On the one hand, I have a natural aversion to recommending virtual reality tours for travelers. After all, we travel to be someplace, not virtually but actually. On the other hand, virtual reality tours, in addition to being entertaining, can be informative and insightful when there’s a historical or otherwise important unseen component to complement and enhance a visit to the real deal.

Virtual historical reality tours will become increasingly immersive, seamless and sensorial in the years ahead. As they stand, aside from their entertainment value, do they help travelers on site understand and further appreciate what they’ve come to see?

Curious about the added value of the virtual historical reality tours now available within actual sight of three major monuments in Paris, Notre-Dame Cathedral, the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre I took a test run of their respective magic goggles on site. For Notre-Dame that meant in a subterranean zone one hundred yards in front of the cathedral. For the Eiffel Tower that meant during a stroll along the Champs de Mars, the park that leads to the tower on Paris’s Right Bank. For the Louvre that meant a walk from one end of its courtyard to the other.

All three proved to be both informative, entertaining and recommendable as complements to actual visits inside of these important monuments.

Eternal Notre-Dame: Amaclio Productions’ virtual reality tour of Notre-Dame Cathedral

Notre-Dame is currently inaccessible to the general public, as it has been since the fire of 2019 destroyed its roof and steeple. The cathedral is scheduled to reopen in December 2024, though under what conditions is not yet known. The virtual reality tour, reached from an underground entrance at the far end of the square in front of the cathedral, is currently programmed to end on September 30, 2025.

Following along with a handsome, well-spoken electronic guide (choose your language), the virtual reality tour of Notre-Dame leads visitors to the doors of the cathedral then inside, through various steps of the building’s medieval construction, 19th-century restoration, and current rehabilitation. It’s an extensive tour. In 45 minutes, while walking and turning in all directions, visitors get a close-up view of the structure inside and out, from various heights, while encountering works and learning about its elements in stone, glass and wood. Visitors “ride” a platform to the upper reaches of the cathedral to stand near a rose window and then higher to visit “the forest” of oak rafters and beams that form the wooden framework, those elements that burned during the fire of 2019. Details are also given about medieval Christianity and the structure’s theological underpinnings. All is made understandable to a wide public.

Altogether, this is an excellent tour that’s as visually compelling as it is informative. And complementing the virtual tour, visitors then visit at their own pace an exhibition about the current renovation and reconstruction. Objects and models along with explanatory panels and interviews in French and in English provide visitors with a clearer understanding of elements touched on during the virtual tour: recreating the wooden framework of the forest, restoring stained glass, the grand organ and the bells, replacing stone vaulting and sculptural elements, and conducting research.

The combination of the virtual reality tour and the exhibition afterwards make for an exceptional and entertaining introduction to the cathedral for those with little prior understanding of the construction and current restoration of the cathedral and is equally fascinating for those already acquainted with Our Lady of Paris. The virtual tour last 45-minutes, to which you need to add departure time and time to visit the post-tour exhibition, so count 70-90 minutes altogether.

I recommend getting a good look at the façade of Notre-Dame and a side view as well before taking the virtual reality tour. Then, after the virtual tour and exhibition, now armed with a deeper appreciation and understanding of the architectural and artistic glory of the cathedral, reconsider the actual façade, take a walk around the full perimeter of the building, and, of course, enter to admire the Notre-Dame’s dazzling restoration and luminous interior.

Practical considerations

There’s a cost to virtual reality tours that may be prohibitive to some. The experience at Eternal Notre-Dame costs 30€99 for adults and 20€99 for children under 17, though on certain days and times adults pay the children price, particularly off season.

Groups of up to six people set off together at the same time, with individual headsets speaking in your chosen language. Each person wears a headset and carries a backpack containing what is essentially a laptop computer while walking along the underground maze. Precise instructions and indications keep you moving and prevent you from bumping into other visitors. The glasses/headset adjust well and the tour is captivating enough that it’s easy to forget the equipment and enjoy the walk. However, the backpack is bit cumbersome, and for anyone with a bad back, carrying it for 45 minutes may be uncomfortable.

Brief pauses between scenes within the virtual universe can be momentarily confusing, but the lit path and your virtual guide will return soon enough to point you in the right direction as you walk.

The minimum recommended age is 11, though children as young as 8 may be admitted. However, given the weight of the backpack and the need to precisely follow lit directional indications so as to avoid bumping into walls and, especially, other visitors, this virtual reality tour may not be appropriate for a small and fidgety preteen. Or you can hold your child’s hand as guidance.

For further information and reservations see Eternal Notre-Dame.

Eternal Notre-Dame was produced by Amaclio Productions, a company that has developed other virtual reality and sound and light shows in France, including at the Invalides in Paris, the Cité de l’Histore at La Défense (Eternal Notre-Dame is also available at that site), Mont Saint Michel, and the Carrousel of Saumur.

