France Road Trip: Part 3
After getting our fill of châteaux, we continued south through beautiful countryside and tiny towns of grey stone buildings, running the gamut of sightseeing from somber WWII sites to cognac tours to catching up with friends. So, prepare for a very long post covering two weeks of driving nearly 700 miles across the Dordogne to the French Riviera. We've included some highlights, advice and memoirs for ourselves. So feel free to read the whole thing, or even better, just skim.
Cognac: Remy Martin Tour
For our Cognac stop, we scoured forums and trip guides to try to decide between the tour offered at the Hennessey factory or the slightly pricier but better reviewed Maison du Remy Martin. Our minds were made up when we saw the the Hennessey factory was closed for winter. We went in knowing next to nothing about cognac, and left intoxicated connoisseurs. We learned that the term "grand champagne" on cognac bottles refers not to the grapes but to the type of soil, which the region shares with the region famous for its bubbly.
Remy Martin is renowned for its Louis XIV, which ranges from $1400 to $2500 a bottle. Each bottle is hand blown crystal, and no two are the same. The true craftsmanship of Louis XIV isn't that it's exceptionally delicious, rather that it is skillfully blended with different vintages and barrels of spirits to have a consistent flavor. The appeal is that you're enjoying the same flavor that your aristocratic great-great-great grandfather enjoyed a couple centuries ago. Each cognac house has a master taster (maître de chai) that's in charge managing the flavor, and Remy Martin prides themselves on having the first female maître de chai of all the major cognac houses.
We toured the historic cellars, where only Louis XIV production takes place.We were shocked to learn the almost 100 barrels are lost to evaporation during the 40-year aging process; which they call the "angels share" or justification of the price per bottle. They removed the bung on one of the barrels and the liquor smells strongly of Dr. Pepper.
Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to try the Louis XIV, but the guided tasting was very educational and it alone was worth the price of admission. We tried the low-end VSOP with chocolate then with shrimp, and the high end Grand Cru with foie gross mousse with a balsamic reduction. They were a delicious pair, but when trying the foie with the VSOP, it suddenly tasted like peanut butter. Our host was very handsome/charming/fancy and after guiding us through the distillery and tasting, guided us to the gift shop. Bejeweled bottles of Louis XIV were available for up to €12,000 (which included a matching carrying case that converts into a display shelf). Persuaded and loosened up by our tasting, we bought a few small bottles, including clearing out the stock of a very limited single production cognac and buying their maître de chai's new personal blend.
Oradour Sur Glane:
In our road trip research, we came across another French WWII landmark, the French martyr village of Oradour Sur Glane. We knew it would be an upsetting sight, but having forgone opportunities to see concentration camps in Germany, we thought it was a worthwhile and necessary stop to really absorb the atrocities of that time.
In the days following the Normandy invasion, German troops descended on this small town in Southern France and systematically murdered the entire town in one afternoon. Women and children were taken to the town's church and gunned down, while the men were killed on the streets before the whole town was set on fire. It was a horrible and inexplicable act, with only theories on what brought it about. Some people think it was done by Germans who saw the end coming and wanted one last battle, and other people consider it revenge for a German commander that was killed in the area that week.
After the massacre, the town was never restored or reinhabited, and was left as a permanent memorial to the victims. Everything is still in it's place, and it's an eerie and silent ghost town. Cars are parked in driveways and bikes, beds, and radiators are still in the homes. Plaques on each building tell the name, occupation, and age of each victim. It was a sobering visit, and an interesting juxtaposition to see the new town that sprung up next to the memorial, living life in the present so close to the horrors of the past.
Petit Clos
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| Our only surviving non-ring photo from Southern France |
Cindy suggested some stops along our drive to her house, so we got to fit in a few more chateaux and quaint towns in Domme, La Roque Gageac and Beynac. Some great smaller towns we would have never found on our own, and a pasture that we chanced upon for a half hour of animal antics.
We were thrilled to be guinea pig guests and experience their gorgeous rooms, hospitality and delicious food including daube, a good ol' fashion taco night and our favorite, Confit De Canard. Cindy introduced to this specialty. Although it's a super gourmet (and delicious) dish, it actually comes in a can and is easy to cook up for a nice dinner. In fact, we stole her idea and made it for Robin's parents when they visited awhile later.
Unfortunately, Cindy was a bit under the weather when we stayed, but Hank was happy to show us around their expansive grounds to take a look at their forest and vineyard. Hank also provided David's highlight of the whole France trip: watching the 49ers game in the middle of the night on a big-screen TV. The game finished at 5am, but David was a diehard (and sleep-deprived) fan and watched the whole thing, even if it was a bad idea.
We had a great stay with the Pettersons. If anyone is traveling in the region, be sure to check out Petit Clos in St. Jean de Duras. You'll be glad you did!
One ring to unite us all
As mentioned in the Paris post, we got engaged in early January. David, afraid to travel with a diamond in tow, opted to bring a simple ring as a symbol and then buy the real deal in Europe. Unfortunately, that ring didn't fit, so the hunt to find the perfect ring became a top priority.
