Game Theory

I've talked about Ticket to Ride, a board game about trains around Europe. But that's just the tip of it. We're big into family game time, especially on cold, rainy winter weekends, and we especially love games that tie in thematically with our lives here.

Memoire de France is a memory-match game with special places around France, including many Paris spots we know and love -- one of which we can see from our window, and exactly half of which we can walk to in five minutes or less:

 

To read about more great French- and European-themed games, check out the post at A Year in Fromage.

Faster than a Bullet

It's a plane! It's a train! Actually, it is a train. And it's not really faster than a bullet. Or even a bullet train. But it is, in fact, very super. It's the train system throughout France, and Europe, and we've made good use of it, especially thanks to our "Carte Enfant +" which is a card we buy in Pippa's name for 70€. It lasts one year, can be re-purchased annually till she's 12, and means that up to four people who travel with her by train get a discount -- minimum 25% and often 50% -- on rides in France. There are other discount tickets available (frequent business traveler, retiree, large family, etc). The prices can be so low, they're shocking.

 

For example, our two hour train ride to Normandy costs me and the girls about 30€. They're not all this cheap, of course, but it's still a great way to travel -- and nearly always cheaper and faster than going by car. Just this summer alone, the girls and I trained to Normandy, Paris, Avignon, Cinque Terre Italy, Florence, night train back from Munich to Paris, Auxerre Burgundy, Joigny Burgundy, Paris, Bretagne, Paris, Aigle Switzerland, and one final trip back to Paris. Anthony flew or trained to meet us and travel with us for various parts of it, but had to work, so we often came through Paris for the weekends he couldn't join us. It was a confusing and utterly exhausting summer, to say the least.

 

 

All that train time means snacks at the train station, snacks on the train, card games, story time, snuggle time, sleep time, video games, and even the occasional (mild) motion sickness.

 

 

While most of our trips are on the high-speed TGV (in general running up to 320kmph or 200mph), our trip to Avignon is on the new Ouigo train. It's equally high-speed, is owned by the national train lines, but is being positioned as the People's Express/Southwest Airlines of French trains in terms of pricing. The downside of the Ouigo is that the "local" station is not actually in Paris but rather a half hour train ride outside of the city at Disneyland, and you have to wait on a long line to check in. It only runs to a few cities, but they are key ones down South. The upside is the price of the tickets: the trains are clean, fast, and comfortable, children cost 5€ each at all times, and my ticket costs 30€ -- for a 3-hour high speed train ride all the way across the country. My ticket would only have cost 10€ if I hadn't been picky about the time and day.

 

As we train around Europe, our girls recognize many of the names from one of our favorite board games. We call it "the Train Game," but its real name in English is "Ticket to Ride," and the French name is "Les Aventuriers du Rail" (Adventurers by Rail).

 

 

After all those train rides, we feel like we really need a vacation from our vacation. But exhausting and exhaustive as our summer travels are, we remain thrilled by how much better it is to travel by train than by plane. Even in 2nd class, we're traveling in style.

Break in Burgundy

After Guédelon, we drive deeper into Burgundy with our visiting friends to take a relaxing break from our previous break, picking wildflowers, a.k.a weeds, on the lawn of Sully castle, which dates roughly from the 14th century. It turns out to be a private residence, and we are 99% sure that the woman we meet going in and out of the imposing doors is the Duchess of Magenta. She explains the carvings of boar on the door, with a very posh Queen's English accent, saying that "the owners were very keen on hunting." At first I am very impressed with how well she speaks English. Then I learn she is Scottish. In any event, I feel I can now boast that I hobnob with royalty.

 

 

Then we visit the little town and castle of La Rochepot, so magical that the entire minivan literally gasps when it comes into sight. The 13th century castle itself is, to me, one of the more unusual and memorable in all of France, because of the colorful tiles typical of the Burgundy region.

 

 

 

Here, a view from the castle into the town:

Since the children are less than thrilled with any more historical sites ("Oh, noooooo! Not another castle!"), we find we need to take frequent breaks from the break we are taking. After an arduous half-day of touring around and eating ice cream, the hotel swimming pool is a welcome relief. Even our hotel looks like a little castle, however, with gorgeous grounds, and an indoor-outdoor pool, all in an adorable little village with several excellent restaurants less than 20 steps away. I just have to put a plug in and say that at around 70€ per night, the Logis de Trois Maures in the town of Couches (pronounced "koosh" not like the word that means "many sofas") may be the biggest hotel bargain I've ever come across.

 

 

 

 

One of those neighboring restaurants, La Tour Bajole, is in a monastery from the 12th century, converted at some point within the last 900 years into a restaurant. Food -- delicious; service -- friendly; ambiance -- jaw-dropping.