Viality Tour’s virtual reality and actual walking tour near the Eiffel Tower and in the courtyard of the Louvre

While Viality Tour’s virtual reality tours of the Eiffel Tower and the courtyards of the Louvre don’t have the same high production value as Amaclio’s well-financed Notre-Dame tour, what makes it worthwhile is that these tour has its iconic monuments in plain view and is given by actual human guides, and delightful ones at that. The tour was developed by the young start-up team of Vladina Flaquière and Michel Dang. One or the other may be your guide.

The Eiffel Tower: The goggle-wearing virtual portion of the tour takes users through the construction of the Eiffel Tower from 1887 to 1889 and into the Universal Exposition of 1889 for which it was built. Much of the exposition sprawled along the Champs de Mars, the very park where you’ll be walking. The Champs de Mars formerly served as the parade grounds for the nearby Military Academy (Ecole Militaire).

Vladina or Michel or an assistant rather than an avatar is your actual guide. Speaking French or English depending on the scheduled or private group, your guide explains what you see in the goggles as you stand and turn in 360 degrees. You do not walk while wearing the goggles. Instead, between virtual scenes, you then remove the goggles and approach closer and closer to the actual tower. During that time, the tour continues with the actual Eiffel Tower in view as your guide provides further details about what you see today and answers any questions you may have. So this is both a virtual and an actual tour, lasting about 75 minutes, accompanied by your affable guide and with numerous photo ops along the way.

Vladina has worked as a licensed guide at various chateaux in Brittany, the Loire Valley and Versailles, before teaming with Michel to develop Viality Tour. She continues to guide at Versailles. Michel, the equally affable tech half of the team, holds a masters in marketing and worked as a junior product marketing manager with Netgear before he and Vladina partnered to create Viality Tour. Michel does the computer modeling with the assistance of a graphic designer as well as the team’s communications work.

With or without actually going up in the tower, this is an excellent introduction to it. If unwilling to deal with the tickets, lines and crowded elevators, the Viality Tour—both its virtual and actual realities—can serve as your informative visit in and of itself.

If interested in the Viality Tour and also planning to go up the tower, try to sync the two by scheduling the Viality Tour so that it ends 15-30 minutes before the timed ticket you’ve purchased (well) in advance to go up. That will allow for a nice segue from one to the other while allowing you time to go through the security line at the tower. (Viality Tour will not purchase your Eiffel Tower ticket.)

The courtyards of the Louvre: As much as I appreciated Viality’s Eiffel Tower tour, I found their Louvre tour even more interesting and informative. Visitors to the museum are typically unaware of the Louvre’s evolution over the past 800 years from fortress to castle to palace to museum, and even less aware that it was once connected to another palace, the Tuileries Palace. On an outdoor walk with several virtual reality stops from the far eastern end of the Louvre to nearly its far western end, this tour guides visitors through various eras of the construction of the Louvre and the Tuileries, up until 1871, when the latter was set ablaze by the Paris Commune. You’ll near forget the hundreds of people queuing up for the museum and milling about… until the end when you join them.

You don’t have to join them just yet, however, since the Viality Louvre tour make for a nice complement to the audio-guide that I’ve created to the Tuileries Garden for the VoiceMap app, The Tuileries Garden: The Royal Walk from the Louvre to the Champs-Elysées. The Viality Tour ends about where mine starts, with minimal overlap.

The Eiffel Tower tour lasts about 75 minutes. The Louvre tour last 10-15 minutes longer. Each costs 29€ for adults and 19€ for children 8 to 17. Children under 8 are not accepted. Groups can consist of up to 10 people.

For further information and for the tour schedule see the Viality Tour website. Though the indicated language of the tour may be French, it may also be conducted in English, so inquire about that possibility when reserving. With sufficient advance planning, privatization for your own group may be possible upon request.

Vladina and Michel plan to extend the Viality Tour concept to other major monuments of the city over the coming years.

© 2024, 2025 Gary Lee Kraut

The post Virtual Reality Tours of Notre-Dame, the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Recently, Chartres has also become an overnight destination thanks to the vibrant and animated illuminations of the cathedral and twenty other historic sights and monuments that make for an enchanting evening walk-about. And the allure of Chartres by night has given a boost to expanding and upgrading the town’s lodging and dining offerings.

So we packed our toothbrushes and took the train, an hour’s ride southwest from Paris’s Montparnasse Station, to visit Chartres by day and by night, as you’ll see in this France Revisited video.

Restaurants and Lodging

The best of the lot is the Grand Monarque Hotel & Spa, a handsome 4-star establishment that’s less than a 10-minute walk from the train station in one direction or from the cathedral in another. It houses Le Georges, a 1-star Michelin restaurant, and La Cour, a fine brasserie, as well as a bar, a fitness space and a wellness center.

