-Loing
A side road, which is the best way out of town from our place. Fortunately, it is one-way (though we have seen cars coming the wrong way down it) and no parking is allowed (except for a couple non-running cars at the top), so driving this street offers no thrills.

The shops of Montigny:

Our Boulangerie
A boulangerie is, of course, a bakery, and this is a top-notch one. We know that people from surrounding towns – towns that have their own bakeries – come to Montigny for their baguettes and bread and desserts and cakes. I’m not going to argue with them; the products here are simply fabulous.

Sunday is the big boulangerie day. Sunday lunch is a tradition: families gather, have a big early-afternoon lunch, and spend the day together. This requires, of course, lots of bread and a few desserts. So there’s a line-up out the door, and you’ll see people leaving with half a dozen baguettes and a couple boxes of the fantastic cakes available here.

Some things a French person can do at Sunday lunch that are generally not acceptable any other day: have wine (really; wine at lunch is not a common thing in any French household but ours); put butter on your bread (yes, really); put butter on your radishes, the typical lunch-starting snack. Really.

The Loing River.
We found a beautiful park on the Loing River.

Looking across the Loing River, you can see the old town and Church. The building to the right was a restaurant, with a terrace on the river; it closed several years ago unfortunately. I suspect if it had stayed open, Laurie and I would have kept it open this summer.

Looking across the Loing River, you can see the old town and Church. The building to the right was a restaurant, with a terrace on the river; it closed several years ago unfortunately. I suspect if it had stayed open, Laurie and I would have kept it open this summer.

Montigny-sur-Loing
While we were in the river park, these school kids came and waded into the river. It was a class of 10- and 11-year olds, boys and girls. Things are different here:

– for wading, the boys stripped to their underwear and went in. Can you imagine the ruckus that would have caused in the US? Girls screaming, guys totally embarrassed. Here? Nothing.

– while they were wading, the teacher (male) went into the woods to take a whiz. Surprisingly he wasn’t smoking. We’ve seen several school outings where the teachers are with the kids and smoking.

War Memorial
Montigny-sur-Loing
Every town in France has a memorial to the town’s war dead, usually enscribed “To the infants of insert town name, killed for their country.” World War I devastated the young male population of France. It’s common to see a town of a thousand people with 30-50 names on the memorial. How the country had enough men to raise families and re-populate itself after the war is a mystery to me. We always stop to look at the memorials and remember the sacrifice and, mostly, to think what a total waste war is.
Montigny-sur-Loing
Most of the World War I population is gone now, but this woman surely remembers World War II and life under the Nazis.

One other thing we like: sunset is about an hour after Seattle’s. I’m wrapping this up at 9:47, working at the table in our courtyard, and I could work without additional light for another half-hour, at least. Very nice.

So that’s Montigny-sur-Loing. We love it here.

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Paris – Canal St. Martin

Some years ago, on our first stay in Paris, I read about a boat ride on Canal St. Martin. We decided that it would be a perfect first-day, recovering-from-jet-lag activity for that trip: two and a half hours of sitting and floating through an interesting part of Paris. It was, indeed, a perfect first-day activity, and a walk along Canal St. Martin has become our favorite walk in Paris. So today, our first real day back in Paris, we walked Canal St. Martin.

The canal starts at the Seine River, just upstream (east) from Ile St. Louis and Ile de la Cité. Bassin Arsenal, where there are quite a few pleasure boats (and from which one of the two canal boat rides starts) forms the first stretch of the canal, then it goes underground for about a kilometer, emerges and passes through five locks up to Bassin La Villete. When we first discovered Canal St. Martin the area around it was more working-class than much of Paris; in the intervening twenty years, it has become more gentrified, but still retains a good blue-collar feel.

Napoleon ordered the construction of Canal St. Martin in 1802. At that time, this was truly a blue-collar part of Paris, and one reason for the canal’s construction was that it provided a barrier to the eastern parts of the city, from which rebellions against the current regime always arose (much of the French Revolution was fueled in Faubourg St. Antoine, east of where Canal St. Martin was later constructed).

Today, Canal St. Martin is a testimony to Paris understanding that a head-long rush to progress isn’t always a good thing. There remains no real economic need for the canal and, indeed, in the early 1960s a movement arose to fill it in and create a highway in its place. Cooler heads prevailed and today Canal St. Martin, with its many pedestrian bridges, automobile bridges, locks and areas to just sit and enjoy life, is a beautiful and restful oasis in the middle of a very busy and noisy city.

Bridges on the Canal

Buildings

Not Canal-related…


After dinner Friday, we strolled around the area in which we were staying, turned down a little street, and saw this:
Harleys
It was a gathering of Harley-Davidsons, their owners, and enthusiasts. The whole lot of them, in full regalia – leathers and all that – were standing around, looking at Harleys, talking about Harleys and drinking champagne from flutes. France – crazy and wonderful.

