Giverny, France

Giverny, 4 October 2013

Many years ago, Cindy and I were traveling in the area where we are now, NW of Paris, and Cindy wanted to go to the home of Claude Monet to visit the gardens that he made so famous with all of his paintings.  When we got there I noticed that they charged an admission fee, and being the jerk that I was then, I said we could make better use of the money than visiting a museum.  I pulled over near the gardens and we got out to see what we could see from the road.  I even lifted Cindy up so she could get a better view.  I have since been known as the King of Cheapskates, a title that I don’t cherish.  (From CC: He has made up for this many times over.)

As we were planning this trip I decided to do the right thing and we therefore were up and out early one morning from the hotel and heading to the Musée de Claude Monet.  We parked and walked INTO the museum, paying the full price for tickets.  I felt vindicated!  It was an incredible experience, one that I highly recommend to anyone who might be visiting the Paris area.  I have never seen such beautiful gardens anywhere.  Every place you looked was different and breathtaking.  We toured his home, which is light and airy and filled with his works.  His work area was mostly windows providing exceptional views to various aspects of the gardens. I loved the dining room, which was painted bright yellow with a long table in the middle that seated fourteen.  Beyond that was a beautiful blue kitchen with one wall that was lined with copper pots and pans, and there was an enormous wood-burning oven that could be used to cook banquets for dozens. Another side of the kitchen was covered with windows, again looking out onto the gardens.

We spent the next hour or so wandering the gardens including the pond with the famous lilies and just enjoying the sheer beauty of the place.  There was an abundance of flowers - many of them annuals that were very familiar to us including cosmos, dahlias, and snapdragons – plus many that looked very exotic.  Turns out that Monet did most of the planting and maintenance of these gardens, although given his prolific output of art, I don’t see how he had the time.  I particularly loved the groves of bamboo and the canals that surround and feed the pond of lilies. Because of the time of year, the gardens were not crowded – just a few busloads of Chinese tourists who practically ran though the gardens since they couldn’t smoke there, and a smattering of American high school kids on tour. There were times when we felt we had a portion of the garden to ourselves and we cherished those few moments.

Mentally and spiritually refreshed, we left the museum/gardens in search of lunch in the small town of Vernon.  As you can see from the clip, it is simply a beautiful little village, just large enough to have lots of amenities but small enough for a one-hour tour by foot.  That done, we selected a small bistro and had a lovely lunch before heading back to our hotel for a well deserved nap.

That evening our hotel had a jazz duo playing during dinner and I think they played every Beatle song ever recorded.  We had a very light dinner and lingered over cognac long enough to listen to some of the music of the second set, which was far more interesting.  We actually got to bed early since we had a long trip the next morning to Honfleur.  We’ll report more on that later.   Cindy and Wm

Arrival in France

France

The crystal clear air of the west coast of France was the first thing we noticed upon exiting the Chunnel.  I’m not much for tunnels and it appeared that the trip thus far had been almost nothing but tunnels, so bright sunshine was a welcome relief. We arrived at Gare du Nord right on time, stopping not with the belching of steam from the huge engine, but rather a whimper as the big electric engines shut down.

There are six major rail stations in Paris and two of them, Gare du Nord and Gare de l’Est, compete for being the worst in France. Whereas there are some stations such as the Gare de Lyon that are attractions unto themselves and draw lots of tourists and locals with their architecture, restaurants, bars and shops, Gare du Nord encourages those arriving to get out of the terminal just as fast as possible.  And thus it was upon our arrival: Instead of a slow walk to enjoy the arrival, most of the passengers reacted like cockroaches insulted by bright light and scampering for the nearest exits. We resisted and decided a strong coffee before our drive would be a good thing.  It was not. The coffee was horrid - served by two Chinese ladies who didn’t care for their jobs - we were accosted twice in three minutes by gypsies and bums, and were only too happy to make our way down to the rental car counter and the relative peace and protection it offered from the action on the main level.

Renting a car in any country is always fraught with anxiety and mystery.  You are never quite sure what you are signing, what your eventual bill will really be, and how much money they will ‘hold’ on your credit card until you return the car.  We managed all the paperwork and headed to the designated elevator to go down six levels for the vehicle.  We were grateful for the elevator since we had luggage to deal with, and yet they found a way to have a set of stairs that had to be negotiated when we exited the elevator.  We inspected the car for damage as best we could in the dank gloom of a poorly lit basement that had the distinct odor of urine before driving up the seven levels to daylight. 

Cindy is an excellent navigator and had things that she could control, under control.  While it was only 3:30 pm, there was so much traffic that I was never able to get out of second gear for the forty-five minutes it took us to drive two miles to reach the ring road around Paris.  From there the sailing was much easier if not a bit more thrilling as I tried to react and anticipate the French driver, something I doubt I’ll ever master.

