Monthly Archives: December 2011

France, French customs, Life in France

The French Post Office – a love-hate relationship

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The French post office has changed. You used to spend hours waiting in queues in dismal-looking buildings hoping that the person behind the window in front of you wouldn’t suddenly close it just before you got there. I took to buying aerogrammes (remember them?) so that I wouldn’t have to go to the PO too often. I discovered that one of the reasons for the long queues is that the post office is also a bank, which is particularly popular in rural areas where there is a post office, but not a bank, in every village. Why anyone would have a post office account in Paris is beyond my understanding.

One of the most wonderful things about the arrival of the internet was that it freed me from my bondage to the post office. Before that, I was always having to worry about meeting deadlines for my translations, rushing out in the car to catch the last post at peak hour. There was a special “emergency” room behind the main office where you could make sure that already-stamped letters got there in time or else send them by Chronopost. I had dreams of buying a house next to the post office.

Then a couple of years ago, when the post office was practically bankrupt, they changed the concept. All the buildings were revamped with white walls and floors to offset the yellow and dark blue signature colours. The windows disappeared and were replaced with open desks. Stamping machines and a self-service area were added. It has taken a while for people to get used to the new system but it has gradually become more efficient and the queues have diminished slightly.

Recently, I had to collect a registered letter. I don’t know about Australia, but in France, they send you a registered letter whenever they possibly can. This was to confirm that I had signed the promise of sale for our new home in Blois. Jean Michel had one too but we obviously couldn’t collect each other’s! There was quite a long queue in front of one counter and no one at the other counter which was labelled “registered letters”. I went up and someone came out of nowhere to serve me almost immediately. Suddenly, people started shouting at me from the other queue that I’d jumped my turn! I am usually very respectful of queues but I just acted very French and ignored them. I collected my letter and scuttled out.

The final sale of the house was brought forward by a couple of months so I had to pick up another registered letter of course. We arrived to find that the PO doesn’t open until 10 am on Saturdays. With ten minutes to spare, we went to the dry cleaner’s across the street. When we got back, there were already several people waiting in front. Once the PO was open, we were served quite quickly but the lady took ages to find the letters.

They may have revamped the inside of the post office but they haven’t changed the staff. I also asked for a prepaid box to send my Christmas presents to Australia only to learn that they’d run out of medium-size boxes. God knows how I’m going to fill the ludicrously priced big box but I can’t bear the thought of going to another post office where they probably only have big boxes anyway. Why don’t I just make my own parcel you may ask? It’s because the same weight would probably cost twice as much.

The lady then gave me TWO FORMS to accompany the box which means, obviously, that I’ll have to go back to the post office to send it once I’ve filled it. I’m going to try and find a country PO in the hope that it will be less stressful, but with Christmas coming up, I think it’s a lost cause. I’m also hoping I’ll have a friendly little corner post office in Blois but that’s not for another two and a half years.

Accommodation, Italy, Wine

My Favourite Chianti

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Just like everyone else, we fell in love with Tuscany the first time we went there together in 2003. I’d been to Florence before, staying with friends in Umbria so was already smitten. My memories of chianti, however, were associated with wine and cheese parties when I doing French at uni in Townsville. The bottles were always covered in raffia and were much cheaper than French wine and a little more “authentic” (well, at least they were European) than kegs of Australian moselle. Not that I’ve ever been to a wine and cheese party in France. I wonder if it’s an Australian invention or a more general Anglosaxon transposition of French culture.

The hillside house we were renting in Tuscany had a welcome bottle of montepulciano so we tracked down the Fattoria di Palazzo Vecchio where it was made and I managed in halting Italian to ask for a tasting and then buy 6 bottles of their excellent 1998 “Riserva”. Unfortunately we were unable to find it last time we were in Tuscany because we couldn’t remember the name, but next time we’ll do better!

The chianti is another story altogether. We’ve now been back twice. We found the address in our “Routard” guidebook,  the most popular of all French guide books alongside the Michelin. “Routard” means “backpacker” and that’s who it was geared for back in the flower power days. As the original team all got older and richer, the backpacks all but disappeared. The guides for some countries have still kept their original flavour but for Italy, for example, there are several categories:  très bon marché (very cheap), bon marché (cheap),   prix moyens (middle-of-the-road prices), un peu plus chic (a bit more chic), plus chic (more chic) and very occasionally, carrément chic (definitely chic).

