Chambery

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

I set off for the Alps again today.  I have getting to the train station down to a science.  There's a short cut through the giant shopping mall that I use coming and going.  I always make sure to arrive at the station in good time because I need to get my tickets and the wait in line can be uncertain.  I don't understand how or why it takes some people forty-five minutes to buy a ticket.  Most of the SNCF counter folk speak a little English, so that helps, but I know how to ask for the kind of ticket I want in French if need be.
I had a very pleasant day out.  I do have to confess to disappointment with the scenery on the way to Chambery after the landscape on the way to Annecy.  We passed mile after mile of industrial parks and Courbousiervilles.  Ugly.  I saw some nice rivers and fertile fields, but nothing especially alpine.  A common crop is maize.  I have not seen many vineyards.  I'm guessing they are north of here in Beaujolais land.
At length we arrived in Chambery.  Fortunately the Tourist Information Office was well sign posted and easy to get to because the directions I got from google maps were---odd.  I was instructed to cross a non existent pedestrian footbridge for example.  But I got a nice map of the town and set off to explore.
There are no great historical sights in Chambery. It's just a pretty town.  Like Annecy Chambery is proud of its heritage as part of Savoy.  This was especially evident today in the number of Italian grocery stores in Chambery, as Savoy although French speaking, was once a possession of the Kings of Sardinia-Piedmont.
There are some nice old churches and a castle.  The latter was closed, but I peeked in.  Almost all of the historic center is pedestrianized.  Annecy has a more beautiful setting, but as it happens I liked Chambery better as a city.  The streets and places are wider, and it has a more open feel.  It was also much less of a tourist carnival.  The buildings are elegant, and almost around every corner stands a statue or a fountain or both.
In addition there are some really old narrow streets and covered passages winding through walls of stone buildings something I find irresistible--lots of fun in late summer.  I am guessing that they would be pretty bleak in winter.
Also the public toilets are free.  Sometimes this matters!
Dinner is left overs.  I don't have much time left in Lyon, so I am enjoying the last of the foie gras de canard.  It's so good!  I have some sparkling wine to go with it, and then I will eat the rest of the pastilla.  I looked it up on the internet and the non-meat part of the filling is ground almonds.  No wonder it tasted so rich.  And almonds are so healthful.  I am sure they make up for all the sugar in this dish.
A demain.

