Packing up and moving on.

It is almost time for us to depart and head back to Charles Town, and Nice is crying!  We have had some spectacular weather events in the past three days here, a town that is usually filled with sunshine and mild temperatures (third sunniest city in Europe in the winter right behind Marseille and La Valletta, Malta). On Monday Cindy when to a concert at 12:30 and I walked for an hour and then looked for places to have lunch when the concert was done. It was beautiful and sunny on the Promenade and there were hundreds of Italians wandering around in large family units. There was a holiday in Italy so they came to Nice for a change of pace.

By the time Cindy got out of her performance, the skies were darkening and we headed to one of the few restaurants that serve until three. It is a high end Italian place where we had eaten before and we had a truly wonderful meal, surrounded by large groups of Italians who, as I mentioned, came to Nice for a change of pace. Just as we were finishing our coffee the skies opened up and it rained like we were in the tropics.  We waited for our chance to make a run for it and just as we were getting close to home there was the loudest thunder and brilliant lightning storm we have ever seen in Nice. The rest of the day was filled with rain but we were warm and toasty, except for my having to brave the elements for our baguette for dinner. 

The next day at lunch time we were settled into a lovely new restaurant (new to us) with floor to ceiling windows when the sky again darkened, but this time there was so much hail that even the kitchen staff came out to see such an unusual weather event. At one time there was about a quarter of an inch of hail on the road and the cacophony of sounds as the hail hit our enclosed terrace roof was amazing.  Just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared and all was sunny and bright again for our walk home.

We are packing a little bag of clothes that we are going to give to the local church, which runs a small thrift shop. That meant having to do one more load of laundry yesterday, an event we have down to a science. Cindy runs the washing machine while we’re on our initial morning walk/ run, then we walk over to the laundromat and throw them into the dryer for 27 minutes while having coffee across the street at the local patisserie.  Then we fold them - and bam, we are back home in no time getting ready for our second morning walk.

We have not enjoyed this apartment at all!  Everything about it is loud, inefficient or just plain broken. Broken includes chipped cups and plates, towels with holes in them, a bathroom that makes all kinds of noises when the toilet is flushed and then smells from seeping sewer water. We have to run the water in the shower for a few minutes to get rid of the stench and even then we do not think that it smells that good. There is no manager that lives here and the landlady lives in Paris which means that when and if things go wrong, we are on our own. Since we have been doing this for twenty years and always come prepared for life’s little unexpected adventures, we pity the poor folks who come for one week and don’t know how to handle problems with a French twist. Having said that, we still love Nice and will just be far more diligent in finding future apartments.  We always brag about leaving rented apartments better than we found them, and that was not difficult this time!  Best Wishes, Cindy and Wm

More to Love, Nice

The other night we decided to get a roasted chicken from our local butcher for dinner since we had had lunch with Cindy’s tutor and wanted to eat in. (Lunch was wonderful but I was exhausted trying to speak and understand French for ninety minutes.) We stopped by the butcher and placed our order and said we would be back in an hour and proceeded to take our late afternoon walk on the Promenade, which was bathed in pink light from the setting sun.  As we approached our local bar for an aperitif, Sylvie, the owner, was outside cleaning tables so we told her we would be right back but first needed to get some cheese from our cheese lady. Somehow she thought we had never been there before and took Cindy by the hand and walked into the cheese shop, which was filled with customers, and announced to Valerie the cheese lady that we were her friends from Washington and that Valerie needed to take good care of us. Valerie and her husband George just laughed since we had been going to them for more than four years and knew them two years before Sylvie and her husband Fabrice had even purchased the bar!  Everyone in the cheese shop clapped after the introduction and the whole situation was rather hysterical. Later during aperitifs, we told Sylvie the story and she just laughed and laughed, but oh how loved we felt.

When we left Sylvie’s we went to the butcher - all of these shops are right next to one another - and picked up the chicken. These are fermier Label Rouge, which means they are farm raised and of the highest quality. They cost more but they are bigger and juicier and the taste is divine. I got a celery root salad with mustard sauce and a shredded carrot salad with lemon, as well as a small piece of paté (which they make daily, bien sûr). We had already picked up a hot baguette and two small tarts - one lemon and the other raspberry - and happily headed home for our feast. See why we love this place?!