 

We consulted the section on where to buy good wine and olive oil and read the blurb about the Azienda Agricola San Donatino: “From Castellina, take the road to Poggibonsi. After a little more than a kilometer, a little sign on the left indicates a dirt road down a hillside to the hamlet of San Donatino (cul-de-sac). This is where Léo Ferré lived from 1971 to 1993, in the company of his wife Maria Cristina and their three children. In his home overlooking vineyards and olive groves, the great “poet” of French songwriting continued his prodigious activity as an artist and composer. Léo often used to walk up to the isolated hill of Poggio ai Mori (the hill of love) where the land gives of its best. Whence the name of the family vintage Chianti Classico Poggio ai Mori, a sunny vivacious wine (under the sign of Picasso’s owl) that you can both taste and buy (in bottles or bulk) for a very reasonable price. The extra virgin olive oil has a fine aroma.” Would you have resisted?

The dirt road down the hillside was somewhat of a challenge and we wondered if we’d ever get the car back up again but we decided to take the chance. We rang the bell next to an anonymous-looking wooden door in a wall and a woman came and opened it. I brought out my basic Italian again and she took us inside. The view from the terrace next to the beautiful old stone house was absolutely breathtaking! We sat down and she asked in perfect French “Would you like to start with the oil or the wine ?” Well, we got on famously after that. It turned out that she was Cristina’s sister. The girls had been brought up by their immigrant parents in France but returned to the family property after Cristina met and married Leo (well, I think that’s the story anyway).

The wine was delicious, particularly their Riserva. The classico is 100% sangiovese while the Riserva, aged in oak barrels for 24 months, contains 10% cabernet sauvignon. It was also the first time we’d had an olive oil tasting. We came away with a very large stock of both plus a complimentary bottle of their sweet Diacro (45 % Trebbiano – 45 % Malvasia – 10 % Pinot Gris).

Our subsequent visits have never had the surprise and delight of the first one but the welcome is always just as friendly. It’s also a B&B though we haven’t tried it out. We already have a favourite just outside Greve in Chianti: Agriturismo Casa Nova La Ripintura. Make sure you get a room with a terrace. Spectacular views guaranteed.

Fattoria di Palazzo Vecchio
Via Terra Rossa, 5
53045,Valiano, Montepulciano
390578724170
http://www.vinonobile.it

 

 Azienda Agricola San Donatino
via Rossini, 5, 
località Fonterutoli
0577-740-522
South of Castellina in Chianti, on road N222.
http://www.sandonatino.com 

 

Agriturismo Casa Nova La Ripintura
Sandra Taccetti
Via Uzzano 30, I-50022 Greve in Chianti
Tél/fax: +39 055 853459
e-mail: casanova@greve-in-chianti.com
http://www.greve-in-chianti.com/fr/casa_nova.htm
Family, France

Reflections from a Garret

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First French home in PauThat is the very corny title I gave to the diary that I started on my arrival in France on 1st October 1975. I had a corner room on the 3rd floor of a 4-story building in Pau in the Pyrenees. Hardly a garret but I guess I’d never been higher than the upstairs of our Queensland house on stilts. It also sounded very romantic of course. It cost me 220 francs a month – about 33 euros. Unbelievable isn’t it ? Through the window, I could see “the steeple and spire of St Martin’s Church which is very beautiful”. When I saw the church again last Easter, I was most disappointed!

I’ve lived in a few places since then. After my first year as an “assistant” English teacher in a high school, I had a very short stint working in a disturbed children’s home during which I shared a very cold house with another special needs teacher. Thank goodness it didn’t last long. I was hardly prepared for the job and certainly not trained. Fortunately, I got another year as an “assistant” in Nantes and lived in a teachers’ training college. I had my own room and shared a shower and kitchen with a couple of others girls. Most of the rooms were vacant, but I don’t know why.

After that I moved to Paris with my future husband in 1977 and we rented a two-bedroom flat in Fontenay sous Bois. I can remember having the impression of “playing house”. I’d go down to the market on my moped (which eventually got stolen for the second time) and join the other housewives, trying out new fruit and vegetables. But once I started going to uni on the other side of the city and audiotyping for two translators in between classes, I didn’t feel I was pretending any more! We lived there until 1984 when I was pregnant with Black Cat and working as a freelance translator. Leonardo was 2 ½.