Our destination was a hotel /restaurant I had discovered on the Internet which looked lovely and I was able to get a really decent rate for the room.  It took us about an hour and a half after getting on the fast road, the Seine River guiding us on our right.  The hotel, Domaine de la Corniche, was exactly what we needed to get us back into all things French. It is an old, well-maintained manor house that sits high above the Seine.  Our room was petite to say the least, but had a large window overlooking the river. We had to make appointments with one another as to when we wanted to cross the room or use the bathroom, it was that small, but the bed was firm and there was much to do outside the bedroom. 

We dressed for dinner and went to the lovely old bar at 7:30 for a glass of ice cold Champagne, which was accompanied by a little tray with three tiny mouthfuls for each of us.  One was a quail yoke, lightly cooked and sprinkled with paprika, the other a small warm cheese tart and the third a small spoon filled with a puree of smoked fish and tuna crouton.  Things were starting to look wonderful.  We reverted to our old ways of eating in France when the dollar was worth something and we ordered the full set menu, washed down with a bottle of white Burgundy, St. Bris, and a half bottle of chilled Beaujolais Village.  I’ll not bore you with details other than to say that the chef was really creative and the presentations were as delightful as the taste of the various courses.  We ended with some Remy Martin cognac in the bar and toddled off to bed.  During the meal my stomach was questioning every course and became very confused when the food kept coming.  We have been almost abstemious in our eating over the past four months, getting fit and trim, but the allure of a traditional French dinner did me in.  I suffered the next day for a few hours before we were able to burn most of the meal off, but oh my, it was well worth it!  Cindy did not seem to suffer these ills and claims she paced herself.  Tomorrow it is off to Giverny!  Cindy and Wm

London Journey

Jolly Old England

We are ending our three days in England, which have really flown by.  We started the trip on Sunday with a flight from Dulles to Heathrow.  We were on Virgin Atlantic in what they call Premium Economy.  It is certainly better than Economy, with 38" of pitch and 21" wide seats, but Business Class it is not.  The crew was wonderful:  We gave out our normal See's lollipops, and they were only too happy to get us some real Premium drinks from Upper Class, which made the flight much more enjoyable. They also brought us a few glasses of real Champagne, not the sparkling wine they serve in Premium Economy. Somehow Virgin has decided to go retro with their Champagne glasses and they are the old wide shallow glasses, supposedly modeled on Marie Antoinette’s left breast. (Remember I’m a wine historian!)

We landed at seven am, still dark, and after getting some coffee and snacks; we took the Heathrow Connect train to Paddington Station and then a taxi to the Marriott at Maida Vale. We have stayed here before and really enjoy the walking that you can do from here. We are close to Regent Park, which is gloriously blooming with late roses and butterfly friendly plants.  The staff here was only too happy to speed up the cleaning of a room for us and we were able to get into a room and cleaned up by 11am.  We took a long walk and found a marvelous 150-year-old pub, The Warrington, which has one of the most beautiful bars I've ever seen. Our waiter was a young man from Italy so we hit it off and had a traditional pub lunch with wine instead of beer or cider.  We walked home and hit the pillows for a well-deserved 90-minute nap, which was spot.

We took another long wake up walk around the ’hood and then back to dress for dinner at the lovely restaurant here at the hotel.  The food was really marvelous and just what we needed before a long sleep.  I think that I know why there is such a great deal of unemployment in England.  They seem to only hire young kids from other countries to handle all of their hospitality slots.  We have met Italians, Romanians, Lithuanians, Russians, Spaniards and Middle Easterners, but only one waiter has been from England. 

On Tuesday we did the cultural tour, which included two visits to the museum at the Royal Academy of Music and a lovely piano trio recital in one of the halls of the Academy.  A long and languid walk through Regent’s Park followed by a very light lunch at a bistro we found between the park and the hotel followed that.  Truly a lovely day in London.

Today was an adventure with public transportation as we meandered around London enroute to the Borough Market, which is the oldest food market in London. It is fast against the Thames River and filled with all the vegetables, fruits, cheeses, seafood and meats you can imagine. We wandered about for an hour or so before taking a long walk along the river and yet another pub lunch followed by yet another long walk.  There is a definite theme here. Next to the Market is the Southwark Cathedral, which has been around in one form or another since 606AD. It was fun to wander around the interior where everyone you ever heard of in England either worshipped or just hung out.