Sunday in Lyon

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

I had a low key Sunday, or as we French say, Dimanche but got in plenty of walking, which I needed to do after yesterday.  After my leisurely breakfast of Pain Polaine liberally spread with hummus, I went out and first replenished my supply of euros from the BNP Paribus atm.  This particular bank is one of my bank's foreign partners.  I had an unpleasant time this summer watching the dollar/euro exchange rate deteriorate, so I am happy not to be paying additional transaction fees.  Moreover, the animation on the atm is super cute, which helps with the exchange rate pain.
Then I attended the local flea market set up in the place in front of the Mairie of the sixth? arondissement.  If you say Mairie then you get mayorie, which helps to explain city government.  I also mailed some post cards.  Then I set out for the park Tete d'Or, which is a brisk twenty minute straight shot from my home.
When I am abroad, I observe and follow the local rules of road crossing.  When last in Paris I was a hardened and shameless jay walker, and the deal is very similar in Lyon, except we pedestrians congregate at the crosswalks.  Even if it says "no walk" if there are no vehicles coming we feel free to cross.  Some brave souls cross anyway, but they are better at judging on coming traffic than I am.
Parc Tete d'Or is big--I mean really big, and I saw a lot of it I had not before, and I still did not cover the whole thing.  I found the velodrome for example, and some other recreational areas. The place strongly reminds me of Kew because there are extensive botanical gardens with green houses and planted beds of different habitats.  I wondered how the managed to maintain the Southwestern desert (complete with cacti) in this damp climate.
Since it was Sunday I shared the paths with many joggers and some bikers.
I was rude to some geese. They honked loudly and clearly recognized the woman who had come to feed them because they flocked towards her.  "Foie gras," I whispered as they crossed my path flapping and honking.
I came upon the station and tracks of a petite train.  Now this is something I am incapable of resisting, but alas today it was not running!  I walked along the tracks and listened, but instead of a real train there was a kind of Disneyland tram going along the regular roads.  Meh.
I went back to the park because I craved green.  The lush and varied green of the Rhone-Alps region of France feeds a deep hunger in my soul for green vegetation, something not widely available at home.
I Always carry a packet of tissues with me.  Always.  Because at the park I availed myself of the free and clean automated toilets, but the automation does not include refilling the toilet paper containers.  This is a common situation. Be prepared.
I came back via Les Halles de Paul Bocuse, which was in full spate on a Sunday afternoon.  It was packed with a combo of locals and tourists, and was crowded and crazy.  A lot of folks were there for oysters since it's the beginning of the season, and the shuckers were working non-stop.
I chose to get some fancy and expensive mezze.
Reverting to the Mediterranean Diet, Pil?
Well, I have missed some aspects of it. My digestion is too fragile for most foreign fruits and vegetables, so I've been indulging in saturated fat. But today I feasted on some nice dolma filled with rice followed by some really good falafel!  They can be dry.  This wasn't.  I followed up with a sort of  deep fried tacquito looking thing called brik.  Mine had spicy vegetables.  Mmm.  Crisp.  Tasty.
But let's move on to the main course. I have for a while been intrigued by a North African dish called Pastilla, but it looked far too complicated for me to try to make at home. It involves pastry . . . so.  But I got one filled with chicken.  To  accompany it I have some rather watery rose, but I am not in a position to complain too much since it's AOC, and I did not pay much for it.
The deal with Pastilla is that like many North African dishes it combines sweet with meat.  This is good!  It's not something I'd eat very often, but I sure am enjoying it now.  The pastry is like filo dough.  Apart from the chicken I can't tell what the filling is.  Couscous maybe.  Anyway it's awfully good.
A demain

Nothing Personal

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

I felt under the weather today, something that is most unusual for me on trips or in my life in general. Maybe this has to do with being older?  But the last time it happened was twenty years ago so maybe not. I've had a nap so I feel better.  I did manage to take the trash out and do some recycling.
I also have some thoughts.  I mentioned the transport police yesterday, and I also noticed some heavily harmed French Military at the station in Lyon--very heavily armored and armed.  It was not until I thought about it this morning until I connected it with the terrorist attack in London.
I do not ever worry about terrorism although I recognize the reality of it.  It just doesn't stop me from going where I want to go or doing what I want to do, and I observe that the Europeans just carry on normally, which is the appropriate response.
I have some observations on Lyon.  When I was in Paris a few year ago I was a shameless jay walker. The rule in Lyon is as follows.  There are traffic lights and walk don't walk lights, but if there is no on coming traffic, feel free to walk.  Just be aware of the bike lanes and on coming bikes, which are common here.
There are beggars who seem to be ubiquitous in Europe.  Most appear to be able bodied men whom I suspect are alcoholics or drug addicts unwilling to become part of the social support system universal in the European Union.
I am so French in my ability to blow off solicitors or beggars.  For the former a snappy statement in English, "I am a tourist, or  I am on vacation," works wonders.  Employ it as needed in whatever country you are in.  The Boy Scouts were very disapproving though.
But then there was that old woman making her painful way down Rue Victor Hugo with a cane--all bent over and bandaged--no one to take care of her.  I saw she carried a paper cup, so I gave her some money whispering--"There for but the Grace of God and Fosamax go I."
I am returning to London--fearlessly--in under a week.  There's security of course.  It exists here in Lyon.  Visitors are expected to open their bags upon entry to museums.  Not a big deal.  Sometimes one walks through metal detectors.  Still not a big deal.
People have told me they and their families have altered plans to visit Europe or other parts of the world because they fear terrorism, and I find that heart breaking because that's that the terrorists want.  I have never NEVER felt unsafe in Europe.  And sometimes I do feel unsafe at home in the United States.
Public venues such as museums or tourist offices want to keep track of the origins of visitors, so I am always asked--as it is clear either from my atrocious accent or my preference for English that I am a foreign visitor.  "Les E'tat Unis." is what I say.  The United States--because America is a geographic expression, and as an historian I refer to the actual nation.  The United States is the name of my country, and I am not ashamed to state it, and no one here has ever raised an eyebrow or curled a lip.  Or mentioned you know who or given me any attitude other than complete respect and courtesy.
Don't be afraid to travel.  Get your passports and save your money and come here or anywhere you want.  The world will welcome you. I promise.
A demain.

