Exploring eastern France by train ...

I'm in Strasbourg!  Being spoilt rotten by the gorgeous duo, Ralf and Juergen (and Wolfgang on Sunday) and having a lot of fun exploring this fantastic city.  In fact, I've done so much that Strasbourg deserves a post all of its own.  So watch this space ...

... but let's catch you up on what happened after Saumur.  My first stop was Dijon.  What a place!  It was a delight ... from the old buildings with exposed beams and colourful tiled roofs to the amazing churches and palaces, the art and culture to the vibrant and youthful party scene.  Markets and high-end dress shops, bars and chocolate creations, food and more glorious food.  Not to mention the mustard!

My Airbnb was virtually next door to the huge covered market, where you could buy virtually anything and everything.

And when the market wasn't on, they opened the doors anyway, for some cool music, plates of charcuterie and cheese, and perhaps a local chardonnay.

Cheese, glorious cheese!

The streets of Dijon were constantly surprising me ... every time I found a new street or alley, there would be magnificent buildings.

I discovered this delightful stone staircase and balcony after crawling through a narrow space between two buildings.

How's this for a beautiful Art Nouveau gem?  Love the parasols!

I went to the Dijon Fine Art Gallery ... and discovered Francois Pompon, a sculptor who made all sorts of animals, moulding their silhouettes into smooth, stylized and polished forms.  When he was 67 he made a huge polar bear (currently in Paris) but the gallery had quite a few of his smaller pieces.

Semper Virens, the face-tree created by Gloria Friedmann

In the museum devoted to the works of Francois Rude, there was this immense plaster cast of his sculpture The Marseillaise which is on the Arc de Triomphe

While I was wandering around the city, I came upon a lovely cathedral where I sat in the cool and calm and listened to the organist practise for a concert.  Yes please, I said, so a couple of days later I put on my glad rags (ha ha - I mean clean t-shirt) and went to the concert.  The organist was a bit hard to understand because (a) he spoke French and (b) he kept forgetting to hold the microphone up to his mouth.  But his music was lovely.  A Bach prelude and fugue.  Some of Saint Saen's Carnival of the Animals.  And quite a few things that I didn't recognise.  It was very entertaining and the 20 or so people in the huge cathedral seemed to enjoy it too. 

One day, I decided to have a day in Beune - a lovely little town near Dijon.  Unfortunately, I chose a very hot day to do so and walking around wasn't really that pleasant.  But I did enjoy the sweaty stroll along the walls of the town, looking down on the beautiful roofs.

After 5 days in Dijon, it was time to leave.  I was quite sad to go since I was feeling quite at home.  The lady in the greengrocers would greet me every morning and start putting apricots in a bag for me.  I'd tried so many cheeses from the fromagerie that Nathalie and I were on first name terms.  And the waiters knew me at the bar opposite.  Home, indeed!  But time to move on and I had the (deluded) idea that it might be cooler near the Alps.  So I went to Grenoble.

The bubbles descending over my little Airbnb

Grenoble would be a great place to go if (a) it wasn't 40 degrees, (b) if you had a car and (c) if your accommodation had hot water.  It was HOT!  And I found out that the public transport didn't really work in summer - it was more designed for the winter ski tourists.  And as for the hot water ... well, I was used to cold showers after Nepal (and it was hot) so it really didn't bother me.  I went up in the bubbles (the cable car) to the Bastille, which was such a frightening experience (the floor was see-through!!!!!) that I walked back down. The views from the Bastille were superb although I couldn't quite see as far as Mont Blanc due to the heat haze.

Surprisingly, Grenoble was full of Irish pubs!  I had counted 5 before I succumbed and bought a Guinness.

Grenoble railway station - this was such a common sight in public areas in France.  

I still had a couple of days before I was due in Strasbourg so I decided to visit Besancon, a sweet little town which had a time museum and some lovely old buildings.

 The time museum was a bit of a dud for me because everything was in French and so I only understand a small part of it.  But ... it had a clock based on Foucault's Pendulum ... very cool!

The Man and the Child ... a cool statue near the railway station

The patron saints of Besancon ... not very lucky evidently.

Flammekueche ... an Alsace delight!  NOT a pizza.

But it was time to go to Strasbourg ...