We bought a house just down the road and Black Cat was born there. This time there really was an attic which eventually became my office. It wasn’t a very pretty house, I must admit, but I loved the fact that it had three floors and a long garden with raspberries and a very old acacia tree. The kids had a little wooden cubby house underneath it. There were also three beautiful old rose bushes with the most divine smell and huge thorns which sometimes bothered friends with small children but no one ever pricked themselves. The first year, there were masses of tulips in the garden. We didn’t know that mowing would remove them completely. Now I know better!

When I divorced, I had to sell the house, but I found a ground-floor flat on the edge of Fontenay with a little garden and lots of trees. After we married, Relationnel and I turned the garden into a “mini Giverny” as he called it and had so many barbecues that one of the neighbours eventually complained. I think they were just jealous! We also added enormous sliding glass doors between the living room and garden to make the most of the view. I moved my office to nearby Nogent sur Marne to make room for Thoughtful and Forge Ahead who used to come and stay every second weekend and half the school holidays. Our four children got on like wildfire to our great relief. During the 27 years I lived in Fontenay, I made many friends, all of them French and I often used to drop in and visit them.

The next move was to Paris in 2004. It was a golden opportunity in more ways than one and I can’t fault the location as my windows overlook the Palais Royal gardens, but I miss my own garden and my friends. A lot of my contacts these days are by phone or email. There is no one I can actually drop in to see. And I think I went to more exhibitions and plays when I lived in Fontenay than I do now though when we first came here, we spent a lot of time in the Louvre. I do love exploring my neighbourhood and trying out new restaurants, but I’m not a shopper, to the despair of Black Cat, so having the Galeries Lafayette and Printemps around the corner is not really a bonus. I do like having Book-Off down the road though, because it has a wonderful selection of second-hand English books at one or two euros a time.

Now that we have found our dream house in Blois, I feel I have new wings. I’ll have a garden again and trees and I already have a host of new friends waiting for me whom I can drop in to see from time to time. We can still come to Paris for the day if we want to or stay overnight – it’s only 200 kilometers away.

Accommodation, France, Loire Valley

My Two Favourites B&Bs in France

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Dove cote at Le Clos Postel

It took me a long time to start using B&Bs in France. I had horrible memories of my arrival in Dublin when I first left Australia many long years ago. I went there with friends who were staying with friends and I had thought, in my innocence, that I would be staying with them too. Not so. It was back in the days without mobiles of course and I must have knocked on twenty doors between the airport and the city (I don’t really think I’m exaggerating) before I finally found a room. I must say I felt very much like Joseph and Mary. No room in the inn. I had a bedroom to myself but I shared the bathroom and toilet with the rest of the family and the other guests. It was very eerie staying in a house with people I didn’t know.

I tried out some more B&Bs in Ireland a couple of years later, but I always felt the guests were displacing the family. We would be having breakfast around the table while the kids would be talking in hushed voices in the kitchen, obviously on their best behaviour. Then a few years ago, a friend told me about a wonderful B&B she stayed in on her way to Italy each year that had a private bathroom for each of the guests which sounded much more to my liking. But I was still reticent because I didn’t want to have to interact with other people I didn’t know first thing in the morning.

Rose bower at Le Clos Postel

But in the end, we decided to give it a try five years ago on a spur-of-the-moment cycling trip to the Cotentin which is that little peninsula that sticks out into the English Channel where the D-Day boats landed. We headed for the western side which is much prettier, not far from Granville. The B&B, Le Clos Postel, was just perfect. We were in a separate building (the dove cote) from our hosts who have renovated a lovely old stone presbytery. Tastefully furnished with our own bathroom and separate toilet and a lovely view of the surrounding countryside. Our hosts, Lydie and Robert Friaux were charming, the breakfast table full of lovely surprises such as a different type of cake each day and unusual home-made jams, and the other guests were interesting and not invasive. There was even a log fire to take the chill of the morning. Guests can also use the lovely grounds with their trellised roses and herb garden. We have been back several times and tried many other B&Bs since, but Le Clos Postel remains our favourite, especially now that the bed has added comfort. We usually sleep in Angelus, but next time we’re going to try the little split-level appartment called Prélude which has a small kitchen as well.

