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| Dijon, France |
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| Lille Cathedral - Notre Dame de la Treille |
Sunday evening, returning from Belgium, we checked in our
hotel in Lille, still under the spell of those magical “B”s I wrote about in my
previous post. Monday morning we woke up eager to go and visit the city; it
would have been a shame not to, since we were in the area – that was the whole
point of our road trip: to go home and make the journey worth our efforts, make
it the highlight of this summer, although spending time with our families back
home is always an exciting event we don’t get the privilege to experience every
year. Lille started humbly, because we didn’t have great expectations; we
parked the car bang in the centre again, paid about 8 euros, but it’s our way
of contributing to the city’s maintenance – I encourage myself. Out of the car
park, right in the middle of the central square, we started exploring. We
rarely use maps, they take so long consulting! I prefer asking the locals,
trying to use their language to the best of my abilities and it’s always a
pleasant exchange: I leave with the information I need and a smile on my face
and hopefully my interviewees as well. We
walked the streets, enchanted with the shops’ windows again ( it’s an absolute art
here in France), we marvelled at the majestic beauty of the cathedral, with its
translucent marble façade – what an architectural statement, so original and
modern, in a captivating antithesis with the rest of the building’s style; we
walked around the cathedral, astonished and puzzled, trying to figure out whether
that was one building or maybe two joined in one and we discovered other little
treasures right behind it: an arch of chained houses, one cuter that the other,
among which what must be the smallest city house in the world! We laughed and
wondered whose idea that was and imagined how the interior was like. Then, more
streets and shops, churches and the lovely canal, across which we discovered
the Citadelle and the Zoo, a lovely park where many groups of young children in
their summer holiday clubs were having their packed lunches, supervised by
their teachers. They were so small and adorable and their French was the
sweetest music my ears ever heard! And go see the monkeys, the rhinos, the
zebras, the funny looking birds and the pelicans, the meerkats - all for free, again. And back
to the centre, following the same route a tres amable French lady showed us,
taking her time to come with us for a few minutes and direct us to the right
street. French people are so kind and amicable, they’re easy to talk to and they’re
always happy to explain things but ask you questions as well. “Where are you
from? Are you here on holiday? Did you cross the channel? Oh, mon Dieu!”
Enthusiastic with all the sun we enjoyed, all the lovely
images we recorded in our memory and on our cameras, we drove to Reims, hoping to
discover other marvels. After the loveliest journey through the fields of
France, painted in gold and yellow, jewelled by huge, round straw bales that from
a distance looked like yellow beads scattered on the sun-tanned skin of the
Earth, we got there, hypnotised by the graceful spins of the eolian mills,
giant ballerinas on one elongated leg. “Take the first exit”, Sabrina, our
voice urged us. Just when we were about to enter the city, we thought it wouldn’t
be a bad idea to check the timings and the distances and see what time would we
get to Dijon, where our next hotel was, and what time we had available for
sightseeing in Reims. Zero. Worse, we would be 20 minutes late for the
check-in, that closed at 9 pm. C’est la vie, no Reims this time around. Let’s try and
make it to the hotel in time, we decided. And then, the race against the clock
started: 21:19, we gained a minute! 21:17, the car was making us proud. And the
race continued, among other fields of gold and other giant beads of straw: it
was the quintessential road-trip! We were driving, enjoying it and getting the
most idyllic scenery on the sides of the road – it was magnifique! That’s
exactly what I imagined our road trip would offer us! Cherry on top, we made it
in time to the hotel, because the satnav suddenly remembered autoroutes existed
and invited us to take the motorway for the last part of the journey, making us
gain more than 30 minutes and lose 8 euros. Fair game!
Late dinner at Flunch, the place Anita is now in love with
(pay for the meat and enjoy everything else “a disposition”) and quick shower,
followed by sudden sleep. Very sudden! But what relaxation the morning after
not having to check out! We booked two nights in Dijon, knowing we would
get here at night and wanting to give this place a chance as well. So we did, today.
Tuesday, the 28th of July. Journal entry.
Breakfast at Flunch again, simply because we got coffee tokens last night,
which we didn’t use, and, most importantly, they make crepes with Nutella! Fab
breakfast! Exactly what we needed to give us a kick for the day and to last us
until dinner. Yes, Anita decided she wants dinner again at Flunch, she won’t
have it any other way (and after the generous crepes, there’s no space or
necessity for lunch).
Our day started in Dijon this morning and ended in a little
village up in the mountains, where I wanted to stay. Like… forever! Dijon was
another example of how great French people are preserving their history and
making it the best asset they have. What a marvellous place! Palais du Ducs and
Musée des Beaux-Arts, Dijon
Cathedral, Notre Dame of Dijon, Canal de Bourgogne, Kir Lake and Jardin
Botanique – are only a few of the treasures the capital city of Burgundy is proudly
displaying to the many tourists flooding its streets. Colourful historical flags, gothic
and art deco architecture, fountains, live music, markets, shop windows in
vivid colours, adorable little mansards with cute balconies, flower pots
exploding with colour – what a treat for my eyes and ears! Merci, Dijon! Pour
tout!
Back to the car and on the road again. Destinations:
Semur-en-Auxois, a medieval citadelle, and Flavigny sur Ozerain, a medieval
village, both recommended by a friend of mine that lives in France. We were actually
meant to meet and do this together, with our families, and I would have got to finally meet Vlad, her 5 year old son that makes me laugh on the phone every time his
mum and I talk and he’s there in the background being silly and naughty and
adorable and I felt a bit sorry when she phoned the day of my departure to let
me know they couldn’t make it due to other commitments. I’ll get to know him
one day, I promise! I still got to see the places Gabriela recommended, though,
for which I’m truly and forever grateful
because they were examples of the profound culture of France, those hidden
treasures a simple tourist like me wouldn’t know about and what a loss! We
drove on the most wonderful roads among valleys, hills, fields and forests, some
curvy and risky, others narrow and sweet, country roads that make even a
reluctant driver like me want to drive. I was there in the passenger seat,
absorbing all this beauty with my eyes, with my soul, feeling the sun on my
arms and cheeks or smelling the rain a few hours later, on our way back - a synesthetic
symphony that played all the right chords! But the real spectacle were these
two destinations: the cutest houses one can imagine, arches and towers where
people really live, flower baskets hanging at all the balconies, vintage little shops, guides
dressed in medieval costumes – my heart was jumping up and down with joy. I
even found their Post Office and sent the card with Notre Dame of Dijon to my
elderly neighbour Maureen, who has no one in this world, apart from a niece in
Australia. I thought she would like to find a little message from us in her
mail box, a picture of the “Black Virgin” sent all the way from France! You
know how old people are: a little something
like that could make her weak heart beat faster and more convinced life is
still beautiful. That’s if the Royal Mail doesn’t fail her.
And then, the final gem: that little village up in the
mountains, where silence is omnipresent, palpable, those small, adorable stone houses
with pink or blue shutters with heart shaped cuts in the middle, those little
doors and stairs, almost made for tiny people (they might be, I haven’t seen
anyone, the village looked deserted…) - all seemed dropped from the colourful pages
of a fairy tale book. Right there and
then, a seed was planted in my heart. Yes, I dream I’ll buy one of those tiny,
adorable houses made of stone, up in the mountains, when I’ll be little, one
day. I’ll listen to the silence and I’ll write books. For children, maybe. Or for
tiny people with big hearts (like the ones on the colourful window shutters).
France will stay in my heart, although tomorrow we’ll head to a different
country and a new adventure. Au revoir (because
I WILL see you again).
C 'est Fran…tastique, I tell you!
Viorica
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| Semur-en-Auxois |
