BEAUNE, FRANCE
Never visit France during a rail strike--especially if you don't speak French--unless you're content to sit out the strike where you are. I didn't come to that obvious gem of wisdom until I got back to Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam after the fact and some frustrating detours.
Never visit France during a rail strike--especially if you don't speak French--unless you're content to sit out the strike where you are. I didn't come to that obvious gem of wisdom until I got back to Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam after the fact and some frustrating detours.
Train not listed on departure board.
News of the rail strike didn't bother me when I arrived at Gare de Lyon in Paris on my way to Beaune to tour some of the world's most prestigious vineyards. An American I'd met told me he didn't think the strike was affecting routes south, but when I stood looking for my train on the big board inside the station and couldn't find it I had niggling stabs of doubt. Still, I convinced myself it was just too early to be posted and decided to wait until an hour before departure and if it still wasn't there I'd start to worry.
News of the rail strike didn't bother me when I arrived at Gare de Lyon in Paris on my way to Beaune to tour some of the world's most prestigious vineyards. An American I'd met told me he didn't think the strike was affecting routes south, but when I stood looking for my train on the big board inside the station and couldn't find it I had niggling stabs of doubt. Still, I convinced myself it was just too early to be posted and decided to wait until an hour before departure and if it still wasn't there I'd start to worry.
Do any officials speaks English?
At the appointed hour I started looking for an official who spoke English and learned my train had indeed been canceled and I'd have to take a different one, this one to Dijon, not Beaune, for which I'd have to queue up at the end of a long line, eating up more time, to buy a different ticket. It took half an hour to reach the window, but luckily most window agents speak English. Once there I asked how I could get to Beaune from Dijon and the agent suggested a taxi. I didn't know how far Dijon was from Beaune, but I began to see francs flashing before my eyes as they rapidly advanced on a taxi meter. (This was before France converted to Euros. Just about that time I couldn't help remembering the story of some poor soul from Japan who had landed in Los Angeles and told the taxi driver he wanted to go to the Grand Canyon.) By this time I had to run to catch my train, but because I had booked first class I was able to get a seat, for which I was grateful. I was still puffing my way down the aisle when the train pulled out.
At the appointed hour I started looking for an official who spoke English and learned my train had indeed been canceled and I'd have to take a different one, this one to Dijon, not Beaune, for which I'd have to queue up at the end of a long line, eating up more time, to buy a different ticket. It took half an hour to reach the window, but luckily most window agents speak English. Once there I asked how I could get to Beaune from Dijon and the agent suggested a taxi. I didn't know how far Dijon was from Beaune, but I began to see francs flashing before my eyes as they rapidly advanced on a taxi meter. (This was before France converted to Euros. Just about that time I couldn't help remembering the story of some poor soul from Japan who had landed in Los Angeles and told the taxi driver he wanted to go to the Grand Canyon.) By this time I had to run to catch my train, but because I had booked first class I was able to get a seat, for which I was grateful. I was still puffing my way down the aisle when the train pulled out.
French dictionary/phrase book essential!
At Dijon, as I waited in another queue, this time for a taxi, I silently practiced saying a phrase I had put together and written down from my French dictionary. "C'est combien pour aller a la Beaune?", which seemed to do the trick, for when the taxi driver stopped in front of me and I reeled off the phrase, he held up three fingers which acknowledged that, in light of my lousy French, which he nevertheless understood, his best shot in dealing with me was in sign language. I, in turn, correctly interpreted the three fingers as 300f (this was before France went to Euros--$43 at the time). I nodded and got in, and in an effort to be friendly he began pointed out different vineyards along the way, all in deliberate, plodding French, assuming, I suppose, that if he spoke slowly enough I would understand. Rather than trying to put together "I can't understand a word you're saying, regardless of how slowly you speak" I just grunted every time he pointed.
At Dijon, as I waited in another queue, this time for a taxi, I silently practiced saying a phrase I had put together and written down from my French dictionary. "C'est combien pour aller a la Beaune?", which seemed to do the trick, for when the taxi driver stopped in front of me and I reeled off the phrase, he held up three fingers which acknowledged that, in light of my lousy French, which he nevertheless understood, his best shot in dealing with me was in sign language. I, in turn, correctly interpreted the three fingers as 300f (this was before France went to Euros--$43 at the time). I nodded and got in, and in an effort to be friendly he began pointed out different vineyards along the way, all in deliberate, plodding French, assuming, I suppose, that if he spoke slowly enough I would understand. Rather than trying to put together "I can't understand a word you're saying, regardless of how slowly you speak" I just grunted every time he pointed.