We took the Tube home to Maida Vale and walked around looking for a place for dinner.  We found a spot we had never noticed - it has only been there for twenty years - and walked in at 8 pm without a reservation since we hadn’t been anyplace in the neighborhood that even took reservations.  They did find a table for us and oh my what a table.  Imagine a stage set for a Venetian Palace, with Arabic balconies and Victorian scrollwork, and that will give you a bit of a clue as to this place.  We were led up a very narrow flight of stairs that let to one table for four people high above the restaurant.  Across from us was another balcony with seating for eight and to my left a balcony for four on the other side of the small restaurant (all four corners had a ceiling alcove like ours). The wait staff certainly had their work cut out for them with all the climbing up and down, but the food was good, the wine was reasonable and I felt like we had dinner and a show.

On Thursday morning it was off to St. Pancras International to get our Eurostar through the Chunnel. On our last visit to London, Cindy and I went to the old St. Pancras Train Station and marveled at how beautifully restored it was and how magnificent it must have been to begin or end a journey at the station. Back then we wandered up to the grand Champagne Bar and had a lovely glass of bubbly while watching the folks across the elevated tracks boarding trains for romantic destinations.  We decided then and there that on our next trip to London we would take the train to Paris.  Well the train to Paris goes from an entirely different, but very close, location. Once in the international station we had to clear immigration and security, and the next thing I knew we were in this large rather soulless waiting area. There was no elegant Champagne Bar, just a Café Nero with paper cups and long lines.  There were no elegantly dressed people mingling about but rather rude Brits who smelled rather bad.  Cindy and I had dressed for the occasion and I did look a bit out of place with my jacket and tie, but everyone must have thought I was just the agent for the beautiful model who was accompanying me to Paris for Fashion Week.

The train itself was a bit of a disappointment.  Anyone who has seen the first Mission Impossible with Tom Cruise will remember many scenes on the Eurostar.  Those scenes were taken in First Class, not in Standard, which is where we were seated.  It is typical two by two seating and very much like coach on an airplane with very little legroom, but rather comfy seats for the 2.5-hour trip. The train was rather full for a mid-day Thursday and it departed and arrived right on time. As we started to move I realized that we were riding backwards, which I really despise, but there was no option.  The trip out of London towards the channel seems to be nothing but a series of tunnels punctuated by industrial blight. Prior to entering the Chunnel we went to the snack car and got a sandwich, sparkling wine and French white; I was bound and determined to make this special.  Soon we entered the Chunnel where the twenty-minute ride was remarkably smooth. Once out of the Chunnel we were in the French countryside and everything seemed right with the world.

More on France later.  Cindy and Wm

Summer's End

Today marks a bittersweet event.  I have not been on a commercial flight for sixty-five days!  That hasn’t happened since 1980, so I really must be retired.  I must say that a part of me really misses the travel. I tend to forget all the hassles and misery that I know was a big part of my traveling days, but I remember with great fondness some of the really swell flights and my mind tricks me into thinking that all of my flights were like the few good ones.  I’ll extend my record until the 29^th of September when we’ll finally begin our autumn travels in earnest.  Note from Cindy:  I can verify his faulty memory on travel issues!  To Wm’s credit, he only remembers good things and when we travel he is suddenly surprised by all the hassles.  Luckily I am good at listening, comforting, and rolling my eyes, so we get through it pretty well.

Most of the summer has been spent right here in beautiful Charles Town.  Overall it hasn’t been a really bad summer. We had only a few weeks of truly miserable weather but that’s over now, and today is a day that is so beautiful it makes me sad that I’m watching football instead of being outside playing football!

We have spent the summer tilling the land.  Cindy has done the bulk of the gardening and the grounds of the estate reflex the superwoman effort she has applied to the task.  There are flowers everywhere and because of the beauty and variety we have been visited by lots of hummingbirds, bees, butterflies and small colorful songbirds.  We have an abundance of tomatoes, all different varieties and colors, as well as some decent peppers, one eggplant, tons of herbs - and after the first frost we’ll gather our crop of sweet potatoes.  I’ve maintained the lawns and trimmed the trees, which are now already in the early stages of turning color.

From Cindy:  He undersells himself – the lawn looks great and he has spent countless hours helping me with the posies.

We have tried to have one day a week that we call Anything Can Happen Day, just like the Mickey Mouse Club. While it isn’t always on a Wednesday, we do try to keep the spirit of surprise and make last minute decisions to do something out of the ordinary. This has given us a chance to see a bit more of our immediate surroundings, which has proved to be not only fun, but also educational.  We have had some summer guests whom we have taken to places we haven’t been so that has been an additional inducement to “get out of Dodge” for a day’s trip.  Our most recent adventure was simply lunch in nearby Shepherdstown where there is a relatively new French bistro that is very good.  This was our second visit so we believe that they’re always good and our first visit wasn’t a fluke; if any of you visit we can take you there with confidence.

