Christmas Market: Lille

Christmas market season is officially underway. Mulled wine, cookies, cakes and breads, and seasonal decorations galore will be available for purchase and for filling one with the holiday spirit in cities all over Europe from now until after the New Year. I decided early on that as long as I had a home base in Brussels I might as well make a point to visit as many such markets as I could. Who knows when or if I will ever be so strategically placed again? And really, who can turn down multiple tastings of mulled wine and cookies? So began my quest for Christmas overload. First stop: Lille, France.

Lille is an easy 30 minute Eurostar ride away from Brussels. A former industrial center that is known for being a bit rough around the edges, the city has worked hard in recent years to clean up its image. While Lille has what is quite possibly the ugliest cathedral in all of Europe (what happened to this thing?), it also has a nice old town and a lot of high-end shopping. We found the Christmas market in the Place Charles de Gaulle lined with little wooden stands and bustling with shoppers. A good mix of Christmas decorations, gift possibilities and edible treats abounded. Between me and my friend we bought an amber ring, a sterling silver ring, a colorful star-shaped paper lantern, a sign for the kitchen that says la cuisine, and an enormous warm beignet stuffed with whipped cream that didn’t last very long in our hungry hands.

I went to the Lille Christmas market hoping to return to Brussels bearing Christmasy stuff for my apartment. A few ornaments for my little store-bought Charlie Brown Christmas tree, an advent calendar and maybe a hand-carved nativity scene if I found just the right one. But we came home with none of those things. There just wasn’t anything along those lines that caught my eye enough to make me part with my hard-earned euros. The market was well worth the trip, and I enjoyed visiting a French city I had never visited before, but I’ll have to hope that another European Christmas market will have the Christmas paraphernalia I seek. Up next: Cologne, Germany.

Cannes!

Every year I tell myself I'm going to go, and every year it passes me by. The "it," I'm referring to is the Cannes Film Festival. It's glamorous, it's on the Mediterranean...and it starts today.

Ok, so I didn't make it to the 62nd awarding of the Palme d'Or. Thankfully, Le Festival has a pretty comprehensive website where you can scroll through classic red carpet photos, see what films are being featured, and download this year's promotional poster. You can also listen to the Cannes Film Festival podcast and get the daily weather report from the South of France. It's almost like being there in person. Minus the whole palm trees/celebrity sightings/French cuisine/watching the sunset on the Riviera, thing.

Beyond Paris

I don't have to tell you, Parisian Spring reader, that I'm in love with Paris. It's pretty obvious. But sometimes I forget to say just how much I love the rest of France, too. In fact, my first French experience wasn't in Paris at all, it was in Cannes. The second time I lived in France I was also in the south, and during that five month stay I didn't even bother to go up to the capital. I'm not really ready to admit it right here, right now, but it's possible that there are parts of France that I actually prefer to Paris. To prove it, I recently wrote an article about some of those places. Check it out, and let me know what you think. Did I leave out any of your favorites?

Barging Through France

Just when you start to feel pretty confident in your knowledge of all things French, along comes a little thing like barge cruises to knock you off your perch. Ok, so, the idea of a "barge cruise" isn't exactly a "little thing." On the contrary, barges by nature are generally fairly sizable objects. What I didn't know, is that these sizable objects can apparently be used to tour your sightseeing self around various corners of La Belle France. Thanks to a tweet by Julie of WhyGo France (mon dieu, how I love Twitter!), I discovered an article that introduced me to this intriguingly unique method of transportation, and reminded me that I still have so much more to learn.

Anyone who's been to Paris knows you can take boat rides along the Seine. Companies like Batobus, Bateaux Mouches, and Bateaux Vedettes du Pont Neuf are impossible to miss as you stroll along the river's banks, and renting boats for private events such as weddings, birthdays and all-you-can-drink parties is also a fairly common occurrence. I attended one such party last year that included a round trip ride from one end of the city to the other, which is a great way to get a different perspective on the French capital. Unfortunately, that night's weather didn't want to cooperate, making standing on the deck and admiring the city lights rather unpleasant. Fortunately, they had a wine tasting below deck. But barging through such regions as Aquitaine and Bretagne on a man-made system of canals? I had no idea.


