Bonjour, and welcome to a summer in FALS – for the uninitiated that’s France, Austria, Lichtenstein and Switzerland! Family, friends and unfortunates who blindly stumbled upon this blog by chance and didn’t hit the back arrow soon enough, will find themselves with a one-way ticket around Europe with us during summer 2012.
It feels so good to be back in France. After an 8-hour flight with Corsair, (memorable for the zero degree wind howling down my neck and the fact that the legroom was too short for a tray table), it was a real pleasure to land. We were welcomed to Europe with a noticeable lack of red tape and no immigration lines, just a cursory check of our passports. All nationalities were through the formalities in minutes compared to the hours we are used to in the USA. There were no security guards, no machine guns, no threatening atmosphere, no grim faces, no glass cubicles - just a big relaxed welcome to Europe.
We have clearly been away too long. We spent our time in the airport staring wide-eyed at the fashions. Presented with a set of clothes the typical Parisian is wearing, I would have no clue how to put on all those layers in the right order (indeed, do they?) Males and females alike seem to wear layers of assorted underwear, wind several scarves around their neck and manage to look très chic. And the hairstyles…! We felt like underdressed country bumpkins.
We picked up our hire car ($12 per day all-in for the next 4 months), a Renault Clio diesel, and headed out of the city. We were soon enjoying the cozy familiarity of graffiti-covered overpasses, grey clouds and more lorries than cars on the narrow jam-packed autoroute.
Enough of Paris, Orly. We chose to take the N4 southeast to Strasbourg, Alsace to see the countryside and avoid the tolls, but so too did all the lorries. The car seems comfortable and spacious enough for the task in hand, and the diesel will prove economical. Lesson one in French came soon enough when we realized that new cars have a lot more new-fangled gadgets than we are used to. I thumbed the pages of the car manual in French, trying to fathom out what a + and – button were on the steering wheel and why the car was reluctant to accelerate when overtaking a long line of lorries. It can be unnerving when the gap between the approaching juggernaut and us is decreasing at a combined speed of 220km/hr and the car refuses to respond to the accelerator. Finally disabled the SPEED LIMITOR and instantly felt our odds of survival were a trillion times better. Phew!
After that, we could relax and enjoy the flat fields passing by along with the red-tile roofs of farm buildings, the odd church spire, huge storks’ nests and conical topped towers peeking over the trees. Typical French countryside is so timeless and beautiful. The fields had a variety of crops with no marked boundaries between them as they flowed from lines of sweet corn, cereals and potatoes to asparagus, strawberries and other unidentified crops. The poppies along the edges were stunning, as were the fields of blue cornflowers and lavender. Every village had its auberge or relais (roadhouse), a throwback of the times when early motoring required a bed and a mechanic at every stopping place. Incidentally, this was the humble origin of the first Michelin Guide, now hijacked as a marque for outstanding restaurants.
Travelled through the Champagne region with rows of grapes and eventually we reached the Haut-Marne where the scenery was hilly and wooded. Stopped at a Cora supermarket and headed inside, drooling with anticipatory pleasure. It did not disappoint. A lot may have changed in Europe since we were last here, but you can still get a wedge of ripened brie oozing from its crust for €0.91, baguettes with insides as light as candy floss for €0.55, tasty coarse pate, the sweetest cherry tomatoes and some very quaffable red wines at less per litre than petrol (€2.10 compared to €3.30 for diesel). If only the car would run on it!
So spent a happy evening enjoying the last of the sunshine as we arrived at the Roi Soleil in Holzheim, a stone’s throw from Strasbourg.
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