The curators of France have sports on the brain. I imagine hundreds of them gathering in a post-Covid funk at a convention at the Louvre two or three years back, trying to come up with ways to attract visitors to their museums. Suddenly, a specialist in, say, 18th-century stockings, a graduate of the class of 2008 at the Institut National du Patrimoine, stands up and shouts, “Eureka! Forget about the 150th anniversary of Impressionism in 2024, let’s all plan shows about sports to coincide with the Paris Olympics!” There follows a standing ovation and a buzz that spills over to the Champagne reception and evolves into an orgy of ideas for the Olympic crossover into cultural exhibitions in museums and other venues. Now, 2, 3 years later, dozens of sports-related exhibitions have blossomed throughout France. And you can visit all of them for less than the cost a nosebleed seat at a second-round match of beach volleyball at the 2024 Paris Olympics.

The official map of Olympic and Paralympic sporting venues also presents sports-related cultural and event locations throughout France.

Here is a selection of major and minor exhibitions in Paris and various regions of France during this Olympic year.

A Selection from France’s Cultural Olympiad

Paris’s fashion museum, the Palais Galliera, gets into the act with Fashion on the Move #2, presenting 300 items that “explore the role of special clothing in physical and sports activities as well as the sociological factors reflected in its development.” From horseback riding to tennis to golf to bicycling, along with much sea bathing and swimming, visitors can examine “the gradual specialization of sports garments and the arrival of sportswear in people’s ordinary everyday wardrobe.” This exhibition, running until Jan. 5, 2025, follows on the heels of the first Fashion on the Move show, which pranced along similar ground.

The Pantheon in Paris, that impressive and vital church-cum-monument-to-the-ideals-of-the-French-Republic, hosts until September 29 the exhibition Paralympic History: From Integration in Sport to Social Inclusion, 1948-2024.

The Museum of Jewish Art and History in Paris presents the 1930s work of André Steiner. See the video below for a brief description and glimpse of André Steiner: The Body, from Desire to Transcendence, showing until September 22.

Also in Paris, sport and urban cultures form the raison d’être of Spot 24, a temporary exhibition space and Olympics shop located a 10-minute walk west of the Eiffel Tower. In a series of corporate-hip displays, the exhibition showcases six new or recent Olympic disciplines: BMX freestyle, skateboarding, sport climbing, surfing, 3×3 basketball and breaking. Until Dec. 31.

The National Sport Museum in the Allianz Riviera Stadium in Nice needs no Olympic theme to work up a sweat. Still, it would be remiss in not mounting an Olympic-related temporary exhibition. The result is Les Elles des jeux, which examines the place of women in the Olympics over the past 130 years. It runs until September 22.

In Lyon during the month of August, the regional CNRS (French National Center for Scientific Research) presents at the Parc de la Tête d’Or an exhibition called Sport et Science: L’union fait la force (strength through unity), examining, among other aspects, how science benefits professional and amateur athletes.

In Burgundy, the MuséoParc Alésia looks at the Olympic Games of Antiquity in Ô Sport, des Jeux pour des dieux (the Games for the gods) https://www.alesia.com/o-sport-des-jeux-pour-des-dieux/, along with a separate exhibition titled Archeology and Sport, both until November 30. The museum-park, created at the site of a major battle between Roman legions and the Celtic tribes that inhabited Gaul prior to the Roman conquest, is located 35 miles northwest of Dijon by car (or a quick side-trip while biking along the Canal de Bourgogne).

In Toulouse, the southwestern city known as “the European capital of aeronautics and space,” the title of the exhibition at the Cité de l’Espace (Space City) is unsurprisingly Space and Sport. Showing until the end of the year, it highlights the similarities between top-level athletes and astronauts.

Bordeaux naturally sought a wine angle. Whether its convincing or not (haven’t been), the Cité du Vin has mounted an exhibition that finds a connection between life in the stadium and work in the vineyards and the common challenges facing both athletes and winegrowers. Whatever. Showing until September 29.

In the Alsatian city of Sélestat, the Humanist Library, which hosts notable exhibitions related to its extensive collection of medieval manuscripts and 15th- and 16th-century printed books, presents En garde ! L’escrime, entre fiction littéraire et réalité historique (fencing, between literary fiction and historical reality). June 27 to November 10.

In addition to being well off the radar of most travelers, the Centre Historique Minier, a museum about the history of mining built on the site of an old mine in Lewarde (Upper France), 27 miles south of Lille, would appear to have a tough time finding a sporting angle. It nevertheless manages to jump on the Olympic bandwagon by exploring how mine owners, beginning in the mid-19th century, saw sports and sporting clubs as a way of structuring the free time of their employers and families with activities and a social framework that could be beneficial for their cohesion and physical fitness. The sporting exhibition continues until May 4, 2025.

La Fabrique des Savoirs, the Knowledge Factory, in Elbeuf (Normandy) is an eclectic museum dedicated to all kinds of knowledge and know-how, particularly relative to nature, archeology and industry in and around the loop in the Seine upstream from Rouen. Sports enters mix this summer with the exhibition De l’usine au stade (from the factory to the stadium), June 21 to Sept. 29, which tells about the development of sports and sporting facilities in the area from 1870 to today.

(Contemporary) Art & Sport

Art & Sport is the unambiguous heading for 13 exhibitions of contemporary art taking place at various times from May to November in 13 cities representing the 13 regions of metropolitan France.

Considering what are often thought of as two distinct audiences—the artistic and museum-going public on the one hand and the sporting and sport-going public on the other, the former considered elitist in opposition to the latter often seen as “the people”—the national cultural organization GrandPalaisRMN is supporting an array of exhibitions intended to bring contemporary art to those who don’t usually enter museums. The venues for these exhibitions are therefore sports facilities and outdoor event spaces.

A good example of the concept is an exhibition that recently closed in Nevers (Burgundy) titled Hand in Hand in Hand. Taking place at a local sports center used by the Nevers handball team, the show considered the place of the hand and the sense of touch in contemporary art. A handball stadium may seem like an unlikely place to draw a substantial audience until you consider that handball is a major sport in France. In fact, in a rare Olympic double, France’s men’s and women’s handball teams both won gold three years ago at the Tokyo Olympics.

Through to the end of June in Mulhouse (Alsace), the theme of color in contemporary art is examined at an exhibition titled Pop Up Play Polychrome, showing at the Mulhouse Climbing Center. Why there? As an echo to the colors of the climbing walls.

In Pau (New Aquitaine), in June and July, the city’s aquatic center houses the exhibition How to Whisper to the Ocean. Water is naturally the common element in works that explore with drama, poetry and humor the concept of voyages to places foreign, unknown and/or subject to climate change.

In Le Mans (Western Loire), time is the theme of the works presented at the track of the 24 Hours of Le Mans races. It’s a short exhibition, lasting only June 11 to 16, the week of the Hypercar race.

The theme of the storm will draw the eyes of visitors at the Old Port in Marseilles from June 30 to July 3.

From July 5 to September 2, the impressive equestrian center in Saint Lô (Normandy) is the venue for works on the theme of animals, with an African proverb leading the way: If an animal tells you he can speak, he’s probably lying.

The works presented from September 7 to 29 at Nîmes‘s skate park, France’s largest, will explore street life.

In Paris, from July 12 to September 9, multiculturalism is the umbrella theme at the Maison de la Conversation in the 18th arrondissement. What does conversation have to do with sport? Well, as anyone who has taken part in café culture in Paris well knows, conversation is the primary sport in the capital city, though dodging cyclists is well on its way to overtaking it. Furthermore, one of the main conversations among Parisians for many months now has been Olympic fatigue, even before the Games begin.

For the full schedule and description of (contemporary) Art & Sport exhibitions, see here.

© 2024, Gary Lee Kraut

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Call it a combination of luck and due diligence then, and as a result we hit it right at Sénanque Abbey, we hit it right on the plateau surrounding Sault, we hit it right at various points in between, and from time to time we were wowed by bright, eye-catching sunflower fields.

Stunning views of purple-blue fields of lavender in bloom are far from the only pleasure of Provence, but such images have become so engrained in the traveler’s imagination of the perfect Provence vacation that the most common question I get from those planning to visit the region is “When is the lavender in bloom?”

When is lavender in bloom, and where?

Broadly speaking, Provence’s “blue gold” blooms from early June to mid-August, even beyond, though the edges of that 10-week window can be iffy. So let’s say mid-June to late-July to be sure.

That doesn’t mean you’ll find flowering fields everywhere during that period. Lavender—both “true” lavender and the hybrid lavandin—blooms at different times, in different locations, at different altitudes. It stays in color for a month or more before being harvested, again at different times, locations, altitudes. So don’t come expecting to find all of the fields in full color throughout the summer.

Lavender fields typically begin to flower east of the Rhone River around the second week in June in the lower altitudes in the department of Drôme (particularly in its southern portion known as Drôme Provençale) and in the northern portion of the department of Vaucluse, as well as in Vaucluse’s southern portion in and around the Luberon (e.g. Gordes, Sénanque).

One morning last year, on a 7th of June, while biking along the northern side of the Luberon, after passing several brown-grey fields, I sensed a haze of the palest of purples hanging like fog over long rows of planted mounds—or it was a mirage?

Depending on the type of plant, the weather and the altitude, the flowering begins a week or two or three later on the slopes and especially plateaus further from the Rhone River in Drome, Vaucluse (e.g. Sault) and Alpes du Haute Provence (e.g. Valensole), as well as in bordering departments.

While harvesting of the lower fields may begin as early as July 1, harvesting at the higher altitudes won’t be underway until the second half of the month, possibly not until the end of July or even well into August.

If your sense of the geography of the above-mentioned areas is unclear, see this map of approximate blooming and harvest periods.

Within the periods indicated on that map, those lovely lavender fields won’t be everywhere. You may have to go looking for them. But don’t make a detour to distant fields without first asking someone in the know, such as at a local tourist office. Otherwise, you may arrive only to find long mounds of dirt, as though the fields were a graveyard for the sandworms from Dune. Imagine how disheartening it can be to arrive at a field of dreams only to be told, “Oh, you should have been here yesterday, before the harvest. It was beautiful.”

