(Typing on road from Nuremberg to Prague.)
Our flights were, all in all, fairly relaxed, with a period of manic shopping at Hong Kong airport – for my two Longchamp bags and a stash of Chanel make-up – inbetween. Much can be said for the comfort and service of Cathay Pacific. Swiss Airlines stumbled somewhat in picking up where Cathay Pacific left off, but all in all, we arrived in Paris ready, willing and awake enough to embark upon our journey into the Loire Valley.
Two nights and two and a half days in the Loire, based in Amboise, gave us the opportunity to experience the culture, history and gastronomy of the region. Notwithstanding that the chateaus were impressive and the scenery picturesque, the biggest surprise in Amboise was the warmth and hospitality of the people. To those who associate the French with pomp and arrogance, a visit to this part of the country would quickly divest you of this misconception.
We began to notice it on our first stop in Versailles. We were tired and highly strung after a couple of hours spent navigating the roads out of Paris (read: getting hopelessly lost and driving round in circles). We stumbled down a small lane lined with cafes, collapsed into our chairs and realised, at length, how hungry we were. We began to realise, too, with the benefit of our blood pressure having returned to normal, how beautiful the streets of Versailles are, and how friendly and personable the locals seemed to be.
I didn’t need much reminding of how much I love French food, but if I had, the escargot and roast duck and potato gratin would have done it – delicious! John also vouched for the terrine and the pave of beef.
Versailles was fantastic. Maybe it’s a result of hearing people complain about it so much – too grandiose, too opulent, too this or that – but I was pleasantly surprised by how liveable it was. The rooms were luxurious, but also inviting. The paintings on the ceilings (which are not frescoes, apparently, but painted onto canvas) were tremendous in both quality and their intriguing choice of subjects. The gardens were pretty to look out over from the upstairs rooms – it helped that it was a calm, sunny autumn day.
The only drawback, for me, was the number of people visiting. It required a stretch of the imagination to imagine the hall of mirrors without fifty thousand people standing around, but once I did, complete with candlelight and women in elaborate full dresses and musicians filling the room with music, I could very clearly see how the room earned its legendary reputation.
I tried out my bad French in Versailles. It never fails to make the locals smile.
The journey to Amboise was marginally less fraught (once we made our way out of Versailles). We made it to our hotel (Les Manoir Minimes – an 18th century manor house) before dark, and were ushered inside by the friendliest young Frenchman with thick rimmed glasses, an impeccably pressed black suit and perfect English with a flamboyant French accent.
Thus far, my standard for good hotel reception is that they will give you directions, maybe a map and recommend a good restaurant or two. After he was nice enough to carry my bag up to our room, two floors up, we asked this guy for a restaurant recommendation, and he responded by asking us what sort of restaurant we were after and what our budget was, and “Amboise is quite full at the moment but I will call around and make a booking for you, while you freshen up. Don’t worry, you won’t need to drive anywhere else tonight.” It was awesome.
He disappeared and we got a better look at the room itself. It had the loveliest view of both the Chateau d’Amboise and the Loire River, which we could hear rushing over the rocks, beneath the bridge, which was, by that stage, barely illuminated in the sunset.
There really is nothing quite like that first hot shower after a 26 hour flight and a crazy drive. We were nice and refreshed as we took our first walk through the old cobblestone town of Amboise.
The restaurant did not disappoint. The scallop moussette, the grilled salmon and the roasted apples with a crumble had me feeling perfectly satisfied and content. It was the delicious local red wine that was my undoing – by the time I reached the bottom of my second glass, I was ready to slowly fall off my chair, curl up in a ball and sleep on the floor of the restaurant. Apparently I opted for making my way back to the hotel, instead. I don’t actually remember much between dessert and waking up in bed the following morning.
Typing on train to Vienna.
Turns out I have a pretty spot on internal clock that gets me up at the crack of dawn no matter where in the world I am. This isn’t good in Sydney at 5am on a Saturday morning when I’ve gone to bed at 2am and will be sans coffee for at least another 4 or 5 hours, but I don’t mind it at all when it’s 7am in Amboise and notwithstanding the fact that I should be severely jet lagged, I’m in fact bright eyed, bushy tailed and eager to investigate the local village and markets. John was up and full of energy, too, and by 8 o’clock we were walking the quiet streets, watching shop owners get their chocolateries / boulangeries / cafes get set up for the day. It was very peaceful – the village was still half asleep.
I couldn’t resist going into a boulangerie. I love the way they’re fitted out with beautiful wooden carpentry and I love the colours of the pastries and the smell of fresh bread. The fruit tart (I’m going to get this wrong, but it was something like ‘tartellette aux fruites’) was delicious, too.
In theory, we were headed towards the Sunday markets, but neither of us had any idea where they were. We skirted around the massive ramparts of the Chateau d’Amboise and wandered through the backstreets, till we noticed a few locals here and there walking with empty baskets hung over their arms. We followed them, crossing over to the riverbank and making our way through a leafy space with a stirring war memorial, till we found a mass of tents being set up, selling bread, fruit, seafood, fresh meats (duc k, lamb, rabbits), cured meats, pastries and some ramshackle housewares. It was fantastic for people watching! So many fascinating characters (so many attempts at being discrete in our photography – John captured some great video). It was such fun we ended up coming back later in the morning, after Paul and woken up and we had sat down for breakfast.
We sampled the local produce. It’s such a treat, I find, to see so many fresh berries – you practically need to take out a loan in Sydney to buy a punnet of raspberries (they’re consistently around $10 a punnet) and when you do buy them they’re usually sour, but we’ve seen ripe, fresh berries all around Europe in abundance. From Amboise, we tried the raspberries, the strawberries, fresh figs and tiny wild strawberries barely the size of peas but incredibly flavoursome. The guy who sold us the berries had calluses all over his hands, obviously from having farmed and picked them. Funny, you don’t often get that at your local Woolworths.
We had the opportunity to see more of ‘Les Manoir Minimes’ over breakfast, which was put on in one of the perfectly maintained 18th century rooms with panelled walls and period furniture. It was very elegant, but the service was friendly and personable. Fresh croissants, baguettes, jams, fruit and juices satiated our hunger after the long morning walk and the coffee was surprisingly good. Though we had plenty to see throughout the course of the day, the temptation was there to spend the hours talking and drinking coffee in that pretty little room.
To be continued...
