What a short stay in Dijon, I'm not sure you followed the owl's trail till the end. Did you touch the owl and made a wish? Did you see the market hall? Notre Dame and its gargoyles? Hotel de Vogüe and the other lovely tourist office rue des Forges? (my favourite by far)
I have the impression that you saw only the south part of the center...
Tell me more please!

Coco - we did follow the owl tour the whole way around. We found the owl and made our wish (picture on my website http://tinyurl.com/w5rlb).

Unfortunately the market was closed, but we did peak our head in (the cafe we had the bad wine at was just around the corner from the market - across from an art supply place).

If Notre Dame is the one with the dozens of gargoyles on the front, we did see it and get an interesting picture - haven't cleaned it up yet so it's not on the website. They certainly didn't spare any expense on gargoyles.

I'm not sure where the other tourist office is - we did see a sign for another one and followed it though a little passageway, but didn't find any office. The only thing there was a big spiral staircase and a statue of a man holding a sheaf of wheat at the top.

Coco...I totally agree that we did not spend enough time there! I would love to have an apartment there. We spent the whole day, and did the whole owl tour but headed back to Beaune for dinner. Too short indeed!

oops! sorry I didn't remember the picture of the little owl on your album (it so well known here, I can see it everywhere!)
I'm glad you did all that.
You'll have to come back to enjoy the food market, all my guests loved it!
You actually went close to the tourist office as it is located at the bottom of the staircase in "hotel Chambellan" on the right, they should put a big sign! ;-)
The statue you saw at the top of the stairs is "the gardener" (It is mentioned in the brochure). I love this place and there is another interesting one just next door but it is often closed.

Day 7
Friday, September 22, 2006: Mustard, Anyone?

Out last full day in Burgundy, and we realized that we hadn’t really explored Beaune all that much – just little bits and pieces at the ends of other full days of exploring. We’d slept poorly that night so we decided to sleep in until 10:00am before heading out. Jet lag is a killer.

We started the day well by walking the relatively short distance into town, where I headed straight for an espresso (it would be so much easier if I could take it intravenously) at a little café across from Hotel Dieu. As always, coffee was good, croissant was tasty, and Jamie’s chocolat was chocolaty. It doesn’t seem to matter which café we go to, it’s really hard to get a bad espresso in France.

After espresso and a few minutes of sitting, I was able to get my eyes all the way open. Our first mission was the “Visio Train 2000” – a bizarre little tourist train contraption that drives around Beaune for the obligatory tourist tour. This train was weirder than normal – I guess they were playing up the “2000” bit of it – all angular and space-agey, sort of. As normal, we were by far the youngest people on the train. I don’t know what it is about the places we’ve been visiting, but we seem to be a bit on the youthful side as compared to the rest of the non-locals. At least we’re not wearing our money belts on the outside of our pants (which we’ve seen several times).

The tour itself was interesting – we wound through the narrow streets of Beaune, and then out into the countryside outside the walls to see the vineyards. Some of the streets in town were *really* narrow – I was impressed with the skills of the Visio Train 2000 driver – if I’d been behind the wheel (otherwise known as ‘space age control panel 2000”), we’d have been caroming off walls the whole way around. Plus, we’d have gotten lost after the 3rd corner.

We realized as the train drove back into town that it was the official Beaune Bus Tours of Elderly People day – the crowds were amazing for a town that seemed to be so sleepy during the week, which explained a lot of the discrepancy between us and the rest. The train dropped us off in front of Hotel Dieu again, which was convenient as we’d planned on taking the tour of that next.

The inside of Hotel Dieu is a bit of a surprise if you assume that it’s all going to look like the front, which is massively imposing and very grey. The inside is absolutely amazing – a huge courtyard with the big grey wing on one side, and on the other, a building featuring what might be the most colourful roof I’ve ever seen. The hotel was original built to care for and house the city’s infirm and poor, and part of it is still used as a retirement home. It’s odd to see the non-Disney way these sorts of buildings are presented in Europe – definitely not the way it would be done at home, but so much nicer.