Travelers needing a lavender fix while visiting the Riviera from mid-July into August may try venturing up to the fields north of Grasse.

Several years ago, on a 6th of August, while accompanying a group that had despaired of not seeing blooming lavender fields at the lower altitudes during their stay, I called around to find out if there had been any lavender sightings that week. Armed with an answer, I then led the group on a long detour from our long-planned itinerary to the vast fields on the eastern side of the Valensole Plateau where, bingo, there it was. Though not the bright magenta or electric purple promised in the glossies or the shocking blue or dark violet seen in photowashed travelgrams, it was a sight to behold: a true pale herbal floral lavender dancing in the breeze atop rounded bushes that snaked in long curving rows pointing toward the Alps.

From year to year and zone to zone, blooming and harvest times will vary. Therefore, when asked to help travelers with planning months in advance of a trip, I advise them to think of colorful lavender fields as a treat rather than a destination so as to avoid breaking any hearts (and getting blamed when lavender dreams turn to dirt).

Learning about Lavender and Lavandin

Along with the pleasure to the eyes, shops throughout Provence sell lavender-scented and lavender-based products for the pleasure of the nose and of the skin—soaps, creams, perfumes, fragrances, sachets, etc.—and of the mouth in the case of lavender honey (the real kind from bees working in the lavender fields). For my taste, lavender honey can be too intensely lavender for most uses, but adding a few dabs to a baguette-and-butter breakfast tartine makes for a sweet and soothing start to the day.

You’ll find lavender products wherever you go in the region. Sénanque Abbey, for example, has a large selection in their shop of monastic products. Nearby, in Cabrières-d’Avignon, between L’Isle sur la Sorgue and Gordes, the Lavender Museum / Musée de la Lavande can teach you about the growing, harvesting and distilling of lavender.

This summer, I chose the Vallon des Lavandes Distillery and neighboring fields in the Sault countryside for our picture-perfect lavender education. The drive itself from the small town of Mazan, where we were staying, offered stunning views of Mont Ventoux before we rounded one final hill and the purple fields around Sault opened before us. Sault (pronounced so, not salt, with a short, crisp o) is on the Vaucluse edge of the Albion Plateau, which covers the corner where Drome, Vaucluse and Alpes du Haute Provence meet. The Albion Plateau is one of the major lavender producing areas of Provence and therefore, when in bloom, among its most photogenic.

So (pronounced Sault), after parking at the distillery, we took an easy and delightful hike along an outlined Lavender Trail. The area isn’t heavily trafficked, but be sure to watch for cars when walking on the road portion of the 5k/3mi trail. (If you drive around the plateau, don’t just stop in your tracks to take in a view but pull over to a secure area.) While you shouldn’t walk into the lavender fields out of respect for the plants and their owner’s private property, I know of no visitor who can resist stepping into the fields for a photo, including this one.

During a tour of its 1947 distillery, the staff at the Vallon de Lavande provides an excellent introduction to the planting and growth of lavender and its common hybrid lavandin and especially to the extraction of essential oils. Lavandin represents three-quarters of the harvest at the 45-hectare (111-acre) domain. It produces six times more oil than true lavender and contains far more camphor, while true lavender, we were told, currently sells for about 180€/kg, about eight times more than lavandin. Some 150kg of plant are required to extract 1kg of oil of true lavender. The deflowered plants serve as combustible for the distillation.

Since it can be quite hot in the afternoon in summer, better to hit the Lavender Trail in the morning, followed by a visit to the distillery. Then drive up the hill to the center of Sault for lunch. We enjoyed a nice meal and a wide view over the plateau from the back terrace of O Pichoun. We followed that up with a pleasant little walk-about in Sault and sniffed into several lavender shops before the pretty ride home.

Sault holds a festival to celebrate lavender in the middle of August, when any remaining flowers are usually cut down. Valensole holds its lavender festival in mid-July.

Sault Cyclists and Mont Ventoux

In Sault in summer, serious bikers abound in their tight shorts and click-clacking cycling shoes. That’s because Sault is a stop on or the starting point for three cycling loops for sporty road bikers:

– an athletic loop that follows the gorge of the Nesque River then back along the hills via Méthamis;
– a lavender-tinged loop along and around the Sault portion of the Albion Plateau,
– and a challenging, 24-km / 15-mi climb to the bald summit of Mont Ventoux, followed by a dangerously high-speed decent back toward Sault.

Regarding the ascension of Mont Ventoux, in-shape road cyclists and those on electric bikes might feel that the first 10 miles from Sault are no more than strenuous, but the true test of fitness comes with the final 10-degree assault. Though the climb from Sault is challenging, the other two ascension routes to the top of Ventoux—from Malaucène and from Bédoin—are even more so, which is why Sault makes for a more popular basecamp. The mountains summit has recently been made more cyclist and pedestrian friendly. Be sure to check the weather report before setting out.

Spelt and Goats

Along with sightings of lavender fields, fruit orchards (cherries, almonds, apricots, etc.) and the occasional sunflower field, you may not recognize fields of small spelt (petit épeautre in French), an ancient grain that’s at home in the hills and plateaus of Provence to the east of Ventoux in the departments of Vaucluse and Haute (Upper) Provence. You’ll find petit épeautre listed on menus as an accompaniment to fish and meat dishes in the region. It’s prepared in much the same way as rice. You may also come across some goats as you bike or drive through the region, which is to be expected given the abundance of goat cheese in the local food markets.

Addresses and further information

Lavender distillery: Sylvie and Thierry Barjot’s Vallon des Lavandes, 965 Route du Vallon (Ancienne route d’Aurel), Le Vallon, one mile north of the village of Sault. Open for free visits July and Aug. Mon-Sat. and upon reservation April-June and Sept.-Oct. See schedule here. There’s a small lavender shop on site.

For other lavender addresses in Vaucluse see here.

Restaurant: O Pichoun, Avenue de la Promenade, Sault. Ask to be seated on the back terrace. Reservations recommended in summer and weekends.

Hotel: In Sault, the 3-star Hôtel Le Nesk, popular with cyclists, can also be a stopover for lavender hunters.

Cycling: In preparing your cycling trip, a good resource is the official cycling site of the department of Vaucluse, which provides information on routes, rental shops, bike-friendly accommodations, luggage transportation services, etc.). But don’t hesitate to be a cyclist without borders so as to connect with the neighboring department of Drôme to the north and Alpes de Haute Provence to the east. In Sault, Albion Cycles, which rents and repairs bikes, can advise on local cycling routes once in the area. Cyclists can also follow portions of the extensive lavender routes described here.

© 2022, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Sault, Sénanque and the Successful Search for Lavender in Provence appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

STOPPING BY VINES ON A SUNNY MORNING

Whose vines these are I think I know.
His cellar’s in the village though;
He will not mind this makeshift bar
To share with Claire an apéro*.

Our Giant bikes could take us far
Yet stop beside this great terroir
Between high woods and valley ring
Where ripen grapes pinot noir.

Our glasses make a little ping
To toast this Burgundy cycling.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and her laughing.

The vines are lovely, green and deep,
But we’ve got a schedule to keep,
Four miles to lunch though not too steep,
Four miles to lunch though not too steep.

*Apéro is an informal way of saying apéritif in French.

© 2020, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Biking in Burgundy: Stopping by Vines on a Sunny Morning (Video) appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

From December through March, while grey is the predominant color of the skies of northern Europe, the coastal roads on the Côte d’Azur in southeast France burst into a Kodachrome blur of neon-yellow flowers wedged between a brilliant blue sky and the turquoise Mediterranean.

The mimosa, a hardy Australian acacia, was first introduced to France by the explorer James Cook, who presented the seeds to the future Empress Josephine. But mimosa madness didn’t take root until the late 19th century when the northern aristocrats wintering on the Riviera brightened their holiday villas with this cheery foreign flower that stubbornly stuck to its Australian blooming schedule.

The Côte d’Azur remained a winter destination until the advent of Brigitte Bardot and the bikini turned the region into a summertime fantasy land. More recently, with the goal of reinvigorating winter tourism, several towns in the Var and Alpes-Maritimes regions have banded together to form La Route des Mimosas, the Mimosa Route, 80 miles of bright yellow horticultural heaven between the medieval village of Bormes-les-Mimosas and the perfume capital of Grasse.

The major mimosa action takes place on February weekends when the towns on the route hold their corsos, parades with drum majorettes, local marching bands, and flower-bedecked floats that are planned and painstakingly assembled by village volunteer groups.

This route through the smaller villages is worth following in the summer as well as it provides respite from the crowds in the well-known beach resorts of the Riviera. Even when the mimosa season is over, the gardens and protected nature refuges along this route are among the most exceptional botanical treasures in France even though one botanist’s treasure can be another botanist’s pest, as you’ll discover in your travels along the Mimosa Route.

Bormes-les-Mimosas

The village of Bormes – after enduring the “place-with-all-the-mimosas” epithet for years – changed its name to include the ubiquitous flowers in 1968. And it makes sense: Of the 1,200 varieties of mimosa plants that exist across the world, the latest local plant census claims that 700 different mimosa varieties reside within town limits.

Moreover, the National Conservancy of Mimosa is centered in the greenhouses at the Pépinière Cavatore which nurtures 7,000-8,000 mimosa plants every year. Horticulturist Julien Cavatore waxes eloquent on his family’s specialized knowledge of the Australian acacia. Mimosas, he explains, flourish in the Mediterranean
coastal region although the fickle plants experience difficulties just a few miles (and micro-climates) north in Aix-en-Provence.

“You can’t buy one of my ‘babies’ unless I think you can care for it properly indoors or replant it in an appropriate garden environment,” Cavatore says. Indoor mimosa seedlings must be coddled like a cranky, anti-social houseguests, sequestered in an otherwise unused, unheated room with frequent watering and careful attention to their specific soil requirements.

Therefore, it’s a whole lot easier to connect with mimosas al fresco. The Australian gardens in Bormes-les-Mimosa’s spectacular, three-quarter acre Parc Gonzalez showcase the golden flowers in addition to other exotic plants such as banksia and eucalyptus. For fans of manmade culture, note that architectural jewels such as the 16th-century chapel dedicated to Saint Francis of Assisi (who visited Bormes on his anti-plague tour in 1481) show up in many of the garden settings.

