Northern France and something more...

Parties separately, the French by Florence and Nath from Aosta, rise out of Alsace, Champagne and then finally to Normandy, to visit carefully and then declined in Britain and return to Italy from under Paris, barely touching the Loire and Burgundy!

 

The beginning

Departure from Aosta 9.00, not too soon - we're on vacation or not? - Direction France.
No way prepared before getting in the car, the only thing that we get some leadership, the Green Touring across the nation bought at half price, some Routard taken to the library on a chambres d'hotes and another on the Normandy. We decided the way to do that Nathan is already behind the wheel of "The Admiral", my 206 that, so excited to return to his country of production, yesterday decided to plant the speedometer on the 10 km / h and do not spit cooler air conditioning. This is our starting condition for 2 weeks traveling to the discovery of northern France.
Nath takes the tunnel of the Great St. Bennardo, snubbed the step that would have stolen two hours of time to pay a € 22.40 pence to the company that operates the tunnel with Switzerland.
Past the 5 km in the gut of the earth we find ourselves in Neutral and Earth immediately exploit the fact that gasoline is cheaper, even if we pay the Vignette (toll motorway Switzerland) for a whole year. But the most shocking start of this holiday is the first coffee flush. The first of a small series, before I decide to take no more, never again to return home, of course!
The road took a turn under our wheels, the peripheries of cities in the same sequence, Lausanne, Bern and finally Biel-Bienne-indent. From there, we made a choice a bit 'rough on our Michelin map, also on loan. We followed a highway dotted, we realized that making, to be built, and then we alternated with stretches of road "normal." The frontier was on the direction Delémont / Porrentruy, to get to (hypothetically) as soon as possible to our first stop: Ronchamp, location close to Belfort.
To do what? you ask for a normal subject. To see a masterpiece of modern architecture! I say! The Chapel of Ronchamp by Le Corbusier! Aaaah! And who does not know!? Nathan has kindly consented to my request, even if, during the long journey to get there we are both a bit 'impatiently. We arrived the sun was already declining. The church is located on a hill, hidden in the bush. The you come from behind and wanders all over, being now able to aim too high from a small pyramid a few meters. Seems a balocchino, a small building such as children and targets from all sides. Seeing from outside leaves you a little bit of dissatisfaction, but just put your foot inside, you're seized by a whirlwind of emotion, involvement, emotion. Small splayed windows in the thick masonry borrow hot lights and colorful. The insole cover is made from a flimsy thread of light that separates the media. The lights create telescopic side chapels evocative of divine energy.
I left satisfied by this first leg of my journey French, my first long trip with Nathan and my first full month with him! SiSi! A whole month of sharing we are waiting for you!
Back in Belfort, glimpsed the walls of his famous stronghold by a traffic light that leads us to highway, our new direction is Colmar. I was referred by a friend as a town very, very pretty, and since it is on the road, as being not so great beauty! The Guide for Touring the confirmation and once our eyes too, have experienced. Here we took advantage of my friend Paul for dinner, the franchise favorite boulangerie and a tasting of superb local wines, from Alsace! Colmar is a Henia, a small beribboned, where the audience comes to care too green geraniums hanging on banisters of water canals that run through the city, the balconies are racing to reject flowering plants of every race and color, softening the tangle lines, generated by the lines on the facades of wooden armatures that characterize the style of Nordic timber-framed houses.
One last stop for this first day of our vacande, Strasbourg, where we booked our one night at the Hotel Confort € 35 for the room. Our record so far, in our frequent trips we had never spent so little.

From Gothic to Gothic...