Jehan de Beauce is a stylish, 35-room 4-star hotel located across the street from the train station and a 10-minute walk from the cathedral. The owners also operate the pleasant restaurant Le Molière, a 5-minute walk from the hotel.

A few steps behind the cathedral, the Hôtellerie Saint Yves has the particularity of belonging to the diocese, but you needn’t be on a pilgrimage to Chartres, or even Catholic, to appreciate the location, the comfort and budget pricing of its modest rooms, and the atmosphere of this 17th-century building, a former monastery.

There are also several of worthy B&Bs near the center of town.

Le Moulin de Ponceau is a charming and appetizing address for a meal by the Eure River. Closed Tuesday and Wednesday.

Then there are those irresistible seats in the cafés and restaurants beside the cathedral.

Saturday morning, until 1PM, is food market time at Place Billard, the covered market in the historic center, close to the cathedral and the tourist office.

The Chartres Tourist Office is located in a 16th-century half-timbered building at 8 rue de la Poissonnerie, a 2-minute walk from the cathedral. See here for the dates of festivals and other events in Chartres. Also see this article about the five fabulous Notre-Dame Cathedrals within 100 miles of Paris (Paris, Chartres, Laon, Amiens, Reims).

Cycling on the Veloscenic Route

Chartres is also now a biking destination or stopover due to the development of the 280-mile (450-km) Veloscenic cycling route from Paris to Mont Saint Michel. Chartres on its own can serve as base for a day or two of cycling. Electric or “muscular” bikes can be rented next to the Chartres train station for any length of time, and electric bikes are available at the Chartres Tourist Office for one or two days. In either case, be sure to reserve in advance—well in advance for weekends and summer.

Among several options of circuits around Chartres, there’s a sporty 35-miles (53-km) ride to the Château de Rambouillet with a midway pause to visit the Château de Maintenon. From Rambouillet you’d then return with the bike to Chartres by train. Trains run frequently between the two towns and take 30-40 minutes. Or limit your day to the Chartres-Maintenon cycling route, then back by train or bike. Either way, you then rest and dine before enjoying the stroll through illuminated Chartres, before heading elsewhere by bike, car or train the following day.

© 2022, Gary Lee Kraut

The post Chartres Lights Up as an Overnight Destination (Video) appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Yu Jia’s message both embarrassed and pleased me. It pleased me because she said that she enjoyed my writing. It further pleased me that she was interested enough to want more, particularly the more that I’d promised at the end of Part IV. “Part V: Mont Dore, Saint Nectaire and Chaudes-Aigues will be posted later in May,” I’d noted as a teaser.

Mostly, though, I was embarrassed. I hadn’t kept my promise, I’d given up, and Yu Jia was reminding me of that. I don’t remember giving up—one rarely does—but no doubt my inspiration had waned and as it did I let something distract me from the long-winded project of a 6-part series. Afterwards, I thought it occasionally, but only in passing, without the will or the inspiration to complete Parts V and VI.

Scrapbooks
Trip reports such as this Auvergne series are like scrapbooks. You sit down with pieces that you’ve collected from your recent travels—notes, photographs, audio, press kits, brochures, books—then stitch together the highlights and a few mid- and low-lights with observations, impressions, transitions and additional research. Chronology is an easy organizer. Furthermore, most of the steps of my 5-day 2012 Auvergne trip were planned in advance. I prepared and published the texts for the first four parts at a rhythm of one per week.

But some scrapbooks (and articles) don’t get finished. The scraps never get booked, so to speak; they remain in folders and the audio gets thrown out with an old computer. I’ll finish it one of these days, you say to yourself whenever you come across the folder or whenever someone mentions the place you’ve been.

Within two months after completing Part IV, I’d written articles about Kaysersberg, Colmar, Chambéry, Blois, Chateau-Thierry, a restaurant in Paris and a WWI memorial in the suburbs. I traveled; folders accumulated. And the chances of “one of these days” putting together the remaining Auvergne scraps became increasingly slim.

8 years on
It’s now April 2020, the spring of Covid-19 lockdown. That Auvergne trip was eight years ago. I’ve only been back to Auvergne once since then but nowhere near the area covered in this series. In a sense, Auvergne no longer exists. Since 2016, the official map of France has contained 13 regions rather than the 22 at the time of my visit. Auvergne has merged with the Rhône-Alpes region to become Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes. Actually, I’ve visited Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes once or twice a year since 2012, so I could fudge the facts by saying that I’ve returned to region of this series many times in the past eight years. But in all honesty I can’t. Administrative region or not, Auvergne is Auvergne, everyone knows that. The parts covered in this series have nothing to do with the Rhone or the Alps. So, no, I haven’t been to Auvergne since March 2012.

