Jornessa & Pault in Aix-en-Provence

The 4 of us took off for Aix-en-Provence after a week in Toulouse.  It was a cute little town and, from our conversation with the roadside chicken rotisserie guy, seems to be overrun with Brits and Americans.  We went by train, but the next time we go to Provence should be by car...and should be in the summer time so that we get that whole fields-of-lavender-and sunflowers effect.

Lunchtime in a square in Aix.  Like a modern day Renoir - non? It's a pretty typical scene in France.

 

We ate inside that day.  Here is me morphing back into my T1000 form.

"Have you seen this boy?"

I'm holding a contest for the best caption for this photo.

Goodbyes at the train station - Jordan and Vanessa were on their way to Nice, Italy and then Paris.

Prince Day in Monaco and Succulent city!!

From Nice, we decided to take the 1 euro intercity bus to a small medieval town called Eze Village and then hop another bus to Monaco.  Eze village was similar to some of the other medieval villages I'd been to, except it had an AMAZING cactus and succulent garden.  Entry was 5euro and the bonus was the best view from the entire village.

This picture doesn't do this garden justice, it was one of the coolest gardens I'd been to.  A swedish prince, in the 1920s shirked his swedish, princely duties and just hung out at this site until the mid 1950s.  Saw some fine specimens of cactus, agave, aloe and other such succulents. 

 

It was Prince Day in Monaco, which meant that the Monte Carlo casino was closed.  We went to the world class Museum of Oceanography instead (Prince Albert in the early 1900 was an avid and devoted oceanographer).  The museum is part of his legacy.  This is me, trying to figure out how to work the one-person submarine developed in the second half of the 18th century.  It's as fun as it looks.

And...some amazing aquariums in the basement.  The museum is large building tucked into the cliffs, right on the water.  It was impressive, both inside and out.

Some...swell pictures of Nice

This was the view from the terrace that our room opened out to.  The first night we arrived, there was a soccer game on.  We watched the sun go down, serenaded by soccer chants.  How romantic.

Sugared fruits (glacee).  Everything can be "glaced" - kumquats, oranges, plums, pears, chestnuts...you get the point.

We had half an hour to kill before catching our ride back to the hostel...no problem, we'll just sit by the beach and watch this insanely beautiful sunset.  Easy.

The view from the other end of the beach.

I felt like chicken that night...

When deciding on a city to live in, Lyon was the one that we had in mind the entire time.  The 3^rd largest city France and known for its gastronomy and film/cinema scene – it seemed like the perfect fit.  It was an exciting place that had all those things to offer, you couldn’t walk 3 steps on any given block without coming across a restaurant, a patisserie, butcher or specialty food shop.  The city was awash in “bouchons”, or rustic little restaurants that served all things pig and regional.  Although it was exciting and offered us all that was expected, we had to weigh some important factors.  Did we want to live in a large French city when we were planning on moving to Paris in the spring?  Would Toulouse feel too sleepy after 5 months time?  Big and exciting?  Charming and quaint?  We had to endure a few tense hours – keeping in mind this was the first MAJOR decision (aside from choosing where to eat every night) we had had to make since coming to France. What it all boiled down to was this: no matter where we live for the next 5 months, it was going to be hard and it was going to be wonderful.  I won’t say just yet – you just might have to check back in a weeks time to find out where we’ve ended up.  The apartment search is on!

One of the most special things we came across while here in Lyon was the Poulet de Bresse.  I had seen it on a food network show once and was hoping to get my hands on some of it while in France, the demand is so high in France that very few chickens make it out of the country.  The Bresse chicken was the first livestock granted an AOC designation.  You might be familiar with AOC (appellation d’origine controlee), which is a designation that ensures that certain agricultural products meet very exacting standards with reference to where and how these products are produced.  Most would recognize it on some wine labels, but I was first introduced to the concept when I worked at the cheese shop - yes, cheeses have AOC designations.  Leave it to the French to promote and exalt a chicken to such a degree.  We saw them at the butchers, where they’re always proudly displayed and sold with the heads (red comb and white feathers) and feet (grey blue in colour) on.  Check out these beauties:

We went to a restaurant that specialized in Bresse chicken to see what the hype was all about.  I ordered a poulet a l’Ain a la crème (chicken of the Ain region in cream) and P got the andouillette sausage, which was another specialty of the region, made of pig intestines and other delicious pig insides.

My chicken was presented as a leg/thigh piece resting on a shallow pool of cream, garnished with 3 little pomme dauphinoise and accompanied by a bubbling ceramic dish of potato gratin.   I never had bresse chicken before, but…it was perfect!  Good job France!  Yes, keep them regulated and make sure they always taste this way!  It’s hard to describe, after all it is chicken and I can only liken it to the most chickenest tasting chicken.  If you’ve ever had chicken, steamed/boiled whole, you will know that a free-range chicken, aside from the colour, tastes different from an industrially farmed chicken.  It is a bit “gamier”, that is to say it HAS flavour…which is something we don’t seem to ask from our grocery store, boneless-skinless chicken breast in trays of 2.  I don’t know how the chicken was prepared, but I got hits of a wine-y aroma, and it wasn’t the sauce.

