France Finale

It’s been almost one week to the hour since Rob and I opened the front door to Woodhaven after being gone for 23 days. Our 14-year-old cat, clearly having given up ever seeing us again, summarily hissed at us and slinked away into our bedroom. She forgave us within minutes and hasn’t really left us unattended since. Getting readjusted to this time zone has been tough, what with the cat needing hourly reassurance that we are still here and breathing. She’s lucky she’s otherwise adorable.

Pretty much the scene at Woodhaven
for the past week

As friends have asked us over the past week how our trip was, I have noticed both Rob and I are sort of perplexed how best to answer. On the one hand, it was a truly epic adventure that we had long dreamed and talked about taking. We saw, smelled, and tasted much of France through a firehose of three action-packed weeks. We realized our goal of learning about French wine and can now visit that aisle of the wine store with more confidence. Two nights ago, as we opened a newly acquired bottle of Chablis, I said, “A Chablis. That’s in the northern part of Burgundy, which means this is a Chardonnay!” Rob gave me a high-five as I danced around the living room in wine-knowledge victory. WHOO HOO! The trip worked!!

But the trip was also challenging. We were WAY out of our comfort zones. Although we had an itinerary, we had hired someone much more capable to put it together for us. I had a 1-inch binder full of confirmations and tickets and vouchers. Each day was like a scavenger hunt, with pieces of paper leading us to the next train station, hotel, restaurant, tour, or wine tasting. I got pretty good at saying, “Nous avons des réserves” (we have reservations). It was weirdly freeing to have a plan but not really know what that plan was -- to trust that a good plan had been made and I just needed to follow along one step at a time.

We had some bumps along the way. A cancelled flight. Two piercing hotel alarms. A hotel without hot water. A train without a place to sit. A train that hit something and caused delays. A hail storm with no shelter. A digestive system that rebelled most of a night. A back that screamed for 3 days.

Super duper crowded train.
I was standing in a stairwell.

It took us hours to dry out. We dripped
all over the train that finally arrived.  

But, similar to getting Norovirus on the very first cruise I ever took, none of those bumps substantially detracted from the trip. They were mostly shoulder shrugs, things we couldn’t do much about and had to navigate around. A much-needed lesson for a control freak.

It was a trip filled with transitions. Every 2-3 nights we were in a new town in a new hotel with new outlets and buttons and switches and bathroom fixtures to figure out. We traveled around by train, and I was surprised how quickly that became a confident mode of transportation. By the third station, we waltzed into the lobby like locals. Knowing we needed to wait until our train was assigned a platform, we joined all the heads gazing up at the Departures board, grateful that numbers look the same in English and French. However, our not-carry-on suitcases gave our tourist status away. Many French train stations don’t have operable elevators or escalators, so there was a LOT of luggage lugging up and down stairs. We have already discussed how we will pack lighter on future on-the-go vacations.

Gathered to watch the blue screen to 
tell us where to roll to next.

I can not begin to tell you how
grateful I am for this man. There
are so many things I simply could
not do were it not for him.
This trip is but one.

And it was a trip filled with French stuff. French food, French words, French customs, French scenery, French style, French people. It was both exhilarating and exhausting to be immersed in so much Not Home.

We actually managed the language barrier pretty well. By the end of the trip, I was able to get the gist of what was being said to me and could usually cobble together enough words to reply. I was super jazzed to order full lunches in French and ask a question here and there. I took it as a great compliment that people would reply to me in French, assuming I understood them. Of course, my blank stare was a tip off and they would then smile and say, “Is English better?” Such kind, benevolent, bilingual people they were!

But I also sort of enjoyed not knowing what was going on around me. Other people’s conversations were just white noise since I didn’t really understand what they were saying. It was oddly relaxing and liberating just to rest in the unknown.

I was surprised how much I do not really like French cuisine. We had a few nice dinners and honestly, they were too fancy and saucy and heavy. I found I much preferred street food, like bread and ham and cheese and chocolate over the exotic and weird duck liver and snails and frog legs. Accordingly, Rob and I both managed to lose some weight on the trip. We certainly did not overeat (or overdrink), and we walked at least 3.5 miles daily. I have already failed at my resolve to continue that healthy habit at home.

The perfect meal. Salami, cheese,
baguette, dark chocolate, wine.

This was advertised as a Taco.
It was not. 
Not bad, although the limp
fries inside were a surprising
addition.

My favorite lunch was splitting
one of these sandwiches. Simple, 
tasty, filling, and totally orderable
all in French. 

I was also completely unprepared to learn that I care a lot more about fashion than I realized. Or, rather, MY fashion. To be efficient and minimize laundry, I invested in several Merino wool pieces of clothing prior to packing. Touted for being temperature regulating, odor resistant, and comfy, it was to be the perfect travel wardrobe. And it was, sort of. I only washed the four shirts once the entire trip, and I didn’t wash the two pairs of pants I alternated until we got home. I was amazed!