A week-long cruise on the open seas has never appealed to me (seasickness, and all), but a week-long meandering barge cruise through the French countryside sounds like a positively delightful way to spend seven days, six nights. Between stopping to visit historic French villages, exploring the surrounding areas on bike, and dining while watching the scenery slowly drift by, I have a feeling I wouldn't ever want the trip to end. This is what I love about France: for a country that's slightly smaller than Texas, there's never a loss of new things to do, see, eat, drink or discover. One day you don't know about French barge cruises and the next day you do. My curiosity is definitely piqued. Fact-finding mission, anyone?

Winter Games

With the International Ski Federation's Alpine World Ski Championships currently taking place in Val d'Isère, France, I got to thinking about my own long ago visits to the French Alps. There was that group trip during a semester abroad in 2001, when we spent a night in picturesque Annecy and an afternoon hitting the slopes in Val Thorens. Then there was a weekend à deux this past March where I traded skis for snowshoes and got to spend time gazing at Europe's highest peak, Mont Blanc. The Alps have a reputation for being all glitz and glam with a dash of snobbery thrown in for good measure. A mountainous French Riviera, if you will. But while this is true to a certain extent (due, according to some of the French people I met, to an influx of über-rich Brits and Russians), in many ways the French Alps are just another regular vacation destination, filled with families, friends, serious skiers and chalet loungers alike.


One group that does seem to be missing from the slopes of France is Americans. Just this past March in Les Menuires I heard a lot of French, Dutch, and German, and a lot of British accents, but not a lot of American English. Maybe I wasn't in the right valley, but I think it might have more to do with the fact that we have fabulous skiing destinations right here in our own backyard. Utah alone is practically bursting at the seams with downhill possibilities, not to mention countless popular ski spots in California, Virginia and Wyoming. Want a little Alps-esque glitz and glam? You've got Aspen, which is generally good for a celebrity sighting or two. Even my own non-mountainous Minnesota has some decent options for skiers, without the hassle of a trans-Atlantic flight.

That said, a trip to the French Alps is never a waste of time. The scenery is gorgeous all year round, there is an array of local food and wine to savor (you can't go wrong with Tomme de Savoie and a crisp Alpine white), and the area is a good starting-off point for visits to Switzerland, Italy and the populous French city of Lyon. Padded Russian bank account not required.

Wishful Thinking

Today is a day that was made for dreaming about the south of France. On top of the weather being drearily rainy, foggy and cold in Washington, DC, I'm faced with the prospect of flying home to Minnesota next week where, upon exiting the airport, I am sure I will be met by the kind of bitterly cold air that quite literally takes your breath away. My prospects for warmth, color and witnessing nature in bloom are looking pretty bleak, which is where the sunny hills of Provence and bright blue waters of the Mediterranean come in. Just thinking about the south of France puts a smile on my face. I can practically smell the lavender, hear the waves crashing on the shore, and see the bright colors of the buildings, flowers and markets. Thankfully, I have folder upon folder of pictures to help me remember more luminous times. Dreaming of non-winter weather as well? The following images should help.

Fall, French Style

I recently raved about fall colors in Minnesota, but what about fall colors elsewhere? Aren't they beautiful too? Well, when it comes to vineyards in the south of France, the answer is a resounding, oui! This time of year, the region's hills and valleys are ablaze as grapevine leaves turn impossibly rich shades of orange, yellow and red. Hills and valleys of vineyards are already incredibly beautiful when they're green, but as warm days give way to warm colors, you won't believe your eyes. I took a drive through this part of France over the weekend, and it seemed as though every time I looked around the colors got more brilliant, more breathtaking, and more photo-worthy. Oh la la doesn't even begin to describe it.



The best part about admiring fall colors in a vineyard? Where there's a vineyard, there's usually a wine tasting!

Crisis (Mis)Management

Everyone has a travel horror story. A missed connection here, a stolen passport there; things that can derail an otherwise perfectly well-organized itinerary are lurking around every corner. And because travel hiccups are bound to happen to the best of us sooner or later, the true test of a traveler is not how he or she avoids such mishaps, but how he or she reacts to them. One of the easiest ways to react to a bad travel situation is to blame the entire city, state, or country for the problem. It's the, "I got pickpocketed in Rome, therefore Italy is a terrible place to visit," rationalization. It might not be the best way to deal with a crisis, but as an incident today with Air France showed me, it's certainly one of the easiest.