Sweaty night Comfort Hotel Strasbourg, nobody at the time of booking we had explained the lack of air conditioning, which apparently seems to be a constant of our French trip. Overall, the assessment is positive, friendly, nice and decent, near the center and the motorway. Without breakfast, not included in the price of course we headed downtown. The admiral placed safely in a central underground garage near the gigantic museum of modern art, we come to the center under a gray sky gray at all promising. There had already been in the border town at the European Parliament, about 16 years ago. A travel award for a contest of the Movement for Life, which I had participated with the class, without knowing who banished him or what you win. I swear! I tasted the city at that juncture, so hard to dodge and religious proselytizing. On this second visit I was not expecting much more, even though I had some revelations. First, the covered walkway to the channel that we crossed to reach the downtown area. Bleak, with the faces of statues abandoned there, in a sort of basement at sight. A Nath liked a lot, he seemed charming and romantic to me ... only suggestive, so as not to appreciate it with detachment, that his genius loci! Then, the Cathédrale de Notre Dame, the warm front, in a pink stone, different from the examples of Gothic seen in Paris, and all the typical neighborhood that is around. Here I started to have a hint not to find it on a broken line in this period, meaning that many shops were closed for holidays and if two plus two is always four, perhaps this the end of July is not exactly the period of peak tour of northern France, that's good, though a little 'shopping is always good! ... But I do not think they will miss opportunities.
An interesting anecdote, or rather would say the first blow to the refined French in my Nathan sitting at a cafe, asked the waitress, along with the bill, a pen for me, calling it "plume". The young man does not understand and looks at him with eyes cattle, to which I Italiot from clueless with languages, I do the simple act of writing and the lady says, "Ahhh! A stylo! ". Poor Amoremio as there has been bad, he still devoted to the language of Chateaubriand and Maupassant! It was a lot of time thinking about it: "... yet the French did not dialect, they speak all the same, at school I was taught that it is said plume. It is precisely the Amoremio, not like me, he believes in the power of language, accent and fairness in all the dresses there. I wonder how will you bear my dyslexic distraction, excuse my spelling horrors!
Returning to Strasbourg, I think I'll need an additional visit because the light of this morning, so turned off and rough, there has not been appreciated fully, it has enhanced its neighborhoods of houses with half-timbered facades, its large squares and its waterways. After a quick lunch we are heading north next step Reims. The campaign that we crossed before you get is immense and immeasurable. Reims is in the Champagne region, but we see many more bales on fields abandoned gold green vineyards along the highway that reaches you. The guide Routard we have drawn an address of a chambre d'hote at 20 km from the town, on a farm. It was not easy to get there, we turned around the nucleus of the city in search of the right direction, found by exclusion. Will be the case of procuring more detailed map. Reached the cozy and unique accommodation for the night, we run again for those deserted streets immersed in fields reaching the city. I'm not the capacity of light, is the day until 22.30. Haivoglia Nathan to explain that we are further north and further east, to me is not natural.
With a blow of xulo, we open the cathedral, fabulous example of gothique flamboyant. Fruiamo sneak desert interior lets face it for later. Inside, the blue glass made for the transept by Chagall and immense height, the distance between the human and the divine, typical of the Gothic side of the Alps. Outside, the facade, brimming with monstrous animals and divine figures, which majestically dignified communicate all their complexity magnificence, even in a gutted by the square yards of maintenance. Just out of the center, an eye to the stores, bottles and a quick dinner made of pork shank, a robina leggerina ...

thatched roof: what a surprise!

Wake up in the country makes us feel really on vacation, a new dimension that will last a whole month, our month together.
Descend from Mrs. Jacquelin Leriche to breakfast. We leave the farm by alcohol given to chambre d'hote, which also contains a museum of rural culture, and we head toward the dining hall. Here is a relic of civilization that was, a large dining table for large families, the arms of agriculture. Is set for two, with croissants, café au lait, baguettes, yellow butter and jam. What a nice wake up! After the hearty meal, a few words with the lady, who originally believes the French, Italians and Spaniards all of the same race, Latin
(at least for the language. Incidentally, I do not know really what kindness, friendliness and civic-mindedness of these Norman has in common with many of the Italic inclinations - the comment is Nathan)

