What's up in Paris?

 

            Well, in one word: OBAMA!

 

            You would think that the French had elected him. He has pushed Sarkozy and the beautiful Carla right off the front pages and covers of the newspapers and newsmagazines. Everywhere you go there seems to be a newspaper kiosk with his smiling face all over it.

            And from what we can see from the local TV it seems to be pretty much the same all over Europe.

            To give you an idea of how far things had gone, the Mayor of Paris sponsored a special TV presentation of the inauguration in the Hotel de Ville (the city hall) with beautiful printed invitations sent to supposedly 1,300 people.  We were lucky enough to get one, but then we were advised by an e-mail that in typically French fashion things have gotten a bit out of hand and God knows how many are going to show up, so we decided to give it a pass. Later in talking to people who did go we heard that it was a great success.

            But that is not the point of the story, which is: Can you imagine the Mayor of New York or Chicago or wherever holding a massive public celebration of the inauguration of a French president or even an English Prime Minister? I don't remember this much fuss when they elected Sarkozy.

            We were going to watch the inauguration with friends on a barge that was equipped with a huge television screen.  But at the last moment Suzanne felt that the event had such great meaning for her that she preferred to watch it in the quiet of our own boat and besides she couldn't stop weeping.

 

            The next morning a friend who was at that viewing sent Suzanne an e-mail commenting that for the first time in a long time she wanted to go back to America.

 

            We'd like to share with you Suzanne's reply to that e-mail:

           

            "Oh Sudi, not five minutes before I opened your message I said to Jerry that, for the first time since we left, I am feeling that I will look forward to going home, that I want to be part of the spirit and part of the work, even if an ever so small part.  I suddenly realized just how alienated and lonely and angry I have felt these last eight years and how glad I was to get away from it.  So it is comforting to read your similar thoughts.

            "Also, I must admit that my decision to watch the events here had something to do with the fact that I am a little sensitive about people assuming that the overwhelming significance of this event for me is about race.  It isn't.  That's part of it, of course, an important part of it, but the overwhelming sensation has to do with values and character and goals; that people who share these values are taking over the leadership of my country and that these values are embodied in the character, the intelligence, the courage, the classiness, the wisdom and knowledge, the commitment and the energy of this extraordinary young man. What brings the tears is feeling that I belong again, that I share the same longings and deeply felt concerns and goals with so many others in our country and that we have awakened to take up the work together. It's the freedom from the painfulness of isolation that brings the tears."

            And then to give physical expression to this emotion we took our large American flag from out of storage under the bed and proudly mounted it on the stern of the barge!

            That night we celebrated the inauguration in high style.  During the course of  our involvement with the Democrats Abroad and the Obama campaign we had come to meeting many American residents of Paris.  So, one of them decided to celebrate with a black tie dinner for 40 at a most elegant city club in the heart of Paris…and even though we didn't have formal wear (who packs a tuxedo on a barge?) we went right along. Wonderful food, great wine and everybody in high spirits.     

 

            So, what else is new?  Well a few key words are: snow, ice, cold and boxers.

 

 

            Yes it got cold here in Paris for a few days.  The normal winter is about 35 to 45 degrees with lots of gray sky with lots of drizzle.  But a couple of weeks ago we had a snow that lasted on the ground for a week because the temperatures went below freezing for an entire week.  The canal right outside our window froze over with a thin layer of ice and the tour boats that go by here (even in the winter) went crunching through like ice-breakers.  And what was worse is that the fresh water lines that supply the barges froze up.  By a stroke of luck we had topped up our water tanks the day before the lines froze.

            Actually, most of the time it is warmer here in Paris than, say, New York or even East Haddam…but one of the differences is that in Connecticut when it gets cold you just have to walk to the car, but Paris involves a lot of walking.  Couple that with a normal gray sky and lots of cold drizzle. "Oh, what is so rare as a day of sunshine in Paris in the winter."

 

            But we do bundle up and get around. Besides gym, yoga, French lessons, and boat maintenance there is still time to take in some of the things that make Paris special.  Like, in the company of a very charming and knowledgeable guide  we had a tour of the fabulous tapestries at the Louvre…they are something.  Commissioned by Louis  XIV they are fourteen huge tapestries on a hunting theme that had seldom been exhibited all in one place until the Louvre created a special room for them. Fabulous workmanship!

            And then the next day the same guide took us on a behind the scenes tour of the Opera Garnier, the spectacular opera building (and setting for Phantom of the Opera) in the heart of Paris.

            Of course there is the usual great opera and ballet season, but a special treat was the "reincarnation" of Edith Piaf.  In a circular building, used normally for a winter circus, there was performance with a cast of 20 of the "life" of Edith Piaf. For those who don't know, she was a charismatic singer who became the "soul" of Paris. In this production there was a young woman who was Piaf.  She had the voice, the posture, the gestures and the appearance of  Piaf.  It was absolutely uncanny. A bravura performance.

           

            Oh yes, the Boxers: We went to the  big Paris Dog Show (and to show you how much the English language is taking over…that is the official name of the show, not something  Frenchy like "Concourse des Chiens de Paris.") But that's not where this story is going.  At the show Suzanne got chatting with the Boxer -people.  We commented that Luca looked quite different than their top dogs.  We showed a picture of Luca at one of his competitions…and they were most interested.  The upshot is that the  next weekend we were invited to a meeting the Ile de France Boxer Club..and to be sure and bring Luca.  So the following Sunday we drove out to a suburb somewhere south of Versailles and met with thirty boxer lovers.

            Luca was the only dog there and the hit of the meeting. One of the top dog show judges was there to give a talk. And then he lifted Luca onto the table and discussed the differences between the European and American judging standards. His judgment was the Luca could not be judged favorably because his neck was too long and graceful, his chest too pronounced and his head too fine…but the back end of him would pass muster in Europe.  All in all, an interesting day and a great chance to spend a day with the French people as they are in France…which means that the meeting ended with champagne and cakes.

The War Zone

 

 

            Such horrible things in such a beautiful setting.

 

            The Nazis chose to put the  only concentration camp they were to build in France  at an old ski resort high up in the Vosges mountains. Today, set in the beautiful pine forest with a superb vista of the  blue-green mountains, there is a "monument" to man's capability to be inhumane.

 

            At  the old concentration camp of Le Struthof we found the  barbed wire, the guard towers, two of the old  barrack buildings, and the gas chamber and crematorium. The visitor center had very graphic displays of the terrible nature of the Holocaust.  But as chilling as the graphic displays were the most awesome part of the visit is to stand there in the remains of the camp and imagine  the life and death of the unfortunate inmates.

 

            The prisoners, Jews and gentiles alike, were from virtually every country of Europe, including a goodly number of  Germans who were classed as politically undesirable. Le Struthof was not primarily an "extermination" camp like Auschwitz.  It was a labor camp where the prisoners worked in a nearby quarry.  But life was so cheap, for out of some 50,000 prisoners who passed through Le Struthof 20,000 died there.. Mostly the detainees were starved to death and worked to death. And when they died the easiest way to dispose of them was cremation and the ashes were just dumped in a ditch. However, with German prisoners who died the SS developed a grisly  sideline business of  offering to send an urn of the ashes of their "loved one" to grieving relatives, for a modest 60 Reichmarks.

 

            We had driven up to Le Struthof from Nancy (more about Nancy later).  Since leaving the Champagne district  we had been cruising in Alsace-Lorrain and the Ardennes, which I label "The War Zone".  Ever since France had become a country and maybe even back to Charlemagne, this was the frontier and invasion  route.  Everywhere there are reminders of past battles and fortresses.

 

            There is the fortress city of Sedan, where in 1870 the Prussians defeated the French, thus toppling the Second Empire and creating the German Empire, not to mention the seizure of Alsace and Lorraine.

 

            A little way down  you come to Verdun, scene  of  an eight month battle in 1916, which resulted in the death of 800,000 men (both French and German).  Our cruise took us right through one of the key battle areas. At Verdun we attended an open-air light and sound show (with a cast of 300) about the battle.  It was presented in an abandonned quarry that eirily looked like a battleground.  Very frightening.

 

            And close by  you come to Saint Mihel where in 1918 the Americans fought the bloody battle of the Meuse-Ardennes.

 

            Town after town are noted to have been completely rebuilt after some war or other. 

 

            Old fortresses abound, including those built by Louis XIV's engineer: Vauban…most of the old city of Toul sits inside one of Vauban' forts.

 

            We even cruised right past one of the gun emplacements of the  old Maginot line. And cruising into Bar le Duc we passed a military cemetery overlooking the canal where they coped with the enormous numbers of the dead from nearby Verdun buy interring them two to a grave...each grave had two crosses. 