Boarding the plane from Toulon back to Paris should have been a simple proposition. On the way down to Toulon, the gate agent didn't so much as look at our identification before giving a "bon voyage!" and sending us on our way. But the woman who greeted (and I use that term lightly) us this morning must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I won't get into all the gritty details, but suffice it to say, we were not allowed to board the plane, we were forced to pay an additional fare, and despite the fact that they could have held the aircraft until the five minute it took to exit security, pay the fare, and return to the gate had passed, the plane was sent on without us. Now, if you've spent any time in France, you can easily picture the woman we were dealing with here: physically unable to smile, gives the infamous Gallic shrug, makes a "Pffft" sound with her mouth, and haughtily declares any solution other than the ridiculous one she is hell-bent on make as "impossible." How do you say "customer service" in French?

So, here's where it gets tricky. My reaction to this undeniably frustrating travel experience amounted to a condemnation of the entire country of France. It was the "I got screwed over by Air France, France is a terrible place to visit," rationalization. In fact, when the gate agent's colleague who witnessed the entire scene asked me, "Other than this incident, do you like being in France?" I curtly replied, "Today is not the day to ask me that, Monsieur. I'm afraid you won't like the answer." And it's true, he wouldn't have. I couldn't stop going on about how this incident demonstrated how everything here is a disaster. I even condemned Air France in its entirety ("Worst airline ever!"), all because of the actions of one lousy person. After arriving in Paris and calming myself down, I realized how amazing it is that one bad experience can seemingly taint a day, week or even years of good ones. As travelers, we should fight this urge to base our opinions so rashly on a single bit of information. Yes, bumps along the travel road will happen, and yes, they can leave you with a very bad taste in your mouth, but you will (hopefully) find better times ahead. And surely your bad experience cannot necessarily be indicative of the experience you and everyone else will always have in any given city, state or country, can it? No, it cannot. The man in the airport bar who so kindly served me a delectable, buttery croissant and a rich chocolat chaud in my hour of need helped prove this point.

Watch Out for the Flying Cork

France is a major exporter of all thing luxury. Louis Vuitton bags, Chanel perfume, Dior sunglasses, Yves Saint Laurent suits; Paris just wouldn't be Paris without these expensive items on display. But luxe isn't limited to the glitz and glam of the Champs-Elysées or Avenue Montaigne. Drive an hour and half east of Paris and you'll end up in France's Champagne region, famous of course for it's bubbly bottles of alcohol by the same name. Tucked between rolling hills of vines and quiet little villages, big and small operations alike skillfully produce their delicious wares. A weekend visit gave me a peek into the centuries-old and modern-day beloved process.

Champagne's small, independent producers can be found throughout the region, and often let you tour their caves or partake in a tasting. If you're looking to visit the major houses, as we were, you'll want to stick to the city of Reims and the town of Épernay. Here you'll find all the major exporters: Moët and Chandon, Pommery, Veuve Clicquot, Taittinger and many more. Take the cave tour to learn about the the process that turns grapes into champagne....and for the tasting that follows. Taittinger's caves were the most interesting as they include areas dug during the Gallo-Roman era in the 4th century as well as all that remains of the Saint Nicaise Abbey whose Benedictine monks built caves for their own champagne creation. The rest of the Abbey was destroyed during the French Revolution. For an excellent tasting experience, request a private tasting in advance at Moët and Chandon. As you sip your Millésimé 2000 in the quiet garden you'll truly feel like a V.I.P.

Champagne is an easy day trip from Paris and well worth the drive (or train ride) to get there. The price tag for a visit will most certainly be less shocking than the one on a Hermès scarf, and bonus: unlike Louis Vuitton or Dior, whose stores can be found across the globe, the Champagne region is the only place in the world where you can drink a glass of bubbly at the source.
After all, if it's not made in Champagne, it's just sparkling wine.