Put back on the street, greet Brienne-sur-Aisne and Champagne countryside without having succumbed to the temptation to delay our arrival in Normandy for the underground cellars of nectar with bubbles.
Our goal is to Rouen, the capital of Normandy and of my adopted city Simone, the already cited author of The Age too strong. I feel attracted to this city that has hosted for years, which has seen the pendulum of love to Berlin, Paris or Le Havre, to Sartre.
To reach the A26 to Rouen resume Neufchatel-sur-Aisne. Decide for an intermediate stop and choose the closest, St. Quentin, notwithstanding the later and more famous Amiens. St. Quentin, a town 'child' for driving green, proved to be a real surprise. Very interesting from the motorway, which reveals it perched on a hill, but the real surprise came when, emerging from the underground parking lot, we were in a beach. The central square of the Hôtel de Ville gothique flamboyant style was set up with sand, swimming pools, water slides, games for children and chairs with umbrellas for adults. A satisfaction to see them! All around the weekly market with stalls of fruit and extra food. We granted a walk, visiting the Basilica of St. Quentin XIII-XV and also to the market. Here we get the "trash" for our picnic highway: two molds directly from the producer of goat cheese, a baguette complete, and deux tomates because we were good, as well as coca cola coffee substitute, who persist in calling expressed but it is not. (Note: I usually adapted to local customs, I drank coffee lungooooolungo Austrian, the Swedish, the turkish very good, but I find it wholly unsatisfactory for my palate). Along the journey by car, Nathan has sought an accommodation by phone for the evening, and expects to visit the capital this afternoon, we set at about fifteen kilometers to the west, a Chambre d'hote near Abbaye Jumièges a San Galgano of the Seine.
Rouen has been wonderful, busy with beautiful people, all provincial and rich of monuments: the cathedral of Notre-Dame heart of the city, the Renaissance Gros-Horloge, the flamboyant Palais de Justice, the abbey church of St. Ouen, Place of Vieu Marché, where he was burned alive the Maid of Orleans, the church of St. el'Aître Maclou, the first gothic masterpiece, but closed for insufficient staff, the second seat of the Academy of Fine Arts, so nice to me back the desire to go to school! Bella Rouen, really!
We continue our evening autocammino to the rooms of the campaign. It is never easy, the villages where we find the Chambre d'Hote are always just reported our maps and short on detail. This time we take a large, passed by Maromme
(Nathan: anonymous satellite towns of Rouen and disturbing ...), twinned with my Florentine municipality of residence (Nathan: I understand why you are twin ...). We also have a mishap, we have made gasoline with a debit card and instead of spending € 20 to € 100 sms it shows. We hope to resolve it to return.
We arrive at the Relais de L'Abbaye after a long pilgrimage which, fortunately, is still day. Of course, I think, here the sun never goes down! Jumièges is the first step along the path that we will do tomorrow ABBEY ROAD. The lady of Relais us recommend a restaurant, it looks like there are not many along the Seine. The river here is close to its estuary, and it is great, cross it by boat (Nathan, bac, equipped to load the car) and you navigate large barges heavily laden containers. To reach "The Pommeraie (tel. 02 35379487), there are moments of friction between me and Nath, generated by hunger and poor directions, but which are dissolved at the table (Nathan: It's true, we only reasoned calmly on street to the restaurant. I argued, erroneously, that you had to take another route to the restaurant, but I still follow your intuition and we arrived at the destination). We sit on the veranda, down the road that runs along the Seine. Romantic at first, except that the road is traveled at high speed and a little 'worries us. But there comes the sunset and the poetry of a warm, enveloping light. The meter very kind we recommend an alternative path to what we studied for the next day, the route des Chaumières - what will be 'ste chaumiere? - As well as advise us to return for a big event that involves this anxiety of the Seine, the Armada of 2008

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infrastructure old and new ...