 

            But it wasn't a completely bitter-sweet tour. The scenery was lovely.  As a matter fact the upper valley of the Meuse reminded us very much of the Connecticut River in Vermont. But since we had seen enough of  Vermont we cut short our planned voyage to Namur in Belgium and turned back toward Nancy,which had always been planned as our "turn around" point.

 

            Nancy, the premier city of Lorraine was certainly a worthwhile destination.

 

            Over the centuries the province of  Lorrain had been traded back and forth, but the  most significant recent trade came in the 18th century when Louis XV  gave Lorraine to his father-in-law Stanislas Leaesczynski,, the deposed king of Poland.  The significance was that Stanislas, being a peaceful man, devoted himself to making his capital  city of Nancy  into a symbol of 18th century charm and elegance.

 

            Thus Nancy now has perhaps the most spectacular  public space in Europe: Place Stanislas.  It is an enormous  open square framed with perfectly proportioned

public buildings, which include the city hall, the opera house, a hotel (named, of course, Le Grand),  a museum  and several delightful open air restaurants. ( Look at the photos and contrast the two gates shown.) Putting the square  to good use every night during the summer at 10:45 there is a wildly imaginative light and sound  show projected onto the façade of the town hall.

 

            The Place is not the city's only claim to "artistic" fame, since Nancy is the birthplace of the  Art Nouveau movement, which enchanted the world of decorative arts at the turn of the 20th century.  The Beaux Arts museum is a knock-out ,not only for the works inside, but also for the building itself.  And then there is the Musee de l' Ecole de Nancy, which is a "private" mansion filled with the wonderful creative furniture and other works of Emil Galle and Louis Majorelle.  But not all of the Art Nouveau works are in the museums., walking along the streets you see  art nouveau architecture…one after another.

 

We enjoyed Nancy so much that we stayed  longer than we expected (19 days) and now finally we are on the move back to Paris, which should take about a leisurely month or so.

 

            We've again been given a winter mooring in Paris…how can we pass that up…so we are going to spend another winter in Gay Paree.  However, except for a brief  visit or two we been in France since March, a year ago, so it is about time that we take a little vacation from France and come back home.  We'll return on October 15, giving us a chance to get in our vote for Obama, and have a Thanksgiving at home , and return to France on December 5 for the "season" in Paris and more cruising next spring..

Sunday, June 22, 2008

The Ardennes

 

 

            Some might say it was just a lunch stop, which it was…but in reality it was the quintessential  French canal barging experience. 

 

            We hadn't really planned on it. On Saturday we had exhausted ourselves with a long seven hour day and numerous locks.  So, on Sunday we were hoping to take it easy, but the problem was that ahead of us there was flight of 27 locks up the hills of the Ardennes.  What we mean by a flight of locks is that they were more or less a chain, with each lock being only about 500 or 1000 yards apart and you pass directly from one to the next.  And of course they are the classic French canal lock dimension, which means an opening in the concrete that is just 5.2 meters wide (LaLavande is 4.9 meters wide, so you see the problem).

 

            Starting at 8 we  arrived at lock 20 (starting from lock 27) at 11 a.m….a distance of  about 4.5 kilometers.  There was a great mooring spot there and on the other side of the canal was a small restaurant in an ancient mill building. 

 

            We had been more or less steaming in convoy with our new French friends, Francois and Jo, on Little Nemo and they also agreed that a 3 hour day was quite enough, so they pulled over and together we decided to lunch at the  Restaurant Sans Souci.

 

            As we crossed the bridge over the canal it suddenly hit me that this is the  experience you hope for when you set out on the canals.

 

            The sun had finally come out (we have had only about five days of sunshine since leaving Paris). The air was still.  The only sound  was the chirping of birds and an occasional lowing of cows in a nearby field.  The rolling meadows were multi shades of green, bordered by dark trees.  The  orange roofs and dun stones of the buildings of the little commune bordering the canal could only be "rural" France.

 

            The restaurant was pleasant surprise.  Being deep in rural Francde we didn't expect too much from the chef…but his home-made fois gras and intelligent  presentation made it a memorable repast, all served by a charming and talkative midddle-aged waiter with as great smile and bad teeth.

 

            There we were on this balcony overlooking the canal, lolling over a three hour lunch, lubricated with two bottles of bourdeaux.  And then the lone accordion from the other room began playing the traditional French songs….Mademoiselle de Paris, La Vie en Rose, and the other "old timers" (provided you count the  Beer Barrel Polka as a French  old timer).  It was a movie scene, or at least a Renoir painting.

 

            Jo and Francois were perfect company for this perfect French country dimanche dejeuner with laugh filled conversation, mostly in French, but with a word or two in English for the dummy in the crowd.

 

            And now to put a period to the scene, across the canal, as I write this,  alongside of the road four men have started the traditional Petanque game (Petanque is a bowling game similar to the Italian bocce).

 

            How much more French can it get??

 

            Now to briefly fill you in on the other events since the last blog entry when we had left you with the Monet and Renoir heritage.  This whole valley was what you might call the Impressionists Alley.  We came to Pontoise, which was Pissarro's "town." This was followed closely by Auvers, which really  goes overboard for the memory of Vincent Van Gogh, who spent the last 70 days of his life there (at the suggestion of Pissarro) and during those 70 days in a fit of manic activity he produced 70 works (among them some of his best) and then shot himself.  We dined in the tavern where Van Gogh had the attic room and the bistro has been recreated exactly it had been.

 

            Up the  canal we discovered Compiegne  where  Napoleon I and III had built a enormous chateau,  which right now is somewhat off the normal tourist track. That is a fate it does not deserve.

 

            Down the road from there is an equally fabulous chateau, Pierrefonds, which  is a  fantasy recreation by Violet le Duc  (it would take too long to explain who he was).  We tried to make it by bike through the Compiegne Forest and belatedly realized it was more than 15 kilometers away and these old legs just weren't up to that much pedaling.  But in the short time in Compiegne Suzanne had made friends with Jean Pierre  an elderly gentlemen, who was quite a character and  who offered to  drive us out to Pierrefonds and give us a private guided tour, which was enlivened by the fact that a British film company was on the scene using the castle for  a medieval  epic.

 

            After that came Soissons, a small city that was 80 per cent destroyed in World War I…the awful memories of that war pervade the city.

 

            And now it is on with the canals to the Meuse River, where we will turn north for a jaunt up to Namur in Belgium.

 

            Stay turned.

             

           

 

           

Life in The Slow Lane!!

 

How fast do you go on with LaLavande?

 

Well, take this for example:

 

Monday at the crack of 8:30 (As opposed to the Crack of 10) we exit the lock at Arsenal in Paris and go on to the Seine.

 

We motor downstream for 6 hours (at a speed of about 8 kilometers per hour) and arrive at Rueil-Malmaison, which puts us 45 kilometrs on the river, but since the Seine winds around we are only 9 miles from the heart of Paris.

 

We stop here because Malmaison is where  Josephine's (you remember her, don't you…Bonaparte's empress) chateau is.

 

Great mooring, with a long solid pontoon along the river…and as we look out the window we are staring at Maison Fournaise, the restaurant  where the Impressionists hung out and which Renoir immortalized with his famous "Le Dejeuner des Canotiers". (Google that).

 

So, what's the rush…it's cool and drizzling on Tuesday so we'll just sit here and unwind from Paris. And at night we  tramped 20 blocks in the mist  to the movie to see the Indian Jones picture in version Francaise. (Did you ever realize that  Harrison Ford spoke such wonderful French…but in a movie like that, who needed the dialogue?)

 

Wednesday we planned to have lunch at Fournaise and then bike out to the chateau, but the  weather turned splendid…so we just had a long, long lunch at Fournaise (with a  bottle of a white Bourdeau) on the balcony overlooking the river and said maybe we'll take in the chateau on Thursday.  What the Hell…where are we rushing to??

 

Since we were in Malmaison it was only fitting that we visit Josephine's maison.  So, on Thursday after a leisurely lunch we unlimbered the bikes and rode out there…only 20 minutes away.  And that pretty well killed all day Thursday.

 

Maybe Friday we'll get moving again.

 

All, well and good…so, what went on in Paris all winter?

