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. 

 

 

 

 

Swanny River

The "Ile aux Cygnes," which means Swan Island, sits in the middle of the Seine, on the Western edge of Paris, between the 15th and 16th arrondissements. If you want to see our local Statue of Liberty, that's the place to go. But if it's the swans you're looking for, you should come by our island -- Ile Saint Louis.

 

I know, I know, don't feed the birds, but I have to say that the kids love coming here with stale bread chunks.

 

Once walking on the right bank, I see six swans flying in formation over our island, winging their way over the Seine. Even the Parisian friend I'm walking with says, "I've never seen that before." And that's saying something.