Why, then, return to this Auvergne series now?

Because in cleaning out and updating some articles on France Revisited during lockdown, I came across Yu Jia’s message. I had never “approved” it (i.e. allowed it to be made public on the site) when she wrote it in the comments section beneath Part IV. Yet I hadn’t trashed it either. Nor had I hidden my tracks by deleting the announcement in May 2012 that parts V and VI would be coming soon. For 7½ years Yu Jia’s message awaited in the limbo of the dashboard of this site, staring me down as a comment awaiting action: approve, trash or spam. It stared me down again a few days ago—”Too bad parts V and VI aren’t up, I did want to read about Mont Dore and St. Nectaire in particular”—a reminder that I still I owed Yu something. So I “approved” the message as a dare to myself to complete the series during coronavirus quarantine and began stitching and pasting together scraps and memories from my Auvergne trip of 2012.

It wouldn’t make sense to pretend now that this follows the momentum of the first four parts of the series. I’ll therefore leave the scraps in italics and place other facts, impressions, memories and comments in roman.

This is for Yu.

Mont Dore

Three types of hot springs. Living, dead, hot.

Either my guide in Mont Dore (aka Le Mont Dore) said that or that was a summary of what I’d learned about hot springs over the three days in Auvergne leading up to Mont Dore. Either way, if there are indeed three types, I don’t recall the distinction between living and hot, and I prefer the mystery of not knowing.

I’m more intrigued by another mystery: Why would you, Yu, a young woman from Singapore, still in her twenties, want to read “in particular” about Mont Dore. I can fathom an interest in Saint Nectaire—there’s the cheese and the Romanesque church. But why Mont Dore? Who’s even heard of Mont Dore, remote and bygone as it is? (Not to be confused with Mont d’Or, the fabulous and fattening runny cow cheese from the Jura region of eastern France.)

Sight of the slate roofs while approaching the hills. Le Mont Dore, at an altitude of 1000 meters. The ski slopes are 3 miles from town. The town feels unused/underused. Tourist official explains: “We’re between seasons,” nevertheless “Declining population, a town that lives from tourism and curists.”

I don’t recall the slate roofs, though I do see them in my photos. I do remember winding through hills and valleys on my way to Mont Dore from where I’d stayed the previous night near Chatel-Guyon. I remember some splendid inter-seasonal views of a choppy landscape and of lakes and hills appearing around bends or through pines. I remember above all the unused/underused feel of Mont Dore when I arrived. I remember that it brought the pleasant sense of having arrived at an oasis.

What’s especially stayed with me about Mont Dore is the thought that I’d like to settle here, or someplace like here, for a month and read and write and walk and get familiar with strangers, if they’ll let me and make the place mine for a bit. Do you ever feel that when you travel, Yu? Stopping someplace for just a few hours, do you ever think: I wonder what it would be like to settle down for a few weeks to “live” the town and explore the immediate surroundings on foot, never with transportation? Though “settle down” is the wrong term for the momentary attraction that I had for Mont Dore. “Shelter in place,” as we say today, would be more like it, within the confines not of a house or an apartment but of the entire town of Mont Dore and its surrounding landscape. You wouldn’t be there to escape anything, you’d be there… well, you’d just be there, between seasons. Then you’d want leave before too many tourists and curists arrived and transformed your quiet town. Not that you would actually ever shelter in place there. Not that you’d ever return to the place after that first visit and the original impression. But do you know what I mean?

The source of the Dordogne River is just above Mont Dore. Snow-capped massif visible from town. Situated along the Roman road from Clermont-Ferrand. Vestiges of Gallo-Roman thermal baths. The current thermal baths opened in 1823, with later additions and mosaics, including a portion from 1920. The casino burned down in 1962. Eight springs, 38-44 degrees, are now used particularly for rheumatology and respiratory illnesses. During WWI, gassed soldiers brought here from the front. Hot springs exploited since about 2000 by the Chaine Thermal de Soleil, which operates 20 establishments in France. Not always water therapy, sometimes vapors are used for nasal baths and injections. The nasal infiltration room; glass canopy by Gustave Eiffel; original wall mosaics from the 1930s. No noise or movement to distract the eye as it takes in the basilica-like space of the neo-Byzantine architecture, recently restored, light from the glass black of the barrel ceiling. Villas and grand hotels. Between seasons.

I don’t remember the villas, the grand hotels or whatever building replaced the casino. But the dramatic, archaic emptiness of the hot springs complex between seasons—go for that, Yu. Between seasons.

The Dordogne and Dore Rivers meet at the foot of Sancy Mountain as the Dordogne River begins on its course southwestward before turning due west about 90 miles from here to form what most people think of when they think of the Dordogne Valley.