Breakfast table at Le Moulin du Mesnil

However, we may have discovered a rival! We went down to the Loire Valley last week and stayed at Le Moulin du Mesnil, a renovated mill-house near Montrichard, recommended by an American friend living in the area. Yvonne, the English hostess, came out to greet us in the cold and took us to our lovely warm room with its separate entrance from the rest of the house. Perfect, once again, with a little entrance containing a cupboard, a table with a jug to make coffee and tea and hooks to hang up our coats (often a missing feature). Then came the bedroom, with its visible timbers and white walls and furniture. Like Le Clos Postel, the bed is very comfortable and the shower is attached to the wall! At breakfast next morning in Yvonne and Jean François’ beautiful open-plan kitchen/dining room/living room, we had a wonderful view of the extensive grounds. Fresh scones and pancakes. Need I say more? They have a log fire too. Next time we’re taking the suite across the way which has a little patio.

Now I have two favourite B&Bs!!!

Lydie and Robert Friaux
Le Clos Postel
5, 7 route d’Urville
Village d’Urville
50590 Regnéville sur Mer
02 33 07 12 38
clospostel@hotmail.com
http://www.clospostel.com
 
Yvonne and Jean-François David
Le Moulin du Mesnil
31 Chemin du Moulin du Mesnil
41400 St Georges sur Cher
France
T +33 2 54 32 22 51
M +33 6 62 57 91 75
http://www.moulindumesnil.com/en/

Australia, Wine

Frogs in the Wine Vat

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The one and only Magnetic Island

I don’t like frogs. In fact, I’m petrified of them. Strange that I should chosen to live in a country like France. But apart from the actual people, they don’t have frogs here. Not noticeable ones anyway. Not those great big slimy green ones they have under the toilet seats in Townsville. It took me years to stop lifting the lid to check for bad surprises after I left Australia. A few years ago, I was up in the North with Black Cat staying on my very favourite coral island when I discovered a frog in the toilet in the middle of the night. Well, that was the end of that night’s sleep. I had to steal out in the garden to answer the call of nature and then had to lock myself in the bedroom until morning soI could get a neighbour to come and get rid of it. Black Cat was of no help of course. She goes into hysterics if she sees a spider. When I came home late at night as a teenager, I’d have to wake up my father to come and shoo the frogs and cane toads off the steps so I could get in. He tried teaching me to stamp my feet to frighten them but it didn’t always work. And those cane toads are even worse.

Hunter Valley Vineyards

Now what has this got to do with wine vats, you may ask. Well, on the same trip, after Relationnel had joined me (I treated myself to a whole six weeks in Australia during Black Cat’s exchange year), we visited the Hunter Valley. Friends living there, who also have their own vines, took us along to the Capercaillie Vineyards where they had tracked down a French-speaking winemaker from the New Hebrides. Relationnel, whose English is not exactly fluent, was delighted and so was I as it gave me a rest from have to interpret all the time. Our young winemaker obviously loved to have an audience and regaled us with a wealth of harveting tales. According to him, he opened the vat one day to find a pair of eyes glinting back at him. A frog had been thrown in with the grapes.

Every time I drank that wine, I tried not to think of the frogs.

Capercaillie Vineyards, Hunter Valley

http://www.capercailliewine.com.au/
Food

My Foie Gras

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The idea of making my own foie gras came to me when I went to a party and the hostess had made her own. It was just the way I like it – mouth-melting. So when Relationnel came home from work one day and said that the Comité d’entreprise* had a special offer for a foie gras cooking class with l’Atelier des Chefs we jumped at the chance! I got off the plane from a exhausting week teaching technical translation in Chennai in India, dropped my luggage and headed over to the Atelier, a little groggy with jet lag.

They told us not to take notes, that we’d be given full instructions to go home with us. That was a mistake – it’s taken us about 5 years to fill in the gaps and get it right so this post is definitely a scoop! It was all very fun and interesting though and we got to taste the chef’s foie gras at the end and take home our own creations which lived up to expectations. I’m going to try and describe the process, but I’m not convinced you can really do it without having some sort of demonstration. So I suggest you watch this video by L’Atelier des Chefs even though it’s in French. The second part shows how to cover the foie gras with chocolate, but that’s not in my recipe!

The result mainly depends on the quality of the foie gras itself. A couple of years ago, we bought some Eastern European foie gras on the market – much cheaper – but were very disappointed with the results. Now we ask for “high quality foie gras” from the south west of France at the butcher’s on Rue Montorgueil. It usually weighs 500 to 700 grams. The one I bought this time was 500 grams and cost 30 euros. The same foie gras (mi-cuit) bought from the traiteur costs 110 to 120 euros a kilo, so making your own is definitely more economical.