Ooh la la! I'm in belle France

As the ferry crossed the Channel and I had my first sight of St Malo, I was taken aback ... this was not what I'd expected.  Yes, it was a busy port and a substantial town/city but it was so beautiful.  Beautiful in a grey stone, austere and awe-inspiring kind of way.  The 'old' town is surrounded by huge walls and the tall buildings are crammed together inside, windows staring blankly, just separated from one another by narrow cobbled laneways.  But this town isn't old.  It was pretty much destroyed in WWII by the Allies (they evidently got the wrong port).  So the town has been reconstructed, not razed and rebuilt, but painstakingly put back together, stones numbered so that they could be used in exactly the same place.  An incredible feat.

An impressive 3D jigsaw - the reconstruction took from 1947 to 1972 and 500,000 blocks of rubble had to be sorted through and allocated.

I walked around the walls (along with a lot of other tourists), gazing in at the town and out at the little forts and buildings constructed on any stray bit of rock in the harbour.

Outside the walls there were some little stretches of sand.  Beach! cried the tourists and promptly stripped off and dived in.  Not me!  I'd tested that water and it was cold!

The buildings crowded up to the walls and you felt that the old city was almost trying to break out.

The view from my bedroom window at Les Chiens du Guet ... yes, my room was right next to the wall.

There's a tidal range of as much as 15 metres in spring and autumn!  Incredibly, the tide can recede so much that you can walk out to the fortresses built in the mouth of the harbour.

I left St Malo to go to a small village called Dol (or Dol de Bretagne if you want to use its entire name) for just a night.  It looked like it was a pretty village and there was a menhir I wanted to see.  So why not?  Well, there is always going to be a day that is a disaster.  It's usually a travel day and nothing, and I mean NOTHING, goes right.  I often end in tears but laugh about later and say "never again ... I've learnt that lesson now".  Unfortunately, it happens ... again and again and ...  I'll tell you about it but please don't laugh.

So my disaster went like this:  I had booked a ticket to Dol-de-Bretagne where I had also booked accommodation at the Hotel De La Gare.  Got on the train and was soon in Dol.  And this is where it went wrong.  The hotel was locked.  Closed.  Looking through the door I could see there were dead leaves on the carpet of the lobby.  I banged on the door and looked for a bell.  Nothing.  I got a person who was passing to ring the number of the hotel.  Nothing.  It now started to rain.  What to do?  My accommodation was closed.  Where was I going to stay?  I know, I said, I’ll just go to Rennes and have an extra night there.  I’ll be able to pick up something.  So back on a train and off to Rennes.  Then it was a 40 minute walk to the tourist information centre to ask them to sort out some accommodation.  There I met Eric.

Eric tried everywhere.  And I mean everywhere.  No luck.  No way.  No rooms available in Rennes.  Nothing.  Unless I wanted to pay about $400.  No thanks, said Anthea, starting to panic.  What to do?  I asked him to ring the hotel in Dol and guess what! He got through.  Yes, they had a room.  It was ready for me.  Yes.  They were open and expecting me.  Back to the train station (this time I took the metro).  Back on the train and back to Dol where … the hotel was locked.  Closed.  Dead. Nothing.  A very large drunk black man said that it was properly closed and that I should follow him to a hotel that was open.  I asked a passer-by to ring the number but it wasn’t answering.  So I followed the black man and then thought WHAT AM I DOING?  Asked at the pharmacy and they laughed and said of course the hotel was open.  Asked at the Tabac shop and the nice girl rang and got through and yes, the hotel was open.  So I walked back up the hill and guess what?  The door opened.  It didn't before.  I swear!  So I’m in a huge dingy awful room costing 76 euros but I don’t care.  I really had visions of me sleeping on the streets!

My reward for a stressful day was a goat cheese and jambon galette with 25cl of a cheeky chardonnay (yes, Liz, you might have converted me)

And what a pretty little village Dol is - people were so friendly and amazed to see me.  I don't think they get many Australians here.

European goldfinch

So here is the Menhir du Champ Dolent, an enormous rock that juts 9.42 metres above the ground (it's an impressive 13 metres in total).  It took a 4 km walk the next morning to see it but it was worth it.

So then it was back to Rennes (again).  And also 'again' because I was here in 2018 and really enjoyed this city.  It was pretty cool.  And it still is ... with amazing old buildings and cobbled streets, as well as a very happening arts scene.  I was staying in the youth hostel, which was a bit of an eye-opener.  For a start, it was more expensive than some of Airbnbs and next, it was full of young people!  In England, youth hostels are the domain of the strapped older tourist (me) and school camps.  In Rennes, there were people from everywhere, all cooking up a storm (of noodles and tins of baked beans) in the communal kitchen and going out partying all night long.  Took me back to my youth.  Sigh.