 

 

Even the children appreciate it to a degree and also admit, begrudgingly, that this little town of Semur-en-Auxois out-Disneys Disneyland. This is high praise indeed, but we get this concession from them only as long as what we do here is simply eat ice cream, and not actually go inside any historical buildings.

 

 

 

One day, we take a break from relaxing to try to educate ourselves by visiting the city of Autun, which is supposed to have "rivaled Rome" in its heyday. But rivaled Rome in what, we ask? Watermelon seed spitting contests? Armpit farting? Because it sure wasn't about the constructions or the ruins. There are the remains of an amphitheater, with excellent acoustics, and two remaining gates to the city. Supposedly, there is also a Temple to Juno, but no amount of GPSing, sign-post following, or asking directions from locals can get us there.

 

 

Perhaps our favorite day in Burgundy is spent biking along old train tracks that have been converted into a "voie verte" or "green track". It's relatively flat, with beautiful French countryside, almost no traffic to worry about except at a couple small crossings, and views of the occasional castle popping up in the distance. ("Shall we ride to the castle, kids?" "Nooooooo!!!!") But at one point, Pippa's brakes break. We have the tool kit on our rental bikes; but as it is only us two non-mechanical moms and four kids, we very nearly call the rental company to come help us. Luckily, just before that happens, we swallow our pride and ask a man riding by in full racing gear for help. Within seconds he realizes that Pippa has accidentally wound the brake cable around her handlebars. He twists her handlebars around, and we're good to go. It is embarrassing, but much better than it would have been if we'd made somebody drive out to us from the rental shop.

 

Years in the Making

It takes nearly a thousand years to make a medieval ruin, but it's only been 16 years so far in the making of a medieval castle in remote Burgundy, called Guédelon. And it's been 8 years exactly in the making of our youngest, who celebrates her birthday at what turns out to be perhaps the most interesting construction site in the world.

 

 

At Guédelon, they're not only building a medieval-style castle, they're building it using only medieval materials, tools, and methods. That means some horse-power, and a lot of man-power. There are a few concessions to modern life: hard-hats when necessary, steel-toe boots at all times, safety goggles for the stone cutters, indoor plumbing for bathroom breaks, and maggot-free food.

 

 

 

We highly recommend visiting here if you're in Burgundy and/or can spare a (long) day or (easy) weekend from Paris. Definitely do the guided tour, which is offered in English or French, because it makes a huge difference. It turns out that building this castle isn't just educational for the visitors, it's quite enlightening for the builders as well. There are several facts that blow my mind. Among them is a discussion of the mortar, and the importance of burning the lime at medieval (not modern) temperatures. It turns out it remains moist and malleable longer, allowing necessary shifting and settling -- without cracking -- as heavy layers are added on top. How much longer? Well, at a recent renovation at the Roman arena at Nîmes, access to a dark spot deep in the interior showed that after 2000 years the mortar still isn't completely dry. Another: the string our guide is showing us in the photo below has regularly-spaced knots and can be used to do math necessary for construction sites, including multiplication and perfect angles. I get really excited to learn that the word "multiply" actually comes from this tool -- multi (many) and ply (fold) -- at which point Anthony reminds me, once again, that I am a huge dork. 

 

 

Below you can see what happens to people who call me a huge dork. And to the parents of teenagers. Just look at how happy it makes the kids we are traveling with to put their mom in the stocks.

 

 

 

Also on Guédelon's grounds is some of the livestock needed to make a castle. Because it takes a village. And a village's livestock.

 

 

There are many, many more animals -- the pettable, non-heading-butting variety -- at the farm of the nearby castle of St. Fargeau. The owner of that castle is the same individual who had the brilliantly crazy idea to build Guédelon, the medieval castle, in the first place. 

 

 

  

 

 

And if you're spending the night over a summer weekend, we also recommend the late-night spectacle at St. Fargeau castle, with its cast of 500-800 (!) volunteer performers.

 

 

 

Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men? If you do, that's because it's the French revolution being depicted. But it's not Les Miserables, nor is it miserable -- just a little cold and late (10pm-midnight) for the little ones.

 

The show is over a thousand years in the making as well, since it goes way back before the revolution, beginning in the Middle Ages, then proceeds to portray an overview of French history to modern times -- with the notable exceptions of Napoleon and the Vichy government. First we see soldiers trudging off slowly and sadly to die in Flanders Fields in World War I, and suddenly, Jeeps are roaring in, flying the American flag, to liberate France after World War II. Though I'm generally not a big fan of whitewashing history, I have to admit that seeing a bunch of Jews rounded up and sent to Death Camps would've pretty much killed the festive atmosphere, and I'm personally quite glad they skipped it. Instead, they usher in the present day -- and coincidentally Pippa's birthday -- with fireworks, and everybody goes to bed happy.