Tag Archives: Blois

Three More Reasons to Live in Blois

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There we were, two Aussies, a Southern Californian and two Frogs, standing in a street in Blois, talking ten to the dozen in French and English, just opposite a beautiful Renaissance building called Hôtel d’Alluye built in 1508. Next to us, there was this street sweeper with one of those plastic birch brooms they have here. And he started telling us, in basic English at first, then in French once he saw we all understood, about the history and architecture of the building. He really knew his stuff! So friendly and hospitable!

The owner was Florimond Robertet and he was the treasurer for three kings – Charles VIII, whose emblem was the blazing sword, Louis XII with his porcupine and François Ier symbolised by the salamander. Behind the façade is a courtyard with Italian-style galleries. We’ll visit it next time.

We had just come from lunch at L’Appart’ Thé, which is a double play on words. Appart’ is short for “appartement“, “thé” means “tea” and combined, you have “aparté” which means a private conversation. And that’s exactly what it is, an appartment converted into a very cosy place to have lunch, brunch, morning or afternoon tea. When you walk inside, the American-style kitchen is right in front of you and there are lots of comfy chairs and tables inside and out. Since there were six of us, we had a table upstairs.

If I remember correctly, the dishes on the slate perched on the fireplace included veal stew, lentils and duck fillets and zucchini and goat’s cheese quiche, all at about 9.50 euros. The wine list was written on a bottle label and we could choose wine by the glass. We mainly went for local cheverny which comes in red and white. The white is mainly sauvignon with sometimes a bit of chardonnay or menu pineau and the red is gamay and pinot noir.

I’m not sure what the others had for desert (maybe they can help me out!), but I had a very delicious café gourmand for 6 euros with panna cotta, moelleux au chocolat with French custard, a raisin biscuit called a palet solognot which is a speciality of Chambord, a cupcake, a piece of “cake” which is a French version of fruit cake and a heart-shaped shortbread biscuit. After that, we were ready to face the cold!

Our next stop was Troc de l’Île, a dépot-vente on the outskirts of Blois which, despite the cold –  there’s no heating in these enormous places – was great fun. We came away with an antique oak wardrobe, matching bed and bedside tables, a sideboard and a very large wicker basket to put the firewood in. Not to mention very cold feet and hands from lashing it all onto the trailer in the Siberian wind.

When we got it all to the new house, where the current owners are providing storage for all this new furniture and other bits and pieces until we sign on March 16th, there was lovely hot tea – and palets solognots – waiting for us! And that night, we went back to stay at one of our two favourite B&Bs in France – Le Moulin du Mesnil.

 
Hôtel Alluye 8 Rue Saint-Honoré 41000 Blois 
L’Appart’ thé, 12-14 rue Basse, 41000 Blois, 02 54 74 26 73
Troc de l’île 144bis avenue de Châteaudun, 41000 Blois, open 10 am to 12 noon and 2 pm to 7 pm
 
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Me and My Tom Tom

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How come I don’t understand what my Tom Tom’s telling me to do? I bought one a few years ago for Relationnel but I’ve hardly ever used it. Now that we live in the middle of Paris, I rarely drive because it’s mostly just as fast to take the metro or the bus inside the city and when we go into the country, Relationnel always takes the wheel. I’d much rather look at the scenary or talk to Black Cat or snooze. So I’m used to hearing the Tom Tom but not to following the  instructions.

I practically turned round in circles in the 16th arrondissement the other day trying to understand where I was supposed to be going and yesterday, when I was going to the sales at Usine Center in the north of Paris, I overshot the turnoff completely. Relationnel tells me I should be watching the screen as well. But I have to confess it doesn’t really help! Maybe it’s just a question of practice. I certainly hope so because once we start going down to Blois more often I’ll be driving to a lot more in places I don’t know, not like in Paris where I can usually navigate pretty well, even around Place de l’Etoile.

In French, they call it a “GPS” but I noticed when some friends friends came over from Australia recently, they called it a Tom Tom. I must say it’s extremely useful when we travel to other countries. I can remember some terrible arguments in Italy especially when I didn’t manage to direct us where we should, one of the main reasons being that Relationnel follows his sense of direction which doesn’t work too well when there are one-way streets. I remember one horrendous day in Pisa when the river kept getting in the way.

But now that he’s got the Tom Tom to talk back to, I don’t have to navigate any more. “Faites demi-tour dès que possible” it says imperiously (I’ve got the voice down to a pat) when we’re going in the opposite direction. “Vous êtes arrivé” (with the liaison and all) when we reach our destination. “Tournez immédiatement à gauche. Tournez à gauche. Tournez à gauche!” in desperation when you’re about to miss the turn. The trouble is I miss it anyway. The voice sounds so real that we start explaining what we’re doing! “Hang on. We need to get petrol.” or “We’re going to the supermarket first” (me) or “That couldn’t possibly be right” or “No way. I’m not taking that direction” (Relationnel).

We tried using a man’s voice but neither of us liked it. I’ll let you look for the psychology behind that.

I could try putting it in English I suppose. Maybe I would understand better.  Do you have problems with your Tom Tom?

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Captain Cook and the French Revolution

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I’ve been reading Hough’s biography of Captain Cook and thinking about what Townsvillean said when I told him we’d bought a house in Blois built in 1584: “Your house is about twice as old as my nation!”.

 

One of the amazing things to me about Cook is that he didn’t know he had discovered Australia. I find it very hard to understand how someone with such intimate knowledge of map making could have sailed up 4,000 kilometers of unknown coastline and still not realised he had discovered Terra Australis. He even sailed past Magnetic Island, my very favourite coral island, calling it that because his compass went haywire. But he made two other voyages in an endeavour (unintended pun) to find the Great Southern Land, but to no avail. Instead, he got killed in a skirmish in Hawaii in 1779 at the age of 50. He’d been at sea for nearly three years.