It needs to be cooked at least 5 days before you eat it and you need one or two days to make it. The first thing you do is to soak the whole foie gras in a mixture of ½ litre of milk and 10 grams of coarse salt with enough water to cover. You leave it in the fridge overnight or at ambient temperature for 1 ½ hours if you’re pushed for time. Cover the top of the foie gras with greaseproof paper to stop it drying out and take it out about an hour before you use it.

Next day, you get everything ready beforehand because once you’ve got your hands in the foie gras, it’s like having them in butter, only worse. The seasoning is important and very precise : 8 grams per 500 grams of foie gras, consisting of 7 grams of fine salt, ½ gram of freshly-ground pepper and ½ gram of 5-spice mixture (cinnamom, cloves, star anis, fennel and brown peppercorns). Since few people have scales with that type of precision, it’s a good idea to make up a bigger batch and keep it in a screw-top jar. Measure out the 8 grams and put it into a small cup with a coffee spoon.

Another thing is keeping your hands and the foie gras cold enough. Relationnel (who likes very sophisticated cooking equipment) has a very handy marble plaque that is perfect. You just put it in the fridge for a couple of hours beforehand (this means taking everything off one shelf of course …) or on the balcony if it’s cold enough. You then moisten it slightly and cover with a sheet of greaseproof paper or cling-film (if you feel brave enough) as it makes the foie gras easier to handle and faciltates cleaning up afterwards.  Of course, any other flat surface works as well!

You then measure out the white port wine (3 deciliters) into a small cup and add a coffee spoon. Put some iced water into a bowl to dip your fingers in when the foie gras gets too slippery. You can also turn off the heating in the kitchen which I invariably forget to do. Put the terrine (or a small aluminium tray) on the table next to you together with a few pieces of paper towel (to clean your iPhone when you drop it on top of the foie gras you’re trying to photograph) and a sharp pointed knife. Now you’re ready to go!

Place the foie gras on the greaseproof paper. Gently separate the two lobes. One is much bigger than the other. Gently open up the big lobe lengthways, sort of running your finger along it. You’ll see a large Y-shaped vein which you have to remove without breaking it. Now the idea is to knead the foie gras underneath to release the vein, lifting the vein very gently with a knife but not cutting it. The foie gras gets completely mashed in the process but that’s normal. After you remove the first vein, you’ll find a second, larger one, underneath. Repeat the process. The second lobe also has two veins, but they are star-shaped this time.

Once the veins have been removed, gather up all the bits and pieces of foie gras and put them back on the lobes. Sprinkle about half the seasoning evenly over the two lobes, then dissolve with about half the port wine. Put the two lobes together like a sandwich then put into the terrine or aluminium tray after sprinkling some more of the seasoning on the bottom. The terrine should be just big enough to take the foie gras. Push down on the top to remove any air, then sprinkle with the rest of the seasoning and port wine. It always seems like a lot to me but it really is just the right amount.

Now is what I consider to be the most delicate part – the cooking. The important thing is getting the core at just the right temperature (the sides are always hotter). You place the terrine or aluminium tray in a larger tray and fill with water and cook for 20 to 25 minutes at 150°C. You can use a thermometer to check when it gets to 37°C (body temperature) but also a skewer, which is less precise of course because you have to judge the temperature yourself. After taking it out the oven you place a press on top (you can make this with a thick piece of cardboard covered in alfoil) and leave at ambient temperature for about 30 minutes. The fat will congeal on top and preserve the foie gras. We then wrap it all in cling wrap to keep it airtight.

Enjoy!

Recipe: 
One 500 g lobe of foie gras 
7 g salt
1/2 g of freshly ground pepper
1/2 g of five spices
3 centiliters of white port wine
Cooking time: 150°C for 20 to 25 minutes.
 

*Companies with over 50 employees in France have to set up a « works committee » with staff representatives and pay a subsidy at least equal to 0.2% of the wages bill. Depending on the size of the company, employees can then benefit from various lurks and perks such as reductions on holiday accommodation, wine-tasting courses and cooking classes!

L’Atelier des Chefs: http://www.atelierdeschefs.fr/

France, Wine

Le Nez du Vin

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One of my greatest frustrations during our 4-part introduction to wine-tasting many years ago was my inability to identify all the “noses” that the other participants seemed to have constantly … on the tip of their tongues. “Blackberry, most definitely”, they’d say, or “bilberry – reminds me of my grandmother’s tarts”, “morello cherry – just like home-made cherry brandy”, “wild violets – you can smell the undergrowth”, “hawthorn – shades of country lanes”. “Mmmm …”, I’d say, trying desperately to memorise the elusive scent.