The town’s major non-floral tourist attraction is the Fort de Brégançon, a 15th century military installation designated as a presidential vacation residence since 1968. Rarely used in recent years while running up an annual maintenance bill of 200,000 €, Former President François Hollande opened it to the public in 2013 although his successor seems less likely to relinquish the keys on a permanent basis. President Emmanuel Macron has already installed a swimming pool on the premises and entertained Theresa May at Brégançon for Brexit talks in August 2018. Open to visitors in July and September only. Tickets available through the Bormes-les-Mimosas Tourist Office.

The Domaine du Rayol in Rayol-Canadel-sur-Mer

In 1908, Parisian businessman Alfred Courmes purchased 99 acres of wild beachfront terrain and began to build his personal paradise with a mini-farm, a grandiose villa and an antique-style pergola. After several subsequent private owners, the property was destined to be chopped up for building units in 1974 until several local associations protested.

The environmentalists’ ecological dream came true in 1989 when the land was acquired by the Conservatoire du Littoral, the French coastal protection agency. The Domaine du Rayol, 49 acres of Mediterranean herb-and-pine-scented brush called maquis, is the anti-Versailles. No orderly rows of petunias. No geometric parterres. No fountains with Greek gods. The Domaine du Rayol is a “planetary garden” in the words of its landscaper-in-chief Gilles Clément, as well as a “moving garden” in constant evolution.

The first idea on Clément’s drawing board was a patchwork of regional greenery native to Mediterranean-style climates all over the world. Thus, during the December-to-March mimosa season, it’s hard to miss the bright gold Australian reserve. But there’s much else to see as well as other areas are devoted to graceful Asian ginko trees, Californian chaparral and Jurassic Park-style giant ferns from New Zealand. A remarkable 300-year-old cork tree stands as a gnarled reminder that this region once earned its baguettes-and-butter from the production of wine corks.

Nature lovers should plan for a full day to explore the grounds; there’s a charming outdoor café for lunch and snacks. And the plant life isn’t all on dry land either. Visitors can check out the seaweed too because the Domaine offers summertime wading tours along the beachfront as well as snorkeling expeditions. For the latter, all equipment is provided. Reservations are mandatory through the Domaine du Rayol website. While on that site, see if your plans coincide with one of the tree-climbing Sundays or the summer concert schedule.

Sainte Maxime and Saint Raphael

These side-by-side beach resorts have very different architectural profiles: The most lavish holiday villas in Sainte Maxime are stripped-down examples of Art Deco, whereas the shoreline of Saint-Raphael is dominated by the extravagant, wedding-cake fantasies of the Belle Epoque.

Both towns provide a large choice of Provençal boutiques. During winter, many local pastry shops stock mimosa-flavored chocolates produced at the artisanal candy workshop “La Muscadine” in Sainte-Maxime. Like Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine, they taste like Riviera sunshine on the tongue. If you miss the mimosa season, console yourself with Muscadine’s chocolate creations flavored with lavender, violet, and rose petals.

Mimosa continues to delight tourists, florists and perfume companies (more later) but every splash of yellow at the Massif de l’Estérel nature reserve in Saint Raphael is regarded with fear and loathing by the Park Service. It turns out that mimosa, like most things in life, has a dark side.

The reserve, a hiker’s dream, dominated by dramatic red cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean, has become an anti-mimosa battleground. Mimosa may be notoriously picky about its climate and soil preferences but, like Goldilocks, when it gets what it wants it takes over. “It’s an invasive foreign plant that crushes the local flora. Cutting, uprooting and burning simply encourages it to spread,” explains Forest Ranger André Frey. Mimosa is Nature’s Nietzsche: what doesn’t kill it, makes it stronger.

The Estérel Reserve, a haven for native Côte d’Azur pines, thyme and sage, offers a variety of walking tours and bike, VTT and even motorcycle treks are available. Information is available through the Saint Raphael Tourist Office.

Tanneron and Mandelieu-La Napoule

In August 1986, fires destroyed 12,480 acres of Riviera forest and the hardest-hit area was the Tanneron Mountain. During mimosa season, that hill is now entirely and breathtakingly golden in winter; the traditional Mediterranean brush is nowhere in sight, which is worrisome to many botanists. Tanneron can therefore be seen is either a glorious symbol of flower power or the scary incubator of yellow peril. It all depends on what side of the botanical barricades you’re on.

Just a few miles away, Mandelieu-La Napoule takes most of its golden color from the Palme d’Or (The Gold Palm) at the nearby Film Festival. A bedroom community of Cannes, Mandelieu is more international than the previous towns on the route and has its own Michelin-starred restaurant, L’Oasis.

Nevertheless, it hosts its own folkloric corso (the 2019 theme was Marco Polo complete with dromedaries) which parades right past the 14th century chateau lovingly restored by American artist Henry Clews Jr (1876 – 1937) and now open to the public. There’s a distinct fairy-tale aura to the castle—the stone inscription over the door reads “Once Upon a Time.”

Grasse

Surrounded by fields of blossoms, Grasse is the fragrance capital where mimosa (and roses and jasmine and violets…) are distilled into tiny bottles of money. Last year, it gained listing to the UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage register for its floral savoir-faire in the arts of perfumery.

Mimosa is one of principal scent factors in Amarige (Givenchy), Paris (Yves Saint Laurent), Champs-Elysées (Guerlain), L’Eau d’Azur (Occitane), Masumi (François Coty) and Moment Suprême (Jean Patou).

Fragonard, established in Grasse in 1926, simply calls their mimosa scent Mimosa. At present, the Perfume Museum in Grasse offers limited exhibits while under renovation. All the more reason to head to Fragonard, which has its own museum (yes, there’s a relation to the painter) and workshops (reserve ahead) where visitors can get a chance to make their own fragrance.

Planning Your Trip

If beginning the Mimosa Route in Bormes-les-Mimosas, Toulon-Hyères is the closest airport and Toulon and Hyères are the closest TGV stations. If starting in Grasse, Nice is the more convenient choice whether arriving by train or plane.

Information on planning a trip to the areas covered by the Mimosa Road is found on the official tourist sites of the department of Var, the Côte d’Azur and the Mimosa Route, in addition to those of the towns mentioned in this article.

Fancy four-star options are thin on the ground at present but they’re in the works: The Belle Epoque-style Grand Hotel of Bormes-les-Mimosas (ca 1903), is currently under renovation and construction is slated to begin on an all-new luxury hotel on a hillside overlooking the old town of Grasse.

In the meantime, profit from charming (and bargain-priced for the Riviera) options such as the Café du Progrès in Bormes-les-Mimosas whose casual restaurant serves some of the best home-made tapenade on the coast as well as lush plats du jour such as minced lamb pastilla. The cozy inn above the restaurant has a small but refreshing pool.

One pays extra for the waterfront views at the venerable Excelsior Hotel in Saint Raphael, but more dramatic scenery is offered by city-side rooms that overlook the remarkable Roman-Byzantine Notre-Dame de la Victoire Basilica, built in 1883 from the region’s pink sandstone.

The Café de France in Sainte-Maxime has been run by the same family since 1852. Directly across from the town’s small but lively fish market, it’s a great place to sample daurade (sea bream) in butter sauce with a side of black rice topped with white truffles. There’s live jazz on winter weekends.

© 2019, Corinne LaBalme

The post Winter on the Riviera: The Mimosa Route appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

France is a golfing country? Who knew?

Turns out lots of people, including the 410,000 members of the French Golf Federation and hundreds of thousands of occasional players swinging and putting away at 733 clubs and on over 600 courses of 9+ holes.

And the world’s foremost golfers knew as well since France will be hosting this year’s Ryder Cup from September 28 to 30. Twenty-four of America’s and Europe’s top players will meet in the biennial USA vs. Europe match play contest at Le Golf National, 18 miles southwest of the heart of the Paris in Guyancourt, just beyond Versailles.

Held every two years since 1927, other than during WWII, and, skipping 2001, on even years since 2002, the Ryder Cup has grown from a U.S.-England competition to a U.S.-UK and Ireland competition to a U.S.-Europe affair since 1973. Alternating between an American venue and a European venue, this is the first time the event is being held in France.

That represents top-flight confirmation that France takes its golf seriously. It’s also the occasion to shine a light on some of the most prestigious courses and resorts in choice destinations throughout the country, from Normandy to Basque Country to the Riviera and Provence by way of world-class courses within easy reach of Paris.

Introduced into France by English visitors in the second half of the 19th century, golf initially developed wherever there was a significant colony of British residents and vacationers: Pau, which had first course in continental Europe, the Basque Coast, the Rivera, Brittany, Normandy.

Here is a selection of top golf clubs, courses and resorts throughout France, particularly those in areas where golf can be combined with tourism. The map shows their location throughout France. Also see Gold Digest’s list of best golf courses in France for this year.

Within easy reach of Paris
The greater Paris region and just beyond comprise France’s premier golfing zone. Among the dozens of courses within easy reach of the capital, a trio of prestigious clubs are within putting distance of the major palaces: Versailles, Fontainebleau and Chantilly. Well, maybe not putting distance, but certainly a quick drive. So a visitor to the capital can easily opt of a golfing daytrip, while the rest of the family heads to palace.

I take that back. There’s no reason to choose between golfing and touring. At Versailles, for example, you can stay the luxurious Hôtel Trianon Palace located just outside the palace gates and easily fit a half day at Le Golf National on your itinerary. The club’s world-class Albatros course is just six miles southwest of Versailles. The Trianon Palace is the official base camp for the two teams during the Ryder Cup.

South of Paris, Golf de Fontainebleau is a historic course in Fontainebleau Forest, less than a mile from the palace, making for an especially easy golf-and-palace daytrip or overnight from the capital. Though redesigned over the years, the course still bears some of the marks of Tom Simpson, the British course designer who was behind a half dozen courses in France, including Chantilly and Morfontaine on the opposite side of Paris.

North of Paris, Golf de Chantilly is also less than a mile from the palace of Chantilly.

