several years ago after watching le Tour, we were inspired to reroute an upcoming trip to include a town le Tour passed through, Beaune. we were intrigued by the intricately tiled roofs of the buildings. this small town was a discovery at every corner. wonderful shops; including a fabulous tapestry pillow shop, delicious (non-smoking) cafes, and friendly folk.
the original route for the trip: fly into Paris, head east to see the Christmas markets and the town of Grosbliederstroff, my ancestral home. but le Tour allowed encounters with small towns that would have been otherwise ignored in a drive by – many barely visible on the map.
the touted markets in Metz were a disappointment, commercial and tacky, but the trip was delightful. our favorite, Nancy. amazing architecture. charming cafes. gilted fountains. cobbled streets. our timing was only marred by a world cup soccer match that had happened the day of our arrival. and not the match, I am a fan, but the rowdy (defeated England) fans celebrating in and outside the bars afterward, culminating in a police raid. sadly, as those fans awoke in the French lock-up the following morning, the night before was a blur. and they went home to celebrate another day. the diversion to avoid the drunken crowd, however, did provide for a delightful restaurant discovery!
we meander under a schedule (drat!) on our way to Grosbliederstroff along the German border. as we arrive we are hungry – so we stop by a pub to grab a bite. we walk in and everyone turns to stare, er, glare. The proprietress shouts, ‘no room’ (or get out, our French is iffy). we leave. odd, the French are usually welcoming … no, seriously. so we wander across the road to a little Greek hole in the wall – a delicious decision.
after lunch, armed with daddy’s family history we find what we think is the family chapel. and find disappointed that in the town cemetery, there is no sign of my heritage - excited at the adventure nonetheless. the town is situated along the River Saar, and we walk across the ornate iron bridge, Pont de l'amitié (Friendship Bridge), into Germany. amazing.
before we head back to Paris and home, we venture further south on a recommendation from a friend (thank you, Ellie) to Lyon. there is old Lyon and new. night and day. age is beauty.
watching le Tour on television is scenic. driving through the countryside is surreal. vineyard covered hills. stone buildings. flower filled gardens.
this year as they ride through Saint Fargeau, the sunflowers cover every inch of the countryside. ‘the flowers turn their backs on the riders’, the commentator reports, ‘they only smile at the sun.’
i jot down where those sunflowers shine.
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