Although I’ve now been living in France for over 30 years, my childhood in the Australian tropics did not prepare me in any way for the subtleties of berries and flowers from temperate climes. The next spring, during our long country walks, Relationnel would invite me to smell the blossoms along the way: hawthorn, wild cherry and apple blossoms. I gradually began to enrich my olfactory memory and was delighted when I, too, could identify what the French usually lump together as “fleurs blanches” or “white flowers”. When the summer came, I seized every opportunity to smell all the different berries available on the market. But having to wait until the season came around again made the learning process a little slow.

During the wine-tasting classes, our instructors used to pass around tiny numbered phials of “noses”, part of a collection of 54 different concentrated aromas called “Le Nez du Vin” with an explanatory card for each “nose”. Since the full collection was rather expensive, we started with a smaller set of the 12 most common aromas found in bordeaux wines: strawberry, raspberry, black currant, blackberry, cherry, violet, green pepper, truffle, liquorice, vanilla, pepper and smoke (!).

It didn’t take long for us to learn them off by heart and it became our best party trick. One day, we tried them out on my daughter’s friend who was born and bred in the country and I was most reassured to see that she had even more trouble than me putting a name to what she could smell.

Of course, when we started tasting white wines, I came into my own: citrus fruits, pineapple, banana and lychee were far more familiar to me than wild berries of course. I’ve become quite an expert at picking up the “banana” aroma intentionally cultivated in “beaujolais nouveau”. Contrary to popular belief, most French people probably know less about wine today than Australians do. When beaujolais nouveau hits the cafés and restaurants on the third Thursday of November the question is always “does it smell of banana or strawberry this year?” Since people expect one or the other and love being able to get it right, the winemakers often adapt the wine-making process to produce isomyle acetate which is the molecule that gives a banana its characteristic smell.

Then one November, at the wine producers’ fair at Porte de Versailles in Paris, we didn’t like any of the wine we tasted so decided to splurge and buy the whole set of “noses”. The box is divided into citrus fruit, exotic fruit, seeded fruit, red berries, black berries, pitted fruit, nuts, floral aromas, vegetables, mushrooms, wood, herbs, spices, animal aromas and roasted aromas. Of course, the concentrated phials are only a reminder of the real thing, and what you can smell in the wine is something else again. Fifty-four aromas, however, are taking much longer to get our noses around!

But I can now identify most of the berries and flowers with a reasonable success rate, often confirmed by the experts at our regular wine tastings. And I can tell you, having the whole set is a much better party trick!

Le Nez du Vin: http://www.lenez.com/en/index.htm

French customs, Lifestyle

Beds I Have Known

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I’ve already told you about my obsession with showers. I’m probably just as obsessed, if not more obsessed, with beds. Not as easy to do something about though. I don’t think I’ve always been this fussy. It’s probably developed with age.

The worst are the ones that sag in the middle, particularly when there are two of you. Now this shouldn’t be a problem – it’s not when you’re young anyway. That’s why I think age has something to do with it. Inner spring mattresses are often the culprit here. They can also cause hard lumps, particularly if they happen to be the beds you jumped on as a child.

Bed in a hotel in Innsbruck

I have horrible memories of terrible beds in French hotels and rental homes in the past. They’ve improved considerably over the years, partly because we can afford to stay in more expensive accommodation, I assume, but also because hotel owners and Gîtes de France have now realised that foreigners (like me!) don’t like awful beds. We’ve never had the problem in the Netherlands, Germany, Austria , Luxembourg or Switzerland  because double beds always consist of two single beds joined together. They even have separate covers most of the time, usually dooners. Now, I think that is very strange. There is something I don’t understand. I still haven’t worked out the logistics. How do you sleep at night (and otherwise use the bed) with two separate mattresses and two separate covers? In Italy, you usually have a double bed which is rightly called a « letto matrimonial » and is generally comfortable. The country hasn’t gained its reputation as the land of the Latin lover for nothing.

Speaking of dooners, that is something I have a problem with as well. When I first moved to France, I loved them. I bought a very expensive one made of goose and duck down and used it for years. Then I guess I got used to the cooler weather so that now, even when the heating is not very high, I absolutely roast with a dooner and have gone back to using a woollen blanket. However, dooners have become standard equipment in rental homes so we usually take our own!