I’ve just looked up the population of Mont Dore. It’s been in continual decline since 1982 when there were over 2300 inhabitant. In 2019 there were 1300. How sad, an exodus, people leaving parent and relatives, unrooting themselves. Or hopeful, but with something diminished left behind. I wish them well. Let’s move on to Saint Nectaire before this trip report becomes an elegy.

Saint Nectaire

Another beautiful drive. Though I left Clermont-Ferrand three days ago on this meandering itinerary, I look at the map to see that I’m still less than an hour’s direct drive from my point of departure. Questions of near and far.

What questions? I was preparing a trip report, not an essay on distance. Sometimes one writes cryptic notes to oneself, don’t you find? With corona lockdown, everything that isn’t near seems far. I might have thought about those “questions” because Saint Nectaire also felt empty when I arrived, or because the feeling of Mont Dore was still with me when I arrived at Saint Nectaire and checked into the hotel Mercure.

But the feeling evaporated during lunch.

By contrast with the emptiness of the hotel, the busyness of the brasserie Les Baladins is a sign of a living town. I had a hearty St. Nectaire fondue for lunch. Population 728.

Lunch was more than hearty. My photo reminds me that it was absolutely and appetizingly local and delectable, the kind of meal and the kind of place where the hungry traveler says: This is good living, despite what the ingredients whisper about heart disease. (Like the pancakes, bacon and eggs on the table of the post you wrote about celebrating your 23rd birthday in Paris. But thinking about heart disease when you’re 23 is a personal crime.) To judge from the photo, I was not alone for lunch. (Neither were you for your birthday, to judge by yours.)

Saint Nectaire once had 25 hotels serving “curists” coming for ailments related to rheumatism and urinary problems. Once the cure season was over, employees would leave town to find work elsewhere, e.g. Clermont. The thermal baths closed their doors in 2004. Currently, four hotels are in operation. I’m staying in one of them. It’s nearly empty. Remnants of the 19th-century thermal baths can be seen at the Hotel Les Bains Romanes and at the Tourist Office.

Unlike other spa towns whose reputation has faded with a diminished interest in taking a cure, the name Saint Nectaire is still well-known in France because of the cheese of the same name that’s produced here and in the 69 surrounding communes. Plus, while thermalism is dead at St. Nectaire, for church hunters this is one of the prizes of central France.

A prize indeed!

You know all those great soaring Gothic cathedrals and churches of Paris and its surrounding regions, Yu? Of course you do. I saw the picture that you took from the towers of Notre-Dame on your birthday. An impressive cathedral; an impressive view. Sometimes, however, those Notre-Dames of northern France seem to me to be trying too hard compared with the ease of the rounded arches and the effortless proportions of the Romanesque period—at Saint Nectaire, for example—that proceeded the extensive use of the ribbed vaults and the pointed arches at those Notre-Dames.

On a promontory overlooking the valley (and the lower town), exquisite proportions, an impassive western façade through which one enters to the shadows of the narthex and the light of the choir illuminating the whitewashed stone and the polychrome capitals. Storytelling capitals.

Were those scrap words mine or those of the excellent guide who steered me around and through the edifice? Or were they the words of her source? Doesn’t matter: I could see it, I could feel it, from near and from far, a vast and harmonious church in such a remote area. Worth the detour, as they say in the guides.

A lengthy and thorough restoration 2002-2009.

Legend has it that Saint Nectaire, a Greek who encountered Christians in Rome then came to evangelize in this area, early 4th century, created an oratory here. Saint Nectaire said to be accompanied by Saint Auditeur and Saint Baudime. Rebuilt by Benedictine monks in the 12th century. Made with lava stone. Red, beige, blue?, grey. Belonged to the monks of La Chaise Dieu until the Revolution. A pilgrimage church, one of the 5 major Romanesque churches of Auvergne.

The question mark that follows “blue” is enough to make me want to go back to examine my doubt.

While I’d elected to focus my 5-day itinerary in Auvergne on spa towns, I can well imagine the parallel interest of an itinerary that aims for those five major Romanesque churches: Saint Nectaire, Notre-Dame in Saint-Saturnin, Saint-Austremoine in Issoire, Notre-Dame-du Port in Clermont-Ferrand, Notre-Dame Basilica in Orcival. I kept the brochure.

The treasure of Saint Nectaire is a 12th-century bust of St. Baudime, a wood sculpture covered with gilded copper. See also the Virgin and Child in the choir.

I had an appointment with Mayor Alphonse Bellonte outside the church at the end of the visit. As I write this, between the two rounds of municipal elections, Alfonse Bellonte is still mayor of Saint Nectaire.