The museum tour was definitely worth the two hours we spent in there. It’s self-guided, but the little brochure you get at the beginning explains what everything is and gives a bit of history behind it. As always, we found museuming to be hungry (and thirsty) work, so after leaving the hotel we visited another café to enjoy some lunch (and perhaps a glass of wine).

After refreshing ourselves, we walked out past the city ramparts to see the Musee de Moutarde – yes, the Museum of Mustard (Jamie’s mustard obsession having not abated one bit after the disappointing lack of museum in Dijon). This time we found the Musee without much incident, but discovered upon reaching it that it’s only open from 10:00am to 11:30am. I mean honestly – it’s like France is conspiring to keep us from discovering the true history of mustard. It’s only a condiment – let us in!

Having failed on yet another mustard mission, we walked (rather dejectedly I might add) back into the old city. If we couldn’t visit a mustard museum, we could console ourselves by exploring the more significantly open Musee du Vin (interesting in that it was both up my proverbial alley, and also up a literal alley – at least the entrance we went in). The Musee du Vin is housed in what used to be one of the houses of one of the four Dukes of Burgundy.

The museum, while interesting, isn’t quite on the same par as Hotel Dieu. Essentially, it’s a bunch of rooms full of wine glasses, examples of dirt, and lots of rusty implements used at various points in history to trim and/or harvest grapes. They also have a very odd black and white video explaining the story of the barrel – not just a documentary about the making of a barrel, but with some (perhaps) fictional background and characterization of the barrel-maker himself, his wife, his friend (who also makes barrels), and either his son or an apprentice or both. I wouldn’t go out of my way to see the museum, but it is a way to pass a rainy afternoon.

Like our tour of Hotel Dieu, we found that we became parched after spending an hour or so in the Musee du Vin. We quickly found ourselves at one of the many bars in Beaune’s main square to enjoy a few glasses of Premier Cru for me, and some Kirs for Jamie. It’s hard to think of a better way to spend an afternoon.

A few drinks later, we decided that we were hungry. Unfortunately, our dinner was extraordinarily disappointing. We found a little restaurant down Rue Madeline, just past the excellent place we’d eaten in a few nights before. The one tonight seemed to be full of people enjoying their meals, and several said that they’d gone out of their way to eat there, partially because of the Rick Steeves recommendation they’d read. We couldn’t have been less impressed – especially as my coq au vin was slightly charred. To add insult to injury, I ordered the wrong cheese course – we had the option of the cheese plate (which Jamie had – actually excellent), and the “Fromage Blanc avec Fines Herbes” – as far as I could tell it was crème fraiche with minced garlic, shallots, and parsely. Not what I had been expecting (I’d been looking forward to some white cheeses with herbs right in – I’m not sure why). As it turned out, I developed a taste for fromage blanc for breakfast later in the trip, but I certainly wasn’t prepared for it after dinner.

Thus ended our stay in Burgundy – we were scheduled to drive down to Provence the next day. After dinner we slowly walked back to our hotel, enjoying our last evening in Beaune. I was amazed at how different everything was from Paris, the only place in France I’d ever been before. I was even more amazed at how much I loved it – it seemed that everything Paris was lacking, we found and then some in the countryside. We were a bit sad to be leaving Burgundy, but were definitely looking forward to Provence – it is, after all, Peter Mayle country.

Thanks for the fine report on my second-favorite region of France. (First? Provence.) I especially enjoyed the episode of the wind, as we had a similar experience in Biot last month. Eating al fresco can quickly turn into an adventure.

Did you get over toward Autun to see the roof on La Rochepot? It's another splendid example of Burgundian roof design.

You didn't actually need to say that you're a writer! It's clear from the quality of your prose.

Thanks you BS, I'm sad the Burgundy part is already over but I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Jamikins don't regret to have missed the Mustard museum in Dijon, people are usually a bit frustrated because it is all about the history and nothing about the processing (except if you prefer history..). It is not in the "real" heart center but not very far from the railway station (south of it, next to the canal).