In the last place we lived, we had a small bedroom so we had a small bed (140 cm). When we moved into Paris though, we decided to get a BIG bed, meaning a queen size. However, I didn’t realise it would have two separate bases joined together, nor that that would pose a problem. However, instead of sagging in the middle, it gradually developed a hump in the centre which forced us to sleep on the outer edges. Now the reason for the two bases is that it is otherwise impossible to get a queen size bed up to the fourth floor without a lift. This, it seems, is a recurring problem in Paris.

We eventually decided to get a new bed and went to a local store. The salesperson said we could claim on our warranty and get the other one replaced. I hadn’t thought of that! So we went to back to the original shop and organised to have the mattress replaced. I was relieved because despite my obsession with good beds, I find it nearly impossible to lie down on a bed in a shop and decide if it’s the right mattress or not. Some are very treacherous. You think they’re fine and they turn out to be too hard or too soft. And it’s a bit difficult to take them back. What’s that saying? If you make your own bed, you must lie in it?

Angelus at Le Clos Postel

Since we’ve been going to B&Bs, which have really upgraded in the last ten years in more ways than one, we haven’t had any more bed problems. Our first and all-time-favourite B&B in the Cotentin in Normandy, Le Clos Postel, has the most wonderful bed imaginable. First, the bed itself is not too hard and not too soft. Then it has this luxurious down cover between the mattress and the sheet that doesn’t generates just the right amount of warmth and is oh so soft.  I couldn’t wait to have one myself so we got all the details from our hostess Lydie. Now we have one of our own and that, together with our electric blanket in winter, makes our bed the best place in the world to be!

B&B Le Clos Postel : http://www.clospostel.com/, though it is probably a big mistake sharing the link because if you all take my adivce, there will never be any room for us!
Croatia, Cycling

Cycling in Croatia

6 Comments

When I first talked to Relationnel about cycling in Croatia, he was most dubious. It’s full of mountains. But in the end, he agreed and we started organising the trip. I love cycling when I travel because I think you go at just the right pace. You aren’t stuck with the other tourists in the town centre and you’re able to experience places you wouldn’t get to in a car. You ride through the suburbs and out into the countryside. You see into people’s back yards and can observe them in their everyday lives. One of the things I noticed most in Croatia, for example, was that you always saw older people with babies and small children in their arms. You rarely see that in France. Babies are usually in prams.

Our first cycling experience in Croatia was perfect. We had found a very handy appartment on the western side of Split, with a cycle path along the road leading directly to Marjan Hill which is on a peninsula and closed to cars. The first, very easy circuit around the hill took us past breathtaking views of the coast. We had stupidly not taken our swimsuits so couldn’t cool off in the many little inlets like the Croatians for whom it was obviously a popular family outing. When we completed the circle we saw a second path leading further up the hill. We looked at each other and decided the view would be worth the effort. It was a long hard steady climb but I actually made it without having to get off my bike. There was a marvellous lookout up the top which literally gave us a 360° view.  We made the most of it with our trusty binoculars. The ride was only 20 K but took longer than we expected. We arrived back in Split as the sun was setting.

No possibility of cycling in Dubrovnik, although it was one of our favourite venues, but Zadar would have been perfect if I hadn’t picked up the famous turista from eating suspect prawns in Dubrovnik. The paths around the spectacular lakes and waterfalls at Plitvicka were not accessible to bikes so we walked. I definitely recommend going in the morning. While I was still recovering from my turista, Relationnel did the lower lakes, by far the most beautiful, in 2 hours in single file in the late afternoon. When I decided to make up for lost time two days later, we started at 10 am and  it only took a little over an hour! The site is quite magical and the colours unbelievable.

The next stop was the peninsula of Istria. There was a cycling route around our hotel but it didn’t look very interesting so we found another circuit outside Pula with its magnificent amphitheatre. We started out at the Marina and tried to follow the signs but it was not always easy. There were often steep hills and lots of stones. But the views were certainly worth it. There are very few beaches in Croatia but they have lots of little “landings” everywhere so that you can get in and out the water. During the ride, I had spied what looked like a beach but was really like an amphitheatre with the steps going down into the water so we came back by car after our siesta to have a late afternoon swim, wearing the special shoes we’d bought the day before to stop your feet getting cut on the rocks. Afterwards we sat and watched everyone pack up and leave. The whole “beach” was covered with deck chairs that all had to be put away and chained together. There were even two changing tents that were folded up and stored in the bar across the road.

Then we went on to Slovenia, but that’s another story that I’ve already told.

