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Welcome to Style de Vie 

our page about French lifestyles.  It is here that we will present vignettes
gathered from many sources for your enjoyment.   Expatriates living in France have
 interesting stories to tell;  part- or full-time residents of Paris give their perspective
on what's new, intriguing or unexpected in the City of Light; and the many
 unique and adventurous people living their dreams in France will share their
experiences.  The lifestyle of the French native, often the object of envy elsewhere
in the world, of course will not be overlooked . . . so come along for a glimpse into the
daily life and often fascinating lifestyles of people in France.

CONTENTS

   Cruising Vineyards on the Canal du Midi 

   A New Life in Limousin  ~  eventually!

  Café Sitting is a Full-Time Job

  The American 'Frog' in Sologne

   Edgy Delights in Paris' Twelfth

Two Glimpses into Provençal Village Life: 
The Gentle Pace of Eguilles
  Saignon: Built on Rocks and History 

   Burgundy on a Plate 
 

Cruising Vineyards on the Canal du Midi

                                                                                                                    by Marlane O’Neill 
 

Last year in September we sold our English narrowboat to move to the south of France and onto a Dutch cruiser suitable for the inland waterways of mainland Europe.  We are Americans, by the way, but love the European canals and rivers and living aboard.  England is charming and quaint, but we still couldn't resist the allure of France with four times the miles of inland cruising and . . . oo-la-la . . .much, much more.

So, we found ourselves in southwest France near sunny Montpellier, creating a new floating nest on a 42 foot Palma de Groot motor boat.  She has two bedrooms and toilettes and a complete kitchen along with a barbecue on the stern.  The marina in which she was located is a small tourist town called Ariane de Latte and very quiet --  in fact practically deserted in the wintertime. 

We opted instead to cruise the Canal du Midi and winter over in the city of Toulouse, also known as La Ville Rose, so named since buildings and sidewalks are made of bricks ranging in color from yellow to pink, giving a rosy glow. [Ed.  The region is one of two in France without suitable local stone for building, thus the use of Roman style brick.]

The Canal du Midi is one of three canals that join to connect the Mediterranean Sea and the Bay of Biscay in the Atlantic -- they are collectively known as the Canal Entre Deux Mers -  the canal between two seas.  The Canal du Midi runs for 240 kilometers (about a hundred and sixty miles) from Etang de Thau to Toulouse and has over 100 locks able to contain vessels of 30 meters long.  It was the conception of a wealthy entrepreneur, Pierre-Paul Riquet who, after its fourteen arduous years of creation, died bankrupt a year before it was completed in 1681.  The numerous statues, plaques and memorials along the canal are testament to him and the power of his dream.

October found us waving a dawn farewell to the friendly boaters in Port Ariane de Latte as we cruised to the medieval city of Agde.  In Agde the famous large round lock gives boaters the choice of entering the Herault River, which leads to the Mediterranean or onto the Canal du Midi, straight ahead.  We choose door number two,  and as the lock opened splendid tall broad leaf trees methodically planted in neat rows on each side of the water greet one as if to say ‘welcome’.  They are a hallmark of the Midi and cover much of the distance, giving needed shade and holding in the bank walls thus preventing erosion.
This was harvest time or the vendange in France, the season when the next vintage’s grapes are picked and pressed.  The smell of crushed grapes was everywhere and hand written signs said,  ‘Warning – Harvest in Progress’,  since small golf cart sized trucks are exiting the vineyards in a fury laden with their rich bursting produce hurrying to disgorge the purple fruit and go back for more.  One gentleman simply drove to the window of a beautiful old chateau where he hauled a hose through to vacuum the grapes straight to the pressoir.  He nonchalantly drove the fruit with a foot pump and enjoyed a smoke at the same time.  He didn't mind at all when we requested a photo.  Vineyards are everywhere, on both banks of the canal, and stretch for miles to the horizon.  Romantic chateaus sit proudly on their green and purple fields, the result of a year’s hard labor and precious investment.  So much is dependent upon the weather, the sun and the rain -- the ingredients that will give this year its distinct qualities from the last and the next.  Their world to be had in a bottle of aromatic liquid.