Buns and burgers, an observation by Cindy

The French, for all their gastronomic expertise, really have no idea what is meant by burgers and buns.  The other day I ordered a “veggie burger” with burrata and arugula, and even though I was dying to ask the server what the burger consisted of I decided to just wait and see.  Good thing I didn’t ask, because there WAS no burger and I’m sure I would have gone in circles with the waiter for about a week, neither of us understanding the other in either English or French.  As it happened we were eating with a French friend who does not speak much English and who has barely been to the U.S., and it took me a very long time to explain to her that a burger had to consist of SOMETHING - beef or chicken or soybeans or whatever - formed into a disk.  It then occurred to me that in France they use the term “burger” the way Americans use the term “martini” - anything in a martini glass can be called a martini.  Oh dear, don’t get me started, I detest that practice because the only modifier (in terms of ingredients) that can possibly be applied to a martini is vodka.  You order a martini and that means gin with dry vermouth, period, but I’ll make an exception for a vodka martini!  Back to the burgers - in France apparently it’s a burger if it has a bun.  Good to know! 

Back to Wm:  I went to two - count them two - museums in two days; I’m reeling!  They were in fact really cool and it was my idea to go to the first one since I had seen lots of posters for it on the Promenade. It was at the Museé Massena, an old mansion built by the Viceroy of Savona that is very stately, somewhat like Bruce Manor.  The exhibit was about Jean Gilletta, who from 1870 until 1930 photographed almost all of the Côte d’Azur. It was really a wonderful display coupled with lots of history and explanation in both French and English. It truly added to our understanding of Nice and answered one of my constant questions: Why isn’t the Nice Carnival connected to Lent?  Turns out, Nice has always been a rather free thinking place and tolerated all religions and beliefs, which is why there are Russian Orthodox churches, Jewish Synagogues, Muslim Mosques and all manner of Christian Churches here.  In 1873 the equivalent of the Chamber of Commerce decided that in order to draw more tourists to Nice they needed to schedule events at the same time year after year so that visitors could plan in advance.  Since Lent varies every year, they decided to have Carnival start on the second Saturday of February regardless of when Lent falls. It has worked wonderfully for them!

Our ticket for this museum entitled us to visit ten other museums within 24 hours, so the next morning we walked to the Old Town and visited the Palais Lascaris, which as the name implies was the palace of the Lascaris family and is a real beauty, tucked way in the warren of old buildings - you can walk by it without ever knowing what it really is. It is four stories of marvelous rooms, whose ceilings are jaw-droppingly beautiful frescos depicting all kinds of religious and mythological events. It also houses France’s second largest collection of antique instruments.  Really a lot of fun to just wander around and look and listen ... yes they pipe in music from the period instruments in each room. 

It is now one week and counting before we fly to Paris for the night and then head home on the 19th. We have a list of restaurants we must go to before departing and we are up to the challenge.  Toute à l’heure.  Cindy and Wm 

What we love about Nice

Somehow our observations on our first week back in Nice came across to some as negative. We just thought we were making observations without being judgmental - but for the record, here are the things we love about Nice that keep us coming back year after year.

Our mornings are almost always the same, day after day, which is a great comfort.  We get up, do our morning exercises and hit the mean streets of Nice for a long walk for me and a run for Cindy. The Promenade is always fascinating with spectacular views of the water. If I look very hard to the south I can almost see Tunisia and Algeria; of course I have super vision skills lacking in mere mortals. The far point of my walk ends at the top of a hill which gives me spectacular views of the entire city and the mountains surrounding Nice. At this time of year the peaks are usually covered with snow but it has been a very mild winter. Cindy’s run continues to the old port, which is filled with luxury yachts, the largest being the Quantum Blue, a 250 million euro darling owned by, of course, a Russian friend of Putin.

Six days a week after I turn around to head back, I walk through the open market just to see what is new and different. I love the early morning smells of coffee, cheese, vegetables and flowers, all blending in with the salt air.   We usually meet outside the Negresco after our walk/run and then head to our favorite café, the Brasserie des Chauffeurs. After bonjours to all, we take our usual seats and madame brings us our coffees and water. I grab the local paper, Nice Matin, and Cindy reads the articles and I read the captions under the photos. It is nice to be a local and it certainly starts the day on the right note.