 

The operative word is "busy". There is so much going on that we feel like slackers for not taking it all in. So, here are  just a few of the highlights ( If any of them interest you let us know and we can amplify):

 

• Getting involved with the Democrats Abroad (who have delegates at the convention) and meeting with the  Democrat "upper crust" of Paris at  Obama fund raisers
• In the first row of a Jessye Norman concert…wow!!
• Showing Paris to Suzanne's" niece", Anne Marie,..who had never been out of the country before.
• Having Josh and Jake with us for a New Year's  Eve dinner at a local petit bistro (after which the two guys went out on a pub crawl that lasted until 7:30 a.m.)
• Taking Josh and Jake to lunch at Taillevent for a taste of three star living .
• Passes to the Louvre which got us in by private entrance past the crowds and let us enjoy many hours there.
• The adventure of taking Luca on his first Metro ride. Before going Suzanne asked if it was Ok to take dogs on the Metro and got the  typical French answer,"C'est interdit, mais tolere". He was right a home…sleeping most of the way when not kissing other passengers.
• Going to some of the big "trade" fairs at the expositions halls…like 1,000 independent wine makers in one building…like the  tri-annual International Bread maker's fair (now there's where you get good baguettes)….a "home furnishing type of fair that has been going on for 140 years.
• And then there were trips back across the Atlantic…Jerry in January for tax work…Suzanne to Mexico in February for Josh's 40th…Suzanne to Washington in June for a meeting of the Bonobo Conservation Initiative..
• And finally in May we decided to see if the boat would still move, so , in company with our guests, Maeve and Richard and with Bill and Nancy Koenig we went through the tunnel up the Canal St. Martin.  But that is best illustrated with wonderful video (complete with music) that Nancy created. It give you a taste of moving 50 tonnes of steel through a very spooky tunnel and then through the streets of Paris.  So, check it out on Nancy's web site: http://livingonabargeinparis.blogspot.com  And you'll find the video at the May 11 entry.

 

And now, quo vadis?  When we manage to tear ourselves away from Malmaison we head down the Seine, then up the Oise and then up the Aisne and onto the canals in the Ardennes and down to Nancy.  Where we go form there…we don't know. The port hasn't  told us yet whether we will have a berth in Paris next winter, so we have to play it  loose.

 

Stay tuned…someday we may put the pedal to the metal and go full steam ahead and get somewhere…but there are some interesting things ahead of us that may slow us down…like up ahead is Pissaro's town and after that VanGogh's last town…so, we'll see.

 

Jerry and Suzanne

•  

Let me start off with a mea culpa for not blogging since September…but the problem is that we have been swallowed up by Paris.

 

            When we last left you we were pulling into our winter mooring spot in the basin of Arsenal at the foot of Place Bastille. We had expected Paris to be something special, but it turned out to be more than that.  I guess that living way out in the country in Connecticut and then lolling around the canals in rural France had lulled us. We had forgotten what   living in the middle of a big city had to offer….which mainly is a bewildering choice of experiences waiting to be chanced upon.

 

            Let me first locate us for those of you not familiar with Paris.  Go to Google Earth and when you get Paris on the screen put the pointer on 48 degrees 51'01.55 N and  2 degrees 22'04.41 E.  These Google pictures were taken in the summer, so where you see a smallish motor boat (with a blue dinghy at the stern) that is where we are right now.

 

            As you can see, when we go to an opera or ballet at the Bastille Opera all we have to do is walk up the ramp to street level and there is the theatre.  Also right there is our Metro station, where we can hop on a train and eight stops later be at Opera Garnier (the grand, old opera building).  With our monthly passes we've become devotees of the Paris Metro and Bus system and by no means do we miss our car (which we garaged for the winter back in Roanne).

 

            Ah, Place Bastille…ten streets feed into the place and  if you want real excitement take your bicycle and thread your way through the traffic during rush hours…that gets your adrenalin going and gives a new meaning to the word Rush.

 

            Directly across the Place from our mooring is where they have an  open-air street market on Thursday and Sunday. There are about 70 street "marches" in Paris and this one at Bastille is just about the biggest.  With three "alleys", lined both sides with booths, it stretches for more than four city blocks…offering a cornucopia of fresh sea food, meats, poultry, vegetables, fruits , breads, and  spices….and the jostling crowds and shouting vendors provide an  atmosphere far removed from your antiseptic supermarkets.

 

            Well, let's not make this into a travelogue about Paris…there are miles of bookshelves lined with guides to Paris, and the world doesn't need another one from me.  So, let's talk about how we spend our days.

 

            Cruising all summer on the canals is really not a terribly strenuous  activity (except for Suzanne's exertions when we go in and out of the locks) so when we got to Paris we resolved to seriously get ourselves back in shape. So, three mornings a week, first thing, we start off with long work-outs at the Club Med gym that we have joined.

 

            The next serious activity is the study of French.  Both of us are taking private lessons on board from a charming young professional language instructor, who loads us both with serious homework.  Suzanne, already quite fluent in French, is working her way into the depths of French verbs and poor Jerry is mumbling his way through some pretty elementary stuff, but making a bit of progress.  Suzanne also has a wonderful weekly conversation (rather advanced)  group, half the participants are English speakers and half are French…so they split the time using and learning the two languages

 

            Jerry has gotten back to painting and it is breathtaking.  His "instructor" is a young, struggling artist who teaches in his "atelier", which is his one room apartment up under the "roofs of Paris."  It may sound a bit "romantic" but it is the walk up the five floors of winding stairway that takes one's breath away. (Ha, so much for the gym getting him in shape!)

 

             On top of that there is just the fun of being here. What a sheer pleasure to round a corner somewhere and come face to face vistas of the Paris of picture books.  Or what about the plethora of museums (Pariscope, the weekly magazine of happenings in Paris, lists 89 museums and 12 pages of "expositions" of various kinds).  Of course there are also the restaurants, ranging from the corner bistros to the three-star "Grands". Not to mention the pleasure of our continual string of guests (it is amazing how many people are just "passing through Paris" and drop in).

 

            Now, a small sample of some  highlights:

 

              Lunch, with Jerry's sister, Lee, at Tour d' Argent (a  "Grand" restaurant that may be considered "touristy", but nevertheless  a spectacular settings for a fine meal);  an excellent performance of "Tosca" at Operas Bastille and an equally fine  "Alcina" at the Opera Garnier;  the collections of arts of  Oceania, Africa, Asia and the Americas at the superb new Musee du Quai Branly, to which we now have an annual pass;  a great exhibition of the paintings of Chaim Soutine: and of course, our traditional dinner at Taillevent, which we consider the best restaurant in the world!

 

             All in all, there is so much here to attract us that it seems like we never have enough time…we wonder how we are  going to do it all!  I guess we'll just have to  get busy (or busier).

 

            And so, as we come to the end of an eventful year let us wish you all a very happy holiday season….we'll be back blogging in the spring when we  leave Paris for new adventures on the canals and rivers.

 

           

 

 

Paris, at last!!   

 

             With our friend Sani on board we made quick passage down the Marne to its confluence with the Seine and that's where Paris begins.  To tell you of our entry into the City of Light this issue of the blog is being turned over to our guest editor, Suzanne.

 

      Our entry into the Paris, with Sani Wolf Fogel, my long time friend and college roommate, aboard, was just as thrilling as I had hoped and imagined it might be.  Cruising down the Seine, under all the bridges, past Notre Dame and the Mitterand Library and the Louvre, the Orsay Museum, past the bookstalls, around the little island with the replica of the Statue of Liberty, we slipped into our mooring space at Quai de Grenelle, on the Seine, about two blocks from the Eiffel Tower.  There it is, all lit up at night (every hour at night, it sparkles for 10 minutes or so) right in front of La Lavande.

            Of course our entry had it's hairy moments on the busy Seine, waiting for the red light to change to green so we could proceed, turning this monster of a boat in circles for forty minutes while huge loaded commercial barges churned by and one Bateau Mouche after another rocked past.  But we were delighted with ourselves for managing it all and toasted our arrival with a bit of the champagne we had laid in at Epernay. Jerry's boat handling, tested by this Paris entry, has moved up several notches. He is really very expert now.   We are indeed, very fortunate and I am grateful for every day of this little adventure that we've embarked upon.

    The next highlight was the brand new Museum of the Quai Branly with the most extensive and stunning collection of art and artifacts from Africa, Asia, Oceania and the Americas.  With 3,500 works on permanent display (out of a collection of 300,000) it must be the most outstanding collection in the world. Then there is the design of the building itself which is truly magical. 

            One whole exterior wall, at least six stories high and a block long, is a true vertical garden every inch of which is encrusted with thick, lush vegetation, including protruding masses of mosses and ferns, and vigorous woodland and shade plants.  Then, still on the exterior, one walks past a long, tall glass wall behind which are hillocks of more wild-looking massed greenery, tall grasses, small trees and shrubs and the occasional shot of color, a single red poppy plant, for example, or a single oak leaf hydrangea with blossoms drying in fall tones of red and rust.   The museum building itself if more or less hidden but a path to the entrance winds through this maze of vegetation and brings one, in a state of wonder, to the entrance and the ticket booths.  I was already in a zone before I ever set foot in the building. 