These vines date back thousands of years and several villages claim to have the very first planted by the Romans.  Who can truly lay claim to being the ‘first’ is not clear.  But,  it is evident that many wines along the Midi are becoming known due to their fruity and round flavors that are now the rage in California and Chilean wines.  Lucky for us, they are not so trendy as to drive up the prices. Experimentation is painless since a bottle that is not quite up to par can end up in coq au vin or  boeuf bourgignon, two delicious dishes of chicken and beef, respectively, made with a large quantity of wine.  Happily, not much was given up to la cuisine; most of it ended up in the cook and guests!

Winter in Toulouse brought a grand Salon des Vins where the local vintners around the Midi showcased their product.  It was a good thing it lasted for a few days since it took that much time to properly taste and select wine to take home.  Most of the time the real producers were on hand to discuss their wine – they are the ones with callouses and deep suntans; their name tags matched the name on the bottle.  The people in nice suits with good manicures were the hired hands!

With the arrival of spring we cruised from Toulouse to Bordeaux stopping along the Canal Latéral à la Garonne to visit vineyards or attend tastings.  The village of Buzet, just a few miles from Bordeaux, was memorable for its large impressive cooperative with several competing Buzets available.  There we met two Belgian wine merchants having a lively time buying a huge quantity to bring back to Brussels.  They explained that the high price of Bordeaux wines had brought them to seek out the lesser-known wines nearby. 

Bordeaux is remarkable for the comparative lack of good priced inventory and middling quality.  So much of the wine is exported that little of real value is left for the locals. We turned around from Bordeaux, heading for the Rhône River and Paris. 

How do you make sense of the dozens, maybe hundreds of labels to choose from, especially when the cost of the bottle has little to do with the quality?  Cost is really a consequence of popularity, not excellence, one of our hard-won lessons.  In fact, Rob compiled the following list, which he calls “Marlane’s Wine Rules”,  so we both claim the blame if anyone disagrees.  Here it is:

Marlane’s Wine Rules by Rob

1.  Start by looking at the bottle, not the label.  It should be weighty with a dimple in the bottom.  The heavier the bottle, the deeper the dimple, the better.

2.  It should say Mis en bouteille a la propriété or Mis en bouteille au château’, meaning that it was bottled at the vineyard not at a factory far away.  In these cases then it would say Mis en bouteille par… meaning by another company other than the vintner.

3.  A vintage of about 2 years is recommended, but not much more unless it is from Gaillac or Buzet villages where the wines are known to be best around 5 years of age.

4.  The phrase Appellation… Contrôlée should be visible.  In between these words will be the region the wine is from, thus a wine from the town of Minervois, for example, will say Appellation Minervois Contrôlée or if from Bordeaux it will say Appellation Bordeaux Contrôlée and so on.  It could also say Appellation Origin Contrôlée which is okay as well.  These are the governing boards that ensure a standard of production is met so that the wines retain their quality.  They examine production from beginning to end and guarantee no funny business went on in its creation as well as controlling the percentages of different grapes that go into the blend. 

5.  Medals are good.  A bronze, silver or gold sticker saying Concours des Grands Vins de France, Macon, Medaille d’Or, 2002 says that the wine was given a gold medal in a large wine contest in Macon in 2002.  This wine contest is one of the biggest and thus these medals are very valuable.  However, be on the lookout for shiny metallic stickers that are not medals, but look-alikes, fooling a casual buyer.  They will say things like ‘harvested by hand’, which is not a blue ribbon. 

6.  Many vineyards number their bottles.  It’s a mark of extra care and interest,  and a bottle with a number gets a plus sign from us.  Not all are great, but some of the best have had numbers.

7.  This is a personal preference.  While all the above rules apply to any wine from any region of France, if it is a wine from the Canal du Midi then we are most likely to give it a thumbs up over other areas such as Burgundy, Bordeaux or the Alsace.  These fruity, rich and heady wines are similar to the best Californians that are very  popular all over the world.  But, beware, there is no Appellation Canal du Midi Contrôlée.  One has to be familiar with the names of the villages producing wine.  There are many,  but a few of the outstanding that come to mind are: Minervois, Corbières, Cahors, Gaillac and Buzet. 

While getting to know the wines along the Midi, we found one more rule of thumb that is the last but not the least:

8.  You don't need to pay more than about 5 or 6 euros for a good bottle, and often will pay much less; there are excellent wines that meet all the above rules for as low as 3 euros.  Unfortunately they often sell out before we can stock up!