Speaking of markets, there are two large ones six days a week and Mondays are for antiques, aka junk. Saturdays are the most fun because the Liberation Market is much larger that day and takes up ten blocks and is filled with folks shopping for fresh fruits, vegetables and all manner of seafood. All of the cafés and bistros are jam packed with folks having coffee, tea or hot chocolate for a small pause before heading back to the market. All around the seafood section of the market are little bars where men and women take a break with their petit rosé or vin blanc, while others enjoy a small pastis. I have just figured out, after many years coming here, that before noon the bars serve the petite wines which are about three ounces, and after noon they revert to the regular five ounce glasses. Not at all sure why, but certainly no one is limited to just one before noon. Today we went to one of our favorite stalls in the covered portion of the market that sells fresh salads of seafood and vegetables. We were recognized since the last few times here we gave the owners some American bonbons, either See’s lollipops or mini tootsie rolls. We did the same today and after paying for our purchases the man insisted we wait a few moments and he then produced the most marvelous little vegetable fritters for us to try, piping hot and startlingly delicious.

Despite the devaluation of the dollar there are still great bargains to be had here in Nice. Almost any bar will provide you with a five ounce (15 cl) glass of wonderful rosé, white or red wine for about $4 and if you order by the carafe, either 25 or 50 centiliters, the per glass price goes way down.  Lunches that will comfort you for hours are still a great value. Today we had one of our favorite lunches in Nice, Aioli, which (brace yourself) is a huge hunk of poached cod surrounded by two boiled potatoes, a hard boiled egg, two boiled carrots, a small salad and some other boiled vegetables. The best part is the little bowl of aioli, which is really just mayonnaise and garlic but at out little café it is homemade and is mostly raw chopped garlic held together with homemade mayonnaise. I love garlic, I worship garlic, I can eat raw garlic until the cows come home (or choose not to) but this was the strongest, most delicious thing I ever had. When the meal was served and I saw just this small bowl of aioli, I knew I was going to have to ask for more. However, I did not finish all that was in the little bowl, it was that strong (although I did dip a crust of bread in it at the end of the meal to finish off the rosé, so the bowl was indeed almost empty). Aioli is traditionally only served on Fridays, France being a Catholic country. However, since Cindy had class on Friday, our friends at the restaurant saved two servings for us to eat on Saturday. See what I mean about getting to know the ’hood!

I love the French supermarkets. They sell everything from fresh fish, oysters by the basketful, great vegetables, wines, spirits, cheeses, breads, well, you name it and they sell it and it is top quality. But the thing I love most is the fact that they sell wine by the box, 3 liters (four bottles) of really great wine for under ten dollars. The down side, if you chose to call it that, is the fact that you really never know how much you are drinking and it is always right there for a short glass, but hey, we are on holiday so who really cares.

I love walking by the health/nutrition supplement store and seeing all four employees standing in the doorway smoking cigarettes or e-cigarettes.  Sure makes me feel healthy!  Menu reading remains my number one reading activity and it provides a great incentive to get out of the apartment for an afternoon walk. It is still the primary way we choose where to eat, as it is for the French. That is why in some areas that are dense with restaurants you’ll see the best bargains posted on chalkboards outside. 

Since we have stayed in the same neighborhood for the past four years and we always shop at the same little stores, we are known to the shop owners and that makes for a lovely shopping experience. For instance when we go the cheese lady, she knows what we like and gives us little tastings of other types of cheeses to see what we think. Yesterday at the supermarket I had a discount coupon. I had misread it (well that is presumptuous since I really don’t read French) the last time I tried to use it and it was not valid that day, but I got it right this time.  As it happened it was the same cashier, who remembered the incident and gave me a big voila and a smile, and I scored a ten euro discount on my groceries.  What’s not to like?!

Nice Odds and Ends

After a full week here, we have noticed a few things that we thought we would share:

