Un Kalidoscope De France
Bonjour, from the south of France in Nice! In the wee hours of the morning before I depart back to the United States, I look back on a thirteen day journey that crisscrossed the country. I’m bummed out to wake up from this dreamlike state in returning to reality. But the trip was one that left its mark on my life.
To appreciate everything that occurred during the last thirteen days, we have to go back to the start. This trip wasn’t supposed to happen as planned. It was last November when I found out that the river cruise down the Rhine my sister and I planned to go on was being postponed until next Spring. I had a time off request for the first week in May, but now needed to come up with a plan B. I looked my options and neither of them for my destination of France worked with my request. So, I canceled it and took a second look. I found my trip, the 13 day Kaleidoscope of France and the date of departure of September 21st. This trip would begin just under a year after my last trip in Portugal.
It was no coincidence why I chose France for this trip. The decade was ending and I wanted to have it come full circle. I remembered the first time in October 2012 when we visited Paris and despite all the difficulties along the way, I fell in love with the destination. This was the first time away from home and it felt liberating and terrifying simultaneously. As I left the Aeroport Charles de Gaulle on October 14th 2012, I didn’t think I’d ever travel again let alone to France. But there I was at my computer the day after Thanksgiving last year with the reservation confirmed. I would pay off the trip on Good Friday in April of this year. The hardest part was still to come, the waiting.
But the days and months went by in the blink of an eye. And surely enough, the big day finally arrived. With my boarding pass in hand, I made my way to the Air France terminal at JFK. After clearing security the dream was now a reality. As the sunset over the terminal, the sunlight shone through the windows of the terminal and on the planes themselves. A childlike wonder would take over as I stepped into the airplane.
A long night in flight turned into the early hours of Sunday morning the 22nd. I arrived at terminal 3 of the smaller airport in Paris, Orly. With my bags collected and the passport stamped, I searched for the transfer to the hotel. But I couldn’t find it as the normal sign for the company wasn’t at the arrivals area. That was until I found a woman in a yellow dress and I showed her my travel documents. On the way to car, the sign that was in Paris was felt instantly at the terminal door, the smell of cigarettes was in the air.
The van arrived at the hotel, the Marriott Rive Gauche just after 10am. After being let into the room, I plotted out the stop for the day, a visit to the stadium, the Parc des Princes aka home to the local soccer club, Paris Saint German. It would take three transfers on the Metro to get there, but there I was at the gates past the traveling support for the game that night against Olympic Lyon. The tour started in the upper levels of the stadium before working its way to the field, but not before the next classic sign of Paris arrived, the rain. I rested up for the evenings orientation meeting. I would meet the rest of the group that night and our tour guide for the trip, Corina. Between her enthusiasm and the experience traveling of everyone else, I knew that this would be an eventful trip to come around France.
There wasn’t much time to rest though, as we were on our way to the first stop of the trip the next morning in the city of Tours. The first stop was in the town of Chartres with a visit to the cathedral. The stained glass windows were the attraction here as the were stored piece by piece in order to keep them from being damaged by bombs during World War II. We made our next stop at the Chateau de Chambord before taking a wine tasting and arriving at the hotel. Our first dinner together was that night with a beautiful sunset peeking through the window on the top floor of the restaurant. As desert, came around, I saw a blowtorch in hand and the Baked Alaska for desert was lit up. I couldn’t back away fast enough and a small piece of my hair was singed off.
The next morning continued our exploration of the Loire Valley. The first stop was at the Chateau de Chenonceau as we explored the grounds on our own. As we arrived at our next stop in Amboise, the weather took a turn for the worse as it started to rain heavily. But a few of us ducked into the creperie across from the meeting point for lunch, the sea of red lanyards taking over the place. With a local guide, we explored the Royal Chateau d’Amboise. The visit would end with a visit to the crypt of the artist, Leonardo da Vinci. The skies would clear up and the temperature warmed up as the visit came to an end. As we arrived back in Tours, i was able to join a small group for dinner in town that night, walking the streets towards the busy, restaurant filled town center.