    The interior is just as impressive.  The entrance lobby circles a central glass tower that soars to the top of the building and displays a collection of 8,000 musical instruments. The collection itself is overwhelming.  In addition to all of the art and artifacts, there are frequent stops for excellent explanatory material and filmed interviews with individual tribal members or ceremonies or excellent film essays on all manner of subjects related to the items in the collection or the tribes and cultures being explored. In over two hours I only got through most of the section on Oceania although Jerry chose to survey the whole collection more quickly with the idea that we have all winter to return and savor these treasures at our leisure.  What a luxurious thought!  

    Mesmerized, we retreated to the sunshine of terrace of the little cafe to enjoy ice cream and a cup of espresso.  Some nights later, with Jerry's sister, Teddy, and her husband,   we dined at the upscale restaurant on the very top of the museum.  It's called "L'Ombre", the shadow, because it is in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower which sparkled, on the hour, throughout our excellent and very inventive, dinner.  .  Of course, all this was within a couple of blocks of where we were moored.  Now can you beat that? 

    We spent about ten days or so on this trip into Paris moored, as I said, on the Seine at the Quai de Grenelle.  Teddy and Whit arrived and after they had visited Versailles and the Orsay Museum, we pried ourselves off the Quai Grenelle and started up the Seine.  There was an unusually long day of cruising to the town of Melun where we spent two days. Teddy and Whit had a wonderful visit to the chateau of Vaux le Vicomte.  Jerry had a rare day of relative relaxation, and I found an African barber to cut my hair. 

             Next day we continued further up the Seine, past some rather luxurious riverfront homes and huge live aboard barges. We are now moored in the charming medieval town of Moret-sur-Loing, with its remaining medieval city gates and walls and the home of the impressionist painter, Alfred Sisley.  Last night we had a most inventive and excellent dinner in a small, modest but very sweetly decorated hotel in town. 

    On Tuesday friends from our sailing days arrive for a week's visit and, with them on board, we will return to Paris and tie up for the winter in the Arsenal.  I am ready to settle in for the fall and winter, looking forward to the gym, yoga, French lesson and, most of all, Paris with all its' delights.  We have tickets to operas, concerts, ballets, etc. and we have only just begun to explore the possibilities.

            There will undoubtedly be some sense of relief from not having to be concerned with boat handling and maintenance. Where we will be able to moor for the night?  Can boats our size moor at that place?   How much commercial traffic there will be? Do the locks on this canal close for lunch?  Will we tie up in time to go get a baguette? What will go wrong with the boat today?  These are the normal little stress points that come with living on a boat.  There is no doubt that it has been more than worth the trouble, but it will be nice to get settled in our cozy spot in Paris right under the Place de la Bastille. By next spring, we will be recharged and ready to tackle new canals in new regions of this endlessly interesting country.

  

Last year was the year of the burgundies.  So, this year will be known as the year of the champagnes.  But, more of this later.

 

                   When last seen we were on a canal that might be called "a backwater"…the very placid and dull Canal Entre Champagne et Bourgogne. 

 

          It was uneventful until the very end…after 222 kilometers and 143  locks  we finally got our comeuppance at the 144th lock…wherein your resolute barge driver "lost it" coming into the narrow lock opening and  as we slammed into one side of the lock one of our bumpers caught on the opening gate, bending it all to hell and breaking the hydraulic lines that controlled the lock.  Besides spraying hydraulic fluid all over the side of LaLavande we effectively shut down the canal.  But it was (as the French would say) "pas grave"…thanks to the wonderful genius that French mechanics have: the ability to improvise and patch things together.  Within an hour they had the lock working again.  And to show that there were no hard feelings, the official who came to make out the accident report had only one request of us: he wanted a picture of him with Luca. Luca to the rescue!!

 

          When we were first starting on the canals a friend sagely cautioned us: "You are only as good as your last lock."  How true, how true.

 

           Exiting the interminable canal we turned west onto the Canal Lateral a La Marne and were heading for Paris. But first there was a great three day stop at Chalons en Champagne…a delightful provincial capital and as so typical of  these cities there was a music festival going on…free concerts on the squares at night. And best of all for Suzanne and Luca there was a superb walk/run through a great park to the banks of the Marne.

 

          And then it was finally our exit from the canal system and onto the rivers themselves.  We had been paralleling the Marne since it's origin  way back near where we left the Saone. Now it was on to the Marne. We will now be on the Marne all the way to Paris, where it joins up with the Seine on its way to the sea.

 

          Barging on the river is a different driving experience…. it is so much wider…a relaxed steering experience. On the other hand you have a relatively fast current running (in this case with us as we head downstream). And to control the river there are "barrages" or "weirs" (like waterfalls) which are to be avoided at all costs (who wants to sail over a small Niagara). Next to each barrage there is a lock , which mercifully is much larger than the canal locks, but entry and exit becomes stressful as the current pushes you around.  However, the barrages are few and far between so. . there is plenty of time opportunity to just enjoy the scenery.

 

           The Marne is a lovely river, running through low rolling hills that are blanketed with vineyards so neatly arranged in rows that look like someone had run a comb over the shrubs.  The vines thrive in pebbly, chalky soil on south facing slopes and so home owners with back yards sloping to the south have them planted with valuable chardonnay or pinot noire rather than something worthless, like tomatoes.

 

          The champagne business is divided between the "biggies" like Moet & Chandon, Tattinger, Bollinger, etc….and the more than 300 small producers.  Driving through the small towns of Champagne you begin to feel that everybody with a garage big enough is making and selling champagne. So, the real name of the game in buying champagne is to avoid the expensive big names and find those small ones who are making great wines. (57% of  Champagne is consumed in France but  80% of that is from  small producers, wherein the US 80% is purchased from the  top names.)

 

            When we left the canal we pulled into the small city of  Epernay, which is, along with Reims, the heart of the champagne "industry".  With a population of only 30,000 it produces nearly as much champagne as Reims, which is five times larger.  Champagne is aged in caves and under the town of Epernay, carved  through the chalk soil,  there are more than 60 miles of tunnels 65 to 100 feet beneath your feet where millions, yes, millions, of bottles of champagne are aging. Most of the big houses have tours of the caves and in one, Mercier, they have guided tours on small trains running through the caves.

 

          Champagne seems to permeate the whole town. For instance, we celebrated our anniversary (we remembered it this year) at a "one star" restaurant and the wine list started with eleven pages of champagnes and followed with just four pages of all other types of wine. In nearby Dormans (another smaller town) as we were touring a very ugly war memorial we made the acquaintance of  the owner of a small, chic bar who happened to love Boxers (another victory for Luca) who invited us to his bar for…guess what?... "a glass of champagne!"

 

          We solved the problem of finding the "good" independent brands by locating a classy champagne bar in the middle of Epernay that  had a cave with the champagnes of forty independent producers (for sale at "producers prices")…and you could sample some of the wines at the bar. So, cases of champagne are now beginning to crowd out the small "cave" behind Suzanne's closet on LaLavande.

 

          Another caustic comment on Epernay…it has some of the ugliest architecture in France…including the ghastly tower (right behind our mooring spot) of one of the champagne houses. But don't blame it all on Epernay…over the course of history the town has been destroyed at least 25 times….the last being  in 1916.  Nevertheless it does seem that in Northern France after they built the cathedral at Reims is was all downhill, architecturally.

 

          But it is all not flowers and vines in the Marne valley…as you cruise along you cannot help but be reminded that this was the battleground, throughout history, of some very bloody fighting. It was especially memorable for Suzanne who recalled that her father had  fought and was wounded in these very battle fields in 1918. 

 

          Just to the east is Verdun!  It was a tremendously moving experience to visit this battle ground, where in a 300 day struggle, starting in 1916, 135,000 French soldiers (and an almost equal number of Germans) were slaughtered…and for us to realize today what a useless butchery it was. Visiting the area now you can still see miles of ground cratered with the shell holes of the artillery, fields of 15,000 graves and a mammoth ossuary with the bones of the unidentified.

                    And as I sit here writing this in the middle of Chateau-Thierry (a pleasant, non-descript town) I look across at a large memorial to the American soldiers of the 3rd Infantry Division and up on the hill is large monument to the Americans who died here. 

When you live in a three bedroom apartment in a fixed location, like an apartment house, you can think in fixed, linear terms.  But when you live in a three bedroom apartment that is in actuality a floating barge you have to be a bit more flexible…or, as they say, "Go with the flow!"

 

            And that's what finds us now sitting at a mooring at Chaumont, the Prefectural capital of the Department of Haute-Marne (go look that one up in your Funk & Wagnals!)  This is not where we intended to be but Hell and High Water (well, maybe not the Hell part) got us here.