1. Not everyone in our building is here on vacation, in fact, we are the only ones trying to relax. This building is five stories and we are on the third; do you know what the stairwell sounds like at 0715 when a multi-generational Middle Eastern family on the fifth floor (5 kids under 8) leaves for work, school, prayer or whatever?
2. Bedrooms should never be on the street side. It seems like there are four garbage pickups per night which end just before the car and truck traffic begins at 0600.
3. Nothing ruins a concert like BO. The man directly in front of us at a Beethoven concert at the Nice Opera House had the WORST body odor we have ever encountered - I mean, it was stunning that one person could emanate so much stink.
4. Don’t assume that because you got the perfect croissant one day at a bakery, it will be any good the next day at the same bakery.
5. In one year we have seen a 15% increase in the Euro vs the Dollar, which means we are not getting very much for our dollars.
6. Went to another of our favorite restaurants that is now under new management, the fourth since we arrived.  What is going on?
7. Today, Feb 1st, the promenade and streets are loaded with Russians, most of them drunk. What is going on?
8. It seems that the French only allow their dogs to run free on the beach where there are signs that say, NO DOGS!
9. Saved ten euros today at the grocery store by capitalizing on a coupon I got because I’m a member of their club. It paid for a lovely Chablis that we shall enjoy even more knowing it is free!
10. Got my hair cut at the same place I did last year. She still had her See’s lollipop, keeping it as a souvenir.  I gave her another and told her to eat it this time. She washed my hair twice, before and after the cut. Gotta love the power of See’s!

Paul Bocuse

The passing of Paul Bocuse this last week reminded us our our first and only visit to his restaurant in Collonges outside of Lyon. The French Franc was trading at about ten to the dollar, which meant that we could afford a meal in this three star gem, so we booked a fine hotel in Lyon and hopped in the Audibahn cruiser for the five hour journey.  Our hotel was a gem, small, well appointed and well situated. The Audi just barely fit in the garage but once there we had no need for it for the next three days so all was well. 

We had arranged our reservation for 19:30 and the hotel arranged for a taxi to take us on the half hour journey to the temple of holy cuisine. The restaurant from the distance is a gaudy little bit of  tribute to Boucuse, his name is garish neon can be seen for kilometers and upon arriving we were met by a tall black man dressed just like some of the more garish groom boy lawn ornaments in the USA. The restaurant itself is made up of lots of rooms, some small and intimate others larger for big events. We were seated at a lovely table near the fireplace where the famous chickens from Bresse were grilled over the embers. We stated with two glasses of Champagne which were accompanied by a small plate of gougeres, which are cheesy little pastry puffs, and little rounds of toast some with pate, others with salmon, all marvelous. 

I ordered everything that I knew the restaurant to be famous for, starting with a rich truffle soup covered with a flaky pasty crust and baked until brown and delicious. That was followed by the chicken which I must say was cooked to perfection and tasted nothing like any chicken I had ever had before. I know we had a bottle of Chablis and a half bottle of some red, but can’t remember. If Cindy had her ‘books’ here I could even tell you the type of fish Cindy ordered by my mind is not as sharp as her books. 

The cheese trolley was enormous, bigger than many cheese shops, with at least sixty types of cheese displayed, and more in the back if there was something you wanted that wasn’t there. Not sure how we did it, but we managed to each have at least three cheeses and the waiter thought we should have even more. Once all the dishes, silver and glasses were removed, they brought us each a plate of desserts, mostly small little tarts, cookies, fruit, chocolate mousse in a small container with Paul Boucuse written on it and a few chocolates. We thought that was the most fitting end to a perfect meal possible, until of course they came around with the dessert trolley!! Yes, we had been introduced to mignardises, which are small sweets to open the palate for dessert. The dessert trolley was another of those earthmover sized affairs which I think contained every dessert known in the French speaking world. We modestly, with much protestation from the waiter, ordered two each and realized why a good French meal can take three hours to plow through.

During our time at table we noticed that Mme Bocuse was making the rounds, meeting, greeting, kissing, and just generally schmoozing with the guests. She even came over to our table and we spoke a while in French and then she graciously switched to English as we swooned over our dinner.  She said her husband had been at their restaurant in Tokyo for the past week and wasn’t sure he would be in this evening. But much to our good fortune, just as we were about to drink our cognacs, in walked the legend, in his full whites with medals displayed and he pranced about his domain with a certitude, despite his obvious jet lag. He did come by and said hello, signed our menus and moved on receive more adulation from his adoring patrons.