Crowd Control

Remember when I told you that Paris was emptying of its inhabitants and stores were closing in celebration of the August holidays? Well, I found out where they've all gone: south. Taking my own abbreviated version of a French summer vacation in the south of France, I cannot believe how many people are down here with me. I've been on the coast a number of times before since moving to Paris, always to the same little town, and I've never seen crowds like this. I even came down here in early July - a great time for the beach! - and there weren't nearly as many people around as there are now. When it comes to vacationing in France, what a difference a month makes.


I always knew that the French vacationed in August, but I never really witnessed the event or understood what it truly meant. Beaches that used to have room to spare are packed. Traffic jams appear where there used to be no cars at all. There is a line at the boulangerie to get your morning croissant. Quiet cafés have turned into bustling hot spots. In short, the sleepy little beachside town I've come to know simply doesn't exist in August. Right now it's all vacationers all the time.

It's easy to think of the south of France as the capital of glam and glitz; a sort of playground for the rich and fabulous. This is only partially true. The town I'm in, Six-fours-les-plages, is about an hour's drive from St. Tropez, but it couldn't be further from it's flashy neighbor. No Jay-Z and Beyoncé sightings here; just young families, couples and the retirement crowd. Despite it's A-list image, much of the south really is just where normal French people (and Germans, Dutch, Belgians, Swiss and even some Italians) go to get away from it all...a lot of them..in August.

Designated Driver Needed

Traveling through France is great because of all the different things you will see, but it is also great because of all the different things you will taste. Like the unique landscapes, the unique buildings and the unique climates, France's regions also have unique edible specialties. There are crêpes in Bretagne, fondue in the Alps and bouillabaisse in Marseille. You can eat camembert chesse in Normandy, chèvre in the Loire Valley, and rocquefort in, well, Rocquefort. Of course, the only thing better than eating your way through France is drinking your way through France, and the regions offer up plenty of opportunities to do that as well.

Wine specialities exist in all corners of the county, and wine tastings at caves à vin are everywhere. One of my favorite places to taste French wine is here in the south. Rosés are a typical southern wine, and the Domaine de Souviou makes some great ones. I've been to a tasting here twice and each time has been a memorable experience. The service is excellent, the wines are fantastic, and the setting is incredible as the domaine is perched up in the hills overlooking the Mediterranean. Even better, they also make award-winning olive oil, which you can taste with little pieces of bread after you burn through their award-winning wines. Some of their olive trees are over 1000 years old. You'd hang around that long too if you had their view.


If you choose to road trip through France, you will undoubtedly come across numerous wineries that welcome visitors in for a taste. Don't be shy, get in there and check it out! The merchants are used to having tourists of all nationalities stop in and are happy to talk to you about their creations. It's a great way to meet locals and enjoy the local fare at the same time. Plus, it's so much more fun to drink wine at home when you've actually been to the source. Just be sure to pack light. You'll soon have bottles (or cases) competing for space with your other much less important supplies.

Eye Candy

After receiving a number of requests for more photos, I've decided to dedicate today's post to the shots I took while on the road in France. I think they do a great job of demonstrating just how varied the landscape of this country truly is. In the span of a few hours you can go from the wide beaches of the Atlantic, to the forrested mountains of the Massif Central, to the sunny colors of Provence, to the blue seas of the Mediterranean. While traveling through France, you can see...

Colored beach umbrellas, and half-timbered buildings in Deauville.



















A tiny door made for the tiny people of the 14th century near Clermont-Ferrand.















A gorgeous lake tucked in between the foothills of the Massif Central.












A hilltop village and wild fields of Lavender in Provence.

















Road signs along the way and the narrow streets of Aix-en-Provence.
















The beautiful (and very rough, due to some seriously windy conditions) Mediterranean sea.

On the Road Again

When I was a kid, my family loved to take road trips. We went everywhere in our minivan (and once, even in a Honda Civic): California, Florida, Texas, and all of the states in between; no distance was too far from our home in Minnesota. This week, I exchanged the spacious minivan for a tiny Peugeot and set out on a French road trip. In addition to discovering certain areas of the country for the first time, I also discovered that there are some stark differences between hitting the open road in the U.S. and doing the same in France.