 

            Go back a bit. In the last blog we were sitting in Dole and the plan was that after we got back to St. Jean de Losne and filled up with fuel and water (by the way, La Lavande holds 5 tons of each of those…which is 5,000 liters) we were to go up the Saone and make our way to Nancy, which as you all know, is somewhat over near the western border of France.

 

            The Saone is normally a placid river, but it had been raining for weeks and the downpours continued, seemingly unabated.  By the time we got to our first stopping place the water was flowing fast and rising.  We managed to attach to the bank under some trees and soon we were surrounded by a moat of water.  Local advice told us that the river was expected to rise about two feet, flood gates were being closed up stream and there was some canal damage further on up. 

 

            This called for a change of plans.  We would forgo Nancy for this year (there's always next year) and instead turn left and take a convenient canal straight north. One of the reasons is that on canals the lock gates control the flow of water, and so as long as  they don't run out of water, as long as the banks don't collapse (like the canal to Roanne), and as long as the lock gates keep working the choice of a canal is a smart move.  Of course the sun came out two days later, but by then we were long gone.

 

            Luck would have it that the entrance to the Canal de la Marne a la Saone was just two kilometers upstream from us.  This canal has just been renamed Le Canal Entre Champagne & Bourgogne.  It is the direct connection between the vineyards of the region of Champagne and the region of Burgundy (what a mouth watering thought for a wino).  It is 224 kilometers long with 114 locks and two tunnels.  For most of its length it meanders along with the Marne River, which starts at a spring near the south end of the canal and grows from a rivulet to a stream to a river as it goes north and eventually becomes our route into Paris.

 

            Before starting out we were cautioned to make sure we had all the provisions we would need for some time since there was nothing much along the canal but countryside. And how right they were, for most of the canal you go through lush farm country and woods.  One section went through a large wheat growing area, where they were busy harvesting. And then we came to the dairy area (a perfect impression of the dairy area: we were in a lock that had a small bridge across the end of it. As we were about to go through a herd of thirty cows came sauntering overhead followed by a heel-nipping sheep dog. We could have almost reached up and had fresh milk.)

 

            One other feature is that for most of the canal we were in a communications "black hole." We seldom had any connection to the internet, often we didn't even have a decent cell phone connection, and when we were deeply in among the trees we could not get satellite access for our television dish. You folks back home, with continual web connections, cannot realize the joy there is in finally getting a good connection to the net.

 

            No doubt about it, we were deep in the heart of rural France…France Profond.

 

            But there is virtue to be found in everything, and the virtue to this canal is that with no interesting cities or tourist attractions there is not much canal traffic.  On a typical day we might pass one or maybe two boats, and in 10 days we only crossed wakes with three commercial freight barges.  With  no charter boat operations on this canal we did not have to contend with the Tupperware Fleet (most of the small charter boats are plastic, hence the appellation.).

 

            The canal did have its very interesting features…like a 3 mile long tunnel that was just a bit wider than LaLavande. With clenched fists Suzanne did a magnificent job of steering boat through the whole length, while I just sat back and contemplated the light at the end of the tunnel.

 

            Another thing in its favor: Through one long stretch of the canal you traveled with your own personal lock-keeper.  For a stretch of about 10 locks they open the locks for us, close them after we leave, hop on their motor scooters and race ahead to the next lock to have it all ready for us when we arrive.  They'll even detour into town and pick up a baguette for us and one of them even joined us for lunch (the locks are supposed to close from noon till 1:30 for lunch).

 

            But in France there are always wonderful surprises around the corner.  In the small town of St. Seine sur Vingeanne we noticed  there was a historic chateau. So we unlimbered the bikes and went four kilometers and found Chateau de Roziere. Here was a genuine 13th century fortified chateau where a young family lived and operated a B&B.  Much of the building seemed to be in almost original condition…the enormous bedrooms were as you would imagine them to be in the 13th century, the stairways were winding stone climbs, the fireplaces were huge…however the bathrooms were very modern. You can come to France and stay in chateaux that are decorated to the eyeballs (and we have stayed in many of them and loved the experience), but if you ever wanted to taste what it might have been like in the 13th century come to Roziere (but bring a good book to read, because there is nothing around here but the farm land the chateau was originally built to defend.) Take a look at www.chateauderosieres.com.

 

 

            Let me close with a kind word for the warmth and courtesy of the French people out here away from the crowded big cities.  Time and again we would be surprised with courtesies extended to us, like the time we were biking through St. Seine (to Roziers) and the chain jumped the sprockets on my bike.  As we were struggling with fixing it a young housewife came out of her house and without our asking she plunged right in to the repair, getting grease all over her hands and when it was all fixed she invited us into her kitchen to wash up with profusions of thanks all around.

 

            But in Chaumont we experienced the best!  We took the bus up town, which was about two kilometers away up a steep hill, to look for a new umbrella for the "terrace".  By the time we bought one the afternoon drizzle turned into a thunderstorm and there we were with an eight foot long carton, no taxis and no buses. We were cowering from the rain in the doorway of  the city hall wondering what to do next. Suzanne went into the City Hall and at a reception desk told our problem to two young people. When they called and found that no taxis would be available for another two hours the young man at the desk volunteered to walk six blocks in the rain to get his car, pick us up, and drive us back to the boat.  He did not expect any payment and was very surprised when we pressed a small reward on him.                         So, to all you Francophobes we say…"rubbish" 

Smack-dab in the middle of Paris, between the River Seine and Place Bastille,

there is a pleasure boat port called Arsenal.

 

            We stumbled across it about 13 years ago.  As we perambulated the quay admiring the boats and barges we met a Texas couple (more about them later) living aboard a neat looking Dutch-built barge. They invited us aboard and that was our introduction to barging-life.

 

            Since that time, lurking in the recesses of our minds, was the thought that it might be just dandy someday to live on a barge in the middle of Paris.

 

            Well, that is about to happen!

 

            We just got word that our application for a winter berth in Arsenal has been accepted. And this was not an easy thing to get.  Although Arsenal is big enough for 180 boats there is precious little room for barges our size (23 meters…or 75 feet) and these big boat slots are in great demand.  But Suzanne, when she sets her mind to something always manages to make it happen, so her persistence, her charm and her great command of the French language finally won over the port officials and La Lavande has her berth for six months, starting in October.

 

            We will be in Paris till April, but Suzanne will probably make a two week trip home in November or December for medical and dental checkups and some good Grandma time in Seattle.  Jerry will pop back home in late January to get year end financial stuff in order and get a grip on taxes.

 

            We are really looking forward to the Paris experience….we've already started thinking about ordering ballet and opera tickets (after all, the Bastille Opera house is just alongside the port…how's that for a neighborhood theatre?)  Of course there will be all the museums, the three-star restaurants, and some serious language courses.  If you want to learn more about our new neighborhood Arsenal you can link to their web site: www.parisportarsenal.assoc.fr.

 

            But in the meantime we have some serious cruising to do.  Getting into Paris doesn't change much in our cruising plans.  We had been planning to go north to Nancy, then west across to the champagne region and then going on past Paris and back south to Roanne…so, instead, we just stop at Paris. Of course you have to keep in mind that cruising implies that nothing goes wrong, like mechanical breakdowns or canal closings.  An example: The canal going into our home base of Roanne is now closed for at least six weeks because one bank-side collapsed and the canal drained into the Loire River, leaving one boat high and dry in an empty canal and trapping a bunch of boats in the port south of the breach.

 

            As we said once, it isn't about the passage, it's about the pauses.  And our pauses lately have been of the tree-hugging kind.  At St. Jean de Losne we tied to the trees along the banks of the Saone River and right now we are in Dole once more tied to the trees along the canal. It's a comfortable way of settling in in France and as we spend more time here we feel that being in France is no longer an exotic experience, but just a plain enjoyable experience.

 

            As we made our way to Dole our guests (Dick and Jeannie Carr) took some neat photos…a great portrait of Luca and an interesting shot that gives the sense of what it feels like coming into a lock.  

 

            Oh yes…getting back to the Texas couple of 13 years ago…fast forward 11 years to when we found "Texas Bill" again...there they were in the port of Roanne…they remembered us, as we did them, and the friendship renewed.  However, after 16 years on the canals they were in the process of selling the barge and moving back to the States to the Grandkids and a motor home.  And so it goes!

 

Stay tuned.

Adieu Lavender!   In response to popular demand we have gotten rid of the Lavender…not the boat and not the name…just the color.

 

In an intense three week stint ( interupted constantly by rain) in the yard at St. Jean de Losne, Suzanne and Jerry repainted the barge.  Where the glaring feature of the barge had been the garish lavender and deep purple, the feature now is a subtle blend of greens…the screamingly loud lavender stripe has been replaced with a modest light green that almost looks white and the deep purple accents are now a dark, dark green that borders on black.

