Arrival In Madrid, Bit Of Heaven In France
Hola, All!
I am writing from an internet cafe right off the Plaza del Sol in sunny Madrid, Spain. I crossed the border into Spain late last night and arrived here early this morning, along with my new Australian friends Kieran and Richard. I will tell you all about Spain in the next installment of my reports so that I can catch you up on my French adventures today!
When I last wrote you, I had just arrived in Tours. I spent a great few days there -- the sun came out, considerably improving my mood, and Tours is a beautiful city with great museums. One of my favorites was a wax museum that told the history of the Touraine region. The figures were incredibly lifelike and it was very well done, taking you up and down through various levels of a castle until you felt like you might be wandering through a haunted house! I took a bit of a church break in Tours, seeing only one (I usually average 3-4 church inspections per day).
I also took a morning trip out to Chenonceaux (the town) to see Chenonceau (the chateau). The story of my trip there is not for the weak-hearted: it involved a stuck train door, a James Bond-like leap from a barely moving train, and a sore knee. That said, it was worth it to see an amazing castle on such a gorgeous day and my knee is feeling much better now. I was surprised at how cold castles are -- I guess that explains the clothing style of the former inhabitants! But I think I could build a fire and find a way to make do, if forced to do so!
On the train from Tours to Poitiers, I met a woman who taught English in Poitiers for many years. Much to my relief, she was eager to speak in English about her city and experiences, which included escorting school boys on field trips to the United States and Canada. She almost made me feel competent and level-headed as she described incidents including: (1) a passport search through 10,000 bags on a dock before a boy could board his ship; and (2) retrieving a passport from a desk drawer in the home of a host family that had left for vacation, with the help of the police, on the last night of the trip. Her pride in her city turned out to be well-founded -- it is a very beautiful medieval town with windy streets filled with shops, lots of nice Christmas decorations and a truly great museum with exhibits nearly as wonderful as its architecture. Also in Poitiers, I had my best glass of wine yet -- a regional white wine that I absolutely loved and will try to locate in the States!
Having learned my lesson about stressing too much over planning (or, more accurately, failed plans), I rolled the dice with an early morning train from Poitiers to Limoges, thinking I might visit a town called Cahors. When the wait for the Cahors connection turned out to be pretty long, I decided to forego the Limoges train station wait (although I was truly enjoying the brisk 32 degree temperature and raging wind through the station) and hop a train to Rocamadour on the recommendation of the reservations guy.
I have attached a picture of Rocamadour so you can see why I will hug the reservations guy if I ever see him again -- but don´t look at it quite yet! So, I arrived at the Rocamadour train station and started calling around for hotels, although I didn´t expect much because the place is fairly devoid of tourists at this time of year. I was right -- nothing was open, so I reconciled myself to spending only the day there. That´s when Jeanette, the train station attendant (who has worked for the railroad for 20 years) stepped in. Jeanette called her friend Marguerite Larnaudie who runs a "chambre d´hote" in her house -- rooms for rent that include breakfast and an optional dinner cooked by Marguerite. Next thing I knew, Marguerite´s husband, Pierre, picked me up in their car and I found myself in a wonderful home with my very own cozy room with my very own bathroom and shower and a feather bed and feather pillows! (You will never take those things for granted again if you travel like I have traveled this week!) I should mention that on the way home, Pierre stopped the car so I could take a good look at the city of Rocamadour: it literally took my breath away. (You may look at the attached picture now). Add to this picture that it was a rainy day so there was a nice mist hanging over the canyon, making the city appear like something in a dream.
I decided to spend the entire weekend with Marguerite and Pierre because the city was so gorgeous and their house so comfortable. The story of Rocamadour is that hundreds of years ago, the residents found a perfectly preserved body on what is now the Notre Dame chapel there. They decided it was Zaccheus, the tax collector from the Bible, and that it was a miracle that they found him in such a condition. Accordingly, they built an entire religious city in his honor -- at the top of the hill is the castle with its ramparts, you walk down a very steep zigzag incline that has at each "zig" one of the 14 stations of the cross, then you reach the religious city that includes several chapels. Below that is a "grand escalier" religious pilgrims have climbed on their knees that leads down to the village and several shops. Beautiful!
It´s a good thing I got all that exercise climbing up and down the canyon because Marguerite served for dinner (to me and a French couple whose 11 year old son was away on his first ski vacation): red wine, bread and pate with foie gras (made from her own duck), confit de canard (a delicious dish made from her own duck), green beans, cheese (made locally) and crepes with jam made from peaches, oranges, pears (and kiwi, I think). I slept well! On Sunday, I attended a Catholic mass (there is no other kind of church in France, apparently!) that was all in French but still sounded awfully familiar.
I reluctantly left Rocamadour Monday morning for Toulouse, where I would later catch the train for Madrid. Yesterday was therefore spent traveling and running various errands during my layovers in between trains. En route to Madrid, I met lots of new people: a kind old man who offered me a cough drop on the train (he prescribed his own cough medicine, a miniature bottle of wine that he sipped from periodically), two French guys named Pierre and Ian who attend graduate school in Spain and will become Spanish professors this year, two American girls studying in Madrid for the semester and the aforementioned Kieran and Richard.
Well, I must go enjoy the day, which I believe will include a visit to the Prado museum and a stroll through Madrid´s botanical gardens. Tonight the Aussies and I will engage in the traditional Madrid "tapas tour" which involves hopping from place to place to try different Spanish appetizers. Sorry this update is so long, but it was an eventful week! I hope your week is great and thanks again to all for the e-mails!