All and all, it was a marvelous meal ad great experience. Having met him at the height of his fame was a real trip and one that we obviously remember with great élan! We 

Road Trip, Part Three

From Baldersheim, Alsace: The next morning was very cold, wet and windy, which limited us to a much shorter walk than we had hoped for but had the advantage of getting us on the road to Italy that much sooner. We entered Switzerland, which of course is not part of the EU, after a fifteen minute ride and got in line for an immigration/customs check. This is when we remembered that we had packed our passports in the luggage in the back of the car. Cindy displayed an amazing agility as she twisted and turned to get to my suitcase and passport.  After all of that work, we were simply waved through and entered the river city of Basel. Once out of the city Switzerland looks just like all the travel posters: chalets, neat farms, tall mountains capped in white and I swear I could smell chocolate. We stopped for gas so that I had plenty to get though tunnels and passes, and we had a chance to use our German as we inquired how to pay and where were the toilets. It seems that now in order to use a toilet at a gas station, you must insert a euro, take a receipt and use the facility. The receipt allows you to get a euro discount on something from the shop, all very time consuming and rather silly. I doubt that they get a ‘bad element’ on autoroutes, but perhaps it provides more employment since there were at least two people at each station helping folks understand the process.

In all of our planning for this trip, the words “January, Switzerland, snow” never appeared in the same sentence and therefore we were really surprised when we hit tons of snow and a veritable blizzard at the higher elevations. Traffic was down to one lane following two snow plows up the hill toward the Gotthard Tunnel, a ten and a half mile respite from blowing snow and slippery roads. I had hoped that at the end of the tunnel it would be sunny and clear but that was not to be. While the snow was not as heavy, it was still coming down and the road was slippery, but we were now heading downhill and with every five miles, the conditions got better and better until we were finally out of all the weather and we could see a bit of sunshine and we knew we were closing in on Italy.

Sure enough, Italy greeted us with brilliant sunshine and we were soon ensconced in our corner suite at the Metropole Suisse, right on the edge of Lake Como. The views were jaw dropping and we had a 180 degree view of the lake, hills, homes and city that make the Como area so famous.  We decided that the trip was well worth the hassle. 

NIce, Part One

After walking for awhile to clear our heads and stretch our legs we set out to get a few basics such as bread, cheese, and wine to tide us over until we could shop more fully later in the week. We are in the same neighborhood that we have stayed in for four years so things are very familiar and comfortable. As is our tradition, our first dinner is at the same restaurant we have always visited on our first night and it did not disappoint. While the restaurant looked the same and the food was excellent, we did not see any waitstaff that we recognized. Cindy asked and was told it was all new management, which didn’t mean much to us since it was still wonderful. After dinner we wandered about a little and headed home for a much needed rest from our journey. 

The next morning after our walk/run along the Promenade, Cindy started a small load of laundry while I started making breakfast. All of a sudden the apartment smelled like a sewer and the kitchen floor began to flood. After doing a systems check, I discovered that the water was coming from under the kitchen sink (the washing machine is in the kitchen under the same counter that houses the sink). It appeared to me that the hose leading from the washing machine to the drain was not working since water was coming from the connection. There are no tools in the house and my army knife and small all-in-one tool were not up to the task so we stopped the washing machine, placed a bucket under the offending drain, and while I started mopping and cleaning, Cindy was calling our landlady who luckily had not yet departed for Paris. She called a plumber and we were told he would be here in thirty minutes, which we didn’t believe, but someone was indeed here within the hour. 

There were two of them and the only sign that they were workmen was their matching jackets. They carried only a small backpack with a very small set of tools and began the process of figuring out what was wrong. It turns out that these were the very same plumbers who had installed the washing machine a few days before and they were shocked, simply shocked, to discover that they had failed to remove the seal from the plastic drain that connected to the discharge tube of the washing machine. Instead of replacing the unit, they simply took a pocket knife and stabbed the offending part until they had a large enough hole in it to allow water to pass through. All the while the landlady is watching this without a word, just a few Gaelic shrugs and an occasional ‘poof’ noise. Cindy and I could barely contain our giggles, but soon the job was done, handshakes were exchanged, and off they went to perform another miracle of modern plumbing.

With one ordeal behind us, we began to plan for the next: returning the rental car to the airport. On a whim, we gathered the paperwork and walked the eight blocks to the train station where all the rental car companies have their offices.  When we booked the car from Costco travel, it was made clear that it was an airport to airport rental, but working on the assumption that it never hurts to ask, that is exactly what we did. At first we were greeted with the normal, “oh, that is impossible,” but we had a great agent who decided to see if it was really impossible and lo and behold, it was NOT impossible.  He was only too happy to have us return the car to his office, but not until after 2 pm since it was their lunch hour. We were as delighted as little kids who get a surprise snow day off from school. While the trek to the airport is not difficult, I had simply had it with driving and the thought of driving it five blocks was delightful. We had a simple lunch, - goat cheese salad for Cindy and a cheese omelette for me - at a little bistro that was next to the parking garage. We had visited this bistro several times in past years but stopped going since the owners were always drunk, but it is now under new management and it was lovely to see that things are on the way up.