Normandy
Deauville, the queen of Normandy resort towns, has four courses nearby, including Golf Barrière Deauville. Deauville is an hour’s drive from the center of the D-Day Landing Zone.

A simpler way to combine golf with war touring is to include in your itinerary a round at the Omaha Beach Golf Club. The course and club house may be less dashing than most of the others on this list, but its situation on the cliff between Omaha Beach and Port-en-Bessin makes it an easy fit into any touring schedule. Here’s your schedule: Utah, Omaha, golf, Gold, Juno, Sword. Supreme Allied Commander-cum-President-cum World Golf Hall of Famer Dwight Eisenhower, who installed a putting green on the White House lawn, would be proud of you.

Le Touquet Golf Resort, is a fine course that’s also by the English Channel, just north of Normandy in Upper France.

Loire Valley
Castle + garden, castle + biking, castle + vineyard, castle + fine dining, castle + golf. There, I’ve just created your itinerary for a few days in the Loire Valley. Les Bordes at the northeastern end of the heart of the Loire Valley, between Orleans and Blois, is the course of choice in the region.

The Bordeaux Region
We all enjoy a good wine pairing: wine and cheese, wine and women, wine and song. How about wine and golf? Pair your saint emilion grand cru classés with the Tom Doak-designed course at the Grand Saint Emilionnais Golf Club. Pair your haut-médoc, perhaps even your margaux, with Golf du Médoc, 12 miles north of Bordeaux.

Basque Country and the Landes
Golf got an early foothold in the southwest corner of France due to it being a destination for wealthy British travelers in the second half of the 19th century. Golf de Biarritz Le Phare, created in 1888, was among the first. A century later it was joined by Golf d’Ilbarritz, an accompanying training center.

Golf d’Hossegor is a 45-minute drive to the north from Biarritz, where Basque Country gives way to the pines and cork oaks of the Landes region.

Côte d’Azur: The Riviera and nearby hills of Provence
Given the wealth and lavish hotels along the Riviera, the nearby hills of Provence naturally offer an abundance of locations for luxurious puttering about. That’s why the Côte d’Azur region recently created a golf pass covering 20 courses. The pass is especially intended for those who would like to tour the area via its golf courses by offering special pricing for a 2- or 4-course vacation in fall and winter and for 4-course stay in spring and summer. Many of the venues lie in the Antibes-Cannes-Mandelieu-Grasse zone.

The first golf course created along the Mediterranean was developed in the 1890s at the request of an exiled Russian grand duke who had previously encountered the sport at St. Andrews in Scotland. Cannes-Mandelieu’s Old Course Golf is the heir to that first course.

A few miles inland from Cannes and on the edge of Mougins, a town known for its annual culinary festival, Royal Mougins Golf Resort is among the most prestigious in the region.

Further afield and an exclusive world unto itself lies the Terre Blanche resort.

Corsica
As far as golf courses go, you can’t get any more Mediterranean in France than Golf de Spérone in Bonifacio on the southern tip of Corsica.

For a complete listing of golf courses in France see Tous les Golfs.

General admission tickets for match play at this year’s Ryder Cup, Sept. 28-30, sold out long ago, but ticket packages are available at publication time. General admission during the three days of team practice and other events leading up to the contest are also still available.

© 2018, Gary Lee Kraut

The post The 2018 Ryder Cup Shines a Spotlight on Golf in France appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Little to no planning is required other than knowing where to rent bicycles if you don’t have one of your own. Trains in most directions are frequent enough that you don’t even have to worry much about timing your departure (unless there’s a strike). Many trains outside of rush hour (you’ll be going in the opposite direction) accept bicycles in a special compartment.

The biking route

The heart of this daytrip is a 9-10-mile ride in each direction through the Forest of Compiegne between the palace of Compiègne and the castle of Pierrefonds. These two notable sights are connected by two major routes through the National Forest of Compiegne, with many possible detours.

The forest covers about 35,000 acres, much of it former royal hunting ground. The landscape is fairly flat with a few minimal rises. Most of the paths you’ll ride on are paved. The forest is thick with oak and beech, and perhaps you’ll glimpse a deer or a boar or a roe. Roe are small European deer, like the original Bambi (created by an Austrian), which Disney transformed into a North American mule deer.

Of the major biking routes, the southern route through the forest allows for a stop in the village of Saint Jean aux Bois, with its abbey church and picturesque houses, while the northern route goes by the village of Moulins, with its church. I recommend starting with the southern route then taking the northern route on the return since that would then allow you to make a last-minute decision to make a 3-mile detour to the Glade of the Armistice, time and biking energy permitting. The glade is a clearing on the northern edge of the forest where the armistice ending combat of the First World War was signed. Add to this a mile’s ride from the Compiègne train station to/from the edge of the forest and you get a cycling day of 20-25 miles, depending on your route. It’s therefore a moderate ride, and for those with athletic teens a family-friendly daytrip.

How much time you spend visiting the three major sights on this route, or simply admiring them from the outside, is up to you.

This biking map can be downloaded. Your point of departure, the Compiègne train station (Gare SNCF), is at the upper left of that map.

Here’s a wider view of the region:

The train from Paris

The train between Paris’s North Station (Gare du Nord) and Compiegne takes 48 to 75 minutes, with departures every hour or so. Tickets are about 31€ round-trip. They can be purchased online, at any train (not metro or RER) station or at the North Station at the last minute. I can’t guarantee that they’ll be available at the last minute, but these trains tend not to fill outside of rush hour (you’ll be going in the opposite direction) and special events in Compiegne, unless a conductors’ strike causes everyone to pile onto the one running train. The schedule for specific days can be searched on the site of the French railways company SNCF. Trains idled due to strike are generally indicated as such a day in advance.

If you’ve rented a bike in Paris or have your own, then you’ll need to know which trains have a bike compartment. In that case, look for the appropriate indication in the pull-down tab describing each departure.

As you arrive at the track, you’ll see a bicycle symbol on the appropriate wagon, but don’t hesitate to ask if you don’t see it. Communication tip for those who don’t speak French: Find a train official on the track, say “Bonjour, excusez-moi,” point to your bicycle then to the train. A shrug of the shoulders and the monkey-like sound où, meaning where, ought to get you pointed to the right compartment.

Bike rental in Compiegne

It’s easy to rent bikes in Compiegne through the rental company Picardie Forêts Vertes, operated by Vincent, with whom you can write to or speak with in English. The booking process and other details are explained in English on the website. Vincent encourages people to reserve their bikes 48 hours or more in advance, but he can often accommodate requests made less than 24 hours in advance, particularly on weekdays. You’ll also make arrangements to drop off the bikes at the end of the day.

A VTC or VTT can be rented for 20€ per day, an electric bike for 25€. Tandems, baby seats and trailers for small children are also available. Helmets, locks and maps are provided. Bring an ID as a deposit. Though the typical rental season runs April through October, you may also contact Vincent in advance about rentals during the off-season.

Compiegne also has an inexpensive bike-share system called Vélotic, with a bike station at the train station. Rentals are 2€ for two days.

Lunch options

I’m not much of a planner when it comes to a short ride involving two towns, as with this ride. You can always find a bakery and cafés in Compiegne and Pierrefords, wherever hunger strikes. My own preference is to purchase a sandwich or more from a bakery in Pierrefonds or have lunch in a café there. If you’re more of a planner you can bring a picnic from Paris or purchase picnic goodies at the center of Compiegne. Or if you set out late in the morning from Paris you enjoy a café or restaurant lunch in Compiegne before setting off through the forest for the afternoon. The Palace of Compiegne also has a nice tea room. Bring along water for the ride in any case. On your return to the heart of Compiegne at the end of the day you might stop into a bakery and chocolate shop to reward yourself for a ride well done.

Sightseeing and touring

There are three notable sights to see along this route: the Palace of Compiegne, the Castle of Pierrefonds and the Glade of the Armistice. You’ll have a fine biking day without going inside any of these, but each is worthwhile and informative should you decide to enter.

The palace is closed Tuesdays and the castle is open daily. Both are closed Jan. 1, May 1 and Dec. 25. The glade is open daily but if making this your final stop note that last admission is at 5:30PM for a 6PM closing. They’re all open daily, except for some holidays. See their respective websites for more schedule details.

As a town with a major palace, Compiègne itself makes for a pleasing daytrip from Paris even if you aren’t interested in biking. So if there are any non-bikers in your travel group they can train out to Compiegne with you and pleasantly live their own touring lives as the others go out biking. The center of town is a 10-minute walk on the opposite side of the Oise River from the train station.

Crossing the bridge you might notice to the right the ruins of a tower now (sometimes) called the Joan of Arc Tour since it existed at the time of Joan’s downfall. On May 23, 1430, having come to help defend the Compiegne from attack by the Bungundians, she was captured and eventually sold to the English and taken to Rouen, where she was tried, condemned and burnt at the stakes. That history—and the late 19th-century inclination to honor it—explains the statue of Joan on the town’s central square in front of City Hall. A local Joan of Arc festival is held the second to last weekend in May.

More eye-catching than the statue is the flamboyant façade of Town Hall, built at the turn of the 16th century. It is one of France’s most remarkable town halls for the way it represents the transition between Gothic and Renaissance architecture in the kingdom. Louis XII, who reigned 1498-1515, rides at the center. (The Loire Valley cyclist might recognize him from the entrance to the Castle of Blois.) Town Hall’s Bancloque, an ancient bell first installed in 1303, still manages a dull thud and dong. The Compiegne Tourist Office is here. If you don’t yet have a map of cycling routes for this daytrip you can pick one up here, along with a town map and other information.

As far as tourism goes, though, the palace is the town’s main attraction.

The Palace of Compiegne

Successive royal castles existed here since the 5th century, beginning with the earliest dynasty of rulers, the Frankish Merovingian kings. What’s seen today is a royal and imperial palace that began with a complete redesign and rebuilding in the latter half of the 18th century by Louis XV’s chief architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel. Gabriel’s other major works include the Petit Trianon and the Opera at Versailles, Place de la Concorde and adjacent Hôtels de Crillon and de la Marine in Paris, and Place de la Bourse in Bordeaux.

