And we are on the road again! Although I only got two hours of the driving schedule (I was pulled out of the circuit due to alleged ‘excessive speeds’ – if you’re not in the fast lane you’re taking up too much space!), I got to experience the special phenomenon my dear husband was dealing with daily – the magnetic right hand pull. What is it about the right hand side of the road that has such strong allure? I might have been to blame somewhat, as it’s only really when I intermittently yell out ‘Wow, that’s stunning. Maaaagical’ and motioned violently towards my passenger window that Gary momentarily takes his eyes off the road and, in this default subconscious driving state, we narrowly miss a five ton truck and clip a curb or two (don’t worry kids, it’s a rental).
We drove through the town of Blois, the capital of the Loire-Et-Cher area of central France situated on the lower banks of the Loire river. Although it’s dark and remarkable past includes historical highlights such as acting as a relief base for Joan of Arc’s army in 1429 and experiencing years of Nazi occupation during World War 2, we had our sights set on places beyond the Foret de Russy and therefore saw most of the town hurtling past us through the windows of 'General de Gaulle'.
After Blois we pulled into the mysterious city of Orleans which, at midday on a very hot and humid Sunday, was seemingly deserted. Orleans is situated in the Loiret region and has a very religious and spiritual history. The city has a beautiful old centre, with much of the streets and houses in their original historical state. We jumped out the car and headed straight to see the famous façade of Orleans main cathedral, whose giant stone walls seemed to emit a cool breeze which had attracted the scattered tourists from the nearby streets to sit under its Gothic ramparts. In the shadow of the cathedral sits a small very locked up shul and Jewish community centre, and Gary took some interesting pics of its stain-glass windows.
Winding through the medieval alleyways, we did come across a hidden little square where a jazz band were setting up a stage for their evening show and performing a very lively sound-check. Pulling up a few chairs and beers at the nearby café, we enjoyed the music and the buzz of the lunching locals for an hour or two. Incidentally, the square which we had stumbled upon was watched over by a statue of John Calvin and by default we had sat outside the home in which he had been accommodated in the town during his studies at the University of Orleans.
After the heat and stillness of Orleans, we legged it to Tours but landed up in the city at around 5pm in the afternoon just as the Sunday markets were closing up. We did manage to catch a bit of the antique stalls down the main tree-lined boulevard and, asking everyone who passed us by where the nearest café shop was (they were all closed) we were very generously offered delicious baked treats from the market boulangerie in sympathy.
Deciding that the day had more in store for us, Gary and I decided to careen through more French countryside to land up in the quirky capital of Poitiers. A town also given significant religious stature (it was the sight of the French catholic armies turning the tide against the Muslim Moorish invaders), the old town is peculiarly situated on a hill within a deep depression in the land, so that the surrounding forested countryside sits at the same level as the towns cathedral spires and watchtowers. After a series of illegal parking moments and a comedy of errors trying to find the tourist office for advice on where to find a room to sleep in at 8pm at night, we eventually landed up at the ‘Grand Hotel’ (probably grand in the 70s, when it was last refurbished) which boasts, although curiously not on its brochure, the most unfriendly and strange staff in all of the Republic. Oh well, and least it’s a bed and not a car seat …
We drove through the town of Blois, the capital of the Loire-Et-Cher area of central France situated on the lower banks of the Loire river. Although it’s dark and remarkable past includes historical highlights such as acting as a relief base for Joan of Arc’s army in 1429 and experiencing years of Nazi occupation during World War 2, we had our sights set on places beyond the Foret de Russy and therefore saw most of the town hurtling past us through the windows of 'General de Gaulle'.
After Blois we pulled into the mysterious city of Orleans which, at midday on a very hot and humid Sunday, was seemingly deserted. Orleans is situated in the Loiret region and has a very religious and spiritual history. The city has a beautiful old centre, with much of the streets and houses in their original historical state. We jumped out the car and headed straight to see the famous façade of Orleans main cathedral, whose giant stone walls seemed to emit a cool breeze which had attracted the scattered tourists from the nearby streets to sit under its Gothic ramparts. In the shadow of the cathedral sits a small very locked up shul and Jewish community centre, and Gary took some interesting pics of its stain-glass windows.
Winding through the medieval alleyways, we did come across a hidden little square where a jazz band were setting up a stage for their evening show and performing a very lively sound-check. Pulling up a few chairs and beers at the nearby café, we enjoyed the music and the buzz of the lunching locals for an hour or two. Incidentally, the square which we had stumbled upon was watched over by a statue of John Calvin and by default we had sat outside the home in which he had been accommodated in the town during his studies at the University of Orleans.
After the heat and stillness of Orleans, we legged it to Tours but landed up in the city at around 5pm in the afternoon just as the Sunday markets were closing up. We did manage to catch a bit of the antique stalls down the main tree-lined boulevard and, asking everyone who passed us by where the nearest café shop was (they were all closed) we were very generously offered delicious baked treats from the market boulangerie in sympathy.
Deciding that the day had more in store for us, Gary and I decided to careen through more French countryside to land up in the quirky capital of Poitiers. A town also given significant religious stature (it was the sight of the French catholic armies turning the tide against the Muslim Moorish invaders), the old town is peculiarly situated on a hill within a deep depression in the land, so that the surrounding forested countryside sits at the same level as the towns cathedral spires and watchtowers. After a series of illegal parking moments and a comedy of errors trying to find the tourist office for advice on where to find a room to sleep in at 8pm at night, we eventually landed up at the ‘Grand Hotel’ (probably grand in the 70s, when it was last refurbished) which boasts, although curiously not on its brochure, the most unfriendly and strange staff in all of the Republic. Oh well, and least it’s a bed and not a car seat …
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