Riding the rails
It has been suggested in some circles that I could give Michael Portillo and his Bradshaw’s guide a run for his money. With all the trains we have taken since leaving Amsterdam, I think they could be on to something.
The trains in Europe are proving to be highly efficient, reliable, and somewhat expensive. Not the budget travel we expected. That said, we are about to embark on a different way of crossing Europe. More on that further down the track, pardon the pun.
For today, we wrap up our fabulous few days in Epernay and again head to somewhere that neither of us has been to. And as such, a place we knew very little about. Other than they are famous for mustard. It turns out, there is a lot more to Dijon than its famous condiment.
Some 3 hours and 25 minutes after leaving Epernay, with two train changes, we rolled into Dijon. Dijon has a population of around 125,000. A population that revels in a city centre that has been shorn of cars, become pedestrianised, and like cities all over the world, re-embraced trams. The city sits in the Burgundy region. The wine buffs amongst you may have just started to take notice, at the mention of Burgundy, one of THE wine regions of the world.
Much of the architecture in Dijon remains as it was in mediaeval times. Times of the Dukes of Burgundy. Grand hotels (of the French type, which were in fact, large homes), large imposing buildings that now house such treasures of the Museum of Fine Arts, and the obligatory Notre Dame cathedral. It is said that scholars of mediaeval architecture make a pilgrimage to Dijon to study the immaculately kept buildings. I can see why.
The golden glow of Dijon
There is a golden glow to Dijon that is very appealing. From the tiled floor, to the buildings that crowd around the busy squares, packed with bars, and restaurants. As with everywhere we have been in France, regardless of the day of the week, the bars and restaurants are full and bustling. I read a lot about the “cost of living crisis”. A crisis that has not reached these shores, it would seem. Also golden, is one of the icons of the city, the owl that adorns the 13th century church of Notre Dame. Rubbing it with your left hand, we did, is supposed to bring luck. We are still waiting.
Trying out the local bed and breakfasts
For our accommodation, we booked our first Chambres d’Hotes. Bed and breakfasts that proliferate across France. We had three nights in a ground floor apartment of an old mansion. Our double bed was overlooked by a cadre of rather scary looking portraits. I was worried they may come to life at night.
Having fun with the language
Upon arrival at the accommodation, we were greeted by Brigitte. “Bonjour,” said I. “Je m’appelle, Fran.”
“Brigitte,” came the reply, quickly followed by a volley of French.
“Ah, je ne parle pas français,” I said.
Brigitte shrugged, and in another volley of French, told me she didn’t speak English.
What followed was Brigitte checking us in, showing us around the apartment, and giving us lots of information. Nothing about the scary portraits! It was like a hurricane had just blown in. Victoria’s face was a picture. Like a rabbit in the headlights. I picked up a few words here and there. Nodded a lot. And kept saying “Oui”. What I was agreeing to I suppose we will never know.
When we were alone we just looked at each other, and laughed. What just happened, we asked each other?
Beaume, the real wine capital of Burgundy
Having three days in Dijon afforded us the opportunity for a day trip, so we jumped on to a train to Beaune. Described as the capital of the Burgundy wine region, (wine buff alert), it was a 30 minutes train ride away. Surrounded by villages producing some of the world’s best wines. Any Marsannay, or Meursault fans out there?
Strolling around the ramparts of the old walls I imagined what it must have been like in the prehistoric times, or as it prospered under the Romans. It probably wouldn’t have looked much different. The well preserved, fortified town is surrounded by hills that have vines clinging to them. The small town is a wonder of old cobbled streets and many squares that make a perfect place for lunch and a glass of that famous Burgundy wine.
Leaving for Lyon
Dijon and the Burgundy region proved to be a really enjoyable stay. One of our favourites so far. But like all travellers, we had to keep moving. We were heading south to Lyon. Somewhere I only knew about through the local football team, Olympique Lyonnais playing in the Champions League.
Discovering old Lyon
And yes, there is a lot more to Lyon than their football team. We based ourselves in the presqu’ile area. The peninsular between the two rivers of the Saône and the Rhône. We had two great days that were spent exploring the city and getting lost in the old, narrow cobbled streets of Vieux Lyon, the old town. Of particular interest were the murals that Lyon has become famous for. We visited two of the most popular ones and were both blown away by how impressive they are.
Riding the funicular up Fourviere
Not far from the murals, holding a commanding position on the Fourviere hill high above Lyon is the, you guessed it, Notre Dame cathedral. One of the most impressive we have seen. Described as a wedding cake, it perches at the end of the funicular line from the old town. Wandering down the hill from the cathedral we stumbled across the Gallo-Roman ruins. Sat proudly in the centre is the amphitheatre, one of the oldest in all of Gaul.
Time to head back to the station
Roman ruins. One of the best Notre Dames we have seen. And pizzas to rival the best of Naples were still not enough to put the brakes on our travels. As the third day dawned, we again packed up our bags, and headed to the train station. Not a station that would impress Michael Portillo but we were here for the 10.36am train to Avignon, and onwards to the Provence region.
Until the next time, santé
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