For starters, there is the question of distance. France is considerably smaller than the United States. In fact, it's even slightly smaller than the state of Texas. Needless to say, road tripping in France doesn't give you the same feeling of freedom as you get when you set out on the American highways. Everything is close. You can cross the country in a few short hours. Drive for days and days and you'll end up not in Los Angeles, but Russia. Then there is the question of speed. Speed limits on French autoroutes are much higher than those on American freeways. Cruising along at speeds of up to 130 kilometers per hour (80 miles per hour) doesn't give you as much time to stop and smell the roses as you have at 60 miles per hour. To make matters worse, most drivers go even faster than the posted speeds. Driving through France can feel more like a race than a vacation. And while driving through both countries will eventually require a good night's sleep, no American road trip would ever include a stay in a 14th century Cisterian monastery.

Of course, there are similarities as well. The emergency snack runs, the vain attempts at deciphering a map, the slightly sketchy reststop bathrooms; they can all be found in both countries. I recommend leaving the autoroutes to take the French road less traveled. France is chock full of hilltop villages and historic sites to see along the way, but you'll miss them if you don't take the national roads. Bonus: unlike the freeways, the smaller roads are toll free. So hop in your car, use the euros you'll save to buy some provisions, and set out to explore the country. You have a good 10 hours before you hit the Mediterranean. Or Italy. Or Spain. Or...

Of Old Towns and Barnyard Animals

I sometimes feel that, despite having spent a considerable amount of time exploring France since my first visit in 2001, there is still a never-ending stream of places to see and things for me to do in this relatively small country. But I'm making progress, nonetheless! This weekend, with a visit to Tours, I finally got to cross another city off my to do list. I use the word "visit" lightly since I only spent about two hours there, but it was enough time to learn a bit about the place and know that someday I would like to go back.

Located southwest of Paris along the Loire river, Tours is famous in its own right for a number of reasons. For starters, the French that is spoken there is considered to be the purest form of the language. It is believed that citizens of Tours - "Tourangeaux" and "Tourangelles" - speak without an accent and pronounce French words the way there were meant to be pronounced. Tours has a lovely old quarter, characterized by half-timbered buildings, that was in ruins and saved from destruction in the 1960s. Today, it features welcoming cafes, a lively square, and a relaxed, student vibe. Gastronomically speaking, the region surrounding Tours is famous for its delectable chèvre, which might explain the sudden appearance of a live goat in the main square.

Paris can sometimes feel intimidating. There is so much to do and see, there are so many restaurants and cafes, so many shops and so many people. The enormity of it all can be overwhelming, and it can be difficult to find your niche. Tours really seemed like a place you could get to know. There are enough tourist sites thrown in to make it interesting (the Tours cathedral, Musée des Beaux-Arts, various parks and gardens, a giant cedar tree planted by Napoleon, etc.), and the cafes and bars of Vieux Tours seem much more friendly and casual than many of the establishments you'll come across in Paris. I tend to enjoy visiting mid-sized cities because of their accessibility (Bratislava is a great example outside of France), and Tours definitely fits that bill. And of course, being from Minnesota and all, I can't help but admire the Tourangeaux and Tourangelles for their excellent taste in sister cities. Minneapolis has held that title since 1991.

War and Peace

Before moving to Paris, I wrote down a list of places outside of the city that I wanted to visit while I was here. Brussels, check. The Loire Valley, check. Stockholm...well, there just isn't enough time for everything. But, in addition to the Belgian capitol and the land of castles, I was also able to check one other place off my list of must-dos: the D-Day beaches of Normandy. When a friend who was visiting Paris from Minneapolis also expressed her interest in such a trip, we quickly booked our train tickets as well as a full-day guided tour and set out to see one of the world's most famous battle sites.

A lot of people in Paris will shy away from taking a day trip to Normandy's various WWII sites. They shouldn't. Yes, you have to leave very early in the morning and return very late at night, but the long, tiring day is totally worth it. Between the Caen war museum, the American Cemetery, the landing beaches, and the other coastal sites, you will find yourself completely immersed in the touching, tragic history of the time. Seeing the craters that still exist in the ground on the tops of the Normandy cliffs - left there more than sixty years ago by Allied bombardment trying to take out the German gunners, which are also still there - will transport you to a different world, when the peaceful beaches were anything but. A good guide is a must; he or she will give you tons of interesting bits of knowledge that you wouldn't get on your own.