The Palace of Compiegne as it stands today is a major monument to the architectural style of the latter part of Louis XV’s reign (1715-1774) and to decorative styles over the 100 years that followed.

On our last biking excursion we didn’t go inside but we did stop to watch a parade by the palace.

Here, in 1770, Louis XV’s grandson and heir to the throne, the 16-year-old future Louis XVI, was first introduced to his fiancé Marie-Antoinette of Austria. It wasn’t the kings Louis who got the most use from the palace, however (they continued to primarily hold court at Versailles), rather the emperors Napoleon. In 1810, Napoleon I met his second wife, Marie-Antoinette’s niece Marie-Louise, at Compiègne, but the first Napoleon generally preferred Fontainebleau.

Compiègne is primarily associated with lengthy stays by Napoleon III, who reigned 1852-1870, and his imperial court. When not reigning from the Tuileries Palace in Paris, this was his Versailles, where he would gather the Court for a month or more during the autumn hunting season in the forest that you’ll soon be biking through.

If the weather turns sour while in Compiegne, you can always forgo biking and spend the afternoon visiting the palace and the town.

Warning: If you do lock up your bikes outside and decide to take a quick tour of the palace, you may soon fall under its charms and find yourself drawn into spending a few hours here: visiting palace rooms that give an excellent lesson in the decorative styles associated with the eras of Louis XV and XVI and Napoleon I and III; strolling in the park; lounging in the tearoom; visiting a museum dedicated to the Second Empire (Napoleon III) and then a large collection of horse-drawn carriages and vehicles from the 17th to the 20th centuries, including early motorized vehicles and bicycles. A biking daytrip can soon turn into an excursion to the Palace of Compiegne.

Entrance to the park is free if you’d just like to lock your bikes up outside to enjoy an impressive view the palace from that side. But if the weather holds and you still think of this as a biking excursion, either limit your time in the palace or save your Compiegne-only daytrip for another day. Then cycle on past the palace, down Avenue Royale, with stately mansions to your right and a horseracing track coming up on your left.

The Castle of Pierrefonds

At a leisurely pace with a village stop along the way you’ll arrive in Pierrefonds an hour or two later. Or you could get lost, as a friend and I did on a distracted trek through the woods, and nonchalantly arrive three hours later.

As with the Palace of Compiegne, you can lock up your bikes to go inside the Castle of Pierrefonds, or not. Since there’s less to see inside, the interior can be visited in less than an hour. From Jan 11-Sept. 16, 2018 there’s an exhibition of castle graffiti, particularly during the First World War, when the castle was requisitions to house French soldiers.

Here’s a drone view of the castle:

The feudal castle of the late 14th century was mostly dismantled in the 17th, leaving ruins to be admired by the likes of Victor Hugo and others who enjoyed exercising their imaginations of medieval time. Among them was the architect Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, the man behind many of the state-sponsored restorations of the reign of Napoleon III. The emperor’s affection for Compiegne and for hunts in the forest would have led him along some of the same paths that just brought you to Pierrefonds. He commissioned Viollet-le-Duc to rebuild the castle, and the architect was pleased to have such an open hand in creating an idealized fortified castle, drawbridge (currently under restoration) and all. While not authentically medieval, it is nevertheless an imposing sight standing on a hill above this quaint little town of about 1860 Pétrifontains, as its inhabitants are called.

Whether entering the castle or not, this daytrip calls for a relaxing pause in a café by the town square below it or by the lake.

The Glade of the Armistice

A stop at the Glade of the Armistice (Clairière de l’Armistice) adds just three miles to the ride back to the Compiegne train station. Be sure to have a detailed map of the forest so as to not miss the point at which you’ll break off from the main Pierrefonds-Compiegne biking route to head to the Clarière.

In addition to the three extra miles, count on 30 to 60 minutes to visit this reminder of the armistice ending combat of the First World War and of the French surrender ending the Battle of France in the initial phases of the Second World War.

A dining car put into service in 1914, shortly before the start of the war, was placed at the disposal of French Marshal Ferdinand Foch, Supreme Allied Commander in 1918, and brought on November 8 of that year to the Rethondes railway junction in a secluded clearing on the edge of the forest. It was here that Foch and British First Lord of the Admirality Rosslyn Wemyss, together representing the victorious Allies, met with Matthias Erzberger, who led the German delegation, for the purpose of agreeing to an signing an armistice to end combat after more than four years of war. The signing took place three days after the parties first met, with the armistice set to take effect “at 11 o’clock, on the 11th day, of the 11th month.”

The original railway car was presented in the courtyard of the Invalides in Paris from 1922 to 1927 before being placed back in the glade in the forest.

It was in this same clearing in that same car that Adolf Hitler delighted in having France surrendered to Germany on June 22, 1940. The car was then taken to Germany to be proudly displayed in Berlin. It was moved again later in the war to protect it from aerial bombing, but nevertheless went up in flames in 1945. Whether the fire was due to a bombing raid or by intentional German destruction is debated. The museum here itself states that the fire was “accidental.” A replica of the wagon as it was on November 11, 1918, now stands in the clearing, along some original monuments from the 1920s, including a statue of Marshal Foch. A small museum recounts these events through photographs and artefacts.

The last train to Paris

The last train to Paris from Compiegne generally departs at about 8:30PM.

© 2018, Gary Lee Kraut

For further information see the following websites:
Picardie Forêts Vertes (Compiegne bike rental company), Vélotic (Compiegne bike share), Forest of Compiegne biking map, Compiegne Tourist Office, Palace of Compiegne, Castle of Pierrefonds, Glade of the Armistice, SNCF train schedule and reservations. Compiegne and Pierrefonds are within the department (sub-region) of Oise.

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Well, the plant, a genus comprised of more than 1500 species, would exist; it would just be called something else. And if it weren’t known as the begonia then it might not be to Rochefort that you’d come looking for the Begonia Conservatory, Europe’s most important collection of the genus.

Admittedly, only a died-in-the-wool, rain-or-shine garden-lover or botanical brainiac would actually come to Rochefort solely for the begonias. But there you have it, begonias in Rochefort—and with good reason, too.

Allow me to explain.

Rochefort’s begonia connection

In 1666 the dynamic duo of France’s golden century, Louis XIV and his right-hand minister Colbert, seeing the need for France to become a maritime power as the European powers developed trade with and possessions in the New World, launched the creation of a naval dockyard at Rochefort. (See this article for more about sights and people related to Rochefort’s maritime history.)

One of the administrators overseeing the development of the town and dockyard was Michel Bégon, Rochefort’s intendant from 1688 to 1710. Numerous expeditions to the New World, in particular the Caribbean, would set out from Rochefort during those years. Having spent several years on the islands himself earlier in his career, Bégon had a keen interest in scientific discoveries made during expeditions there.

Among the scientists on several expeditions setting out from Rochefort and sponsored by Bégon was the botanist-monk Charles Plumier. Plumier not only recorded details about a number of plants previously unknown to Europeans, he was also the first person to make botanical dedications, by which a plant would be named in someone’s honor. Among the best known of the plants that Plumier named are the fuchsia, named for the German botanist Leonhard von Fuchs, the magnolia, named for French botanist Pierre Magnol, and, you guessed it, the begonia named for Michel Bégon.

Bégon probably never actually saw a real begonia himself, unless he accidentally stepped on one during his years in the Caribbean. Plumier brought back drawings rather than actual plants due to the difficulty of transporting them alive. In fact, the first begonias didn’t arrive in Europe until nearly a full century later, when in 1777 some were brought to the Royal Botanical Garden at Kew, starting a British love affair with the begonia long before the French. Plumier’s own name is largely forgotten, though he was eventually honored with the genus plumeria, the Central and South American native more commonly called the frangipani.

The Begonia Conservatory

Rochefort’s world-class collection began with the gift of an amateur begonia collector, Vincent Millerioux, to the town in 1986. At the time, the town was creating a horticultural zone on its edge covering 100 acres, which would be leased in parcels to horticultural businesses. Greenhouses of the Begonia Conservatory came to anchor the site.

When the town sought someone to organize and then oversee the conservatory, Patrick Rose, who had previously worked with Millerioux for his private collection, was the natural choice. Rose remains at the head of the conservatory and is a recognized world specialist on the genus. From Millerioux’s original collection of 250 species of begonia, the conservatory greenhouses now holds nearly 600 species from nature and 1000 more hybrids created from 1845 to the present. Labelled “national collection,” this is considered the most important begonia collection in Europe.

The conservatory has many plants that have grown to a size that visitor don’t often see in botanical gardens. There are sure to be some plants in flower whatever time of year one visits, but Rose says that the interest of the collection is the diversity and particularly the diversity of the leaves, rather than whether or not they are in flower. Despite the floral consonance of his own name, Rose says that he’s more interested in the diversity of leaves within the genus rather than its flowers. He says that he is especially fond of the freshness of the vegetation in spring as the days get longer.

Visiting the conservatory

The Conservatoire du Bégonia can be visited February through November on regularly scheduled guided tours. The conservatory gardeners themselves serve as guides. Tours are accessible to the casual visitor while also being informative for the begonia-lover. The passionate visitor, says Rose, is more likely to come from northern Europe rather than France or southern Europe, with curious British visitors leading the way.

The visit is conducted in French, while non-French-speakers join along with an explanatory brochure in English. Nevertheless, groups are often small enough that the gardener-guide, if he speaks adequate English, if often willing answer the questions of non-French-speaking visitors. Pre-constituted groups should call and ask to have one of the more fluent English-speaking gardeners as their guide.

Le Conservatoire du Bégonia
La Prée Horticole
1 rue Charles Plumier
17300 Rochefort
Tel. 05 46 82 40 30
www.begonia.rochefort.fr
The conservatory is open February through November. See the website for regularly scheduled tours, entrance fees and opening times.

For another exceptional place and individual in Rochefort read Sylvie Deschamps, France’s Master Artist of Gold Embroidery. Also read Rochefort: Ships, Shipyards and Seafarers.

© 2017, Gary Lee Kraut

An earlier version of this article was published in The Connexion.