The next morning we made our next move to Normandy. But not before one of the most anticipated moments of the trip, the fortified town of Mont Sant Michel. The fortress is surrounded by the sea on both sides. We took the shuttle and the views were dramatic as the island juts out to the sea. To reach the abbey at the top of the mountain would require a long walk up and a second walk back down. The circumstances were made that much more challenging by the rain, cobblestones and the groups of school children treating the mount like a parkour course. But the rains stopped just in time to take the shuttle back to the bus.
The next morning, a pair of history lessons. Our first stop was to the nearby Bayeux tapestry. It intricately tells the story of the Norman Invasion of England by William the Conquer in 1066. Each of the 56 pieces weaves a tale of betrayal, of battle and of conquest. The afternoon would bring us closer the Second World War as we landed on the beaches of Normandy. The wind and rain lashed out at us as we explored Utah and Omaha beaches with weather similar to the day of June 6th, 1944. The last stop of the day would be one to pay our respects to the 9,837 soldiers that perished in the conflict at the American cemetery. As we overlooked Omaha Beach, the sound of a trumpet playing Taps could be heard in the background. Everyone would stand at attention as the mournful notes rang out amid the wind and rain, creating the most solemn moment of the trip.
With the first week of the tour in the books, it was time for a brief return to Paris. But before we arrived back in the city, we visited the town of Giverny to visit the hotel of the artist, Claude Monet. The pink strewn facade and colorful rooms served as the backdrop of a vividly flowered garden. We arrived back in Paris as the bus made a close pass at La Tour Eiffel on the way back to our hotel. That night, two tours became one as we welcomed 17 new members to the tour. In the heart of the Sorbonne, we went out to dinner, all 57 of us. Good company, a lavish dinner and all the humor that a guitarist and accordionist could provide, and a drunken, yet spirited rendition of “Sweet Caroline” brought the night to a close.
Saturday morning, we took a city tour of Paris by bus with a local guide, Anne Marie providing the commentary. The first stop would be at Les Invalides, with the Celine backdrop still in place due to Paris fashion week. We then made a photo stop at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, and my mind wandered back to the clouds on our last visit in 2012 as we then took the elevator to the top. But on this day, it was clear skies and the feeling that life had changed considerably. The tour ended in the shadow of the Arc de Triomphe, glistening in the blue skies above us. The optional for the day was to the palace and gardens at Versailles but as I visited it last time, I skipped it. So, I set off from the hotel to visit the Luxembourg Gardens, an oasis of peace, flowers and sunshine in the city. The next stop was another call back to 2012, the basilica at Sacre Couer in Montmartre. We stayed in the neighborhood back then, but didn’t visit inside the basilica. As I rode up the funicular, I could see the final set of steps in my sights. I open the doors and it’s every bit as epic as on the outside as La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona is. I made one last stop for the day, the Centre Pompidou. I wanted to visit the museum back then, but there wasn’t enough time to do so. I arrived at the museum with the famed exterior under renovation, only I didn’t go inside the museum as the lines were quite long. I went back to the hotel to rest up for dinner that night.
But it wasn’t an ordinary meal, it was a wine tasting dinner at a familiar place, the wine bar O Chateau. I left early thinking that I’d get lost along the way, but I found it easily. A bit after 8:15pm, the sommelier Gerald popped the cork on the first wine, champagne. And as the night unfolded, a different wine was introduced with a food pairing. Fois gras came with the white wine, Bordeaux with the black angus steak and a late bottle vintage port wine with the chocolate lava cake for desert. A dozen of us enjoyed a decadent meal and each other’s company. I arrived back at the hotel just in time for Saturday night to become Sunday morning. There wasn’t much rest for the wicked as we had a train to catch. We left the hotel for the Gare du Lyon, on a train bound for Avignon. As the train departed, the weather took a rough turn as it suddenly began to rain in addition to the chilly wind. But the moment that we stepped off the train in the south of France, summer warmth was back. Straight from the train, we picked up the bus and headed to the aqueduct at the Pont du Gard. The Roman ruins provides a scenic backdrop with beaches on both ends of it, a marked departure from the north country. We then had a “professional” wine tasting in the town of Chateanauf du Pape. We were shown how to properly taste wine, from looking at it’s color, to the legs at the stem and the feel of it in one’s mouth. Naturally, this was used as a set up for moments of jest during dinner that night.