Even this morning, breakfast is more than satisfactory. That of the chambre d'hote is really good accommodation, friendly and economical rates per night for a double hovering between 35 to 45. It seems that here is not what happened stra-euro mark. Take the road, but not for long, the Abbaye de Jumiège is really around the corner. Have to pay a ticket, we would rather not. We want to be a step short. We want to resume the path of Le Havre, which is for Route of Abbeys or Chaumières. We pay and the performance of the interior is very charming. The Basilica dates back to 654 with reconstruction in the eleventh century. Now is a ruin with no roof, but well kept. The park would have deserved a more thorough visit. We share dividends between the two routes, first towards the Abbaye de St-Wandrille, then the Route des Chaume. Once we understand that there is a path on the left bank of the Seine to use the traditional thatched houses, just Chaumières
(Nathan: I had already understood before. Do not you?). Cross, too fast, picture-postcard country, where everything is well guarded and coy.
The bridges over the Seine are significant and impressive works of engineering, covering hundreds of meters lights because here the river is huge, being close to its mouth in the sea.
Le Havre is situated right on the estuary, the tip toward the sea, is the second largest port in France after Marseilles, and I love the ports, so different from my property in Florence. I wish this city particularly. Was completely destroyed during the Second War and completely rebuilt by Auguste Perret, architect of the old school, which codifies the use of reinforced concrete. Same Perret Rue Franklin in Paris (see here). I already know what awaits me, nothing of what we've seen so far, no typical half-timbered house wooden, no color or bright flowered balconies, but reinforced concrete prefabricated buildings rapid and homogeneous, in response to the need to provide housing displaced persons, to restore dignity to a city battered by war. A community with dignity in the name of what was then a material "new".
I remember the presence of a church but not much more. Arriving in town, we opt for the underground parking. Once the light, we are in the heart of the draft Perret, Place Hotel de Ville. The City Hall has a large tower with a clock, an echo of the historic public buildings. Around, a beautiful piazza, lush green and orderly in modularity of the facades facing. We see urban sprout from a steeple of what I read on the map to be the vague memory of the church, St. Joseph, this concrete, this one of Perret. The sky is always variable, and just as we approach turns gray as the concrete on sight, a light gray pervades everything. We turn around the building square, towards access anonymously. Here my expectations are already at zero and begin to get an idea on sfottò Nathan perpetrerà for days on the master Perret and his material. But it is precisely when we are discouraged that we have the biggest surprise, not!
(Nathan: Yes, yes, yes!). Inside you open a belly warm and bright. From the base of the building turns on a light cone - the central lantern, the one I called first bell but that is exaggerated - all studded with colored glass, Gothic windows of the current descendants. Each side of the predominant color with different light filters. We read that St. Joseph was recognized monument of humanity, and we think rightly
(Nathan, a title now inflated, here in France ...). Satisfied with having to change his mind and look forward to continuing to see Perret a master of contemporary architecture, we are reaching the beach. There is a beautiful harbor and a beautiful tourist beach, a boulevard lined with booths along the restaurant. The beach is punctuated casino wooden single-family to shelter from the cold sea wind. We, more than the beach, we are attracted by the restaurants. The first won us, we find what we were looking for: the regional dish moules-et-frites. We sit down and bring to us those delicious pot with mussels monoportion natural with a little 'onion and french fries from Pucci in the sauce! Goodness of elaborate digestion! Here I tried again with the coffee, but I swear I give up!
Fed well, we share saluting Le Havre and met Perret, direction Côte d'albatrosses. We have set for the night in a chambre d'hote by M.me Vaird at St-Martiini-aux-Buneaux, loc. Tournetot. The guide Routard the label style truly special, we will see with our eyes by the evening. For the afternoon we went down the coast to see the alabaster cliffs overlooking the sea and the characters Norman countries. This was followed Ètratat, where I buy my french striped shirt in a building type covered market with its characteristic wooden carpentry and Fecamp, where we try to visit the distillery Bénédictine but found it closed. Both recognize this place a very Anglo-Saxon charm, that, so to speak, the films of Loach. Even for this time of night to find the room was not easy, also because of the rain. When you reach the surprise is enormous, M.me Viard is a kind of Lucia Bosé, home to the den of a broker (the photo is blurred but it makes). We assign a duplex room for 6 people and we recommend that you go to eat at Veulettes-sur-mer. Accomplice bad weather, everything here seems sparsely populated. Fascination ground at the end of the world is amplified by the wind, the twilight and the faces worked by salt. We choose the last dive of the waterfront and we are lucky, they carry enormous and tasty dishes.

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True land of Normandy!