But I was also bored out of my mind. The clothes were all solid colors and dark (winter colors on sale) and made me feel so incredibly frumpy and dull and lifeless. I hated having no patterns or personality or fun with my clothes. This was a surprise, because deciding what to wear is definitely NOT a daily highlight for me. My feelings of wearing a potato sack were made worse by the fact that I was schlepping that sack around France, where women could not only wear burlap, they would accessorize it and effortlessly look like Jackie Onassis.

Me pondering how bored I am of
that shirt.

By the time we got to Champagne, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I hated the clothes I was toting around and I hated how completely unpulled together I felt. With a couple hours to kill before the next train ride, I left Rob in the hotel lobby while I went shopping. Knowing that “Prêt-a-porter” means “ready to wear” – in other words, inexpensive, off-the-rack clothing – I was stoked to spy “Prêt” on a store window. Less than 30 minutes later, I emerged with a bag filled with sanity and confidence. It is AMAZING the power and magic of a simple jeans jacket. And a colorful scarf. Totally blew my mind that I cared so much. So, travel wardrobe lesson learned: the Merino wool is awesome and dull. Definitely pack my French Jeans Jacket and a few accessories next time.

SO MUCH BETTER! I had worn
that outfit without the jacket and 
hated how blah it felt. 

Even though we were on the move, I loved the slower pace of French culture. They never seemed to be in a hurry, other than Paris – and even then, it was sort of a waltz of activity instead of a mosh pit of chaos. Every day in every town we visited, stores closed between noon and 2:00pm so people could go home and eat a proper meal. There seemed to be a priority on food. Not just eating it, but enjoying it, savoring it, sharing it. I rarely saw people using their phones in restaurants or sidewalk cafes. When it was time to eat and socialize, the French folks were present with the people and food in front of them. It was refreshing…and that sort of startled me.

Even in the rain, French people take time to
socialize in sidewalk cafes.

As we learned about French wine, I started to think of wine in a new way. Terroir is the term for the whole environment a wine grape is grown in – the weather, the soil, the proximity to a road, the elevation. I started to think about the terroir of a glass of wine (this is not an actual concept in the wine world; this is just me letting my mind wander a bit).

There’s the wine itself, but there’s also the shape of glass that it’s in, the time of day you are drinking it, the people you are drinking it with, the circumstances of the moment (a meal? a tasting? a celebration? an escape?), the food that might accompany it, the temperature of the air around you, the view, the reason that particular wine was chosen. I started to realize that often, a glass of wine is just part of an experience. But sometimes, if given a chance, that glass of wine IS the experience. We just need to slow down and notice it and let it be a participant instead of an accessory.

I have hinted a few times at “next time” we take a trip like this. Do we have one in mind? No. Not yet. But this trek around France opened our eyes to a different way for us to travel. It showed us that we can handle being uncomfortable. We can exist in and enjoy a culture we aren’t familiar with, speaking a language we barely know. We can be adaptable. We can take chances. We can enjoy not knowing.

Slow down. Rest in the unknown. Trust that there’s a good plan in place even if you don’t know what it is. Being efficient can be dull. Sometimes you just have to shrug your shoulders when stuff you don’t like happens.

Fascinating lessons when I thought I was just there to learn about wine.

And with that, I will end with my Cheat Sheet of French Wine. This is a super basic summary of what I learned on my almost-summer vacation. Salut!

BORDEAUX

• Southwest France
• All about blends
• Reds only
• Left and Right bank of river
• Left Bank = Medoc = Cabernet Sauvignon with others blended in
• Right Bank = Saint-Emilion = Merlot with others blended in

LOIRE VALLEY

• East-west valley to the Atlantic Ocean
• Lighter, medium bodied wines
• Mostly whites (Sauvignon Blanc and Chenin Blanc, Muscadelle near ocean)
• Red is Cabernet Franc

 

CHAMPAGNE

• Three main grapes = Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, Meunier
• Most are made from Pinot Noir
• Most are white but some can be pinkish
• Serve it in a wine glass

 

ALSACE

• On border with Germany
• Almost entirely whites
• Main grapes are Riesling, Gewürztraminer, Pinot Blanc, and Sylvaner
• Much more complex and interesting than US versions
• Colmar and Schœnenbourg are the best areas

 

BURGUNDY

• Confusing!!
• Only two grapes = Chardonnay and Pinot Noir
• It’s all about the geography of where the grapes are grown
• Negotiants are BIG part of process

 

NORTHERN RHÔNE VALLEY

• Southeastern part of France, boundary with Southern Rhone is Montélimar
• Red grape = Syrah
• White grapes = Marsanne (heavier), Roussanne (delicate, finicky), and Viognier (only grown in Condrieu)

SOUTHERN RHÔNE VALLEY

• Almost all reds, and almost all are blends
• Traditional blend is GSM = Grenache (80%), Syrah (20%), Mourvèdre (20%)
• Home of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, where it is impossible to know what you are buying unless you ask someone who knows