Adios,
Lisa
I am writing from an internet cafe right off the Plaza del Sol in sunny Madrid, Spain. I crossed the border into Spain late last night and arrived here early this morning, along with my new Australian friends Kieran and Richard. I will tell you all about Spain in the next installment of my reports so that I can catch you up on my French adventures today!
When I last wrote you, I had just arrived in Tours. I spent a great few days there -- the sun came out, considerably improving my mood, and Tours is a beautiful city with great museums. One of my favorites was a wax museum that told the history of the Touraine region. The figures were incredibly lifelike and it was very well done, taking you up and down through various levels of a castle until you felt like you might be wandering through a haunted house! I took a bit of a church break in Tours, seeing only one (I usually average 3-4 church inspections per day).
I also took a morning trip out to Chenonceaux (the town) to see Chenonceau (the chateau). The story of my trip there is not for the weak-hearted: it involved a stuck train door, a James Bond-like leap from a barely moving train, and a sore knee. That said, it was worth it to see an amazing castle on such a gorgeous day and my knee is feeling much better now. I was surprised at how cold castles are -- I guess that explains the clothing style of the former inhabitants! But I think I could build a fire and find a way to make do, if forced to do so!
On the train from Tours to Poitiers, I met a woman who taught English in Poitiers for many years. Much to my relief, she was eager to speak in English about her city and experiences, which included escorting school boys on field trips to the United States and Canada. She almost made me feel competent and level-headed as she described incidents including: (1) a passport search through 10,000 bags on a dock before a boy could board his ship; and (2) retrieving a passport from a desk drawer in the home of a host family that had left for vacation, with the help of the police, on the last night of the trip. Her pride in her city turned out to be well-founded -- it is a very beautiful medieval town with windy streets filled with shops, lots of nice Christmas decorations and a truly great museum with exhibits nearly as wonderful as its architecture. Also in Poitiers, I had my best glass of wine yet -- a regional white wine that I absolutely loved and will try to locate in the States!
Having learned my lesson about stressing too much over planning (or, more accurately, failed plans), I rolled the dice with an early morning train from Poitiers to Limoges, thinking I might visit a town called Cahors. When the wait for the Cahors connection turned out to be pretty long, I decided to forego the Limoges train station wait (although I was truly enjoying the brisk 32 degree temperature and raging wind through the station) and hop a train to Rocamadour on the recommendation of the reservations guy.
I have attached a picture of Rocamadour so you can see why I will hug the reservations guy if I ever see him again -- but don´t look at it quite yet! So, I arrived at the Rocamadour train station and started calling around for hotels, although I didn´t expect much because the place is fairly devoid of tourists at this time of year. I was right -- nothing was open, so I reconciled myself to spending only the day there. That´s when Jeanette, the train station attendant (who has worked for the railroad for 20 years) stepped in. Jeanette called her friend Marguerite Larnaudie who runs a "chambre d´hote" in her house -- rooms for rent that include breakfast and an optional dinner cooked by Marguerite. Next thing I knew, Marguerite´s husband, Pierre, picked me up in their car and I found myself in a wonderful home with my very own cozy room with my very own bathroom and shower and a feather bed and feather pillows! (You will never take those things for granted again if you travel like I have traveled this week!) I should mention that on the way home, Pierre stopped the car so I could take a good look at the city of Rocamadour: it literally took my breath away. (You may look at the attached picture now). Add to this picture that it was a rainy day so there was a nice mist hanging over the canyon, making the city appear like something in a dream.
I decided to spend the entire weekend with Marguerite and Pierre because the city was so gorgeous and their house so comfortable. The story of Rocamadour is that hundreds of years ago, the residents found a perfectly preserved body on what is now the Notre Dame chapel there. They decided it was Zaccheus, the tax collector from the Bible, and that it was a miracle that they found him in such a condition. Accordingly, they built an entire religious city in his honor -- at the top of the hill is the castle with its ramparts, you walk down a very steep zigzag incline that has at each "zig" one of the 14 stations of the cross, then you reach the religious city that includes several chapels. Below that is a "grand escalier" religious pilgrims have climbed on their knees that leads down to the village and several shops. Beautiful!
It´s a good thing I got all that exercise climbing up and down the canyon because Marguerite served for dinner (to me and a French couple whose 11 year old son was away on his first ski vacation): red wine, bread and pate with foie gras (made from her own duck), confit de canard (a delicious dish made from her own duck), green beans, cheese (made locally) and crepes with jam made from peaches, oranges, pears (and kiwi, I think). I slept well! On Sunday, I attended a Catholic mass (there is no other kind of church in France, apparently!) that was all in French but still sounded awfully familiar.
I reluctantly left Rocamadour Monday morning for Toulouse, where I would later catch the train for Madrid. Yesterday was therefore spent traveling and running various errands during my layovers in between trains. En route to Madrid, I met lots of new people: a kind old man who offered me a cough drop on the train (he prescribed his own cough medicine, a miniature bottle of wine that he sipped from periodically), two French guys named Pierre and Ian who attend graduate school in Spain and will become Spanish professors this year, two American girls studying in Madrid for the semester and the aforementioned Kieran and Richard.
Well, I must go enjoy the day, which I believe will include a visit to the Prado museum and a stroll through Madrid´s botanical gardens. Tonight the Aussies and I will engage in the traditional Madrid "tapas tour" which involves hopping from place to place to try different Spanish appetizers. Sorry this update is so long, but it was an eventful week! I hope your week is great and thanks again to all for the e-mails!
Adios,
Lisa
posted by Lisa at 9:43 AM
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