My chicken was the star of the show – but P’s andouillette showed pretty well.  Served with frites, it was white in colour (all the way through) and seemed to be loosely held together in its casing, distinguishable pieces would fall out as he cut his fork through it.  It was very delicately seasoned and what came through was salt, and clean tasting organ meat.  Although, there are no winners and losers at a nice dinner, P and I always declare winners of each course.  My Poulet de Bresse was true to its reputation, but Paul made a surprise come back in the dessert round with the fromage blanc.  Who knew that just a little cup of fresh plain cheese, turned out into a bowl would beat my terrine of grapefruit and oranges served with a coulis cassis?  

Lyon has some great residential neighbourhoods...only they are waaay up some treacherous hills.  The City built up 2 funiculars for a touristy neighbourhood, but most people make the daily trek on these long stairways.

A getaway from my vacation...

Now I know I shouldn't complain, but it's been a bit of a grueling schedule, we've been on the move, skipping from city to city every 3-4 days since we've left home.  As a reward for picking a place to live, we've decided to treat ourselves to a luxurious 5-night stay in Nice.  Here, it's 18 degrees and sunny and with none of the wandering around random french neighbourhoods trying to imagine living there.  We're staying in a great hostel, recommended to us by a ridiculously good-looking couple we met in Prague, if it's good enough for the beautiful - it's good enough for me.  It's an old monastery/villa on the hill converted into a hostel.  The common area is inside a chapel - where they serve breakfast, dinner and drinks.  We got a private room on the top floor which opens onto a big terrace that looks out over Nice.  Sunsets on the french riviera look as good as they sound. 

For now, it's Nice.  Went out to a town called "Grasse" where they are said to put out 80% of all the fragrant essences that are used in perfumes.  We expected to be transported back into time where provincial towns people milled about in full skirts dumping skirt-loads of flowers into wooden vats, while adorable street urchin wove through the crowds chasing chickens with lavender fields in the visible distance.  Instead, we went to a perfumer's factory and joined a guided tour group that included a middle-aged Scandinavian man carrying around a large-sized terrier, I would have retained a lot more information had I not been so distracted by wondering what the dog thought of the tour.  

They still use the method of "enfleurage", developed in Grasse, extracting scents from delicate flowers by placing them on sheets of beef/pork fat.  Flowers are replaced onto the fat every day for up to 3 months until the fat is saturated with the essences.  Then it's all boiled off and separated before use in perfume.  We also learned about "Noses", who create the perfumes.  These people are highly trained professionals capable of identifying up to 2000 distinct smells.  Apparently, a few years back the director of Kenzo wanted to develop a scent that embodied "Strasbourg at Christmas", noses were said to have flocked the streets of Strasbourg that Christmas to try to create that scent.  

Promise to post pictures in the next few days.  Despite this "getaway" in Nice, we've been busy making daytrips  out to other cities on the Cote d'Azure during the day and staying up late in the chapel bar.  Tonight, I'm tucking in early.  

Back posts with pictures to come:

"Prince Day in Monaco/Succulents City!"

"I felt like having chicken that night"

Okay...maybe just one picture:

Aww...he likes castles so much (not in Nice, but in Carcassonne)

Bruges (or as the Flems would say, "Brugge")

Must talk about the dinner at Poules Moules.

I don't have any pictures, so you'll just have to trust me when I say that it was the warmest feeling, skinniest restaurant (spread over 3 levels) I've ever dined at.   Determined to get some Moules Frites while in Belgium, we asked the guy at the front desk of our hostel for a good place to go - and he done served us good.

It was the best french fry I had had in my life, the curry sauce and the white wine sauce that the mussels came with made good friends with them too.  The mussels were perfect - plump, sweet and abundant.  Bonus points for the ones emerging with a thin piece of celery or onion clinging to it - like a Bond girl coming out of the water with the right bathing suit on.  P had a filet of beef, a side of frites with roquefort sauce - decent, but nothing to write home about.

At a hot chocolate/tea room in Bruges.  They bring you a giant bowl of steaming milk accompanied by a portion of chocolate chips to be stirred in...served in a little chocolate dish...also to be stirred in.  The whole affair was balanced out by a plate of biscuits and a selection of chocolates from the chocolatier downstairs.  Didn't grab a card or anything, but I (or P) can show you next time you go to Bruges with us.

An obligatory canal/bridge/old brick building shot of Bruges.  I was enthralled by an intense duck fight taking place.