Apartman Riva
Branimirova Obala 6
SPLIT
+385 (0)98 937 0942
apartman.riva@gmail.com
Antonela Cmrlec
 
Matko Jelic
Zvijezdiceva
DUBROVNIK
www.apartmentsdubrovnik.com
matko@apartmentsdubrovnik.com
 
Apartmani Lipa
Plitvice Selo 62
PLITVICKA JEZERA
Stanislav Mihinjac
385(0)53 891 0386
385(0)98 389 492 (mobile)
 
Croatia, French customs

Showers I Have Known

8 Comments

I’m very fussy about my shower. First,  I want to be able to attach it to the wall. Now if you think that’s a strange thing to say, it’s because you haven’t been to France.  Or you’ve only stayed at my place or in four-star hotels. The first time I ever came across a hand-held shower, I was mystified. Particularly since it was attached to a bath without a curtain or a partition. I can remember taking the kids on beach holidays and having to demonstrate how to have a shower bath without flooding the bathroom at the same time. Not that they ever really managed. I thought that Relationnel, being French, would have the technique. Not so. If we stay in a hotel or a gîte without a curtain, I make sure I have my shower first.

While we’re on the subject of curtains and partitions, that is something else I am fussy about.  I can remember being in Greece many long years ago where my accommodation was fairly basic. There was usually a very large shower room but no shower cubicle or curtain, just a shower (attached to the ceiling though). As there was nothing else in the room (except my towel and dry clothes), it didn’t matter all that much. I found a large plastic bag to put everything in and hang on the hook (when there was one) or put on the floor in the opposite corner (when there wasn’t).

In the first house I bought in France, there was a bathroom with a sunken shower tray, a shower attached to the wall, a wash basin, a bidet and a toilet. But no curtain or partition.  I finally asked the daughter of the house why the shower was completely open. She said that it was her mother’s way of getting them all to clean the bathroom. Hmm. I immediately bought a curtain rail and a curtain. I’m not keen on those glass cubicles. They may be fine in a hot country but when you’re having your shower in a cooler country, particularly during heating season, they’re perfect while you’re in there. But when you turn off the shower and step out, wow!  The cold air massively hits you.  Curtains do not have that drawback. They’re also easier to clean. Just buy the nylon ones and put them in the washing machine every couple of weeks.

Next, the water temperature has to be right, which means that anywhere else except North Queensland in summer, I want it to be hot.  Not lukewarm or, even worse, what the French call a Scottish shower (douche écossaise) – scalding one minute and freezing the next. Why Scottish, you wouldn’t know and even my French expression reference site doesn’t know the origin. Seems it might refer to some sort of hydrotherapy they used to use there. Not my scene.

After that I want pressure. This is something you can’t always do anything about. It depends on the water tower. I don’t remember seeing water towers in Australia but they’re all over the place here, sometimes very plain, sometimes just ugly, sometimes decorated with fresques and sometimes used for advertising. There’s one in Le Crotoy in Normandy, for example, that has a beach and hot air balloon painted on it. They pump the water up to the top and then let it go and the pressure acquired on the way down is what provides the pressure at the tap. I think that’s ingenious. It’s called a “château d’eau”, what’s more. If you google “chateau d’eau” images, you’ll find the most amazing collection.

Now it’s no good having hot water and good pressure if the shower head is clogged up. This happens when the water is hard, meaning it has a lot of lime in it. I remember my sister used to unclog the holes with a pin when we used to go the Island on holidays as children. My obsession with showers obviously goes back a long way. But there is a much more effective way. You soak it in ordinary vinegar. We always take a bottle away with us (when we’re travelling by car of course). As soon as we get there, Relationnel cuts off the top of the plastic bottle and sticks the shower head in it for a few hours. You have to be able to unhook the shower of course. It’s miraculous. A perfect, even shower.

I was very interested to see the showers in Croatia in the flats we rented this summer. They were all the same. A stand-alone cubicle with sliding curved glass doors (it was hot enough not to be blasted with cold air when you got out). The only problem with the bathrooms there is that none of them have towel racks. Or hooks for that matter. It was in Dubrovnik that we finally discovered what we were supposed to do with our wet towels (I still don’t know where you put them while you’re having your shower). One day, we were out and the owner dropped by to take a folding bed out of the flat. When we got back, our towels were nowhere to be seen. Then we found them. He had hung them out the window on the lines overhanging the mediaeval street below. Different countries, different customs.

What is your experience of showers ?

 

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