Annecy

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

The storm blew over and we had a brilliant late summer day.  It was a good time to visit the Alps.  The term alp seems to be from an Indo-European root meaning shiny.  I did not in fact see any shiny snow capped peaks, but I had a great day out.
Annecy makes a long day trip from Lyon.  The train ride is two hours which is pretty much my limit for day trips.  SNCF offered a bus option.  I did not chose it.
The Rhone area is flat, but after we passed our first stop Amberieu, the country grew hilly and then I spotted granite cliffs.  The train began to climb through canyons of steep granite walls with swiftly flowing rivers and intriguing looking villages.  A lot of the ride was spectacular.  The track runs right beside blue gray Lake Bourget for quite a while on the way to Aix les Bains.  After our stop there we climbed some more and at length fetched up at Annecy.
What a lovely place! Of course I almost immediately got lost when leaving the train station because of a combination of confusing google map directions and misleading signs, but I eventually made my way to Tourist Information where I obtained a map and instructions from a young man so charming, I wanted to bring him back with me.
Annecy has a lake also called Annecy, and that is where I headed first to stroll along the shore.  Of course a lot of other people had the same idea. Annecy is very touristy, but I think none the worse for it.  Boats offer tours of the lake, or people who know how to sail can rent boats.  I just walked along.
Then I explored the old town.  There are a lot of wonderful pedestrianized streets, covered passage ways, arcades, bridges, parks, and fountains.  I poked around the historic sights, but mostly I just wandered around and licked windows.
Something happened on the train back, but since my French is limited to Bonjour, I have no idea what it was.  The transit police showed up in our carriage, and folks they are Serious and Armed to the Teeth.  There was a lot of talking, but as far as I can tell no one was taken into custody.
Dinner is something simple because I got back later.  I pulled out my Pain Polaine and spread one slice with Cervelle de Canut and cut another slice in half with one half rillettes and the other Pont L'Eveque.  The wine is some cheapo--ahem--thrifty rose I pulled off the shelf that is actually rather good.  It's made from the grapes of Bordeaux and bears a AOC designation.

Art of the Apero

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

It's positively stormy today, so I did not go far afield.  The most exciting thing I did was go to the big grocery store in the basement of Monoprix at the giant mall.  Monoprix is the French Target, and a very useful store to know about.

If you ever wondered why Europeans go food shopping so often as do I when in Europe the answer is simple, and no it's not the love of fresh, fresh food.  Refrigerators are small even in houses.  The big double door fridges are virtually unknown for domestic use.  In apartments they are small ones like mine that don't hold much.  Moreover for stores in town, there are no parking lots, so it's not like home where I can wheel my shopping cart out to my car and load up.  In fact most grocery stores in town don't have shopping carts.  You can pick up a carry basket or a wheelie basket.  And just like now in California, one is expected to bring a bag--or you can buy one.  The customer also bags the goods herself.

People walk or take public transportation so carrying a lot of stuff at once is just not practical.  Stores do deliver though, and if you want a more American Experience you can always go to the HyperMarket Centers on the edges of cities.  They have big parking lots and McDonalds, too!

But since I am sitting around this afternoon instead of touristing, I thought I'd do an apero. 