 

The change is startling…everyone in St. Jean de Losne ventured  unsolicited comments that it was a great change…it became evident that everyone thought the old colors were just too unseemly for a well shaped barge.  Whereas formerly we had been an annoying eyesore we are now a well tempered member of the barging community.

 

While all this painting was going on at the lower levels, up on deck the real work was taking place…the rebuilding of the pilot house./  The old pilot house had been a very industrial looking steel construction…with lots of ill fitting panels and not at all fitting for our elegant barge.  Last year, a friend of ours had his pilot house rebuilt by Christophe, the carpenter at Atelier Fluvial (the "yard").  It was such a beautiful piece of work that I was consumed with a bad case of "pilot house envy".  And the only thing that could satisfy was to have one just like it.Which is what Christophe has done for us, building an elegant structure of oil-rubbed African hardwood complete with double pane windows and shiny brass hardware.

 

With such a perfect looking boat under us it was time to stop fooling around and get down to serious cruising and enjoying France.  The first venture was a little two day jaunt up the Burgundy Canal to Dijon (28 kilometers and 21 locks…whew!).  We are sitting now in the small "canal port" which comes complete with an extraordinary entertainment…if you happen to like water fowl.  Across the middle of the port is a 150 yard- long island with dense, tall trees and home to a great variety of birds. Herons nest in the upper branches, geese waddle around honking (a great annoyance at 6 o'clock in the morning), ducks of various stripe fly in an out, and a pair of swans rule the roost. It is a veritable bird sanctuary right outside the window.      

 

I guess it is breeding season because they all have swarms of small chicks swimming behind them. Momma and Papa swan have eight babies that they never leave out of sight and any creature that gets too near the babies is treated to a fearsome slashing and thrashing from the gigantic wings. All the other birds seem terrified of  these fierce creatures…so much for the romantic image of graceful swans typifying tranquility. And then there is Mother Goose, with her brood of eight tucked in tightly behind and Mrs. Duck with four babies in tow.

 

All of these birds are habituated to humans and they have developed a great fondness for the famous French baguettes…step to the side of boat with a handful of stale bread and you soon have company.  Now, if they would only shut up in the morning.

Cruising time…late April 2007

 

            The question is occasionally asked, "Just how fast does the barge go?"  We have never really measured the speed and have no easy way to do it (like a speedometer) so I like to offer  that we travel at what might be called, "A Stately Pace." At that velocity it doesn't bother us that bikers zoom by at frightening speeds, or that resolute joggers can out race us, but things reached a zenith of sorts the other day when an elderly gentleman in an electric wheelchair sped past us. Welllll…..!!

 

            Speed over the ground is not the controlling factor…it's those darned locks.  Last week we took 6 hours to go 17 kilometers (or 10.5 miles) for there were 19 locks! Now, that was day's hard work, but fortunately there are the two of us and Suzanne has become a very accomplished barge pilot.  In previous years navigating  locks filled us with angst, but now they are just a nuisance to be endured.

 

            Our traveling season kicked off with the (sort of) annual barbeque-picnic for the Roanne port inhabitants.  Coming by barge (six boats came up), car and bike sixty people showed up for an exhausting two and a half days of non-stop socializing and eating. It was quite a mixed bag of nationalities: American, French, Canadian, Swiss, Dutch, New Zeelanders, and  South Africans. It seemed like every time you turned around someone was starting to cook again.  The event was at a stopping place along the canal about 40 kilometers north of Roanne. At the end, some of the boats headed back to Roanne. A few of us started out on the cruising year, although we stayed tied up for an extra day after it was all over…just to de-tox.

 

 

            The cruising has been spectacular. The weather is highly unusual for this early in the year…almost mid-summer temperatures.  And the soft green hills of southern Burgundy are magical in their varied coats of green…hedged fields ranging in color from bright yellow (fields of rapeseed or mustard plants) to the rich deep green of the pastures (and of course the speckling of the Charolais cattle.)

 

 

            Right now we have a very loose plan for our cruising itinerary.  We are headed for St. Jean de Losne and our favorite boat yard where their carpenter (Christophe) is waiting to install a new pilot house…a tasteful varnished wooden one to replace the seedy industrial looking steel one we have now. We have a some guests coming for a brief tour of the northern Burgundy vinyards  (there we go with the wine again!) After that we vaguely figure on heading up to the Ardennes region to visit Nancy (the city, not the girl) and then perhaps down the Marne to the Champagne district, and on to Paris, after which we will turn left and start back down towards Roanne.  The circuit should take about 6 weeks of actual traveling time under way, but we have more than four months to do it, so we have lots of time for stopping and enjoying France.

 

            Stay tuned!

BURGUNDY

            August 2006

 

            If your liver can hold up, then Burgundy is the place to be.  One impression of Burgundy (and a rather myoptic view of a wonderful area) is that it is one great bottle of wine after another.  (As the old joke goes: It's not the drinking that will kill you, it's the constant sip, sip, sip that will do you in.)  True, last year we extolled about the enormous wine region of Languedoc and the rest of southern France where 30% of the French wine is produced.  But now we are in as a region that produces just 3 to 5% of the French wine…but what a great 3 to 5 it is.  You get inured to driving through villages with all the famous names:  Vosne-Romanee, Pommard, Volnay, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, and Rully to name a few. It’s like wallpapering your mind with great wine labels.

 

            To make the wine touring even better we had expert help from Richard and Sue Atkins….Richard is a true wine maven.  We had moored the boat in a dreamy tiny commune of Frasne, which is nothing more than a super mooring in the middle of country with only a great restaurant (a former New York chef-owner) and a world class boulangerie (just to give an authentic touch and use a French word).  Using this as a base we worked our way up and down the famous wine road, N74,  vineyard hopping.

 

            Some of the more memorable moments:

            A 3 hour wine tasting lunch at a table set with 20 glasses to sample 15 different Burgundy wines.  The food wasn't that great, but after 15 wines who could care?

            A visit to the gigantic cellars of Chateau de Meursault where there are 800,000 bottles of wine and 2,000 barrels of wine.

            And to contrast that there was the small family-owned winery of only 17 hectares  run by a young man who treated us to a sample of  still aging wine direct from the barrels (a rare privilege granted to visitors).

 

            Other than Meursault most of the wine makers we visited were small family run operations…the wine making skills being passed down from generation to generation.

 

            As I had mentioned earlier there is indeed more to Burgundy than wine.

 

            After leaving Dole we made our almost obligatory stop at the boatyard in St. Jean de Losne and then made our way up the Canal du Burgougne.  It took a day and a half to make the 28 kilometers with 22 locks (with some great lock keepers houses) up to Dijon, the former capital of the Dukes of Burgundy…a fine city to visit, with a great little port.

 

            Whereas the canal up to Dijon was rather boring (a straight line through flat farm lands) the canal after Dijon wound and twisted through gorgeous rolling countryside alongside fields of sunflowers and grazing cattle.  And it put us close to land touring places such as Chateauneuf.

 

            A gastronomic note from a land known for gastronomy:  A unique meal was had at a small village restaurant way up the canal where the only thing on the menu was frog legs, offered up eight different  ways. Lip smacking and finger licking good!

 

            So you don't think that barging is all wine and flowers…there are still all the little mishaps that bedevil boats everywhere.  Like after leaving Dole we heard strange noises from below and discovered that our shaft was damaged and had to be replaced…to those of you who know boats you'd be amazed that they pulled the old shaft and replaced with a new one while the boat was still in the water! The French mechanics are not to be believed…they seem to be able to do the impossible.

            And then there was the time in Dijon when at 3 a.m. there was a horrendous thunder storm and the winds blew off the front third of our wooden pilot house roof. It was really an effort during the height of the downpour to get a tarp and towels in places to keep the deluge of rain out of the boat.  But the next morning the sun came out and there was our roof section floating in front of the boat. So, after lots of excitement and shouting during the storm the only result was a slightly damp boat.

            And then there was the time, down from Dijon, when a leaking fitting lost us all the hydraulic fluid out of the system that worked the rudder and there we were motoring down the canal with no way to steer the boat. We managed to get it to the bank and luckily we were close to a large company that sold fork-lift trucks and was able to supply us with five liters of oil. A little work with the wrenches and it was all just a memory to chuckle over.

 

            The lesson seems to be that if you can't go with the flow you shouldn't be barging.

 

            Where are we now…if you have been following us on Google Earth just punch in St. Leger-sur-Dheune (46 degrees 50'51.60" n and 4 degrees 38'13.01" E). It is a small town on the Canal du Centre.  From the Burgundy Canal we had a smooth trip down the Saone River (quite a contrast between river and canal travel.) and then up the Centre with several stops along the way.  This looks like a good place for us to stop for a while, and as if this was a house we'll just live here a bit and rent a car and tour all the other great places of Southern Burgundy.