So now you have to come back to visit Autun and la Rochepot!
coco

What about the next episode? we're waiting!

We are really enjoying your trip report as your writings of Paris and Beaune brought back many memories.
We did visit the mustard factory in Beaune and, although the tour was completely in French, the highlights were actually making mustard and sampling some of the products. We were surprised to learn that most of the mustard seed is now imported from Quebec.
Looking forward to more of your excellent writing...

BS - I've so enjoyed reading your trip report of Burgundy. I was there myself last year at harvest time and stayed in CoCo's flat. I too dream of returning to Dijon and relaxing in that lovely town (oops, I'm giving away my wish to the owl
Looking forward to reading about the rest of your trip...soon I hope.

Day 8
Saturday, September 23, 2006
16kms to St. Remy

(Check out the accompanying photos from this trip at http://tinyurl.com/w5rlb - more posted last night)

After yet another night of non-sleeping, we had pretty much decided that we weren’t enjoying jet lag as much as we thought we would. I’m not sure if it was the fact that we were in a strange bed, or just the jet lag, but by day 8 we hadn’t had a single good night of sleep.

We dragged ourselves up at about 8:30 and finished packing – pretty much everything was already packed up, other than the festive strings of my boxers which were hung up all over the place to dry (sink washing is an unpleasant but necessary part of travel). We loaded up Floriane and headed into Beaune for a quick breakfast – we’d discovered that that little ice cream shop just inside the ramparts up from Rue Faubourg Madeline was not only cheap but very friendly.

Our first mission of the day was to fill up the car with gazole (otherwise known as diesel) before making our way south to Provence. Despite the fact that it sounds simple to fill up a car in France, it is. We found a gas station and pulled up to a pump. I’d read quite a few horror stories on the web about mis-adventures while filling up, and so was a bit nervous. The gas pump threw me at first – it looked exactly like the ones at home. I hadn’t been expecting that. I stared at it for a while, challenging it to do something foreign and bewildering. It didn’t. I watched the guy next to me fill up his tank – nothing odd about his procedure. I stared at the pump for a while longer, concerned that I was going to make it blow up.

Eventually, the woman in the payment booth hit the intercom and asked if I needed help. That gave me the impetuous I needed – I hate looking like a moron in public (despite the fact that I’m so good at it). I cautiously picked up the nozzle that said “Gazole” and put it in the tank. I checked again that the big sticker on the side of the car still said “gazole” and hadn’t changed while I wasn’t looking. It hadn’t. I pulled the handle and nervously filled the tank. Nothing bad happened. I walked over to the payment booth, fully expecting to find that they didn’t accept cash, only chipped European credit cards. They took cash. I got back in the car and turned the ignition, convinced that I’d accidentally put regular gasoline into the tank and that the car was about to expire – it didn’t.

We hit the road, and after a few false starts up various side-streets, we made it onto the A7 heading south. The French auto routes are amazing pieces of engineering – 3 lanes each direction pretty much all the way, well maintained, a speed limit of 130km/h, and massive rest-stops featuring restaurants, gas stations, and sometimes hotels.. Nothing like that in Canada. The only downside of the big auto route theory is that you have to pay for the privilege of driving on them - €9.90 to get from Beaune to Lyon. On the other hand, it seemed a small price to pay for getting there so quickly.

After stopping for a quick lunch at one of the big rest stop, we pulled into the town of Orange, famous both for being named after a fruit and for having the biggest Roman amphitheatre in the world with its stage wall still standing. The amphitheatre is, in fact, impressive. It holds between eight and ten thousand people at once, and is still used for concerts, almost 2000 years after it was built. Apparently part of the reason it’s still standing is that for quite a bit of its history, it was used as a large, easily defendable living space.