Because this blog aims at being educational, I will explain the concept which is pretty much Pan Continental European.  It's generally a social occasion and can take place at a home or cafe.  My readers are my company.  Relax. It's all casual.  We'll have a little alcohol and some snacks before dinner.  The French normally don't drink cocktails unless they are out to eat and drink.

There are specific drinks designated as aperitifs, but wine will do.  Some French like whiskey.  I'm sipping some Cremant, which is the non Champagne sparking wine of France.  And some nicely spiced green and black olives makes a good accompaniment to the drink.  If you want to be fancy have pate, or a little sausage, some spreads, or high end chips.  More substantial offerings are an apero dinatoire meant to serve as the evening meal.

The French do not serve cheese before dinner--because what's the point of that?  Cheese comes after the meal bien sur.  But if you ever invite me, please be assured that I hold no such prejudice and will gladly eat cheese whenever it's offered.

I am having some Cervelle de Canut, and if you want to try it it looks pretty easy to make.  Get a container of fromage blanc or cream frais or even ricotta, and add minced garlic, and chopped up parsley and chives.  The French like a pinch of tarragon and olive oil, vinegar and salt to taste.  It should be fairly loose and spreadable.  Let it sit in the fridge for several hours for the flavors to blend, but serve at close to room temperature.  It should have a definite tang. If you pour a glass of wine and call it apero, I won't tell.

A demain.

Rest Day--But with Food

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

I wanted to give myself an easy day today, but since the activities would not be exciting, I wanted the food to be.  Besides, I can't help but notice that when there's some reference to food in the blog title my reader count goes up.  I am not blaming anyone for that.  As I've said before, I know my audience.
Today was a lot of walking around and some shopping.  I began by attending Les Halles de Paul Bocuse to obtain some nice comestibles.  We shall discuss my purchases one by one, but if you are offended by foie gras skip the next paragraph.
Because foie gras de canard with truffle bits is my apero along with some sparkling wine from the Loire Valley.  Foie gras is best served lightly chilled on a slice of good bread.  Sparking wine--Champagne for the deep pocketed--is a traditional accompaniment, but also a sweet white or even a dry white would do.  Not red wine, ok?  Or beer.  A dry cidre would work.  Oooh.  So rich and creamy.  Just the fois gras would have an almost nutty taste of liver--umani?--the truffle bits add something I cannot describe except to say it's definitely vegetal, but not at all mushroomy. They also add to the price!
One very characteristic product of Lyon is quenelles, which may take some explaining.  They are a sort of rich dumpling affair with meat or fish, or sometimes mushrooms that are very popular in some regions of France. I got Quenelles de Brochet, which is made with pike perch mushed into a paste and then mixed with cream, flour and sometimes egg.
Uh.  How are you going to eat these?
Poached. Yes I had to cook them, and I got some crayfish butter to put on them, too.
But, Pil, how did you know how to cook them?  This isn't your usual fare.
Well, I can follow the instructions on the box the nice lady at the counter put my quenelles in, and failing that--you do know you can find Anything On the Internet. I don't have an appropriate wine to go with them, but you can always try a crisp white wine from the Loire Valley where Quenelles de Brochet are also popular. I had two quenelles which I thought was a good portion.
Ready for a bite?  They smell slightly fishy.   Mmm.  Very mild and dumpling like. It probably needs a stronger sauce, but it's still good.  Yes, a nice dry wine would set this up very nicely.  I like these.
Now in French fashion I am going to have some cheese after dinner.  Pont L'Eveque is a cows milk cheese from Normandy, and the cute young cheese monger was especially enthusiastic about it.  I don't know if it was because he was instructed to push it or if he recognized a true cheese lover in me.  The cheese is semi soft and has a rather stubborn rind.  Rinds apparently are edible, and some people like them. I trim them off, but I don't get upset if the rind is not perfectly removed. The truth is in the eating.  To give it every chance, said cheese is served on Pain Polaine with a nice dry red wine, which as far as I can tell is an AOP from the Auvergene-Rhones-Alps.  In other words something fairly local.
This is good!  I would call Pont L'Eveque, a medium strong cheese.  It's got that definite earthy Norman taste, I happen to like, and the cheese and wine pair very well together.
My last purchase was some cream because ugh! my skin was so dry and getting flaky.
Flaky.  Pil, somehow that's so appropriate.
Bleah. Is the water in Lyon?  My advanced age?  French skin care products are widely available in the United States. I got a kind that isn't, but I can read simple French so I think it's ok.