The capitol of the Perigord region — famous for black truffles, foie gras and other gastronomy — is the town of Perigeuex, the city from where Robin gets her last name. (More on Perigueux in a later post.) Since she'd be taking David's name when they got married, Perigeuex seemed to be the ideal place to buy the ring.
We got to Perigeuex on a balmy 38ºF morning with a list 5 jewelry stores long. We passed a window of a jewelry manufacturer and we popped in and painstakingly communicated, "We are fiancees. We are to find a [point at finger]. To buy diamond. Fiancees." We eventually got our point across and the hunt began. The jeweler was very friendly and guided us to several stores, helped us with sizing, and gave us some pointers on where to go and what to look for. And as David investigated a vintage diamond ring, our new friend told us that David has the "eye of a jeweler." Who knew?
In Perigeuex we narrowed it down to 5 different rings, but none of them were The One. Our search also took us to the town of Berjerac, of Cyrano fame. We started to embrace the idea of buying a vintage ring, something with a little history to it. Soon, we were driving through every small town looking for Brocante (antiques) or Bijoux Anciens (vintage jewelry) signs, which surprisingly there are a LOT of all over France. (We didn't see nearly as many in any other country). A store in a middle-of-nowhere town had a diamond the size of a dime laughably out of our price range (we did , however, find a great vintage alarm clock there at a much better price - didn't fit on Robin's finger, though). At another store, we accidentally almost placed an order for a custom ring because of our language barrier. And one place advertising brocante turned out to be nothing more than a very sad hoarder in a frighteningly dirty storefront/apartment. Several places would immediately get suspicious and decline us when asked if they had diamond, then they'd size us up and decide they weren't going to get robbed. One shop owner said he had nothing, then locked the door and reached for a small ziploc bag behind a velvet curtain loaded with vintage pre-WWII diamond rings. Our search for a ring gave us a lot opportunities to practice our French and after a few days, we had finally figured out what type of ring we were looking for.
Marseille
We were ready to start our drive along the southern riviera, but hadn't found a ring yet. So, we made a stop to the West to visit Marseille. We didn't plan on seeing the city, but a google search for antique jewelry came up with tons of results. When we pulled into the city, it was jarring. We'd been driving for weeks through towns and hamlets, and it was a dramatic shift to be in the middle of the 3rd largest city in France. We found an AirBnB on the outskirts of the city center and made a determined itinerary of ring-shopping and sight seeing. The port city is notorious for crime, and every jewelry shop is guarded with either bullet proof glass, remote controlled doors, a security guard and sometimes all three. Shopping in Marseille didn't feel quaint, but by then end of the first day we were sure we'd seen at least one The One. After two days of ring searching, and two nights of soul searching, we finally decided on a ring, which was actually the first ring in the first store we saw.
Aside from small pieces of metal, Marseille has a lot of interesting sights. Saint Mary's church is atop hill overlooking the city and the port and the decorations inside worship ships almost as much as Christ. The city was once the most significant port in Europe and you can still see how impressive it had been. The count of Monte Cristo washed up on the shores of Marseilles, but he surely saw a very different version of the city.
We alternated between loving and hating Marseilles. On the one hand, there was some beautiful architecture and undiscovered plazas that made it seem like it was underrated by guidebooks. But on the other, every time our views were looking up, we'd almost step in dog poop or human vomit or garbage and have to start looking down again. Of course, as our loyal and lovely readers now, we left Marseilles on a low note (more here).
Riviera
To say that the wind was gone from our sails after our Marseilles stop would be an understatement, but we did try to carry on. We drove through Cannes and Monaco in the dark. We had to return our car in Nice, but first we overshot it and drove straight through to Italy for the closest thing to a dose of home we could find. We ordered some pasta and a panino in Santelmo before heading back to face France once again.
Rainy Days in Nice
Nice was not exactly the beach town of its postcards when we arrived in late January. It pretty much poured the entire time we were there, which was fine with us because we were still recovering and not in much of a mood to sightsee. We instead passed the time being American homebodies: shopping at their mall, reading and going to see a movie at the theater in VO (version original). Of course, reading The Lovely Bones and seeing The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo weren't exactly great choices for pick-me-up escapism, but our options were limited. The old town of Nice was quite quaint and we were glad to have another opportunity to see it (more on that later). In fact, in strolling the city center we found about a dozen vintage jewelry shops. A few days to late to avoid our Marseilles stop, but at least we aren't bitter.
We bid adieu to Nice and headed to our next stop, our second workaway. Stay tuned!
Road Trip Best Times:
• Discovering the radio station, Nostalgi, a mixture of American and French oldies. One of our favorites was actually a medley of different American hits. "It's been a hard day's night….yeah yeah yeah….Gloria!" We definitely found a couple of new wedding song contenders, and realized that radio bumpers in France are perhaps more amusing than the songs. Take a listen!
• Picking out our wedding palette by pointing at shutter colors and tree bark in Provence.
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