Blow’d up good, blow’d up real good

We had an early breakfast—as early as you can have it, it starts at nine; the Germans were leaving, four hour drive to Frankfurt, pretty sweet. Mild but overcast.  Drove south to Cluny, meandering along a two lane highway through farms and forest.  Passed over a mountain on the way, fog and rain, but at Read More

Monday not so good

Closed for the season Chateau (maison de garde at the dam) in decline, Lac des Settons We had a wonderful, lively breakfast, one UK couple regaling us with stories about friends of theirs who were caught in the Eurostar tunnel fiasco last winter, and another telling us of the zoning nightmare trying to renovate a Read More

His name was Ken

It was January at 8 AM: a mere five degrees!  Had communal breakfast upstairs; four Germans, two Belgians, two Anglos from Kent.  We were the first out of the B&B, on our way quite far north to Vezelay.  It was a day of major navigation, many side roads, ox-cart width, some u-turns, map confusion and Read More

Alors, le moving

For Heather     The medieval church at Fontenay       The “grand” garden   The cloister   The barnlike room is the monks’ dormitory         It actually works! Woke up to rain!  Checked out Saturday AM from LR, drove south to Beaune then northwest to Saulieu, where it was chilly Read More

Je m’appelle Jean Cluny

Suffering from severe malnutrition, SS begins to shrink. Et voici mon ami Anne.  For those who remember.  And for those who do, that’s about the extent of my French these days. The sun took several hours to cut through the haze today, which, along with a bitter wind in the AM left us seeing our Read More

Honeyed note on the nose. (Pass the Kleenex.)

Yet another wonderful day.  Country still on strike, running out of petrol (may be stuck here?), dollar in a tailspin, but sunny and lovely and crisply autumn in Burgundy. We had the most mediocre in-room continental then an early start to Rocheport.  The road west rolled through vineyards, farms with pastured Charolais cattle, quaint villages, Read More

What if Rikki lost the number?

Steely Dan never told us but it would be something like me forgetting the Michelin map I purchased specifically so we could navigate the tricky side roads and myriad diversions of Burgundy and have to wing instead.  It would be my navigator forgetting his glasses and unable to see road signs.  It would be myriad Read More

Crisis on the Continent

It started out nicely, up early, a crisp sunny autumn day, check out, cab up to St. Pancras, Eurostar to Paris.  Last time I took Eurostar it was from Waterloo, a charming station but without the guts for a powerhouse like ES; it was like having a po-mo reno on a prized Victorian relic. The Read More

Piccadilly Whip

  SS tries to make his way into the Tate Modern Another nice day.  And they call it London. We took coffee in a St. James Cafe Nero which used to be the rectory of a church, then tubed to Canary Wharf.  SS had a vision of a UK version of, say, Toronto’s Distillery District; Read More

Don’t be alarmed ladies and gentlemen. Those chains are made of stainless steel.

We were standing on Bond Street across the street from the Opera Gallery where there was a giant sculpture of an ape, think King Kong not Gorillas in the Mist, ten feet tall six feet wide.  It was, excuse the pun, hugely engrossing.  We crossed to take a closer look.  Despite looking like solid steel, Read More

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