Bourg-en-Bresse

Bon Jour Mes Amies,

I forgot to report yesterday that I came across a google car doing street level photography.  If you look up Place Bellecour in Lyon you might be able to spot me walking along.
Ok.  So this is why I hate busses.  Trains have stations and run on rails and there's a reasonable expectation that they will arrive and leave on time.  Not so with busses.  SNCF is increasingly in the bus rather than railway business, so I'll probably be taking a lot of their busses this trip.  The bus runs from the train station--in my case Part Dieu to the train station in Bourg-en-Bresse.  The trip out went smoothly.
I enjoyed looking at the countryside.  This part of France is gorgeous.  I found it just as green and lush as Normandy, and I like to see farms and small towns and all.  We arrived in Bourg a bit late, but no big deal.
I set off.  It's a pretty down and easy to get around.  I got a cordial welcome at Tourist Information where I picked up a map and got directions.  Bourg is known for two things.  One is the region's famous high end chickens, which are beloved of top chefs and discriminating eaters.  The chickens bear an AOC designation, and I have seen them at Les Halles de Paul Boucuse.  Ahem.  They come with their heads and feet attached.  I'd spring for one that was cooked, but I have no chicken cooking facilities here.
The other thing Bourg is known for is the magnificent Monastere Royal de Brou, the Royal Monastery (actually a convent) founded by Margaret of Austria the daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor.  In large part the foundation is a tribute to her third husband Philibert of Savoy.  Margaret was much married.  Her first husband was Charles VIII of France who threw her over for Anne of Brittany, but that's ok because then she was married to the Infante Juan of Castile and Aragon only he died.  She seems to have been happy with Philibert, and this part of France was evidently part of Savoy back in the day.
The building is exceptionally well preserved without any clunky restoration.  I was utterly enchanted by the Early Modern stone carving and wood carvings.  There's quite a bit of the original stained glass with tributes to Margaret's family and also the Bourbons.  Margaret and Philibert are buried there, and their tombs are elaborate and most beautiful. I am not sure Dijon or the rest of Burgundy has anything better.  The church was just incredible.
I also enjoyed the cloisters and the other parts of the convent that were open.  The place doubles as Bourg's fine art museum, but apart from some Late Medieval items, I was not impressed with the collection.  What was fun was a "virtual reality" experience.  A nice French woman outfitted me with  goggles and showed me how to press the button.  Whoa Ho!  The original look of the rooms suddenly appeared.  "Incroyable," I croaked pretty much exhausting my French.
The Royal Monastery is a fair hike from the city center, but I made my way back in a leisurely way so I could get the bus back.  It showed on the departures board, but no bus appeared and the notice of departure disappeared all of a sudden.  What?
Well, fine. There are worse things to do than hang out in Bourg-en-Bresse until the next bus was to depart.  I showed up when it was supposed to arrive.  It didn't.  Well of course, it finally did come because I got home all right.
One thing I noticed about the French folk of this region in Lyon and the other places I've visited.  They are far more willing to make eye contact and share a joke or a companionable feeling with a look or a smile.  That's a rather nice contrast to the closed in Parisians.
Dinner is very simple this evening.  I have Pain Polaine--google it if you don't know what I'm talking about one slice spread with some Cervelle de Canuts and the other with Rillettes de Poulet.  Rillettes are usually made with pork but any meat will do. The meat is cooked down and shredded to a paste and then covered with a layer of fat to preserve the meat.  It's a very traditional country dish.  With it we have some cheapo red wine which is not bad but not as successful a purchase as my previous one.
A demain