The post The Begonia Conservatory: Without Rochefort There Would Be No Begonias appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

This little Loire loop—three days, two nights, including two days of biking—is of the latter kind. Beginning and ending in Blois, itself easily reached by train from Paris in 1½-2 hours, this itinerary provides an excellent introduction to the Loire Valley, its castles, its wines and its biking routes. All that with little preparation. Your most difficult decision may well be what to pack in order to keep your biking load light.

Chaumont, Cheverny and Chambord, the three chateaux on this route, are different enough that castle-fatigue won’t set in. The distances covered, about 30 miles per day for each of the two cycling days, is moderate enough to appeal to occasional cyclists while significant enough to attract frequent cyclists who might add a few zigzagging miles to make for a more challenging ride.

While the route is flat, with only a few slight slopes, the distances are great enough that they may be a bit much for children and for those unaccustomed to athletic activity given that you’ll also be doing a lot of walking while visiting the chateaux and their parks and gardens.

This loop covers just a small part of the 500 miles of cycle trails that are covered by Loire à Vélo (Cycling Loire), the Loire Valley system trails going from the outer edge of Burgundy to the east to the outer edge of Brittany to the west, by way of chateaux, vineyards and the towns and cities of Orléans, Blois, Tours, Saumur, Angers and Nantes.

Here’s a 3-day, 15-step itinerary for little Loire Valley loop that begins with a touring day on foot in Blois, reached by train from Paris.

Day 1. Blois.

1. Pack lightly—whatever you can carry on your back and/or in a saddle pack when biking. Take the morning train to Blois from Paris.

2. The castle, tourist office and center of Blois are a 15-minute walk from the station. The Blois Tourist Office is next to the castle entrance. You can pick up a town map there along with maps and information about the chateaux in the surrounding area covered by this loop.

3. Check into hotel or B&B. (Or, since you’ll have packed lightly, carry your bag with you until you’re ready to check in in the afternoon.)

I stayed at the B&B La Maison de Thomas, a friendly little place in the very center of town. The ground floor of the B&B serves as a wine bar in the evening, one of a several places in town to get familiar with Loire Valley wines, particularly the Cheverny and Cour-Cheverny vineyards you’ll be biking past. For other lodging possibilities as well as dining options see the bottom of the article Blois Castle: The Key to the Loire Valley.

4. Visit Blois Castle (read that same article for an overview of its historical and architectural significance) and, if it’s up your alley, La Maison de la Magie, The House of Magic, across the square from the castle. Don’t miss the dragons that emerge periodically from the window of the House of Magic. A bit of wandering between the castle, the river and the cathedral can complete the afternoon.

5. After tasting two or three wines at La Maison de Thomas, you might enjoy, as I did, the relaxed gastronomy at Christophe Cosme’s Le Rendez-vous des Pêcheurs. (Closed Sun. and Mon.). The Blois article mentioned above also lists other dining options.

6. See the sound-and-light show in the courtyard of the castle beginning at 10pm in April, May and September, 10:30pm in June, July and August. An overview of a day in Blois as outlined above appears in the photolog Great Encounters: Blois.

Day 2. Chaumont and Cheverny.

7. Rent bikes from the friendly folks at Traineurs de Loire, 12, rue Saint-Lubin. It opens at 9:30am. You’ll likely walk by the shop during your wanderings on Day 1 since it’s just below the cathedral. If you’d like to picnic you might pack it in Blois before setting off. Otherwise you would have lunch at Chaumont.

8. Ride to the castle at Chaumont-sur-Loire, 20k (12.4 miles) from Blois.

9. There are two entrances to Chaumont: one on the ride near the river, the other upon on the hill behind the castle property. If you want the challenge of a biking up a hill (and the thrill of wheeling down) then take the back entrance. (I took the challenge.)

Give yourself plenty of time to visit Chaumont: the castle (1465-1510), which Queen Catherine de Medicis purchased in 1550 to use in the famous Chambord-for-Chenonceau housing exchange with her husband’s mistress Diane de Poitiers after King Henri II was no longer alive to protect and spoil the latter; the view of the Loire from the castle terrace; the lush castle grounds; the 5-star stables (still displaying its original saddler by Hermès) created during the tenure of Marie Say, Chaumont’s extravagant owner from 1875 to 1938; the animal cemetery for her beloved dogs and monkeys. From late-April to mid-October, Chaumont hosts the International Garden Festival from late-April to mid-October, with two dozen gardens restored or created each year. For garden lovers the festival alone can seduce a visitor a few hours with a lunch and café pause, so you’ll have to remind yourself that you’ve got biking to do.

10a. If you leave Chaumont while the afternoon is still young you might ride to the Chateau de Beauregard. Beauregard is 18.2k (11.3 miles) from Chaumont. Cheverny is then 8.3k (5.1 miles) from Beauregard.

10b. I spent so much time at Chaumont that I rode on directly to Cheverny, a ride of about 22.9k (14.2 miles), give or take a vineyard. Cheverny is described in this article. In addition to the harmony and elegance of the château and its park, a major draw of Cheverny is its kennel for 100 Anglo-French hunting hounds. Since you’ll be arriving here in the mid to late afternoon, you can watch the hounds, tail in the air, devour mass quantities of raw meat during feeding time. The feeding takes place at 5pm daily (with exceptions) from April 1 to September 14. The remainder of the year the feeding takes place at 3pm on Mon., Wed., Thurs. and Fri. (except holidays). It isn’t that they don’t eat on other days but they’re probably out working during the hunting season.

11. Either before or after entering the chateau grounds, you might taste-test some Cheverny and Cour-Cheverny wines right by the entrance at the Maison des Vins de Cheverny, the official tasting table/wine shop of the association of winegrowers from the two appellations. These are the wines from the vineyards that you’ll be riding through on this 2-day loop.

Cheverny is a young, fruity wine largely using sauvignon and some chardonnay for the whites and pinot noir and gamay for the reds and roses. Cour-Cheverny, far less well known and with more cache because of its more limited production (one-tenth that of Cheverny), is made from grape varietal called Romorantin, a grape now specific to this area, cousin to chardonnay, introduced by king Francoise I, and so proprietary that it’s typically written with a capital R.

The tasting table/wine shop It isn’t a cozy setting but it’s the opportunity to learn something about these wines if you haven’t yet had the time or inclination to visit a vineyard between chateaux. The Maison des Vins de Cheverny is open daily from Easter to the beginning of November, 11am-1:15pm and 2:15-6pm. Since the tasting room may be closing before you finish visiting the chateau grounds at that time, so I suggest stopping here before going in—furthermore, that’ll give you time to digest the alcohol before getting back into the saddle. The chateau itself is open until 6:30pm April-October, until 5pm the rest of the year, though the grounds stay open later.

12. There are two good options for a fine meal and a good night’s sleep: the 3-star Auberge du Centre in Chitenay, 7.4k (4.6 miles) from Cheverny, where I enjoyed a most pleasant evening during this loop, and the 4-star Château du Breuil, on the edge of Cheverny, 4.4k (2.7 miles) from the chateau. Both have restaurants. Breuil also has a swimming pool.

Day 3. Chambord and return to Blois.

13. The ride from either of the hotels noted above to the Chateau de Chambord is just over 21k or 13 miles, making for a leisurely morning ride. Here’s an article about Chambord, the Loire Valley’s XXL castle.

14. There’s plenty to keep you busy at Chambord and extra cycling trails to be taken in the area, so in visiting the area you’ll have to make sure that you leave yourself plenty of time to get your bike back to the rental place in Blois, which closes at 6pm.

The most direct route to Blois through the countryside is 16.4k (10.2 miles), but for the more scenic route you’d head directly to the Loire at Saint-Dyé-sur-Loire then ride downstream to Blois, staying on the left (southern) bank of the river until you cross over the old bridge at Blois. That route adds a few miles, plus there are some great riverside photo ops along the way. And on my own trip I encountered such a strong headwind along the river that the last 7 miles felt like three times that, but it was well worth it for the beauty of the ride.

I therefore suggest allowing yourself a good two hours to make it back to Blois.

15. Once you’ve dropped off the bike give yourself 30 minutes to get to the train station—make that an hour so as to relax in a café near the rental shop before taking the train. Back to Paris? Or further down the river to, say, Saumur, for the start of another little loop in the Loire?

Text and photos © 2015, Gary Lee Kraut

The post A Little Loop in the Loire Valley: A 2-day Cycling Route from Blois appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

* * *

Joël de Ronay pushes me from behind by the pool at the Hôtel du Palais in Biarritz.

“You’re goofy-footed,” he says when I fall forward on my right foot.

“Is that good or bad for my future as a surfer?” I ask.

“That depends on you. You’ll see tomorrow,” he says.

But I suspect that time is not on my side, not just because I’m over 50 but because I’ve only signed up for a 90-minute surfing lesson the following morning.

Mr. de Rosnay, on the other hand, has been surfing since before I was born. He is a celebrity in surfing circles, one of the pioneers of the sport in France—indeed in Europe. He first took board to wave in the summer of ’57 when surfing first took off on the shores of the continent, starting right here at Biarritz. Now in his 70s, Mr. de Rosnay still looks as though he could as confidently ride the waves as he can address an audience about the relationship between man and the ocean and between technology and the environment. We’d been discussing those relationships (the real reason for my visit to Biarritz) before I mentioned tomorrow’s surfing class (the reason for this text).

A brief history of surfing on the Basque coast

Surfing was well on its way to becoming a pop culture phenomenon in California when, in 1956, a couple of Californians recognized the potential of the waves along the Basque coast while here to make the film adaptation of Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises, which was being partially shot along the beaches of Biarritz. Peter Viertel, the screenwriter, and Darryl Zanuck, the film’s director, could largely only admire the waves from the beach since there were no suitable surfboards to be had. Returning in 1957, Viertel brought over his own boards, one of which he lent to Joel de Rosnay, a young man from Paris then on vacation in Biarritz. They were soon joined by others and news began to spread that a new sensational sport had arrived.

The first French championship took place here in September 1960, with Mr. de Rosnay crowned as champion. The following year the first European championship was held on these bikini-clad shores. Mr. de Rosnay placed fourth, but more significantly, that event affirmed Biarritz’s place as the European capital of surfing and, when wind of the championships reached California, put the town on the map for American surfers seeking thrills in Europe.