Old Town convenient, near all the sights.
Beaune is a beautiful, neat town with fine old buildings and I was happy I'd booked a hotel in the old part, which made it easy to explore on foot. It is well worth exploring. The biggest tourist attraction, aside from the wine cellars, is the Hôtel-Dieu hospital, built for the destitute by wealthy patrons in 1443, and now an immaculately maintained museum including a magnificent Gothic chapel. The hospital owns valuable vineyards and hosts the world's most famous wine auction on the third Sunday of November each year. Not surprisingly there are tasting cellars all over town.
Beaune is a beautiful, neat town with fine old buildings and I was happy I'd booked a hotel in the old part, which made it easy to explore on foot. It is well worth exploring. The biggest tourist attraction, aside from the wine cellars, is the Hôtel-Dieu hospital, built for the destitute by wealthy patrons in 1443, and now an immaculately maintained museum including a magnificent Gothic chapel. The hospital owns valuable vineyards and hosts the world's most famous wine auction on the third Sunday of November each year. Not surprisingly there are tasting cellars all over town.
Vineyard tours offered.
I had signed up for a tour of the vineyards, which was fascinating, particularly since there were only four of us in the van and we all spoke English. The guide was kept busy with our questions. Wine has been grown in this region since the Romans planted vines in the 12th Century. I hadn't know the French government has strict control over all the French vineyards, and vinters must plant only vines he has been authorized to grow. If he wishes to buy more land the government must approve.
I had signed up for a tour of the vineyards, which was fascinating, particularly since there were only four of us in the van and we all spoke English. The guide was kept busy with our questions. Wine has been grown in this region since the Romans planted vines in the 12th Century. I hadn't know the French government has strict control over all the French vineyards, and vinters must plant only vines he has been authorized to grow. If he wishes to buy more land the government must approve.
Only 4 types of grapes grown here.
There are only 4 different kinds of grapes grown in the region and those 4 go into the wines made there: Pinot Noir and Gamay of the reds and Chardonnay and Aligoté of whites. We learned such salient facts as:
There are only 4 different kinds of grapes grown in the region and those 4 go into the wines made there: Pinot Noir and Gamay of the reds and Chardonnay and Aligoté of whites. We learned such salient facts as:
- The soil gives the character of the wine
- The best wine comes from grapes grown on a slope
- No irrigation is allowed
- The Pinot Noir grape likes to "suffer" (i.e., poor soil and little moisture)
- Vines are trimmed 10 times a year
- A grower picks 2 different branches from a vine each year on which to grow grapes
Perfect for bicycle tour.
The Côte-D'or seemed a perfect place for a bicycle tour. One could go from village to charming village, eating and drinking one's way through the sunny days, overnighting at a B&B wherever you might land--a carefree existence. There are guided bicycle tours too.
The Côte-D'or seemed a perfect place for a bicycle tour. One could go from village to charming village, eating and drinking one's way through the sunny days, overnighting at a B&B wherever you might land--a carefree existence. There are guided bicycle tours too.
Getting back to Paris!
Between lessons and tours and wine tasting I would trek to the railroad station and push my note in bad French (which was getting tattered looking) under the grill asking for news of the strike. The ticket agent recognized me after a few days and would shake his head when he saw me set foot inside the station, for I was always the only person to visit. I ended up taking a taxi back to Dijon where I connected with a train back to Paris.
I think it may have been then that I began to think it might be wise to turn worries about rail strikes and language barriers over to a group leader.
Photos top to bottom:
Beaune city center with carousel
Hôtel-Dieu, originally a hospital for the poor
Beaune wine estate
Between lessons and tours and wine tasting I would trek to the railroad station and push my note in bad French (which was getting tattered looking) under the grill asking for news of the strike. The ticket agent recognized me after a few days and would shake his head when he saw me set foot inside the station, for I was always the only person to visit. I ended up taking a taxi back to Dijon where I connected with a train back to Paris.
I think it may have been then that I began to think it might be wise to turn worries about rail strikes and language barriers over to a group leader.
Photos top to bottom:
Beaune city center with carousel
Hôtel-Dieu, originally a hospital for the poor
Beaune wine estate
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