At precisely two we were at the rental car company, the inspection was done to make sure all was well and I was very happy I had made sure the agent in Paris noted on the form a scratch since our guy found it and would have charged us without that notation.  Soon it was all handshakes and goodbyes and smiles and we were free from the tyranny of the automobile. We knew when planning this trip that an auto would be the best transportation for us, given our various stops that were off the main train routes, and we found a great price at Costco, but in the future I’ll be more inclined to have less complicated itineraries and use the rails and planes instead of the car. When you factor in the price of fuel (about 8 dollars a gallon), tolls, parking, and stress, alternatives look much better.

We walked home and got our backpack shopping bags and headed to the grocery store for some provisions. I had already purchased flowers and vegetables at the open air market after my walk but we still needed the basics and then some since the apartment only came with salt and pepper!  I had forgotten how 44 stair steps with a forty-pound pack can make you feel your age, but once up the stairs and in the apartment I rewarded myself with my first Kir! That night we ate out again, this time at a restaurant close to our apartment that we had been to several times with mixed results. This time it was marvelous - and guess what, under new management. That meant that the first three places we ate were all under new management since last year. Talk about turnover in the hospitality business.

After only three full days, we are in our groove. We have reestablished our relationship with our cheese monger, been welcomed at our favorite bar/cafe where we go every morning for coffee and sometimes for lunch, verified that our favorite bakery still produces the best baguettes in town, and filled our refrigerator with box wines and excellent Cassis.  We are happy. Weather permitting, and it usually is, we will have lunch out and dinner in. While not the best kitchen we have had, it is manageable and I made a big batch of ratatouille that we enjoyed along with patés and a rotisserie chicken for dinner last night. After dinner we did something we seldom do, we watched a movie on my iPad, which meant sitting romantically close to one another. (The movie was The Imposters and it is a delight if you haven’t seen it.) 

We are here for another three weeks and will perhaps write a bit more as the excitement mounts!  A bientôt, Cindy and Wm

Bella Italia

We were only in Como for one overnight, which meant only one real meal. I had booked a very special off-season rate that included a dinner for two at Metropole’s excellent restaurant; however the night before our arrival I received a note that said that they were closing the restaurant and instead we would be given a credit for the missed dinner. They recommended an Osteria and having walked by it and noticed it previously, we decided to give it a go. We first had a drink in a lovely bar that wasn’t far from the hotel. Anyone who has traveled in Italy knows that if you order a drink, any drink, between five and seven, you also get an amazing amount of wonderful food. In our case Cindy had a Prosecco and I a Campari and shortly after the drinks were delivered, we were served a tray which contained a bowl of small mozzarella balls, two slices of local cheese, three types of local salami, pickles, bruschetta and a bowl of potato chips and another of peanuts.  What a feast!

Needless to say, we didn’t need an appetizer course at Osteria Gallo, despite the owner telling us we should have it since it is so special.  The Osteria did not have a menu, everything was oral - and I mean rapid fire oral - but we understood it all and Cindy ordered ravioli stuffed with pumpkin and I had spaghetti with tomatoes and prosciutto, both of which were homemade and marvelous. The rest of the meal was a bust, average chicken with potatoes and really bad wine:  How horrible, I did not finish my white!! While not a very good dinner, it was certainly more expensive than it should have been, but then we were in Como.

We spent the next three days with our dear friends of twenty years at their lovely home in the suburbs of Milan. Roberto and Maria have been working in international schools in Milan for nearly 20 years and we have tried to get together with them at least once a year, sometimes in Nice, sometime in Italy, and we always have a ball. This visit was no exception!  Roberto cooked excellent dinners and we found great spots for long, lovely lunches, and in between we would take long walks. Truly a very special time. 