Remember that surrealist poster you bought at the university poster fair?  When we all thought that surrealism was cool?  In my opinion, surrealism is NOT cool, but float THIS on your subconscious.

A proper belgian street waffle should be made of a yeasty dough (more bread-y than cake-y) with bits of sugar baked right in, then it must topped with a volume of whipped cream equal to that of the waffle.  We got this one with strawberries.

Poules Moules

Simon Stevinplein 9

Brugge, Belgium

050/34.61.19

Breaking the dam...in Amsterdam

It's almost been 2 months since I've left home and despite my hate-on for taking pictures, I've managed to document some of the last 55 days.  I have spent the last 2 days in the Amsterdam public library and the last 2 nights wandering the streets of the redlight district.  Like all the other places I've been so far, Amsterdam is peppered with both good and bad sentiments.  Today I saw 2 pigeons picking away at a piece of dog turd.  I had bad feelings towards this.  On the other hand, I was bewitched by the city when the old dutch bar owner, reprimanding some teenage Brits yelled, "Noe shmoeking in de lounge here!".  The 3 boys filed out with their heads down, like they had been sent to bed without their pudding.  Only it was 9:30 in the morning, and it was hash and not pudding they were being denied.    

So this is my first post and I'm not sure what this will all be about - sometimes me, sometimes pictures, sometimes videos, just sometimes somethings.   I'll be back-posting pictures from the first portion of my trip - (is "back posting" even a real blog word?).  

Prague

Lovely kitchen at our lovely hostel.

BERLIN - "Poor, but sexy"

We fell in love and will have to come back to pick up our melted hearts.

Berlin Hauptbanhof.  The best hauptbanhof around.

Everyone loves Berlin and Berlin loves everyone.

From the steps of the Parliament (Reichstag/Bundestag).  In my opinion, there are not enough words that sound like "bundestag".

I tried to take a picture of one sight, but my camera couldn't but help and capture 3 interesting things.  That's the way of Berlin.

Copenhagen

Watching rollercoasters at Tivoli Gardens.  They do a special thing for Halloween, kind of like "Fright Nights" at Playland back in Vancouver...only nicer.

Nyhavn.

Tivoli at dusk.

Bjerkreim forever!

After hemorrhaging money in Oslo (the CAD took a dive), we took some financial refuge on the south west coast of Norway.  P has some family in Bjerkreim and we spent a week taking it way too easy and eating way too much.  We stayed with Ola, Tora and Bjorn at Birkeland farm, which has been in the family for 300 years - always passed down to an "Ola" or a "Bjorn".  Run by Ola and Tora (both retired teachers), the farm has sheep, dairy cows, a field of rutabagas, a lake, springs and lots of rocks.

Birkeland farm makes me happy.

A scramble up Church Mountain.
A scramble up Church
The view of the house from the top.  The siding was being replaced and the hammering started at 8:00 on the first few days.

Kuli - P's grandfather's family left their farm/home on this site 6 months before he was born.  The family had survived an avalanche (or maybe 2?), during one avalanche the kids were buried under the snow and the parents (great grandfather/mother) were able to find them because they saw a hand sticking out from the snow.  The stones were the foundations from the old house.  

   

Sopp Mania!!

Okay, this activity was so dear to me that it gets an entire post on its own.  We took some busses (about 30 minutes outside of Oslo) to hunt for mushrooms.  We were lucky with the weather and only got poured on in the last half hour of the hunt.  Of course, it was only after it was pouring that we started to hit the mother load.  We were looking for "trakkanterelles" or "funnel" chanterelles.  Don't know what to compare it to.  Perhaps an Easter egg hunt?  Only you could die if you picked the wrong one, I don't think that happens on easter egg hunts.  

On your mark...get set...go sopp crazy!

Who says you can't look good hunting for mushrooms?  There's something sexy about a man in the forest with a basket, some small paring knives and some small mushroom brushes.  

There is something magical in the discovery of non-poisonous food.

Ta-da!  I think it was close to 1.4 kg of goods.  We had to lay them out on some newspaper for them to dry, and then we brushed and trimmed each one.  We were cursing our success after 40 minutes of cleaning.  

Oslo

One of the 3 excavated viking ships at the Viking Ship Museum.  They were used as burial ships for noblemen and women.

Lunch at Cafe Dus with M&K.

Some gate at Vigeland Park

We had seen some Japanese tourists take a fun, self-timed picture.  When they left we decided to do the same.  They came around and caught us copying them.  How embarrassing.

Waiting for the tram before breakfast.

Frankfurt am Main

Bretzelface.  

Chomping down on some grilled corn on the Main - Sachssenhausen just before sundown.   

 
Telephone sheep at the Museum for Communication.

View of another museum from the cafe at the Museum for Communication