France, Blog 3
A cold front brought two days of intermittent showers through our small French village, rain greatly appreciated by farmers and their livestock. Due to the summer’s drought, pastures were dry, hay at a premium, corn stalks brown, and animals sad. The rain brought immediate change, wildflowers popping, cows mooing with appreciation, and the air fresh and clear … although relief came too late for the corn stalks.
Through Thursday morning’s occasional sprinkle, we strolled along the main street of Pont de Vaux. I was searching for reference material for my blogs and videos, hopefully English version pamphlets. The town has a visitor’s center reminiscent of those one finds in towns in America, staffed by a young chubby young woman who regretted she hadn’t anything I wanted. They did have a variety of French material and local crafts. Isabelle bought a corkscrew attached to a sculptured horseshoe; I suppose a good luck piece for wine drinkers. The town hall had nothing, either, although there was a nice stone piece displaying the town seal. I wanted to head to the town library, only open for two hours twice a week, but time and commitments reached out.
We drove to the Bi1, the local grocery store. Bi1 = “Buy one.” Right? In French, it’s pronounced Bee-en, and they follow it with “venue” which together means welcome. I’ll put together a little video showing the great fresh products they offer, 40-feet displays each of fresh meat, fish, and cheeses. Isabelle picked out 40 euros worth of crustaceans for dinner.
Isabelle booked a fancy restaurant to lunch on our last day with Mémé. We traveled the 20 minutes on winding country roads to Tournus, an ancient town that reportedly has the most Michelin star restaurants in southern France. Like at most French restaurants, we had a menu option like Americans are used to only in Chinese restaurants, a set price that includes appetizer, main deal, and dessert. This one, Aux Terrasses, offered a set price of 40 euros, with 20 euros extra to have matching wines for each dish. The waiter asked if we wanted to choose from the menu or take the surprise. We all chose the surprise. For the next two hours we had dish after dish of delectable foods, none of which would be common back home. Mémé was delighted … well, we all were. And stuffed. We finished it all except for a few bites of the absolutely delicious stuffed squid. I created a YouTube video of the meal: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4t2hkNh6JiQ
Home for a nap, and hardly awake before Isabelle’s brother and wife arrived for dinner, another hour and a half gastronomical feast. Are we gaining weight? Do the French drink wine?
Friday, we said good-bye to Mémé and Pont de Vaux, driving our rented Peugeot on the interstate “autoroute” to Lyon, an hour-and-a-half easy stretch at 130 km/hr, about 78mph. The car responds so smoothly, without constant regard for the speedometer I could be going anywhere between 30 or 150 and not tell the difference, although we could never figure out how the cruise control or the radio volume worked. Isabelle had found us a AirBnB in a fancy neighborhood just across a pedestrian bridge from the old city, a cute little flat facing an enclosed patio in an 18th century building. Fully renovated, its 14-foot ceilings and recessed lighting gave it a European magazine look. One frustrating aspect of French homes is lack of electrical access. We’re used to American double plugs in each receptacle. French plates offer only one outlet, and only two plates per room. We take turns charging our phones.
Lyon was founded by the Romans in the first century B.C. There are plenty of their ruins to explore, including a magnificent amphitheater. Situated between two rivers, the city is dominated by a large mountain in the middle, topped by the basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourviére. Although neither the oldest nor the largest, it’s presence beckons visitors, either climbing the exhausting tall mountain, or, as we did, taking the cable car through the tunnel dug in the mountainside. Dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the church’s multiple chapels shimmer with the opulence of work by devoted sculptors and their gold gilded creations. There are dozens of churches in Lyon. At the base of the main square is Lyon’s St John Cathedral, built between 1180 and 1476 on top of a sixth century church, its intricate stone carvings and voluminous space draws the visitor back to days before modern technology polluted our world.
I mentioned above that Tournus had the most Michelin star restaurants in Southern France. Well, Lyon has the most Michelin restaurants of any town in all the world. It’s considered the world culinary capital. As we walked along the cobblestone streets of the old city, we passed scores of restaurants, each with colorfully accoutered tablecloths, patrons sitting sipping their wine and arguing politics in rapid loud singsong. Along one road, tourist stores shouldered side-by-side, each with specialty products. One is entirely devoted to sardines, another to lemons, a third to “The Little Prince” items (Lyon is the hometown of St Exupery the author of le petite prince). We toured a few of the museums, one about the history of puppets and another showing how Lyon had grown over the centuries.
We dined at “L’Auberge des Canuts,” a Bouchon Lyonnais, a restaurant that only offers cuisine specialties from Lyon. For a set price of 37 euros, we had appetizers, meal, and dessert. Isabelle chose a pork belly salad with poached egg, pike in a breaded envelope “Quenelle sauce nantua,” and chocolate mousse. I had the venison and duck fois gras paté, beef filet with morel mushroom sauce, and crème brûlée. Each main dish came with rice or potatoes and slices of carrot and zucchini. And wine of course. Isabelle complains that her pants aren’t as loose as they were back home.
We’re leaving early tomorrow for Aurignac, a small town an hour South-West of Toulouse
A view from the central square up to their Notre Dame Cathedral