I found the most interesting tidbit of information on the audio tour we took was that the big statue of the Roman emperor was mass-produced and featured an interchangeable head (to make updates based on the changes in Rome easier – cheaper to ship a replacement head to France than a whole new statue). The audio tour was excellent and gave a lot of detail – in some bit a bit more than strictly necessary.

I’m not sure if we were in the wrong part of Orange, or if it was just because we were in the middle of traveling that day, stuck between the beginning of our journey and the end, but we just didn’t really like Orange. After the amphitheatre tour, we didn’t hang around long- back to the A7 for the rest of the drive to St. Remy.

Jamie would argue that I don’t listen to her, and I would argue that I listen just fine, she needs to stop mumbling. Either way, when she said that we needed to take exit 24, I only heard the “4” bit. I commented as we passed the sign that indicated that exit 25 was coming up that it was odd that the exit numbers were increasing, not decreasing. It was at this point that the discussion about the listening/mumbling ensued as we exited the freeway.

Another downside of the auto route is that at 130km/h, if you miss an exit, five minutes driving t the next one means that you’ve overshot where you wanted to be by about 20 kilometers. Feeling somewhat adventurous (and a little cheap), we decided to find our way to St. Remy via the back roads, instead of getting back on the auto route and paying yet again. We followed the signs, including one that said “16kms to St. Remy” that we were to get to know very well over the next week. Eventually we made it to the outskirts of town, where we promptly got lost.

In my defense, it wasn’t my fault – half the streets we tried to drive down were barricaded and there were diversions everywhere. Plus, like in Beaune, we hadn’t the faintest idea where our hotel was supposed to be (we had instructions on how to get there from exit 24 on the auto route, not from exit 25). Unlike Beaune, there didn’t seem to be a ring road around St. Remy – at least not that we could find. Eventually I had the bright idea of following the signs back to the A7 – at the very worst once we got there, we could turn around and follow the directions we had back, at the best, we’d figure out where the turn was supposed to be and find the hotel.

This turned out to be a good plan, as we almost immediately saw a sign for “Hotel l’Amadiere.” We followed the signs and soon were at the hotel. We got settled in our room and relaxed for a few minutes before walking towards town to figure out what the hell was going on with all the diversions.

As it turned out, we’d arrived in St. Remy just as they were doing their big village festival and more specifically, their parade. We found a spot near the end of the parade route and watched as townspeople marched past, dressed in traditional clothes and leading an astonishing number of donkeys, horses, sheep, and a few startled-looking chickens.

St. Remy was a zoo – it was completely packed with people, and there was a big carnival set up in Place de la Republic, complete with rides and a full mid-way. We’d been looking forward to a small, sleepy little Provencal town, and instead had the county fair. We walked around for a while, trying to find a place that wasn’t absolutely crammed with people. As it turns out, St. Remy does have a ring-road; it’s just a bit more hidden than in Beaune. The south end of town, past the fair, was a bit quieter. We found a place for dinner that looked nice – “La Reine Jeanne,” which featured a dining room in a garden with lots of lights and trees.

After a nice meal and some wine, we walked back to the hotel for a nightcap and bed. It had been a long, but very good day. From what we’d seen, we liked Provence so far and were looking forward to exploring it further.

Thanks BS,
Where did you get the idea that filling a tank was so difficult in France? I had a good laugh!

Oddly enough, I got that idea from this forum - before I left I read a whole mess of posts about people putting gasoline in their diesel cars, about filling up and not being able to pay with their credit cards, and other problems...I'd worked it up in my mind that it was going to be a major drama to fill up. It wasn't. Even a little bit. Oh well...
Glad you enjoyed it.

Scott, Excellent Report and Photos!

It has it all food, wine, getting lost, technical glitches a little blood but no mustard. I'm glad to read about the parade in St. Remy, I was wondering where you came across the lady leading a donkey.

I've printed the reciepe for Oeufs en Meurette Coco found. It's on next week's dinner plans. Can't wait to eat "that eggy thing."

Waiting on the next installment. Cheers!