We didn't stop being amazed the entire day, and while you might think that such a day trip would be more depressing than not, I felt the opposite to be true. Yes, thousands of men lost their lives. Yes, it was war, civilians were caught in the crossfire, and entire villages were destroyed. But there was hope to be found in the visit as well. The stories of the Frenchmen and women who shared the movements of German soldiers with the Allies at great risk to themselves, the heroics of the soldiers sent to fight a terrible battle, and the tranquility of the area today, proving that life can go on peacefully after war - all of this and more will uplift rather than depress you. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded that good can come from bad.

Santé!

How did this happen? I've been in France for almost exactly four months now and I have never done a post about wine. Wine! It hasn't been for lack of experience with this, the official beverage of France. Oh no, when it comes to drinking wine, I'm on it. Red, white, rosé, wines from the south of France, wines from Bordeaux, Alsace and Champagne; they've all been tested...multiple times. But it took an actual trip to Bourgogne - the most mythical of all of France's wine regions - to make me think about writing about wine instead of just consuming it.

Drive about two and a half hours southeast of Paris and you will find yourself surrounded by vineyards. Beautiful, rolling hill vineyards nestled amongst the quaint little villages that dot the countryside of Bourgogne, or Burgandy as we say in English. It is widely agreed upon that Burgandy's grapes produce the world's best white wines, and some pretty darn good red ones as well. After tastings at two separate wine caves followed by a local wine at dinner followed the next day by another tasting, I couldn't agree more. The reds are feminine and filled with the flavors of red fruits. The whites sometimes taste of minerals, sometimes taste of butter, and are always unbelievably smooth and rich. Needless to say, leaving the region empty handed is impossible. Make space in your trunk for a couple of cases.

I never was a very discerning wine drinker. I didn't know how to properly savor the complexities that can be found in a glass of rouge or blanc or how to tell a good wine from an average one. Midwestern barbecues are generally more heavy on the beer than the vino. But four months in France have given me a new appreciation for the art of enjoying a glass of wine. I've learned to not be afraid to stick my nose all the way into the glass in order to get a good smell. I've learned to let the wine sit in my mouth a bit before swallowing. I've even learned how to discern specific flavors within the wine itself, although my palate's ability is still far behind those of my French friends. Somehow, I don't think I'll mind trying to catch up.

Crowd Control

Every year, thousands of people come to the south of France for sun, surf and relaxation. They come not just from all corners of l'héxagone, but all corners of the globe as well. Most will seek out that perfect spot on the beach, which means that finding your own perfect spot will be that much harder to accomplish. But all hope is not lost. While every city along the Mediterranean has its main beach aimed at attracting the masses, the côte is also chock-full of nooks, crannies and hidden beaches. With a little perseverance and a sense of adventure you too can have your own private spot from which to perfect your tan.

Take this little sandy alcove, for example. I noticed it while biking up a hill near Six-Fours-les-Plages. Out of sight from the average beach-goer, it would make for a quiet, stress-free day in the sun. Sure, I wouldn't try to hike down to it in my flip-flops, but with some good shoes and a light load getting there could be half the fun. There are of course options that require a little less mountaineering to find. It suffices simply to explore the spaces between the public beaches - areas along the cliffs and rocky out-croppings are great - in order to find more off the beaten path locations.

Of course, the public beaches do have their benefits. They sometimes come with amenities such as restrooms and showers for rinsing off the sand and salt. Their lifeguards can give extra assurance to parents, and when it gets too hot you can grab an ice cream cone at a nearby stand. There's also the issue of ease. Finding a public beach is a lot easier than searching for a quieter one. But I'm convinced it's well worth the effort to do a little hunting before choosing your spot. While lounging in the sand with only the sound of the rolling surf as your company, you'll be happy you're not fighting the crowds for an extra inch of beach front.

Relativity

I need to stop watching weather reports. After the météo predicted four days of rain in the south of France, I find myself already enjoying the third day of sun. Ok, so yesterday and today weren't quite the bright sun/blue sky days that Friday was, but the occassional breaks in the clouds have been enough to make eating on a terrace by the Mediterranean enjoyable, and really, what more could you ask for?