The natural, warm welcome of this big fellow has undoubtedly contributed to my favorable view of Saint Nectaire from that day. He didn’t start, as most mayors do, by telling me anything about his town but rather about how much he’d enjoyed visiting Cleveland and Baltimore several months prior to my visit. The trip had been an extraordinary journey of discovery for him, one that he wanted to share me, an American. But Cleveland and Baltimore? Yes, he’d followed Saint Baudime on tour to those cities, and during that visit he’d marveled at the generous welcome that he’d received from his hosts.

Alphonse Bellonte is also a producer of saint nectaire fermier. Fermier (farmhouse, we would say) indicates that it uses raw milk from a single farm. Saint nectaire fermier is one of the kings of France’s farmhouse cow cheeses. Industrial saint nectaire also exists; the milk used for that can come from more than one farm and be pasteurized. The farmhouse version is tastier.

I visited the mayor’s farm, Ferme Bellonte. (Other farms in the area can also be visited.) The Bellonte family has been in the cheese business for eight generations in Saint Nectaire, and for several generations elsewhere prior to that. Ferme Bellonte is open to the public (free and daily, year-round). The farm’s 110 cows, primarily a breed called montéliarde, are milked twice each day, 7-8am and 4:15-5:15pm, followed by the cheese making 9-10am and 6-7pm, so time your visit according to your interest, Yu, or stay long enough for both. I did. (Times indicated are Daylight Saving Time, so an hour earlier in winter.)

Each cow here produces more or less about 15 liters of milk per day. 15 liters of milk for 1 round of cheese. So the farm makes about 100 saint nectaires per day. 8 days in the refrigerator then 5 weeks of cellar maturing on straw mats. Aging cellars here are 1000-year-old troglodyte quarry rooms, formerly inhabited by people and/or farm animals, which can also be visited. Summer farmhouse saint nectaire is softer and tastier.

I bought some saint nectaire fermier for lunch today. The rind, I now see, echoes the color of the exterior of the church: Red, beige, grey. Blue? I can smell (or imagine that I smell) the humid cellar and the straw on which it’s aged, though the taste of this semi-hard cheese is mild.

In addition to the spa town route and the Romanesque church route, Yu, you might also melt into the itinerary the AOP Auvergne cheese route (AOP=PAO, Protected Appellation of Origin): saint nectaire, cantal (semi-hard, pressed, raw or pasteurized, typically aged up to 6 months), salers (raw milk, pressed, aged up to 9 months), fourme d’Ambert (a mild blue) and bleu d’Auvergne (a creamy blue), all from cow’s milk.

By the way, Yu, due to the coronavirus crisis, farmers, industry and authorities have to deal with the excess amount of milk being produced in view of decreased consumption. (My Paris cheese tastings have been halted!) So the strict rules of producing an AOP saint nectaire have been modified to allow for newly cultured cheese to be frozen in anticipation of aging and sale next year. Production and storage times have also been modified slightly for blue d’Auvergne and fourme d’Ambert, as well for some cheeses produced elsewhere in France.

In the morning, breaking from the two-hour drive to Chaudes Aigues, a quick stop in the town of Issoire to visit St. Austremoine Church, the largest of the five Romanesque majors. A visual feast of its extravagant and jubilant painted columns and walls.

While the columns do indeed seem to be “extravagant and jubilant” when I look at my pictures of the interior, I must have been in an upbeat mood to jot down those words. It must have been one of those “Wow, I’m glad I stopped here!” road-trip moments before getting back into the car.

Chaudes-Aigues

The problem with scraps, Yu, and in particular my written scraps from Chaudes-Aigues, is that they amount to no more than wikifacts without footnotes. Absent some evidence that I had actually been there to “experience” the place (I put experience in quotes because what does that mean, really?), you might be tempted to skip this section. After all, your message said that you were particularly interested in Mont Dore and Saint Nectaire—not a word about Chaudes-Aigues. How then to get you to scroll beyond the fact bites?

Chaudes = hot, Aigues = eaux. The town’s inhabitants are called caldagaises.
The various springs emerge at 52-82 degrees Celsius [126-180°F ]. The 82° springs are the hottest in Europe. The village exists since about 1332, date of the construction of the first houses. We’re at 750 meters [2460 feet] in altitude. Population about 900, 3000 in summer. 1500 curists during the April-November cure season. The water at the thermal baths is 52 degrees. The water comes from 5000 meters underground. Each quarter of the village has a patron saint.

Among the 32 springs, the majority of which are private, some provide heat in winter on the ground floor of houses, about 20 of them. Those whose homes are heated with the hot spring pay only an annual maintenance fee of 30-100€, depending on the length of the piping network and the temperature. Pipes get clogged with deposit; they need to be cleaned often, eventually replaced. The church is heated this way as is the municipal swimming pool. The springs also feed the thermal baths (expanded in 2004), the fountain (where I boiled my egg) and the lavoir (publish wash basin), which is still used and where the water, which contains sodium bicarbonate, is good for bleaching.