Danna, please let us know later what you think of les oeufs meurette you've cooked! ~gt; If they compare to the ones you can eat in France etc...
coco

"before I left I read a whole mess of posts about people putting gasoline in their diesel cars.."

Who could be that stupid?! Oh yeah, it's all coming back to me now.

Great report!

Is there a way to mark a post so you see when something new is posted to it?

I think you have to write something like you did or even "bookmark" or "ttt". If you put it into your favourites it should work as well.
BS must be writing the next instalment I suppose, I'm sure he will appear soon!

Day 9
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Drizzle in the Market

(Check out the accompanying photos from this trip at http://tinyurl.com/w5rlb)

We were up at the ungodly hour of 7:00am so that we could visit the market at Isle Sur La Sorgue – it had seemed like a good plan after a bottle of wine the previous night, not so much at that hour, and especially with the pouring rain outside.

Despite a lack of enthusiasm on my part, we dragged ourselves out to the breakfast room at the hotel for the requisite coffee intake. We discovered that if you get up early enough, there’s a giant slab of really tasty pate available for breaky – a great way to start the day as it turns out. After several cups of coffee and a big ole hunk of meat, we braved the torrential downpour and started out towards the market.

As we’d left so freaking early, we got to Isle sur la Sorgue before pretty much anyone else. The town is built in, on and around a river that threads through it. Since no one was around, we found parking on the inner circle inside the bit of river that surrounds the old bit of town. We didn’t know this at first – we found it by accident after almost giving up the entire mission.

When we first got there, we couldn’t find any signs to indicate where the market was supposed to be. While the bit of the village in the middle of the river is quite scenic and quaint, the rest isn’t. We spent quite a bit of time driving back and forth in the “other bit” trying to figure out where we were supposed to be. Eventually I took a wrong turn and we ended up in the bit we were supposed to be in. We parked out of sheer frustration and decided to try to find the market on foot.

We picked a street at random and started walking in pretty much the exact opposite direction of where we wanted to be. We saw very few people walking around the narrow streets, but those that we did see had baskets of stuff, so we assumed that the market must be going on somewhere. After 30 minutes or so of very wet wandering, we finally found it.

It was early enough still that not all of the booths were set up and it seemed that it was only locals shopping. The rain really started coming down and we took temporary refuge in a little café outside one of the squares that seemed the busiest. In the time it took to drink an espresso and hot chocolate, the rain seemed to relent a bit.

The market at Isle Sur La Sorgue is impressive. The village winds around the bits of river and the market stalls are spread out along the narrow streets and alleys. We explored for a quite a while (finding, along the way, an extremely happy umbrella vendor who was selling what appeared to be very dangerous and flimsy umbrellas for €5 – we bought one each). There are stalls there that sell pretty much everything – from the requisite cheese stands, to sausage, to spices, to fabrics, toys, butchers, fishmongers, and some appallingly hideous folk-art.

Eventually the rain let up long enough for me to scurry around and take some photographs of what might have been the most photogenic town we’d been in to date – it’s sort of like a Venice in Provence with all the canals. We enjoyed the brief moment of sunshine – the entire town seemed to light up with a golden glow.

At this point, we were starving. We found a little place for lunch out on the edge of the market called “L’Industrie” – it was pretty much empty, and featured pizza cooked in wood-burning oven on the menu, both major selling points for us.

When we went in, we realized that we were actually the only people there except for the staff, who was sitting down to a big group lunch. They (sort of) politely told us we were welcome to sit and have a drink, but they weren’t going to be serving lunch until noon (it was 11:30 at this point). Having a drink was something that Jamie and I could really get behind, so we did. Eventually, we did get our pizzas – they were oven baked as advertised, and extremely tasty.

As we were eating, the rain came back, and in force. We made our escape and found the car (turned out we’d parked it almost at the entrance to the market, and didn’t actually need to walk around for half an hour in the rain). Next on the list was the little town of “Thor”, mainly because I have a friend named “Thor” (not actually is real name, just part of his last name – it is, however, what we call him).