He first sighted Australia in 1770 as we all know. The first convicts arrived in 1788 and a mottley crowd they were.  It was survival of the fittest. The First Fleet consisted of 11 ships  carrying about 1400 people and it took 8 months to get there.  They lost about 70 on the way.   A little over half of the first settlers were convicts.

Now what was happening in France at the time?

1770. Mild winter. Cool spring. Heat-shrivelled wheat in May and June. Catastrophic harvest. A hailstorm of exceptional violence that devasted all the cereal crops from the Loire to the Rhine on 13th July. Drought in the south. An early wine harvest. Some authors believed that the disastrous weather spurred on the French Revolution which took place the next year.

We all know the story of Marie-Antoinette who, when she heard there was no more bread for the poor, replied « Then give them cake! » It was actually brioche which is just as naive and very indictive of the great gulf that separated the people who had just set foot on Australian soil from the ruling classes. In France, a bloody revolution and a guillotine were needed to break the bonds of servitude, which meant brains and education. In Australia, a more native cunning was needed to survive combined with perseverance and endurance.

The effects of the French Revolution didn’t last long. Just ten years later, Napoleon was First Consul and in 1804, he became Emperor. There was no longer royal blood in power but you could hardly call it democratic.  In 1804 in Australia, Irish convicts launched the Castle Hill Rebellion. 51 were punished and 9 hanged. In the same year, the settlement that was later to become Hobart was founded at Sullivan’s Cove.

1815 saw the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo and the start of a constitutional monarchy  but it was not exactly plain sailing. In Australia, the road over the Blue Mountains, first crossed in 1813 by Lawson, Blaxland and Wentworth, was completed to the Macquarie River.  1848 saw the proclamation of the second republic in France and the beginning of the Second Empire with Napoleon III.  Meanwhile, back in Australia, that was the year Ludwig Leichhardt the explorer disappeared on the Darling Downs.

The French empire  finally came to an end in 1870. In the same year, Western Australia, Victoria, Queensland, New South Wales and South Australia each adopted its own flag. On 1st January 1901, Australia became a nation. Queen Victoria, also the Queen of Australia died on 22nd January after 64 years on the throne. By 1908 women had the vote in every State. Would you believe that French women didn’t enjoy that basic right until 1944!

France then suffered horrendous losses, both in lives and heritage during two world wars. Australia also lost many lives particularly in proportion to its population. It gets me terribly upset to see the aftermath of war in France, where whole villages and towns were completely wiped out and were rebuilt as quickly as possible to house the remaining population. This is particularly obvious in some parts of Normandy and Brittany.

Since then, both countries have forged ahead with far more similar paths. I wonder what present-day characteristics of the French and the Australians can be attributed to these different events in history.

Captain James Cook: A Biography by Richard Alexander Hough (W.W. Norton & Company, 1997)

Three Reasons to Live in Blois

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Having lived in the city of light for many years now, I’ve become immune to the general attitude of Parisians so it comes as a surprise when people act differently outside the capital. We were in Blois for a few days last week and had three encounters that reinforced our decision to move there in three years time.

It was Monday and most places were closed. We had lunch then set out to find a cybercafé to continue our house hunting. Every address on my iPhone turned out to be closed. A chef was smoking a cigarette outside a little restaurant called Au Coin d’Table so Relationnel tipped his Akubra and asked whether he knew of an internet café that was open. “No, I’m not from here, I’m sorry. I’ll ask the boss”. The boss came out and he repeated the question. “No worries (well, he didn’t quite say that because he was talking French), I have a computer behind the counter. Come in and use it.” Relationnal explained that we needed to do some research that could take a bit of time. “No problem. I’ll bring my laptop down. Is a Mac OK ?”. So he set us up and the waitress brought us a coffee each.

I heard her talking to the last straggler and saying they usually closed around 3 pm, so we wound up our search and turned off the Mac. Then we thanked the boss and asked how much we owed. “Nothing. You only had a coffee.” We protested, but he said, “I’m from the North”. (Northerners in France are reputed as being more friendly and it’s true. You’ll remember I’m a northerner too). So Relationnel gave the waitress a 5-euro note and off we went to find a real estate agent open.

And then we really scored! Our first viewing was a beautiful stone renaissance house built in 1584. A little bigger than we intended, a little more expensive than we had budgeted for, a little bit early (by 2 ½ years!) but it was love at first sight for both of us. Perfectly located, wonderfully restored, with a little house next to it just waiting to be renovated for use as a gîte and for friends and family. There’s even wisteria and a holly bush with red berries.

Later on, completely subjugated by the house, we parked in the middle of the city and I was going over to get a ticket from the parking meter. A lady pulled up next to us and explained that we didn’t have to pay because we were in a special “20 minute” zone. All we needed was a “blue disk”. She told us we could get the disk from the police station. She insisted that we didn’t need and ticket and could just leave a note with the time of arrival on the windscreen. As we were walking along, we saw two mounted policewomen (mounted on bikes that is) so we asked where the police station was so we could get a blue disk. “It just so happens I have one in my saddle bag.” So now, we are all set to go. Free 20 minute parking in Blois. Next time we’re there, we’ll definitely be eating at “Au Coin d’Table”!

Au Coin d’Table, 9, rue Henri Drussy 41000 BLOIS Tél : 02 54 74 20 20
12 to 2.30 and 7 pm to 11 pm. Closed Tuesday and Wednesday.
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