Biarritz had had a British connection ever since British aristocracy learned in 1854 that Emperor Napoleon III and Empress Eugenia were building a palace (eventually transformed into the Hotel du Palais) overlooking the beach. Now, a century later, it had an American connection beyond the Hollywood set. (Just as it took over 40 years from the creation of the imperial palace before Queen Victoria visited in 1899, it took over 40 years from the initiation of surfing in Biarritz for the Beach Boys—well, at least Mike Love an Bruce Johnston—to play here in 2001.)

In 1963, an international championship, won by Australia’s Peter Troy, was held a few miles north of Biarritz at the mouth of the Adour River.

By the end of the decade, T-shirts, Bermuda shorts, Frisbees, skateboards and shortboards had arrived along with Flower Power and Volkswagen buses. Within another decade the business of surfing had taken firm hold in Biarritz and the sport was claiming waves all along France’s Basque coast and north along the coast of the Landes (Hossegor, Lacanau). Meanwhile, kamikaze surfers began to gather round the campfire to tell stories of monster waves at Le Furoncle, just north of Biarritz, at Vanthrax, near the Spanish border, and about rare 30-foot swells 1½ mile from the coast at Belharra, just south of Biarritz.

Surf school

For my part, I head out the following day to confront the waves at the Plage de la Côte des Basques, where it all began.

Waves, however, may not be the word for what I confront this exceeding calm morning: 12-inch swells tumbling over to form a line of foam not even high enough to knock over a 3-year-old. In fact, the 3-year-olds are already surfing.

The baby of our group of five newbies is in her late 30s. You’re never too old to learn, I suppose, but you can be too claustrophobic to zip up a wet suit. I’m nearly prepared to call the whole thing off, but a couple passing by on the beach just then gives me the up-and-down with a smile that makes me think maybe that I look ménage-à-trois sexy in the tight suit.

I then reread their up-and-down and realized that it goes from the words on my chest (Biarritz Surf Training) to the height of my surfboard, longboard that looms over my head, and that their smile is at best one of pity. Anyway, I forget the strangling wetsuit and carry my board to join the others on the sand.

The Bay of Biscay as it washes against portions of the coasts of France and Spain can be too moody in some parts to be associated with smooth sailing, backstroking and first-time surfing. But Biarritz’s coastline is known for the consistency of its surf, making it a fine place for beginner and intermediate surfers, especially from May to early October when the water temperature is sufficiently warm. There are often also plenty of more unruly waves for experienced surfers both at Biarritz and north and south along the Basque coast.

The town’s historic focal point, however, is less the beach than the rocky outcrop at the center of the town’s coastline, where the striking Art Deco aquarium and the old port are. The outcrop is surrounded by tremendous boulders, possibly hurled by the gods to instill fear in the hearts of inhabitants tempted to search for Atlantis, which is somewhere out there.

In 1864, on one of the rocks resembling an overturned boat, locals sought to assuage that fear by planting a statue of the goddess Mary. An iron foot bridge, built by Gustave Eiffel’s company to replace an earlier wooden bridge, leads out to the Rock of the Virgin and no promenade in Biarritz is complete without crossing it.

That rocky outcrop separates the two central stretches of beaches: la Plage de la Côte des Basques to the south and la Grande Plage and la Plage Miramar to the north. The Hotel du Palais overlooks the central portion of the northern stretch, between la Grande Plage and la Plage Miramar.

My surfing lesson on the Plage de la Côte des Basques is with Philippe Beudin, director of Biarritz Surf Training, one of nine surfing schools in Biarritz.

It’s a beautiful morning, already 80 degrees and on its way to being a springtime scorcher.

“A perfect day for a first lesson,” Mr. Beudin announces to the five of us in the class.

We are all excited. The class looks longing toward the water but Mr. Beudin keeps us on the sand, where we practice standing up on boards, trying to memorize steps that undoubtedly come naturally to kids.

Born in 1962 and a native of Biarritz, a Biarrot, Mr. Beudin grew up at a time when surfing was finding firm footing as a sport of freedom on this coast. But he didn’t seriously take up the sport until his late teens, meaning in the early 1980s, the period in which surfing grabbed hold as a mass market sport in these parts. He has since traveled far and wide with his board, naturally including Hawaii, before returning home to create his surfing school.

We eventually take our longboards into the water until we are about waist deep, where the waves don’t break so much as push a pile of foam toward the shore. Mr. Beudin’s instructions are clear, patient and encouraging, yet none of us manages to stand up on our boards. I try not to feel past my prime when a six-year-old glides by and waves. But little by little we all make progress. My hour in the water goes something like this:

Foot forward, fall… foot forward, fall… foot forward, fall… push up, fall… foot forward, fall… push up, fall… push up, fall… half-stand, fall… foot forward, fall… push up, fall… half-stand, fall, drink seawater… half-stand, fall… stand, fall… stand, fall… half-stand, fall… stand one second, fall… stand two seconds, fall… and finally: stand one, two, three, four, five, si-, fall—a magnificent ride on a foot-high wave. Cowabunga!

Several hours later I cross paths with Joël de Rosnay again while having lunch at Le Sin, the restaurant at the Cité de l’Océan (described in the next article in this series to be posted this week), a museum dedicated to the ocean. Seated with a group of well-dressed lunch companions, this is clearly not an aging beach bum but rather a successful consultant and entrepreneur.

Indeed, for Mr. de Rosnay surfing wasn’t so much a lifestyle as a trampoline from which he followed his interests and opportunities in a varied career that has led him to make his name in the various fields of sports, technology, food and the environment. Surfing may have been his early attraction to visiting the United States but it was far from his last, as his CV includes a stint as research associate at MIT in the field of biology and computer graphics and Scientific Attaché to the French Embassy in the U.S. He currently serves as the president of Biotics International, a consulting company specialized in the impact of new technologies on industries. He is the author of books on his various fields of interest and expertise and has most recently published Surfer la vie: comment sur-vivre dans la société fluide (Surfing through Life: How to sur-vive in Fluid Society).

I reintroduce myself as the fellow he pushed by the pool yesterday. I tell him briefly about my first surfing experience, a story he’s certainly heard a thousand times.

“It’s a start,” he says.

He asks how I like the museum.

I say the same thing.

I ask to take his picture and he obliges.

That afternoon I decide to stay in Biarritz an entire week to learn how to surf.

I imagine the days ahead: morning lessons with Philippe Beudin, a chat with my favorite Basque merchants at the daily morning food market,

… an excursion to Saint Jean de Luz, then back to Biarritz to meet new-found surfing buddies for dinner at La Plancha or for a sunset picnic on the beach,

… and eventually attacking three- and four-foot walls by the end of the week.

It isn’t actually a decision. It’s a travel fantasy before flying home at the end of the day.

© 2013, Gary Lee Kraut

For more information about Biarritz on France Revisited read: Biarritz Ocean: The Brand Between Bilbao and Bordeaux and Biarritz Hotels.

Official site of the Biarritz Tourist Office: tourisme.biarritz.fr/en.  The tourist office a second site dedicated specifically to surfing: surf-biarritz-paysbasque.com/en/.

Biarritz Surf Training, 102 rue de Pierre Chevigné, 64200 Biarritz. Tel. 05 59 23 15 31. www.surftraining.com. Open April to November. See website for pricing for 1-10 lessons and for intensive or leisure weekend or week-long lessons/training. Surfboard (or bodyboard) and wetsuit included. Philippe Beudin, director.

Reservations of several weeks in advance are recommended for surfing lessons in July and August, but for much of the rest of the surfing season little advance planning is necessary. The seasons runs April to early November, with ideal time being the long spring days from mid-May (when the water has warmed a bit) through June and in the often very pleasant back season of September and October.

Philippe Beudin has teamed up with the local Alliance Francaise for a combined surfing and language vacation, with French language lessons in the morning and surfing in the afternoon, so that on returning home you can impress your friends not only with your surfing skills but also with your Basque accent.

A list of all of the surfing schools of Biarritz can be found here.

Other sports in Biarritz

Surfing isn’t the only sport for which Biarritz and the French Basque coast are known. Long before the Californians arrived with surfboards the British were coming with golf clubs. The Golf de Biarritz Le Phare dates to 1888, making it old enough that it’s now surrounded by city. The International Training Center at the Golf d’Ilbiarritz is south of the city. There are also nine other greens within a 20-mile radius. As a sign of the importance of golf here, Biarritz has been linked as a sister city with Augusta, Georgia since 1992.

More indigenous is Basque pelota (pelote basque), played in a variety of ways, whether barehanded, with racket/paddle or with a basket-type racket.

Finally, southwest France is rugby country and Biarritz’s team, Biarritz Olympique Pays Basque (BOPB or simply BO) is a premier league team. The season runs mid-August to early May, followed by three weeks of playoffs.

Then there’s the great sport of spa treatments and seawater cures (thalassothérapie) for which Biarritz is also well know. Thalassotherapie is practiced at two centers: Thalassa Biarritz at the Sofitel Biarritz Le Miramar and Thalmar, directly accessible from the Hotel le Biarritz. Hotel du Palais, the town’s most luxurious hotel, has a beautiful spa called The Imperial Spa (with Guerlain).

Getting to Biarritz

There are direct flights to Biarritz from Paris and other French cities as well as from various northern European capitals (London, Dublin, Copenhagen, Brussels, Rotterdam, Stockholm). By train, Biarritz is 5:20 from Paris and 2:00 from Bordeaux.

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* * *

The horizon shot upwards as my horse and I sank into the ground.  Suddenly, I was seeing the trees and sky of southern France from a different perspective. Like an elevator that had suddenly broken free of its cable, I had taken a quick trip down. Although still mounted, my feet were resting on the earth–and under the earth–muddy, swampy earth. My horse, Iadj, a plucky, pure white Arabian horse, in one easy, carefree step, had sunk up to his lovely shoulder into a bog.

“Get off, get off!” I heard my husband shout.

Stunned, I had remained frozen in place. I leaped off, pulling the reins over the horse’s head.