The last rule was actually hard to follow, believe it or not.  For folks used to paying at least 10 dollars for a ‘decent’ bottle of wine in the USA, it's scary to plunk down 3 euros and not be convinced that this wine is for the chicken at best.  Life is too short to drink bad wine,  but it doesn't have to correlate to ‘you get what you pay for’.  For now, at least, you are getting a whole lot more than what you pay for,  and that's a nice rule to break! 

Whilethese are the general guidelines, all rules are made to be broken and amazingly good wines exist that don’t fit all the criteria.  In fact, there is an outstanding Corbières only sold as ‘bag in the box’,  and it puts many good bottled wines to the test. 

The beauty of the wine country along the Canal du Midi is an unexpected surprise and an excellent primer for discovering wines elsewhere in France. A votre santé!

                                                                                                                       by Julie Thirkettle

Life in Yorkshire was not going well for my family and me. After 2½ years of battling, my husband of over 20 years lost his life to cancer.  Also, one of my daughters had a further blow when her partner abandoned her and their 3 month-old baby. 

My husband had had a good career as a university lecturer, and I had stayed at home to bring up our four children.  I found myself not only without my husband, but also without any qualifications and, therefore, no income.  My daughter needed to work full time to support her son but did not want to be apart from him.  At crisis point, we realized a huge change was required. We work well together and decided to put my house on the market and look for a larger property where we could run a bed and breakfast, thus solving our employment problems.

As UK house prices are so high, we could not afford a property suitable for a large bed and breakfast, so we looked further afield and settled on the Limousin of central France.  The Limousin was an ideal area because it is rural (very important to us as we have lived in rural Yorkshire for over fifteen years), houses were good value for the money, and it would be accessible for my son (who is at university in England) and my other two daughters.

After a couple of house hunting trips, we found a renovation project near Eymoutiers in département 87, the Haute-Vienne. When completed we would have a gîte complex and a large barn conversion, housing both our living quarters and a bed and breakfast.  As our house sale in the UK had completed, we signed the Compromis, packed up our Nissan Micra (containing 3 dogs, a baby, two adults and some belongings!) and made the journey to France.  We were to live in rented accommodations until the purchase was completed.

Two weeks before the completion date, the purchase started to fall apart.  Numerous problems occurred, including tax and land issues, and after four months of heartache the sale eventually collapsed when the CU for the barn conversion was refused.

Wewere house hunting once more, property prices had risen, and as we had been living on the proceeds from my house sale for over seven months, my capital had shrunk.  We had to change our criteria and look at any property from which we could start a business without major renovation work.

Luckily, we found the perfect property in the medieval château town of Bourganeuf in the département of the Creuse, again in the Limousin.  It belonged to the local Notaire and was in good condition ~ we just needed to add some bathrooms and redecorate.  Following the viewing, we rushed to the estate agency and signed the Compromis.

As we had sold our furniture in the UK,  we needed to furnish this 8-bedroom house.  We could not afford antiques but needed classic furniture.  After reading about brocantes and trocs, we started our search by visiting local outlets. Unfortunately, we were very disappointed; although the style was right, the furniture was often scratched or damaged, chairs needed reupholstering, and every piece had one thing in common ~ woodworm.  Another problem was that we needed a large amount of furniture and did not have the time to trail around shops each week in the hope that they might have had some new deliveries.

SLEIGH BED AND CLASSIC FRENCH CHAIR FROM LE VERGER HANDMADE FURNITURE

After ruling out brocantes and trocs, we decided to look at the new furniture market.  Again we were sorely disappointed. The good quality furniture was very expensive and the inferior quality was overpriced.  After complaining about our problems to friends, we discovered that they too had had similar experiences.  We realised that there was a hole in the market, so, after hours of research and visits to numerous suppliers, we decided to set up Le Verger Handmade Furniture, offering high quality furniture in classic designs.  Now open, we will run this company alongside our bed and breakfast which is due to open in March 2006 when all of the new bathrooms will be completed.

My family and I are enjoying life in Bourganeuf.  We are settling in, and I am very excited about what 2006 will offer. 

                                                                       by Jill Butler

I started everyday in the corner café, not just any café, but rather the famous Salon du Thé, Ladurée, on the rue Royale, numéro 16.*

First priority was un double express et un croissant aux amandes. Next came the reading of the newspaper, not just one, but three: the International Herald Tribune, The International Edition of the Wall Street Journal, and Le Figaro.  For survival at a dinner party or social conversation, it is imperative to be on top of the news both in France and in the US. I had a lot to learn.