 

Stay tuned.

Sunday---July 16, 2006

 

Some time back we had made the statement that for us barging  in France had more to do with the Pauses rather than the Passages…keep that in mind as we try to portray what we have been up to since leaving St. Jean de Losne (the last blog site).

 

Now…where are we:  Remember Google Earth…go on there and punch in Dole, France.  Put the pointer at 47 degrees 05'33.41" North and 5 degrees 30'37.75" East. That's where we have been for almost two weeks, but even if the satellite would show us you couldn't see us since we are under the trees in a long shade alley created by mammoth old old plane trees (some of the trunks are eight feet around and thankfully the massive overhead branches have been well-cabled).

 

For two weeks, you say!!! Well, that wasn't our plan. We left St. Jean de Losne and banged our way into the locks of the Canal Rhin au Rhone, which leads from the Saone River all the way to the Rhine. We figured to go all the way to Besancon and then turn around and come back. Our first stop would be at the small city of Dole, some 20 klicks up the canal.

 

Dole is a lovely little city of 30,000 (the birthplace of Pasteur)…a collection of interesting architectural shapes climbing up a steep hill, crowned with an impressive cathedral. Your prototypical French rural city!

 

At the foot of hill is the canal, with a good port, with a "hire" boat dock on one side and a decent mooring quay for large barges on the other side….just a handy walk across the foot bridge in to the city.  It was a great mooring, but it was blistering hot…about in the 90s.  The next morning Suzanne, Luca and I went out our "power walk" up the canal. And then there, just a kilometer up the canal, past a small lock, we found our current version of "paradise."

 

It was an easy decision….yes, we could have continued on and made it to Besancon, but we had already been there several years before.  We looked at each other and said, we are not going to find anywhere better than this up the canal, so let's stay here for a while. How can you beat it….in a completely rural setting….pastures on one side and on the other the outskirts of Dole, hidden behind a screen of trees. We have all the pleasures of the country and yet it is just a five minute walk into the city and a 10 minute bike ride to the supermarket. We scratched our heads trying to think of where else in the world we could find a place this idyllic. After a week of this drowsy life Suzanne happily announced that it was the most relaxing time she can remember in years….she's getting in a lot of reading.

 

In this setting LaLavande is proving to be everything we had hoped her to be…a  bright three bedroom apartment with her big salon windows making the inside as pleasant as the outside deck where we sit here under the trees and literally watch the world go by on the tow paths along the canal…joggers, walkers, runners, people pushing baby carriages, an occasional horse and buggy, and of course the  population taking their dogs out for long walks, much to Luca's entertainment (what a great boat dog he is…he growls and whines and barks at the passing canines, but never leaps off the boat after them…although we suspect he is mighty tempted.)  One thing that makes it so nice is that with our newly revamped electrical system we so very independent….we are free of having to be tied to the shore with an electrical umbilical (two hours a day of generator running fills our needs)  and with our 1300 gallon water tanks we can go for  two weeks (with three loads of laundry, constant showers and the dishwasher) and still have more than two thirds of a tank under us.

 

One high spot every day is the hour-long power walk (with a little jogging thrown in) along the canal past large fields of corn and pastures with grazing cattle, who absolutely fascinate Luca.  But there are other offerings in Dole…like a fine all-Vivaldi concert in a 12th century Jesuit chapel…and an art museum which you might say is the summit of eclectics with Egyptian mummies and Roman relics in the subterranean grotto to far-out installation art on the top floor, with a good selection of classical paintings in between.

 

Of course there was the general excitement over France's unexpected victories in the soccer World Cup…."Allez les Bleus." And then the general let down when Italy took the cup in the end…where were you Zizou when we needed you?

 

Nevertheless, the French spirit cannot be dampened for too long and on the eve Bastille Day there was a splendid 30 minute fireworks show (accompanied by a Dixieland band) along the canal lighting up the town and 13th century basilica that crowns the city.  Probably about 10,000 or more crowded the banks and kept the fireworks peddlers busy selling all sorts of explosives,  which the juveniles delighted in setting off in the middle of the crowds. (I guess that is a National pastime…we experienced the same explosive 14th a few years ago in Paris.)

 

One important change has taken place…we are no longer sailing under false colors! We decided  to show our colors and so the Dutch flag has come off the stern to be replaced with the Stars and Stripes…and what a Stars and Stripes!…the previous owner had left on board an American flag big enough for a medium-sized warship. Here in rural France we feel absolutely no hostility to Americans, but when we get to larger cities (with populations that might harbor some resentments) we may consider a more modest display.

 

Now it is time to sadly move on…we have to head back to St. Jean de Losne to have some boatyard work finished and then we start some new adventures up the Canal de Bourgogne.  Stay tuned….

Some of you may have wondered just where we are in France. Well, we are in Burgundy at the junction of the Saone River and the Canal du  Bourgogne. To be more exact, at this very instant we are at 47 degrees 06'11.74" north and 5 degrees 15'29.69" East. How do we know this..Google told us. To actually see where we are go on Google and sign up for Google Earth and then punch in St. Jean de Losne, France...voila!!! there we are.  At the bottom of the picture you see the river Saone and to the right is the town of St. Jean de Losne. Above the town is a dark area filled with boats that is a big marina. And to the left you can see the lock leading into the Canal and there is the canal. We are moored at a "chantier" (a French boatyard) where we came in for some work. You can have some real fun with Google Earth...zoom in and then tilt the view and move the cusrsor...it's like flying low up the canal...wow...that's the canal we'll be going up one oif these days,heading for Dijon.

 

So, what is this all about. Well, in the last blog we were steaming up the Rhone onto the Saone and St. Jean de Losne was our destination where we had an appointment at Atellier Fluvial to have the barge hauled out, the bottom painted and a whole list of work (mainly electrical).  But like boatyards the world over, we gave them the boat told them we would be back in six weeks and sure enough it wasn';t ready when we got back from our brief respite in the States.

 

The brief trip to the States was great...we got to Jacob's law school graudation at Northerestern U. (way to go, Jake!!)  And there was Jan and John's wedding (way to go, you two!!). And Suzanne had a chance to fly out to Seattle to get her Grandma fix. And Jerry dropped in to National Power to get his fix.

 

So, when we came back to St. Jean we had time on our hands.  Living on board in the middle of a boatyard ain't that bad...all sorts of interesting things go on...like moving 130 foot barges in an out of dry dock like it was nothing at all.  And the boatyard people are great fun.  The work that they have been doing is absolutely first class..awesome...we haven't gotten the bill yet and we fear that may also be awsome...but as they say in France...on verra!

 

With time one our hands we packed a picnic lunch and headed southeat to where the Jura mountains rise up out of the flat plains of Bresse and Burgundy. Of course there was the usual aboandonned abbey to visit (if you throw a dart at the map of France you'll hit an abbey)...but the best part was the spectacular scenery. Some of the pictures will give you an idea.

 

A big day tomorrow...Luca is getting his French passport!  We don't know exactly what this will entitle him to, but it certainly is a classy thing for a dog to have...n' est ce pas?

 

You'll note from the pictures showing the start of the Burgundy Canal that it is a smaller canal with smaller locks, and it is one of the few canals where the lock gates are still operated by hand...you'll note the picture of muscular crew needed to work a lock gate.

 

When we finally release our grip on the dock we are probably going to head East and take a cruise into Franch Comte on the beautiful Canal Rhin au Rhone....

 

It's kinda great not to really know where we are going...whatever..or is it wherever!!!

Who is afraid of the big bad Rhone?

 

            Not us anymore! Now that with the help and guidance of our friend Staf ( a retired Belgian barge captain) and his wife, Josie, we have successfully breasted the river and here we are tied up on the quay in the heart of Lyon. At Lyon the Rhone joins the Saone and up the Saone is where we go next.

 

            Having Staf with us was memorable. With his experience (and heavens knows how many times he has been up and down the Rhone) he was able, with this running commentary, to impart knowledge that would take years to acquire otherwise. His knowledge of the river and of barge handling was "college level" training for us.

 

            The problem with the Rhone is that in the spring time the snow melts in the Swiss Alps, which is the source of the Rhone.  With a big snowmelt the 300 kilometers from Lyon to the Mediterranean can be close to a raging torrent or at least a strong current that can make for a slow and uncomfortable passage.

 

            Taking  the advice of Staf we hung around Aigues-Mortes (where you last heard from us) until it was deemed the right time to give it a try.  Hanging around A-M was a pleasure, since we had developed some good friendships with Roger (Swiss) and Anne Marie (French) and Freddy (Swiss) and Francoise (French), who were moored with us on their barges Argonaute and Willem (respectively).