Last week we took a two-day mini-vacation to Fredericksburg, VA just to see what it was all about. Our friend Tom told us it had the best frozen custard joint, which was also on the national register, so we went. It has a very old central core with well-maintained buildings and lots of historical placards, mostly about the Civil War.  Neither of us is a big fan of the Civil War so that part had no appeal, but a river runs through it and you just have to love towns that have a river running though them.  There are tons of B&Bs but I’m not a big fan of them since every one we have ever stayed in is big on letting their cats and dogs rule and I am definitely not an animal lover. Instead we dusted off some points from Marriott and stayed right downtown in a modern, well air-conditioned building with a strict no-pet policy. 

The first order of business for us was to scout the place out and find a good place for dinner.  We enjoyed walking around the little town, which is a funny combination of town and gown; the University of Mary Washington is there.  It looked to us like a typical university town, with a new generation of hippies wandering around with instruments and glazed eyes and professors with earnest expressions, grey ponytails and tablets tucked tidily into their LL Bean daypacks. There were the normal stores that cater to both tourist and student; one of the best was a tattoo parlor called simply, “Sorry Mom Tattoos”.   The place was like a little bitty Portland Oregon. The first night at dinner before we ordered we were told about a substitution, which left us speechless: “Tonight we are out of the Mizuna lettuce and are substituting Glenburnie Farm lettuce.”  Oh dear, what to do?  It hardly mattered to us.  Later we had a good laugh with our waiter, who had a wonderful sense of humor, when I asked about an item on the menu that promised to contain only Amish eggs. I asked when chickens got religion and he said with a straight face, “Oh, the chickens wear little bonnets.”  It was that kind of place and the food was really spectacular.

After dinner we wandered a bit before heading back to the hotel, which was jumping. It was the first game of the NFL season and they were offering lots of snacks and discounted drinks and there were TVs everywhere.  We found a quiet booth and as we ordered a drink Cindy noticed that our server had a Luthier’s tattoo (an elongated “S” shape).  He was very impressed that Cindy knew what it was; I just amazed that Luther had a tattoo!  She patiently explained to me that a luthier makes stringed instruments, and they continued their conversation about his experience in luthier school where he had made 18 violins, 1 viola, and 1 cello - while I contemplated the drinks menu.  It was a fun evening and we were happy we came.

The next morning after our long walk we decided that perhaps it was a one-day town and thought about going somewhere else, but we really couldn’t think of where to go so we decided to stay and see more of the sights.  We thought it would be a good idea to walk over to George Washington’s boyhood home, just on the other side of the river.  On paper, this was a stellar idea:  Combine some nice walking with a bit of history and be back in time for lunch.  The walk turned out to be a bit more like a marathon.  Once we crossed the river we ran out of sidewalks and had to walk on the side of the back road, which wasn’t that bad until we ran out of back road and ended up on a highway with no sidewalks.  The temperature had now hit 90 and the humidity was quite high, but we slogged on taking comfort from some of the signs on the side of the busy road that advertised things like The Greek House of Pizza, The House of Jumbo Shrimp and Grits, and a MacDonald’s that was made to look like an old colonial house.

Some stuff you just can't make up!

We finally got to George Washington’s Boyhood Home only to find out that it was just the grounds of his boyhood home and they wanted $17 big ones for each of us to walk though.  We demurred and decided to go back to our hotel via another bridge a bit further up the road.  Tourist maps do a very horrible job of scale. What appeared on the map to be just a tad up the busy road was really much farther, and then what we thought might be a quaint bridge did not have a sidewalk.  So here are the Embees walking across a very large bridge with six lanes of traffic going 60 miles an hour, which accounted for the only breeze as the temperature now went well into the 90’s.  We were miserable and practically jogged the last half mile to get back to someplace with a sidewalk.

We treated ourselves to a very lovely long lunch followed by an equally lovely and long nap, thus refreshed for our dinner.  We had made reservations at a place that is supposed to be the best in town.  The joint was jumping when we got there, a testament I thought to the quality of the food and the fact that it had just reopened after a short summer interlude to remodel.  We were shown to our table and we were pleased that we had reserved since the restaurant was full.  Our waiter gave us menus and then decided to play Houdini and disappear!  We waited and waited and after about twenty minutes with not so much as a glass of water - not to mention wine - someone appeared to take our order. Since we had had so much time to look at the menu we knew what we wanted and listened with interest as the waiter informed us that the two things we really wanted weren’t available, despite the restaurant just having opened. Additionally the wines we wanted weren’t available so we decided to make ourselves unavailable and we simply walked out.  We usually can make the best out of any situation but it was clear to us that this wasn’t a really good restaurant so we went right back to the place where we ate the night before and had a splendid meal.  

With best wishes,  Cindy and Wm