As the second half of the trip began, we took a tour of Avignon. The main attraction was inches away from our hotel, the Palace des Papes. With our guide Elsa, we explored every part of the place where the papacy once called home. There was a slight mishap in between as in trying to exit out the palace, I went the wrong way. Knowing that I was going to be late, I ran on the cobblestones and tripped as a result. I asked a local which path I needed to take and eventually made it back to the hotel. Corina and the rest of the group were waiting outside. I couldn’t apologize fast enough, but no one was mad though, just me at myself. The afternoon was an optional excursion to the town of Arles where the painter Vincent Van Gogh lived and to St. Remy de Provence, the asylum where he spent the last days of his life. In this location, he created two of his most famous works of art, “Starry Night” and “Irises”.
If Monday was about modestly, Tuesday threw it out the window. As we left Avignon, there was time for a stop in the seaside town of Cannes. We entered the city and the song, “La Mer” played in the background, and the peaceful feeling took over. After a brief walking tour, we had time to explore the beach. A short time later, it was time for a visit to the Fragonard perfumery. It is as much of a human process for the machines on site. The tour ended with samples from their perfumes. But the best was still to come.
As day turned into evening, Monte Carlo awaited. The winding hills leading out the city provided a panoramic backdrop. We stopped at the Cap de Fer, overlooking sunset in Nice and the sea. On the way from the photo stop, a table was laid out with snacks and bottles of Prosecco for all of us to enjoy. With a cup in my hand, I proposed a toast to everyone, welcoming me with open arms and to Corina and Jean Marie for the jobs they’d done. We continued on into the principality and reached the famed Casino de Monte Carlo. The night was glamour personified from the people coming in to all the sorts cars parked outside the casino. As we arrived back at the hotel, a running joke came true. Our driver, Jean Marie has a photo of his idol, the singer Claude Francois taped to his window. Corina mentioned he had a wonderful singing voice and sure enough, he serenaded the bus with “Come Le Habitude”, the French version of “My Way” that Frank Sinatra would immortalize as a signature song.
All good things come to an end, better know as the last day of the trip. I woke up yesterday and felt the tears running down my cheeks. But, I was going to pull myself together to enjoy the day in Nice. I had booked a walking tour through the tourism bureau and I walked from the hotel to the Promenade des Anglais. The sea snapped me out of my funk and I met my tour guide Gaetane outside the office. We walked through the Vieux Nice part of the city and he was nice enough to buy me the Nice version of the crepe, socca. The tour ended up at the Contemporary Art Museum. After the museum visit , I took one last walk down the promenade before arriving at the hotel. Later that night, we walked together to out farewell dinner on a terrace in the Vieux Nice section of the city. On the cab ride back to the hotel, it hit me that the trip is over. I was not ready to end things, the negative thoughts raced back into my mind and the tears flowed again as I sat on the bench outside. After speaking to Corina, the melancholy went away and I went gently into the night.
After thirteen days, the curtain falls on this trip. All that’s left to do is fly home to New York this afternoon. This trip was everything that I could’ve imagined and quite possibly, the best trip I’ve taken so far.
I have a few thank you’s to give. A thank you to our drivers, Derrick and Jean Marie, all of our guides at every stop. A thank you to Gerald the sommelier and I Chateau for a most decadent wine tasting dinner. My walking tour guide in Nice, a thank you to Gaetane. A thank you everyone on the bus for both legs of this trip for being so welcoming. Last but not least, a big Merci Beacoup to our tour guide Corina Moga. Her kindness, joie d’vivre and attention to detail made the trip a joy to behold.
I wish everyone traveling today a safe journey to wherever they may roam.