Now on solid ground, I could see my mount was half buried. I tried to clear the way in front of him with my hands, but I was only swirling around a thick, slimy stew. Not liquid enough to swim in, and too deep for the horse to touch bottom.

Iadj, the white Arabian, heaved forward, rising up a little.

“Yes,” I thought, he’ll grab solid ground!” But his effort just took him forward–farther from shore and even deeper. Fear gripped me–now his hind quarters were solidly entrenched. This reservoir was not a pond to quench my horse’s thirst; it appeared, rather, that it was to be his grave.

Dave and I were riding alone in a remote area in the huge stretch of parkland in the Languedoc-Rousillon region of France. Earlier in the day and yesterday we had exchanged greetings with people hiking the same trails we followed, often an older couple, usually French but sometimes English or German. They carried walking sticks and wore zip-off khakis. But today we hadn’t seen another person for hours. Up until the moment Iadj lifted his hoof off a solid bank to place it into a daylit nightmare, this solitude had been part of the pleasure of our explorations in the region.

Charly and Nicole from the Ferme Equestre, where we’d rented our horses for the week, had provided us with two well-mannered and willing mounts, a series of maps, and reservations at an assortment of inns, farms, and lodges. This was our third day of leaning forward over our horses’ withers as they carried us to mountain-top vistas and down again on steep rocky tracks. We hiked alongside our steeds when the trail was too difficult. Dark narrow paths through woodland opened up into sunny fields of cerulean flowers where we dismounted to open and then close behind us pasture gates. Footpaths along clear quiet streams led us to 17th-century mountainside villages where church bells rang over the steady beat of our horse’s hooves. On this day we had looked forward to tying our horses in the courtyard of the ruins of the 10th-century Castle of Puylaurens, where they would rest while we walked under still-standing stone archways to view the valley below through ancient windows built into a wall fused to a cliff.

Our biggest problem to date had been getting lost for almost two hours on our first day out. Being lost was something we’d done quite a bit the year before, when we took this trip for the first time. And although the trail was to deviate a bit this year, it hadn’t yet, and we had no real excuse for losing our way. Instead of concentrating on the trail, our attention was on the countryside, where cows grazed contentedly in clover covered pastures and dogs looked after recalcitrant sheep on steep hillsides. The forest pathways were green and cool, but also a bit confusing: getting lost then finding our way took time. We neglected to anticipate the concern yesterday evening’s host and hostess would have for us as sunset approached. Worried, they had called Charly, who then became worried himself because of course, we should not be lost—he knew we’d been here before and must know our way.

We should have known our way today also, but a small stream, not much more than a trickle, crossed the path ahead and Dave and I differed in our recollections. He did not remember crossing water here, so we pulled off the trail to discuss it. There was a sign that was perfect for tying the horse’s reins while we examined our map. The sign was next to a small pond. My horse, unbeknownst me, was expecting a drink, because he knew very well where the path went: it did cross the stream and that brook was one of the places the horses quenched their thirst while carrying tourists like ourselves over the mountain trail. So while Dave was tying his horse to the wooden sign, my horse was eyeing the pond. I dropped the reins on his neck and allowed him to mosey over for a drink. He lowered his head and took a few steps forward. One step too many took us right off the solid edge of land and into the mire. “Baignade Interdite” is what the sign said: NO SWIMMING”.

Now Charly would really have something to worry about. Calling his wife was the only sensible call we could make. Nicole spoke English fairly well, and she could call some kind of emergency crew. Would we have cell phone signal on this mountain top, will Nicole be home, and would she understand the English word for “bog”? I tried to remember the French word for “mud.” My mind raced as the horse thrashed in the muck. What should I do? What if Nicole doesn’t answer. Should I call someone else? Who? Years ago I’d seen on television a horse stuck in a bog. They pulled it out with an enormous crane. Would someone have a crane? Neither one of us knew the French equivalent of 911*.

I doubted if there was a road or village nearby, but if I reached someone, what would we say? “Vin rouge, s’il vous plaît?” My French is basic. How could I express this situation? “Uh, excuse me, but my horse is at this very moment drowning in a bog—can you send a winch or something?—Well, actually, no, I don’t have any idea where I am….lots trees, and oh, yeah—muddy water.” How does one say “drowning” in French? I wished desperately for someone to come by. Where were the trekkers? It seemed clear that this lovely Arabian horse, mine for a week, was in great danger.

My hand reached for the cell phone as Iadj surged forward again. I could see the horse gather his strength. He rose above the mire, moving forward several feet, but when he landed he was on his side, almost his back—his legs kicking in the air. He twisted and then he was back in the original vertical position. His hindquarters didn’t look right—it appeared as if his legs were twisted beneath the muck. All that struggling made me fear a broken leg. One hip looked bad, pushed up. I could only hope this leg was safe, but resting on higher ground, while the rest of him was deeper into the muck.

He now stayed still for what seemed a very long time, his head and neck stretched along the top of the surface. I’d never seen a horse in such an awkward position. His body was so deep in the ground that his chin was cradled by the earth. Was he resting again, or had he given up? Each advance had taken a great deal of energy. He was closer to the far shore now. Perhaps he could make it. Only six years old, he was very fit from traveling five or six hours a day on steep, challenging terrain. But this was taking a great deal out of him; he appeared spent.

His next effort took him closer to the far edge of the pool. And the leg that had seemed strangely poised must have been well positioned, not broken, giving him something to push off with. Now when he lurched forward again he almost reached the shore.

He rested again. If he could raise himself enough, he could touch the edge. But the side here was steep. I had the reins; I had to do something. I could guide him to the best spot. He was very close to the steep, rocky side. I had never seen a horse scramble up something so vertical. If I guided him to the left a bit, it seemed to be a more gradual climb. But was the ground firm or more swamp?

I guided him hesitantly towards the more gradual climb and he followed, but he, too, was uncertain. One forefoot reached forward, only to drop down into the morass. It would have to be the steep side.

Neither Dave nor I could imagine how much longer he could struggle before exhaustion took over, or his heart gave out. I moved the reins to the right, and I don’t know whether he took my cue or just saw for himself he wasn’t going to make it the other way, but he changed his course in mid-leap.

Suddenly, his front feet were touching the solid ground of the bank. Scrambling, a hind leg gained purchase. He was almost vertical now, his legs moving furiously; climbing, sliding—a leg would land, only to slip after dislodging a rock. For a few moments he seemed to be scrambling in the air and it didn’t seem possible he’d reach the top. I thought he would slide back into the quagmire, maybe this time forever. But providence was with me and this horse because suddenly he seemed to gain a strong foothold.

“He’s OK!” my husband shouted.

I wasn’t so certain. This horse had been thrashing about—he seemed twisted beneath the surface. I feared the vision of him rising from the soup of the bog with a dangling leg, broken, the end for this lovely horse who tried so hard, bursting out of one deadly dilemma only to meet another.

He stood. He took a step. He shook himself and mud flew everywhere, but he seemed to be alright.

Happy to be slapped with showering sludge, relief washed over me like a river. And it was going to take a fairly deep river to clean this horse. This pretty white horse was now completely brown. The small patch of white on the side of his head and neck that hadn’t been enveloped in the bog were now splashed with muck from when he had shaken his body.

I threw off his saddle and saddlebags—everything was coated with a thick layer of gritty loam. He shook again and the white patch where his saddle had been became less white. My clothing was splattered, my shoes squishy.

Now that Iadj was safe, I had a new goal—get him cleaned up before anyone saw him. This was cowardly and dishonest of me, and I must admit my husband did not agree with my duplicity, but the moment relief washed away fear a new emotion sprang forth in my breast: embarrassment.

I didn’t want to have to explain how I almost killed this horse to the people who were already puzzled about why we had gotten lost on a route we’d traveled before. They had provided us with maps and detailed instructions written in both French and English and numbers we could call on our cell phone. In addition, hopefully unbeknownst to them, we had a handheld GPS which we couldn’t figure out how to use. And now we had nearly drowned their horse right next to a “No Swimming” sign. I was mortified by my ineptitude, my adrenaline was still high. I now had a new mission: deceit.

I fashioned a halter from a lead rope and washed the bridle in the creek, the same creek that we were meant to cross and that Iadj was meant to drink from. I took off my grimy tell-tale shirt and replaced it with one in my saddle bag that had remained reasonably protected. I used the soiled shirt to carry water between the creek and the horse who rested quietly while my husband held him.

It took an hour and a half to get him close to clean. As brown rivulets flowed off, several bloody spots appeared on his legs. All minor cuts and scrapes—probably caused by his own flailing hooves during his struggle.

While I cleaned, other people finally appeared: it was an older couple wearing zip-off trousers. They raised their walking sticks in our direction. “Bonjour!” they called out in a German accent. “Bonjour!” I replied with bravado.

Clean and rested, we set off, and Iadj seemed happy to be traveling on solid ground again. I experienced my final bit of relief as we moved off into a steady trot, with none of the head bobbing that would indicate a limp and therefore an injury. We rode through thickly wooded trails until we reached a clearing from where we looked down upon the red roof tops of a town in the valley and then rode through an old stone village, grey except for the brilliant blue shutters framing each window.

In our desire to arrive on schedule to our evening’s abode and keep our adventure a secret, we made up lost time by skipping our last route direction; the climb to the castle. We took the road below, and the silhouette of Puylaurens, high on the hill above us, shadowed our path for a long while. We watched the sun descend behind its maze of old stone walls. The magic of an early evening in a beautiful place pulled us back to the pleasures of our vacation. My horse walked with a spring in his step and his white coat shone against the dark of the mountains beyond.

© 2012, Judy Kashoff.

Judy and Dave Kashoff have been traveling extensively around the world since 2008. Rather than wait for the proverbial golden years, they rented out their house in a suburb of Philadelphia, dropped their cats off with Dave’s mother, kissed their two grown children good-bye, and set off for what they thought would be a year of travels by boat, by bike, by horse, by foot, by kayak and by golly let’s just do it! Four years on they are still at it.

*Editor’s note: 911 actually does work from mobile phones in France. It’s immediately transferred to the European emergency number 112. The more common numbers in France, however, are 17 for the police and 18 for the fire department and for other accidents and emergencies such as the one told here.

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