Too soon it was off to Cuneo, a small town in the foothills of the Alps in the Piedmont. We knew nothing about it except that one eats well in the Piedmont, so we booked a hotel and we were off. What a magnificent place Cuneo is, physically beautiful with one of the largest public squares we have ever seen in Europe. The long pedestrian zone is filled with shops and bars, cafes and restaurants, all under arcades on either side of the street, allowing all activities to be conducted under cover in all weather conditions; simply marvelous. We did something we have never done in our travels and ate three meals in the same restaurant. The first night we ate so well and so inexpensively that we booked a table for the next night, only to find ourselves being pulled into their warm embrace for lunch also. The first night we shared a starter of grilled octopus, their warm tender tentacles served on a purée of potato and surrounded by cherry tomato halves. We washed it down with a half liter of the local Prosecco. Cindy had noticed that some of the pasta and rice dishes said that they took 20 minutes to prepare, so we figured why not and she ordered risotto ai fungi and I had trofie al pesto. Cindy’s dish was so hot that it took awhile to even try it - a very good sign - and the funghi were local and delicious. Trofie are a short twisted pasta, most popular in Genoa, and how they got the pesto to taste so fresh is beyond me. Cindy likes red wine far better than I do, and she thought the Nebbiolo from the region was over the top. I had a carafe of local white that made me very happy and when the bill was presented, I was even happier. All of the other dishes we had on subsequent meals there were of the same high quality, and the detail of preparation and presentation was remarkable.  In addition, the waiters were thoroughly charming and helpful and seemed to enjoy their jobs immensely; most refreshing and also very fun. 

The next morning Cindy went running on a path around the perimeter of the old town while I wandered around and admired the placement of this city. It is surrounded on three sides by snow covered Alps and on the fourth side it opens to a fertile plain that is best known for wine production and truffles. On Tuesdays the entire town becomes a market, with vendors selling everything from clothing, food, and chainsaws to live poultry. It was a grand party with everyone milling about and some of the older men sharing wine, while the women took breaks in outdoor cafes. The food hall was buzzing and I bought a ring of cooked sausage from a vendor, then went to a bakery for a fresh roll, and went back to the hotel and shared my tasty breakfast with Cindy.  We truly enjoyed every moment we spent in Cuneo. If it weren’t so hard to get to I’m sure we would go back, but it was time for us to head over the mountains and into Nice on what we thought would be a relaxed and scenic drive. It turned out to be the trip from Hell!  It started off well with a lovely morning drive out of Cuneo. Soon the two lane road started to go up hill and the weather turned much colder, but still dry and bright. We hit the really bad switchbacks shortly after leaving the ski town of Limone and it was slow going, at least for us being stuck behind a very un-Italian driver. Despite the snow and switchbacks, we were passed by a young Italian with a death wish. We knew there was a one-way tunnel on the route and that you might have to wait for your turn to pass through. The stupid Italian who passed us got there just before the red light and we were left sitting there for twenty-five minutes, just waiting. (I guess he wasn’t so stupid after all!)  Once though the tunnel, we encountered ever more horrible switchbacks and my enjoyment factor was decreasing rapidly.

We were finally out of the mountains and following a river which took us through lots of little villages, and I thought the worst was behind us and that the river would end at the sea and we would then turn west and on into Nice.  It was not to be!  We encountered a detour which took us up, and up and up via switchback after switchback and then down and down and down, with more switchbacks. It was a forty-five minute detour that was just miserable - and just when we thought we were home free, the traffic was stopped for an inspection by the gendarmes. They were well armed and very polite and went to each car and truck and had us open our trunks as they looked in the cars and trucks for illegal immigrants. We were very close to the Italian border city of Ventimiglia, where hundreds of immigrants are stopped from entering France. Seems there is a bit of a smuggling business and the French are having none of that, thus the inspections.

We finally arrived in Nice in time to meet our landlady and get a tour of the apartment and collect our keys. I found a convenient, albeit expensive, parking garage to deposit the car and we were finally free to take our first walk on the Promenade. The next installment will include 2 French plumbers!  Cindy and Wm

Road Trip, Part Two

Our ride to the Alsace allowed us the time to talk about our experiences in Brussels. Our overwhelming thought was, “What a dour bunch of people!” We are very accustom to entering shops or restaurants in France and Spain and Italy, greeting everyone in the building.  In Brussels, we did that and we were received with glum silence, perhaps because we were speaking French and they were more Flemish, or perhaps, they just don’t really care.  Meagan had told us that there is a concerted effort on the part of the Flemish to regain their majority and language in Belgium. Brussels, as a HQ for the EU, will always be a bilingual capital, but the rest of the country seems to want to be Flemish. We were told that the schools in the north of Belgium no longer teach French.  Seems a shame but there you have it.