Before 2004, about three-quarters of homes were heated by the spring called Source du Par. Since then, three-quarters of the flow is used by the thermal center and for the swimming the pool from June to September (through a spring water serpentine) + to heat the church (to 20-25°C/68-77°F) + to boil my egg. The little Geothermalism Museum explains how houses were/are heated and shows pipes that get obstruct quickly with carbonate deposits and must be cleaned frequently.

On your blog, Yu, you define yourself as a baroudeuse, an adventurer. I don’t think of myself in the same way; I’m not a baroudeur, just someone who travels sometimes, happy enough with the adventure of boiling an egg in the fountain made at a hot spring in Chaudes-Aigues in Auvergne.

Centre Caleden, thermal center that belongs to the Cantal department in a new building since 2009. Includes thermal baths, spa, fun pool, hotel, residences. Water comes out at 32-37 degrees depending on where. The average age of those who come for the cure is 65, often “retirees and professors.” The cure lasts 3 weeks, prescribed by a doctor, with 60-100% reimbursed by the Sécu [the French health system]. 230 curists come in the morning, fitness program clients then come in the afternoon.

Lunch with Claire Soyer Le Thorel, director of the Chaudes-Aigues Tourist Office at owner/chef Simone Gascuel’s Le Moulin des Templiers, in Jabrun, a 10-minute drive from Chaudes Aigues. SG’s mother ran a café here in what was formerly a mill, rebuilt after WWII. Her father wanted her to work in the kitchen. [Now there’s a line that’s open to interpretation! It means nothing to me as I read it now; I assume that it meant something to SG if she said it to me. What did your father want you to do, Yu? Mine wanted me to be a doctor. He also liked to travel.] My first encounter with Le Birlou, an apple and chestnut liqueur that smells like apple and tastes like chestnut. Salade de gesier, blanquette de veau, pruneau au vin rouge.

That’s it, Yu. I left Chaudes-Aigues soon after that for the Aubrac Plateau. My article about that, the sixth and final part of this series, will be published soon. I promise.

In the meantime, I have a question for you, Yu. After your two-year stay in France and the celebration of your 23rd birthday in Paris with pancakes and gargoyles, you visited over the following year New York, Quebec, Nova Scotia, Malaysia and Montenegro. A barodeuse indeed! Then you were in Istria, Croatia, taking your time before “the drive back to civilization.” With that line you ended your blog. Did you ever make it back?

© 2012, 2020, Gary Lee Kraut

Return to:
Part I: From Paris to Clermont-Ferrand
Part II: An Introduction to Spa Towns and Hot Springs By Way of Royat
Part III: Chatel-Guyon 
Part IV: Château La Canière, a Luxury Hotel

The post 5 Days in Auvergne, Part V: Mont Dore, Saint Nectaire, Chaudes-Aigues and Yu appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

Luminous by its vast, clear windows, by the light streaming in from its lantern tower, and by its bright, naked stone, Notre-Dame de Laon on a sunny day is a beacon calling the traveler well off the beaten track. If you know the other Notre-Dames north of the Loire Valley, now consider Laon’s.

The architecture styles and developments of the 12th through 15th centuries that became known as Gothic during the Renaissance as a way of calling their style barbaric and unrefined were previously known as the manner of building in Ile-de-France (the Paris region) or simply the French arts. Indeed, many of the primitive Gothic (begun 1135-1190) and classic Gothic (begun 1190-1230) monsters of France (and of Europe) lie within a 100-mile radius of Paris: Saint-Etienne de Sens, Basilique Saint Denis, Notre-Dame de Laon, and Notre-Dame de Paris for primitive Gothic, Notre-Dame de Chartres, Notre-Dame d’Amiens, Notre-Dame de Reims, and Saint-Pierre de Beauvais for classic Gothic.

Laon’s cathedral is a first-generation Gothic construction started in 1155, eight years before Paris’s Notre-Dame. It replaced a Romanesque cathedral that had been heavily damaged by fire in 1112 and partially repaired before a complete renewal was decided.

In order to understand the construction of Notre-Dame de Laon and its cousins in the Paris region and beyond, opt for a guided tour when visiting the cathedral. Furthermore, the tribune(second floor walkabout) and towers can only be visited with a guide.Inquire about tours directly at the tourist office or better yet contact the tourist office in advance.

It’s rare nowadays to have access to the tribune of medieval churches and cathedrals. Along with allowing wonderful views of the interior, the tribune displays some of the building’s original late 12th-century and early 13th-century sculptures, copies of which now decorate the outside. (At Laon, as in other Gothic cathedrals, much of the stone and the sculptures were originally painted.)