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A Haircut

One thing about an extended trip such as ours is that we have to do some normal, everyday things that generally get skipped on a vacation. Today, I got a haircut. I admit that I had been kind of dreading it, since I’ve been going to the same barber shop back home for twenty years and I just knew that it would be different here.

First, there are no barber shops here. Hair salons – les coiffures – are for men and women.

Second, oddly enough, they don’t speak English in them like back in Renton. So I talked with our friend Mary who gave me an idea of how it would go, and off we went (Laurie went along, since she wanted to share the adventure; also, she is better than me at hearing French).

Third, no such luck as to be able to walk in and get une coupe. Gotta make an appointment for midi et trant, go back home, then return to Le Coiffure (the actual name of the place) at 30 minutes (trant) after noon (midi).

We did just that, returning right at 12:30. I waited a few minutes, as there was only one woman doing the cutting and she was just finishing up with a woman. Then, a shampoo (never had that in Renton) and into the chair. Fortunately, Mary had said the woman would ask me how I wanted it cut and sure enough, she did. I had prepared an answer, gave it to her and – miracle of miracles! – she understood. She asked me a couple more questions about how short I wanted it and so forth, got out her tools and had at it.

I don’t know how to describe the difference between a haircut in Renton and the haircut today. In Renton, my barber (also a woman) cuts away, talks to me, talks to others in the shop and pretty quickly, I’m out the door. The woman today worked as if she were painting a work of art – she concentrated on every clip of the scissors, she did this ‘n’ that, she trimmed here and there, went back to “touch up” some areas, all the time giving it her total concentration. It was really enjoyable to watch her do her work.

Last thing: she used a straight razor to clean up around my ears and sideburns; I tried to remember the last time a barber used a straight razor on my haircut and I can’t think when it was, but surely thirty years ago.

She finished, brushed me off and said, of course, “Voila!” I paid her (just a little more than my Renton haircut) and Laurie and I left in a flurry of merci’s and au revoirs.

Haircuts have always seemed to me to be a necessary evil – they’re just something you have to do. Honestly, today I left Le Coiffure looking forward to when I need another one. And glad to have done another everyday thing here in Montigny-sur-Loing; we came here to live like the French; surely getting a haircut is about as mundane and everyday as can be.

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La Rochelle

La Rochelle – Introduction

We went to the seaside town of La Rochelle this weekend, to celebrate our anniversary, and because we have wanted to see La Rochelle for some time. The city has an amazing history, and it features in a number of the stories of our favorite detective, Chief Superintendent Maigret of the Paris Police Judiciary. In the understatement of the trip so far, we can say that La Rochelle did not disappoint.

We decided to stay at the Hotel Les Brises. This recommendation came from Ina Caro, the author of two of the best books on traveling in France, “Road from History,” and “Paris to the Past.” (If you’re planning a trip to Paris or France, you pretty much must read these books.) Les Brises is about a 25 minute walk along a seaside promenade into La Rochelle proper, and there are few more enjoyable walks in the world.

Our room at Les Brises was, well, sublime. The view was not bad…


Hard to beat that view; we spent a lot of time sitting on that terrace and watching the world – and hundreds of boats of every description – go by.

La Rochelle is a most interesting place, with an amazing history. I’ll divide La Rochelle comments into a couple sections, so you won’t have to read them all at once. The first will be on La Rochelle’s history.

History of La Rochelle

La Rochelle is an old, old city; there are records of Eleanor of Acquitaine giving it, in 1199, a charter upholding its rights as a free port, rights first received in 1137 from Eleanor’s father. This right of being independent was the pivot point of La Rochelle’s long history as a battleground between France and England. When Eleanor of Acquitaine divorced the French king Louis VII and married Henry, Duke of Normandy, she controlled nearly a third of present-day France, and when Henry became Henry II, King of England, all those lands in France became English territory. Not a good thing for peace between the two countries, and the cause of the Hundred Years War, during which La Rochelle yo-yo’ed between France and England, depending on who had the upper hand at the moment. However, in all the turmoil, La Rochelle, heavily fortified, was never conquered.

The reason for that is largely its location: on a peninsula with an excellent port. The land approaches to the city were well-fortified and easily defended. The port, its lifeline when the city was attacked by land, kept the city supplied with food and weaponry. Two towers were build to protect the port. The two towers stood on either side of the entrance to the port and still stand today:

Towers protecting the harbor.

Towers protecting the harbor.

The left tower is the Chain Tower. For hundreds of years, every night a huge chain was strung from it across the harbor to prevent ships from slipping in at night.

This worked until the early 1600’s; then things changed.