Our route took us past lots of World War I monuments, battlefields, and fortifications, which I found fascinating. There was a lot of wide open spaces filled with farms and animals, all of which looked immaculate. The closer we came to Strasbourg, the worst the weather became and soon we were smack in the middle of a downpour which lasted for almost forty minutes. It was so heavy that there were times when the windshield wipers could not keep up with the rain and passing trucks, became quite the adventure. After breaking free of the squall, we were very close to our hotel and things began to look very familiar. Half timbered houses, stamp sized villages, tall spires from churches perched high on the top of the hills that lead up to the Vosges Mountains, reassured us that we had made the right decision to spend the night in Alsace.

Our hotel was in a very small village with one of everything, pharmacy, news store, bakery, butcher shop and small grocery store. The hotel served as a the cafe for the village and was a lovely place build in the style of the Alsace with lots of wood, balconies flowing with flowers, and half timbered to fit with the surrounding homes. After a warm greeting at reception, we were giving our key to the room with a voucher for two glasses of Cremant, the local sparkling wine similar to Champagne. Our room was comfortable, if rather small, but for one night it was perfect, made even more enjoyable went we saw the bottle of Cremant accompanied by a hand written note from the manger. We had intended to take a nice walk before dinner but the rain had caught up with us again and we opted to sit in the bar and drink our glasses of Cremant.

Dinner was fabulous, the food, the service, the table settings, everything was just the way it should be and made us feel like perhaps you can go home again. There is a local Alsace wine called Edelzwicker which we had not had for a very long time and is usually serve in ceramic jugs of various sizes and sure enough they had it available and certainly affordable. Cindy had some of the best seared duck liver she ever had and the portion was enormous, followed by a lovely creative salad. I had a pumpkin soup, which was served in a heated bowl and served from a silver soup tureen, which was left on the table for seconds, followed by seared duck breast with roasted root vegetable. We shared a dessert of Black Forest Cake, which Cindy declared spectacular. The cherries were dark, tart and juicy, which was a great foil to all of the bittersweet chocolate shaving that topped and surrounded the cream and cake. Quetsch eau de vie is a local specialty that is served ice cold after a rich meal. It is made from a fruit like a purple plum and is crystal clear and Cindy loved it, as I did my Armagnac and with smile on our faces, we waltzed up to our room.

The next morning was very cold, wet and windy, which limited us to a much shorter walk than we had hoped for but had the advantage of getting us on the road to Italy that much sooner. We entered Switzerland, which of course is not part of the EU, after a fifteen minute ride and got in line for an immigration/customs check, which is when we remembered that we had packed our passports in the luggage in the back of the car. Cindy displayed an amazing agility as she twisted and turned to get to my suitcase and passport.  After all of that work, we were simply waved through and entered the river city of Basel. Once out of the city Switzerland looks just like all the travel posters, chalets, neat farms, tall mountains capped in white and I swear I could smell chocolate. We stopped for gas so that I had plenty to get though tunnels and passes, and we had a chance to use our German as we inquired how to pay and where were the toilets. It seems that now in order to use a toilet at a gas station, you must insert a euro, take a receipt and use the facility. The receipt allows you to get a euro discount on something from the shop, all very time consuming and rather silly. I doubt that they get a ‘bad element’ on autoroutes, but perhaps it provides more employment since there were at least two people at each station helping folks understand the process.

In all of our planning for this trip, the words January, Switzerland, snow never appeared in the same sentence and therefore we were really surprised when we hit tons of snow at the higher elevations. Traffic was down to one lane, following two snow plows up the hill toward the Gotthard Tunnel, a ten and a half mile respite from blowing snow and slippery roads. I had hoped that at the end of the tunnel it would be sunny and clear but that was not to be. While the snow was not as heavy, it was still coming down and the road was slippery, but we were now heading downhill and with every five miles, the conditions got better and better until we were finally out of all the weather and we could see a bit of sunshine and we knew we were closing in on Italy.

Sure enough, Italy greeted us with brilliant sunshine and we were soon ensconced in our corner suite at the Metropole Suisse, right on the edge of Lake Como. The views were jaw dropping and we had a 180 degree view of the lake, hills and homes and city that make the Como area so famous and decided that the trip was well worth the hassle.