This weekend's good fortune aside, it's been a rough start to the season for those in the south who rely on tourism to earn a living. Today's newspaper ran a story entitled "Sale temps pour la plage," (Bad Beach Weather) in which tourism industry workers in Nice and Cannes decried the lower than average temperatures, higher than average cloud cover and nearly daily rainshowers that have caused many would-be vacationers to cancel their plans. Considering the nearly empty beaches I've been seeing here in Six-Fours-les-Plages, this phenomenon is touching everyone along the Côte d'Azur.

Clearly, France's tourist-starved coastal towns aren't getting any help from erroneous weather predictions. After seeing numerous pessimistic reports, we almost joined the masses by cancelling our own plans for a weekend getaway. Luckily, we decided against it. The weather reports for our area on numerous websites were so off the mark that at times they were calling for rain while, if they had taken the time to simply look out the window, they would have noticed that it was not, in fact, raining. That's the thing about the south of France: where weather is concerned, you can never lose hope. Even the "bad" days down here are better than some of the "good" ones elsewhere.

Not All Castles are Created Equal

Word to the wise: don't go to the Château de Versailles on a holiday weekend. Last Thursday was a national holiday as is today, which means that a lot of French people took off Friday and made a nice long vaction of it. With the absolutely gorgeous weather we've been having, many Parisians have fled the noise and crowds of the city to join the noise and crowds of the beach. Many are also playing tourist in their own county, visiting sites and cities along with foreigners from all over the world. Guessing from the impossibly long and slow-moving line at the entrance of the famous home of Louis XIV, Versailles is one the top of many of their must-see lists.

I went to Versailles early Saturday morning with a friend from Minneapolis who just wrapped up a 12 day stint in France. Upon seeing the line (and lack thereof for the gardens), and remarking on the tragedy of being inside when the sun is shining, we decided to forgo the castle for the gardens. This was undoubtedly the right decision. Filled with manicured hedges, rare trees, blooming flowers and magnificent fountains, the royal gardens were a sight to behold. Even better were the properties that make up la Domaine de Marie-Antoinette. Located on the opposite side of the gardens from the castle, France's most famous queen had her own little vacation destination only a short carriage ride away from home. Best of all was the Queen's Hameau; a series of quaint little country cottages where she could get away from it all and enjoy the simpler life of a peasant.

Versailles is definitely the most well-known château in France, but I don't think it is the most worthy of a visit. The crowds were incredible, the line for the ladies' room was ridiculous and the whole operation felt very commercialized, like a 16th century Disneyland. I was much more impressed by the castles that I visited in the Loire Valley. Versailles is right on the edge of Paris, so the area around it is bustling with roads and the activity of a busy suburb. The Loire castles are isolated and quiet and give you feeling of being in a entering a different world. Even those that are not in the county are in cute little villages rather than unimaginative commuter towns. We enjoyed the gardens and I'm glad I saw the castle if only because it's something you should do while in Paris, but I'm not sure I'll go back to see the interior. In this city with so many amazing things to do and see, one cannot afford to waste time waiting in lines.

Just Like Home

I miss lakes. I've missed lakes ever since I moved to Washington, DC in the summer of 2006. Growing up in Minnesota (or, The Land of 10,000 Lakes, as it is often called) instills in you a love for the sight of open water. We might not have an ocean, but nearly everyone can walk to the beach just the same. Lakes are everywhere. They freeze in the winter, making suitable spots for ice fishing, ice skating or ice hockey, and they are sparkling blue in the summer, perfect for picnics, boating and sunbathing. I didn't go to the beach at all when I lived in Washington, refusing on principle to drive two hours in order to find the nearest sandy spot.

Paris isn't known for it's lakes either, but as I discovered last night, ex-pat Minnesotans need not despair. Instead, they should simply head north out of Paris to the small town of Enghien-les-Bains. There, nestled between the odd combination of luxury hotels and a run-down suburban landscape is where you'll find the beautiful Lac d'Enghien. Its paddle boat rentals, wide promenade and lake front homes were a sight for sore eyes. While eating dinner on the terrace of the Pavillon du Lac restaurant, I snapped this photo of the sunset, almost forgetting that Paris, not Minneapolis, was just a short distance away.