Having moved from New York City, I'd taken up the habit of eating breakfast out. It seemed the perfect way to connect with the still somewhat sleepy world, to see people, to be alone, but not lonely. I could ease into my work as the caffeine did its job.

I wrote my first book, Paintbrush in Paris, sitting in Ladurée. I went daily for nearly 14 years. Paintbrush was my American cat that immigrated with me. He was my English-speaking friend and voice in telling our story of moving to Paris through this first illustrated book. 

The day came, a year and half later, when the first copies of Paintbrush in Paris arrived. I held my breath and slowly let it out as I read it through. It wasn't embarrassing!

The next morning, I tucked a copy into my bag and headed out for breakfast. I shared it with Anick, my usual serveuse, and she shared it with the manager, Monique.

By a convergence of the stars, the new owners of Ladurée, Francis Holder, and his son, David, were sitting next to me at one of those miniature tables ~ meaning we were practically sitting elbow to elbow.  So, Paintbrush in Paris was again shared by Monique, but this time with the Holders. Mr.Holder Senior ** turned to me and said, “Charmant, Madame, bravo!” He asked me who I was, what I was doing in Paris and suggested I should illustrate something for the salon.

Heart pounding, I spontaneously proposed a series of postcards that could be sold to other Ladurée and postcard enthusiasts like myself. He took to the idea and immediately passed me and the idea to his son, David, with whom I negotiated our agreement. I was then introduced to their design and interiors director. With the details of our project concluded, it was time to begin.

I love to draw food but this felt like an exam. Being a self-taught artist, I hoped I would pass the test. On Monday morning, I was "installed" upstairs in the newly renovated, smoke-free dining room and for three intense mornings silver trays filled with “samples” of every patisserie, Viennoisserie, et dessert was placed before me ~ to draw!

After making preliminary sketches, I choose to work with two illustrative styles: one a cut paper style (the façade and coffees ) and the second a more classic pen and ink watercolor style (the map, macaroons, Viennoisseries and pastries) as well as a mix of both (the salon interior). Things like capturing the whipped cream or the layers of a mille feuilles were tricky as were les macarons, Ladurée’s signature product.

The cherubs painted on the ceiling of the ground floor room alone are worth the visit. If you look closely you can see they are baking the bread by the rays of the sun. I choose to use the cherubs throughout the series of six cards. They also appear in the Ladurée logo. 

Eventually, every drawing was checked by the design director for accuracy and the text was bien regardé for spelling errors and inaccuracies. The last look was with David and the printer, and off to press it went.

I smiled when I saw customers discovering the cards as they paid à la caisse. The enthusiastic mid-westerner that I am wanted to jump up and introduce myself ~ but I contained myself with being happy that they were being purchased.

For sure now, I knew that café sitting was ~ if not a full-time job ~ it was a job!

As a final note, what I learned was to go ahead and speak up in my less than perfect French, to enjoy the moment, to be slightly outrageous by French standards and to go ahead and put forth an idea when given the opportunity because who knows who's sitting next to you waiting to respond in the positive?

                                                                                                                                                by Kristi Anderson

I first fell in love with France in the late 70s when I went work as a model in Paris.  But, being slightly too short to make the « big bucks », I returned to New York and found a very nice career for myself in advertising.

However, I remained in love with France, and in the fall of 1988 I arrived in Paris to, you guessed it, marry a Frenchman. At the age of 36 not only didn't I know one word of French,  but I barely knew how to use a microwave! Six months of Alliance Française and a few cookbooks later, I felt I was well on my way. 

In 1990 I opened Tea and Tattered Pages, a used English bookstore and tearoom which, in spite of its small size, became internationally known for the reasonably priced books and the charm and ambiance of a bookstore offering the first of what became the fashionable combination of serving « comfort food » and tea in a bookstore.  Borders and the rest came after! My press book attests to the store's success with appearances on Telematin, Paris Premiere, and Jimmy.  Articles about Tea and Tattered Pages appeared as far away as Iceland!

In 1998, my husband and I divorced and, having stayed in love with France, I sold my Parisian bookstore and bought a delapidated auberge in the tiny but charming Solognot village of Ligny le Ribault.