As might be expected, we were heading in the right direction and were completely on track when I missed a turn. It’s amazing how much of France we wouldn’t have seen if I could follow simple directions. We were now heading towards Carpentras, which also seemed interesting, even if I don’t have any friends with the same name.

We drove through the town, looking for parking. We found the best parking lot, right next to the start of the walking tour we’d found in the Michelin Green Guide that seemed interesting. It was even almost completely empty – what were the chances? We’d figured the town would be packed and that we’d have to spend a fair bit of time looking for a halfway decent spot.

We locked up Floriane and walked the short distance to the pedestrian-only zone in the centre of town. It was at this point that we discovered why we’d managed to find such prime parking so quickly – Carpentras is closed on Sundays. When I say closed, I mean CLOSED. We were the only ones in the deserted streets; all the stores were locked up, most with big metal doors rolled down. It was creepy, especially in the drizzle. We figured that we’d driven all this way, we might as well see what we could, so we started on the walking tour.

Carpentras seems like it’d be a neat little town if a few stores were open and we weren’t the only ones there. We saw an old church, some roman stuff (Triumphal Arch etc), and a huge medieval gate to the city – one of the only bits of the old wall that once encircled the town (Porte d’Orange?). As it was extremely creepy being the only ones in the deserted town and there really wasn’t much to do, we walked back to Floriane and headed home to relax for a bit in our room before going into St. Remy for dinner.

Back at the hotel, there was a small group of people sitting in the lobby chatting – presumably sheltering from the rain. We were invited to stop and join them for a bit. We went back to the room to drop off our bags and grab a glass of wine. By the time we got back, everyone except a man named Brendan had left. We sat down to chat – not realizing at that point that we’d just made a new friend.

It turned out that Brendan was also from Vancouver, although he now lives in Seattle, London, and St. Remy. He was there because he owned one of the restaurants in town – “La Table de Michel.” We sat and talked for quite a while, getting the lowdown on the eating situation in the area (generally designed for tourists, especially in St. Remy itself), recommendation on some sights to see and more importantly places to eat. He suggested that we try his restaurant for dinner – a suggestion we took him up on.

Dinner was fantastic – we both started with a wild mushroom dish that was superb. I followed that with the absolute best steak au poivre I’ve ever had (and that’s saying something) and Jamie had an excellent duck breast in a honey sauce. We sat at the owner’s table, and Brendan came out of the kitchen to chat with us throughout the meal (in addition to co-owning the place, he’s also a chef).

After dinner, Brendan joined us for a drink. Before long, the head chef Michel came out and joined us as well. It seemed to be one of those situations that I’ve read about, but has never happened – sitting at the owner’s table, talking with the owner and head chef. Both Brendan and Michel are extraordinarily interesting men – Brendan’s a management consultant as well as an author, and Michel is a world-famous chef who’s getting back to his roots cooking in France (among other things, he was once the personal chef of Hugh Hefner, living and working in the mansion).

As we talked, the rain really started coming down, putting the drizzle of the afternoon to shame – it’s been a long time since I’d seen rain that heavy. None of us wanted to go out in it, so we were forced to sit and enjoy more beverages until it let up. Eventually it did – I hadn’t actually had that much (only two glasses of wine), however everyone else was smashed. Damn rain. We gave Brendan a ride back to the hotel after making reservations for dinner that Friday night for us and our friends from Canada wheho would apparently be meeting us – they were staying at the same hotel as us this time, so unlike Paris they wouldn’t be able to brush us off.

We didn’t really have any firm plans for the following day – we wanted to do a driving tour of the Luberon towns, but the weather didn’t look like it was going to be conducive to that option. We’d been told that the Mistral was probably going to blow in the next day and blow off all the clouds, but that didn’t seem likely. We went to bed extremely happy, looking forward to more adventures in Provence.

What happens with filling up your tan, is that most non-French speaking Americans, read Gazole and think it is gasolene. Not knowing it is diesel!