However, Rennes also showed a sadder side.  There was a lot of evidence of the recent unrest, with most banks displaying broken windows and a visible police presence.  The first day I was there, I walked under a bridge ... well, I didn't do that again.  A lot of homeless people had staked out any spare ground in the city, some with tents, some just with cardboard, but all with great big dogs.  It was a bit frightening.  

I went to the art gallery which was quite delightful.  On the ground floor, I looked at the Egyptian treasures, including quite a few mummies (people, cats and even a little snake).  I wondered if they are thinking of giving these back to Egypt … but somehow I don’t think so.  Then it was upstairs to look at the paintings.  Well, there was something obvious straight away … if you were looking for French artists, you were in luck.  If you wanted to see anyone from any other country, think again.  Although they did have two Picassos.  It was French, French, French all the way.  Not that this made the exhibits any less beautiful.

Marmotte et trois cigognes by Pieter Boel (1624 - 72)

Then I made the decision to go and see (and pay for) their special exhibition called Art Is Magic, a retrospective of Jeremy Deller.  Well that was the best 4 euros I spent in Rennes … tuna baby baguette was nice but … cold drinks were very nice but … nope, definitely the best 4 euros!  It was interesting and thought-provoking and quirky AND it was in English!  I’ve been really missing talking lately.  After 2 months of talking, it’s quite difficult to turn into a mute.

So … Jeremy Deller.  What caught my interest initially was the strains of Beethoven’s 7^th.  So I entered this auditorium where there was a rather lovely little film.  It was Deller’s work, celebrating Beethoven’s 250^th birthday.  So he has filmed the Bonn Beethoven orchestra playing the 7^th, surrounded by children from local schools having fun, dancing and running.  Then we see the kids draw placards and join a climate march.  It all melded together beautifully and was said to reflect Beethoven’s feelings on life.  It actually brought a tear to my eye.  Then there was a brilliant room that was dedicated to the miners’ strikes of 84-85.  There was a documentary of how Deller got 1000 people, including local residents and ex-miners, to re-enact the clash between demonstrators and police in Orgreave.  There were interviews with people involved in the actual confrontation and it was amazing how raw it still was for many of the miners.  And they were still grieving the death of their communities … still blaming Maggie Thatcher.

Then it was off to Saumur.  Once I arrived, I found my Airbnb, which is a dinky little ground floor apartment, measuring about 3 x 12 metres.  I think it used to be the stairwell.  But I have a bathroom, a bed and a tiny little kitchen/lounge room but I also have a washing machine!  

Saumur is all cream stone and beautifully tiled roofs.  This is nothing special ... just a house!

But this is the chateau!  It had a very interesting museum, including a section on Tolkien and The Hobbit.  Couldn't quite work out the connection but ...

... the tapestry was gorgeous

... the views were stunning!

So some people come to Saumur for the horses.  I came for the mushrooms and the vegetables.  There's a mushroom museum a bit out of town ... ok, quite a lot out of town ... which I discovered when I hopped off the bus.  There were hundreds (if not thousands) of preserved mushrooms, documenting all the different types, edible and poisonous.  And there were rooms and rooms (well, actually caves and caves since we were underground) of blocks growing shitakes and button mushrooms and enokis and things I've never seen before and the smell of fungi and rotting stuff and mould and ... fascinating!

The next day I decided to visit another living museum ... this one dedicated to vegetable gardens.  Now, now, don't yawn.  It was fascinating, too! It took you through all the ages of vegetable growing, what was being grown, how it was cultivated, what a 'garden bed' looked like.  There were weird vegetables, amazing techniques and beautifully maintained gardens.  Oh, it was a delight!

An interesting technique was the three layers: a tree, a vine that climbs the tree and a crop at the base that acts as a mulch for the tree.

An African eggplant ... one to encourage Wally to grow.

So I was loving Saumur.  It's a beautiful little town, full of things to see and do.  There had to be a downside.  Well ... I do seem to react to biting insects.  It's happened in India, in France, oh ... in France again ... and where am I now?  Oh yes, in France.  So I've been bitten.  My left eye closed, I had multiple bites (terribly itchy) on my feet and legs and arms and hand.  It's probably bedbugs ... or fleas ... or something nasty.  So I've got new drugs from the nice pharmacist (no idea what they are but I'm hoping they're antihistamines and a steroid cream) and I'm sure I'll be fine.  I've just to remember to wear my dark glasses ... otherwise I might scare people.

See!  I'm improving already!