There are these gargoyle gutters, for example:

And these column capitals:

And I love the wind-worn limestone of these works that could well be presented in a museum of contemporary art:

The next photo, taken from the outer landing of one of its five towers (of seven originally planned) and looking up to the top, shows the stone oxen that are a sculptural oddity at Laon, They recall the legend by which an ox miraculously appeared to replace an exhausted ox that could go no further while its yoke was pulling stones to the top of the plateau for the construction of the cathedral. The mysterious ox then disappeared once it had helped deliver the stones to the top.

Looking to the west, here is a view over the Upper Town, which is surprisingly (and sadly) quiet since most of the town’s businesses are in the Lower Town, where most Laonnois reside. Actually, that quiet makes a visit here feel even more like an unusual find.

The choice café and restaurant is naturally situated across from the cathedral, as seen above.

Loan is the capital of the department of Aisne, an area that is part a swath of Belgium and northern France—Verdun, the Ardennes, the Somme—that witnessed the incessant trench warfare that defined WWI. Laon nevertheless survived the fighting from 1914 to 1918 unscathed because it was occupied by Germans throughout much of the war and lay behind the front. Allied bombing in 1944 later caused damage around the train station and elsewhere, but the Upper Town was largely spared.

The Upper Town of Laon occupies what is geographically the last outlier plateau of the Paris region. Another such hill, the infamous Chemin des Dames (The Ladies Road) can be seen at the horizon in this photo taken from the cathedral’s south tower.

The Chemin des Dames, a narrow plateau, 18 miles long and 110 feet high, overlooking the plain between Laon and Reims, was of great strategic importance during the The First World War. For more on the Chemin des Dames click here.

Getting to Laon
Loan, 85 miles northeast of Paris, is about 1 hour 40 minutes by train from Paris’s North Station, Gare du Nord. About 20-minutes outside Paris on the train (past the suburb of Mitry and before Dammartin) you’ll notice that the landscape changes quickly from crowded suburbia to vast agriculture. The fields are largely reserved by the four main crops of northern France: wheat, barley, sugar beets, and colza/rape.

Across the street from the Laon train station the funicular Poma takes you up to the Upper Town, i.e. the old town, right by City Hall. As noted above, a guided tour of the cathedral is highly recommended since it will give access to the towers and the basements. (My guide for this visit, Rose Condette, was excellent.) Guided touring can also include other parts of the Upper Town, including a precious little Templar church and a museum.

American travelers are rarely seen or heard in Laon. In a typical year, according to tourist officials, only about 200 American stop by the tourist office, which occupies the 12th-century hospital building (Hôtel Dieu) next door to the cathedral. So be sure to stop in to let them know that it isn’t only the English, the Dutch, the Belgiums, and the Germans who appreciate their town and their cathedral. Inquire there if interested in visiting the WWI battle sites and museums in the surrounding area, particularly along the Chemin de Dames.

Official tourist office site for Laon and surroundings: http://www.tourisme-paysdelaon.com/.

– Text and photos by GLK

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For Earthlings, the March equinox means that spring has begin in the Northern Hemisphere and that autumn has begun in the Southern Hemisphere. For Christians following Western traditions and the Gregorian calendar, the March equinox is also related to Easter since Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon occurring on or after the March equinox.

That’s why some churches, such as Saint Sulpice in Paris, have sundials of sorts specifically set to indicate the day of the equinox.

I was touring Saint Sulpice with a group of journalists today when at precisely 1 p.m. (i.e. noon Greenwich Mean Time), we gathered around the altar railing to watch the a spot of sun, coming from a hole in the window of the southern transept (above left in this photo), reach a marker in front of the altar.

(Saint Sulpice, you may recall, is the church that was fictionalized by Dan Brown in the “Da Vinci Code.”)

Saint Sulpice has transparent windows since narrative stained glass was passé when the church was built in the 17^th century. The angle of that photo makes it appear that it was a bright out today, however it was in fact mostly cloudy in the early afternoon, with occasional bursts of sunlight. Despite the clouds we could make out the oval spot of sun moving across the marker.

The photo below was taken about two minutes after the magic moment. The spot of sun is that light rounded zone just above the marker. The line to either side of the marker is a meridian line.

Oddly enough there was no one else there to witness the passage of the equinox at this spot this year since. I can understand not being interested in a church, but aren’t people interested in the passage of time? Where was everyone? Upon leaving the church I could see that there are far more popular things to do in the Saint Sulpice quarter on a Saturday afternoon. One of them is to queue up for chocolates and/or pastries at the Pierre Hermé shop across the intersection.

To each his own use of his time.

Welcome to spring in the Northern Hemisphere.

– Text and photos GLK.

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