 

            Staf picked it right and last Tuesday we set out, sailing in company with Freddy and Francoise on Willem.

 

            The first part of the trip was through the flat country near the mouth of the Rhone, starting on the Canal Rhone a Sete and then onto the Petit Rhone, which empties into the Rhone just above Arles.  Then it was up the Rhone to Avignon where we tied up for the night.

 

            Now for some observations about experiences on the Rhone:

 

            First, there is the river traffic…the enormous hotel boats…120 meters long…that come steaming up the river and have priority over all other traffic.

 

            Much of the other traffic are barges being pushed…loaded with all sorts of cargo, wood, grain, oil, coal and general cargo. Most interesting are the stacks of containers being shipped from Lyon or Rotterdam or wherever down to the sea...a damned sight smarter than clogging the highways with trailers… why can't they load containers on barges in New Jersey and float them up to New England?

 

            Next observation: You may remember from our earlier blogs our angst about making our way down the narrow little Canal du Midi…all gone on the Rhone. Most of the river is wide, sweeping and very well buoyed.  No longer worries about banging into the banks or clanging our rudder on tight turns.  What a pleasure. And we could really open up with our trusty Dutch built diesel…on the Midi we would cruise at maybe 6 kph at 1100 rpm…here on the Rhone we run pretty much flat out at 1800 rpm and on the wide sections we clock close to 12 kilometers an hour. Wow…what blinding speed!

 

            And now for the locks…the Rhone has been tamed with 13 enormous locks, which are about 25 kilometers apart. They are 190 meters (625 feet) long and 12 meters (40 feet) wide. And deep…the deepest lock is 23 meters (75 feet) imagine being raised up the height of a seven story building.  (Note: the cumulative drop from Lyon to the sea is 161 meters (525 feet)…which as an interesting note is the same elevation that our house in East Haddam is above sea level).  The locks were wide enough that with no sweat we would just pull alongside Freddy's Willem, which like La Lavande was a little less than five meters wide.  But I must admit that the first time you pull into one of these enormous concrete canyons it is a bit breathtaking.

 

            Next observation: In taming the river with the locks they created a complete hydroelectric complex…each lock is a hydro plant.  But, on top of that the Rhone has a series of nuclear power plants along the river…so, all in all the Rhone generates about 13% of the electric power in France.

 

            And then there is the scenery…like a picture book.  You go through all the great vineyard areas…Chateauneuf du Pape, Cote du Rhone,  Hermitage, St. Joseph, Condrieu, Cote Rotie, and many more.  There they are, at first on the flat lands in the south, and then on the terraced hillsides that rise up all about you.  And on the hills and in the villages there were a succession of ruins of castles and chateaux…adding a unique flavor to the scenery.

 

            Well, I hope that gives you a small taste of the Rhone.  We are laying over in Lyon for a day or so, and then it is up the Saone…which will be another report.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we last left off on the blog we were leaving lovely Narbonne for Aigues-Mortes...that was 21 days ago and all of 100 kilometers (about 60 miles) in the past.

 

            So, here we are in Aigues-Mortes still waiting for the Rhone River to slow down so that we can chug northward to central France..

 

            The trip down was interesting and without crisis.  We successfully navigated the low bridge at Capestang (which is the lowest and tightest on the Canal du Midi) In the  photos below you'll see a shot of a barge that is not much bigger than La Lavande making it through one of the low bridges...gives you an idea of what we mean by low bridge!!

 

            Outside of Bezier there is a fabulous "ladder" of six locks linked together, making for a combined drop of some  40 or 50 feet, which gives you the feeling, when starting at the top lock, that you about to drive the boat off a cliff.

 

            Shortly after that we pulled into the little town of Villeneuve les Beziers, where we parked for five restful days while sorting out a small problem with our batteries. 

 

            When we left Villeneuve the real question ahead of us was when we could cross the Etang de Thau. The Etang is a salt water lake separated from the Mediterranean Sea by a small strip of sand and the problem is that with a mistral blowing from the north the flat bottom barge would have a difficult time holding a straight course.  We were all prepared to stop before the Etang and wait for a weather window, but when we got to the opening to the Etang it was almost a dead calm, so we plunged out to "sea" (See the photos). It's a strange place to "sail"…20 kilometers across..barely able to see the other side and no navigation markers or aids.  The directions for making the crossing are simple:" Keep close to the oyster beds on the left."… yes, there are almost 20 kilometers of "racks" where they grow oysters.   somewhere at the other end there is a virtually unmarked opening leading back into the Canal du Sete a Rhone, which I should mention is the most boring canal ever, it runs in almost straight lines between the flat sand berm of the Med shore and the other etangs.

 

            All of which gets us to Aigues-Mortes, which puts us out of Languedoc-Rousillon and into Provence.  A-M is a great tourist attraction…a fortified city on a marsh.  Louis IX in the 1200s wanted to go on a crusade(the seventh),  but he had no seaport from which to launch his expedition.  So, he ran into some real estate salesman  (the same guys who later sold under water property in Florida) who made him a Hell of a deal on a malarial swamp known as "Dead Waters "(Aigues-Mortes), which even though it wasn't a sexy name for a new development was good enough for Louis to build a rectangular fortress enclosing about 25 square block of city…which stands today. ( And 8 kilometers down the canal, where the sea front now rests, there is  Port Carmargue, which with 4,800 moorings, is one of the largest yacht ports on the French Med.) During the day A-M  is overrun  with tourists off mammoth busses, but at night it is a lovely small town with lots of great restaurants. (In the pictures you'll see the view from our galley window and a picture of the boat with the city behind.)

 

            When we arrived we rafted up with some friends who had barges up the canal, but then moved into the marina.  Our Belgian friends, who will pilot us up the Rhone return to tomorrow…so, with any luck we should be off pretty soon.

 

            But we haven't been lonely…we have been making some great friends among the bargees…and two couples (the Cantrells and the Kirschners) who were friends from the Caribbean days and who are now sailing the Med came and gave us very pleasurable visits.

 

            Hopefully the next blog will be from up the Rhone…

 

            Jerry and Suzanne

 

 

It  has been a quiet six weeks here in Narbonne, where we were just getting too comfortable. So, on just about our last days the French treated us to one of their specialties...the Manifestation Politique. Some 7,000 young students and some old Socialists and Commies staged a noisy march to protest the CPE, a new labor law. There was no violence, just a lot of shouting and sloganeering from the crowd that was almost partying (see the pictures below). The march started off in the esplanade just above our mooring. I don't know if the Narbonne march scared Chirac,  but it sure scared the bejeepers out of poor Luca, who is terrified of sudden and unexplained noise...he shook and quivered and tried to hide under the bed.

 

But spring is here and besides the sap and the students rising we managed to rouse ourelves to get out on our bikes. You can see from the pics that we go through acres and acres of bare vinyards, where the first signs of leaves are beginning to appear.

 

With the nice weather we went to visit and have lunch with  some new friends, a retired English professor and his French born wife, who live in the tiniest, most obscure village we have ever seen. The total population, including the two of them, is 67 souls. The town of Albas is almost impossible to find on the maps, but it is in a wildly beautiful area that is actually the foothills of the Pyrenees. They have been living there for 40 years, the last 16 full time. For us it was a chance to experience a way of life in the French countryside that one only reads about.

 

One other interesting occurance...Jerry became legal!  Actually to drive one of these barges one needs a license, which is called a PP (Permit de Plaisance).  To get it you need a medical exam (which is a formality as only the French can do), a "driving" test, and a 32 question written test. The tough part of the whole thing is that the written test is given only in French, which to mono-linguists such a Jerry is close to an impossibility. However, in the cold month of March I took a 10 hour train trip to frigid Cambrai, a gray twon in northeren France, where an English couple give a four day course to get you through it all. And I got through it!! Cheers from all!!  But keep in mind that having the PP doesn't make me a better boat driver, anymore than a driving license makes a 16 year old kid a good driver

 

Friday morning we are off.  It is actually difficult for us...we have started to become very settled in here in Narbonne and we like the town very much...I'm sure we are going to miss it. So, we leave you with a couple of pictures of Narbonne, one of the main square in front fo the Archbishop's palace and the othefr of the weekly "marche" that takes place on the esplanade right above the boat (yes, the same one where the  demonstartion started).

 

Our immediate goal is to make it down the canal about 100 kilometers to Aigues-Mortes, where we will await our opportunity to brest the "raging" Rhone River and make our way up to Burgundy....but stay tuned for future blogs.

 

 

As promised,Isaid that as soon as I figured it out I'd add phtos to my blog...so, here they are, a few pics of the Narbonne Carnaval.