La Rochelle, in its independence, had long been a Protestant city in a Catholic country. Though the city had a legal right to be Protestant, a right guaranteed by kings for centuries, in the 1620s Cardinal Richelieu, Louis XIII’s main minister, decided to bring La Rochelle to heel; religious tolerance was not his strong point. Since then city had never fallen to an army, Richelieu decided to starve it into submission, gathered an army and in 1627, laid seige to the city. Among the soldiers in that seige army: Artos, Portos, Aramis and D’Artagnan – the Three Musketeers and their friend, the protagonist of Dumas’ Three Musketeer books.

La Rochelle wasn’t worried – the English had promised they would lift the siege and, until they could, they would supply the city with food using ships to bring it in. Then two turning points: in England, the Duke of Buckingham, who had suffered a humiliating defeat when he made a half-hearted attempt to break the seige, was assassinated by a Puritan fanatic the night before his much-reinforced fleet sailed, and the assault was canceled; and Richelieu had a dike built across the mouth of the port: no ship of any kind could enter. Fourteen months later, La Rochelle surrendered, its population of 28,000 starved to fewer than 5,000 survivors.

Next to our hotel were these three concrete slabs:

Concrete SlabsThese are said to be the only remaining pieces of Richelieu’s dike: they have been here since 1627! Personally, I’m skeptical. The builders of the dike would have used stone and these are concrete, and not very good concrete. I doubt they would have lasted four hundred years. Having said that, it is indeed the location of the dike, and the bar visible at low tide would be the rock laid down for the base of the dike.

La Rochelle: Friday

We arrived in la Rochelle about 4 o’clock Friday afternoon after a longer than expected drive. First delay was me relying on a French highway website that plotted our route and took us a long way round to the autoroute. Second was about 45 minutes of crawling down the autoroute, caused by two big trucks that tangled somehow; they were by the side of the road, with their trailers completely torn apart.

We drove through downtown La Rochelle to our hotel. Downtown was completely enveloped in smoke. Turns out the Hotel de Ville (not a hotel in our sense of the word, but a major city building), was burning. The Hotel de Ville has been there since 1298, and will surely be restored again – it has had more than one fire in that history.

After a “toes-up,” as the British say, we sat on our little terrace for a glass or two of wine, and then walked into the city. We had read of a excellent seafood restaurant, but our Rough Guide map of the old city showed the location off the map. We didn’t know how far off the map so we headed through town. Turned out, it was a long way off the map.

After about an hour and a half of very enjoyable strolling, we found the restaurant, Marie Galante. Small and informal, they were able to seat us. Though they had a nice menu, we had one thing on our minds: moule frites (mussles and fries). There they were on the menu and soon – voila! – there they were in front of us:
DSC03114
The restaurant was a delight. The walk back, at a slow pace, wasn’t so much. We arrived at the hotel after 11 p.m. When we told the desk clerk the next day where we had walked, she got an amazed look on her face and said, “Eight or ten kilometers!” That would be 5-6 miles. Yes, our feet confirmed that. Worth it for those moules.

La Rochelle Saturday

Cooler. Wetter. Really low clouds. After an excellent breakfast, we walked into and through town. Someone not too long ago realized that La Rochelle has a great asset in its waterfront, so all of our 25-minute walk into town is along a beautifully developed park and waterfront promenade:

La Rochelle is, as mentioned, an ancient town. It differs from many other places of similar age in that it seems to have been preserved rather than restored at some point. It has blocks and blocks of buildings with arcaded first floors holding shops and stores of all sorts, and apartments above them. If you removed the cars and changed the shops to what they once were, you’d see La Rochelle as it has been for six hundred years. It is an amazing experience, honestly.

That night we celebrated our anniversary at the restaurant Le Thiers du Temps. It was just great: a small place, holding only twenty people; food was sublime; the woman serving spoke some English and we spoke some French and she was delightful. Food? No way to describe it. Oysters for entrée, monkfish and risotto for main course, a chocolate conconction for Laurie’s dessert and for me? A mousse of fourme d’ambert (a blue cheese), with whipped cream and a couple tiny and powerful cherries. Yes, it was unusual but I’ve become a fan of fourme d’ambert cheese so I had to try it, and I’m glad I did.

La Rochelle Sunday

Sunday was a slow day; we did almost nothing even though the weather had turned perfect. We watched the boats sail out of the harbor, I walked into town to take a couple more pictures, and Laurie got to dip her toes in the Atlantic, standing on Richelieu’s dike.

A couple other miscellaneous pictures:

Well, I didn’t mean to drag on so long, really. We loved La Rochelle and are already trying to figure out when we can return.

Update: we made reservations to return to La Rochelle for Laurie’s birthday in early September.

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