Mrs. changing hair has finally conquered with breakfast, taken literally by the throat! A mix of sweet and salty welcomed us into the dining broker. A comment on the overnight positive overall. The style, as he said Routard, is definitely special and distinctive, an opinion not entirely positive about the cleanliness - I defy anyone to be able to properly clean an old house with all those abbriccichi - excellent on breakfast. You decide whether to go to M.me Viard if you happen to go over there (tel. 02-35975477).
Back with the usual gray sky and rain harbor. We are now resigned, this variability would need to be characteristic. Southerly direction, toward the lower Normandy. The Lucia Bosé advised us to go to Honfleur, rather it ordered him to go!
After ten kilometers of normal road there's sometimes some squabble
(Nathan must be the weekend urging ...) luckily soon we reach the highway and attacking a conversation about the Two Chief World Systems, inflation and wage indexation, the cost of living in Italy for twenty years, the economist who is nathan every time it comes out. We cross the bridge of Normandy, the last, chronologically, in the infrastructure linking the two banks of the Seine estuary. As soon as we have already fallen to Honfleur, a typical northern town with marina, wood-framed houses and those of black slate (the most typical of this city). Walking through the shops and restaurants was really nice. When he hung up to rain, we put back into the car towards Caen, Rouen after the other great cities of Normandy. The guide says "university town completely destroyed during World War II," already because the landing beaches here are just around the corner.
Also look for the parking of Caen City Hall, where we find ourselves on a hill in front of a monumental abbey. With the uncertain sky we walk with his nose to the center. First decided to splash water, although with kway twins, we admitted into a tea room to warm up a bit '. Take the opportunity to lay down for the night. Begin to have problems finding a place to sleep, will be the weekend, combined with the most touristic area. In the end, risking failure of nerve Nathan who hates making reservations by phone
(Nathan: specify, please: I hate to hear phone calls and decided to repeat all the time "c'est complet, désolé") but which is forced, being the only one of us to speak the indigenous language-yes, I know is shameful, the French do not know the French - book chambre and table d'hote at the Lords to Seguineau Montgardon.
Despite the rain, sometimes flying, we still get an idea of this city. So, we move on. We make two photos on the cross: the fortress, the oldest surviving road of destruction. Interval the cultural pain au chocolat, just to not break the habit to eat with your eyes! (Nathan: but above all with his mouth, I would say!)
Before approaching the place of our evening rest, we have to visit Bayeux, the town of the tapestry. We discover that on Friday, or maybe this Friday is market day and I lose myself between the stalls, but Nath snorts, rightly I must admit, because it is a market equal to all. Stuck in the town church, what do I mean to be ugly, at least in our eyes accustomed to the greatest masterpieces of French Gothic. We approach the home of this tapestry, the guide shows how a long narrative canvas with embroidery on medieval life. This time the cost of the ticket, and lack of business to be in front yards of embroidery
(Nathan: And let's also a certain weariness, perhaps more that your mine, I admit ...), we are sidestepping the appointment with the Middle Ages and we resumed our journey towards the Parc naturel régional des Marais du Cotentin et du Bessin, in the middle the peninsula in the Norman département of Manche. La chambre d'hote is near Le-Haye-du-Puit, the hostess is waiting for dinner at 20. Nath has offered to be my voice at the table, some excitement has literally said these words "Love, I'll be your voice, you speak and I will translate for you." I never asked for much, are all modest and shy when he talks, ask him annoys me to report to me ... at most times the recommended! The fact is that after a while 'speed-load (the French have a reading road signs all over them) we got it right. The place is very nice, the Lords Seguineau very welcoming. They put us at the table with 10 other people after the presentation of the case, Nath has been stated that I did not utter a word and that he will take charge of tradurmi. Well, I had taken the letter in his statement as before. 10 minute time, the second request to report my thought, between plates to move and sporzionare, he widened his eyes and explained that he had tired, literally "the next time you come to France with me, you learn French "Cute, no? my love! Ah The men! do not even know what multitasking!
(Nathan: This is a shameful lie! It was the second request, he was already halfway dinner, indeed, perhaps had already appeared in the sweet lady, Nicole, and all that were interested in the trans pair of Italians, I had to respond and ask for me, do it for you, go to the Alsatian dishes, baked potatoes make me reach out to the elders of the Paris region and explain the shape and texture of cereal you had seen but do not know his name, all in two languages, with some hint of color on the Germanic dialect of Alsace, Burgundy and that she wanted to know from me what I thought of the pension reform in Italy, as in France will retire at sixty for a long, long time. ... no, that dinner stressful!). Well I went there all through dinner to smile and say "merci". An experience to make the table d'hote, where you can converse with the guests! At all excellent culinary, cider made by the landlord, the terrines campagnard as entrée, roast beef with gratin de pommes-des-terres-au-daufinois, which is nothing but baked potatoes with cheese , then turn a tray of cheese area, needless to say, very good, and even the cake, which I can not say either name or recipe
(Nathan: I seem to remember a plum jam and a pastry, very, very buttery).
Since the weekend, and the difficulties in finding housing, we decided to plan a night next to Montgardon, followed by relaxing days, excluding the table d'hote that was not so relaxing!