After five long years to completely renovate Auberge Saint Jacques, it has become une maison d’hôtes where themed weekends focusing on falconry, cooking, or biking are becoming well known.  But, all that was not enough for me.  I have turned the orignal bar into what can be compared to as an English club and named it Le Coin Perdu.  I have found various artists to exhibit their works there, and one never knows what one will find: watercolors of a sublime Sologne, charatictures of European soldiers, or modern oil paintings.  Each exposition changes the ambiance of the « club ».

A new addition to the Auberge Saint Jacques are themed dinners once a month.  Past dinners have included Thanksgiving, Russian New Year and Saint Valentines.  Each menu and history is well reseached so that when a guest leaves, he or she is not only extremely well fed but more informed as well!  My cooking classes are also just as diverse ~ Indian, Chinese, Tex-mex, as well as foie gras, and even a "gôuter en anglais" for children from 7-12. 

                                                                                                                      by Helen Vaughan Simpson
 

Think about it.  Most of us who have been to Paris more than once or twice are past the Eiffel Tower-Notre Dame-Louvre tourist circuit.  Not that I don’t relish one more trip to the Louvre and the Musée d’ Orsay each time I go, but,  in my passion for Paris,  after the first few visits I wanted to know more about this beguiling city. 

That hunger drove me beyond the city center and the tourist tracks that Fodor’s and Rick Steves have ensured are familiar and fully known.  What  dedicated Francophile isn’t already familiar with the rue Cler in the 7th arrondissement, or the rue Mouffetard in the 5th?   I wanted something more, something different.  In looking for that something different, I  found the edges of  Paris and the edgy delights she yields up only to those who seek to know her in all her depths.

Paris’ eastern edge draws far fewer visitors than the more celebrated west.  It was years of visiting the city before I ventured into exploring the formerly artisan and working class 12th arrondissement -- the very heart of radical and revolutionary Paris.  This seldom-explored district offers a great deal beyond the now popular and trendy Bastille area.  You have to  push eastwards, even past the périphérique, to the very edge of the Bois de Vincennes to find one of the city's fascinating corners and the Palais de Porte d’Orée. 

The former Museum of African and Oceanic Arts, this extraordinary building is now the official headquarters of France’s architectural patrimony and in its own design a unique architectural treasure.  It was built to celebrate France’s pride in her colonies -- it proclaims in a post-colonial world -- and now, in an embarrassing sort of way,  France’s civilizing imperial mission.  Erected in 1931 for the World’s Fair,  it shouts France’s pride in her colonies and her success in shouldering the white man’s burden.  Politics aside, the medium’s message here should not keep anyone from admiring an art-deco artistic masterpiece.

Walking from the Porte d'Orée métro exit, the visitor approaches the building past a towering golden figure of Civilizing Marianne, her image glittering in the reflecting pool, lined with palm trees, stretching at her feet.  The palms are the first note of a colonial song that rings more loudly as the building, covered with monumental carvings, rises into view.

The square columns surrounding the square building pull the visitor around complex images of ships, tropical trees and flowers, native populations in exotic dress, elephants and other fauna alien to France but not to her colonies amid a roll call of the names of the colonies. 

Along the western side, shadowed at times by the filtered light of the trees, is a list of the names of  the architects of France’s empire.  Colbert is there,  de Lesseps is there — even Iberville and Bienville, the “organizers of Louisiana.”   All of France’s colonies are there, even the least important.

To complete the introduction to the wonders that colonial exploration brought to the homeland, the basement aquarium shelters the only alligators to be found in the city along with illuminated windows of colorful tropical fish that glow eerily in the darkened corridors.  Not far away, near the Paris zoo and the Lac Daumesnil, is the Buddhist temple. 

This trip to the edge of the city is a visit beyond the borders of France -- even beyond the borders of the Francophone world.   Marianne, holding high her torch of civilization and light, lingers in the mind’s eye.  To know Paris in all the facets of her richness,  a visit to the Palais de Porte D’Orée is de rigueur.  It is more than a visit to a monument — it is a visit to the edges of the French experience, to the world and mind of the early twentieth century, to the iconography of the 1930s, to a time when western culture was seen to shine like Marianne’s torch.   And it will introduce you to the fascinating edges of a city in a constant process of self-transformation.  So don’t stay in the center — go to the edge.

                                                                                                                        by Barbara Beaumont

Not long after I returned from a recent trip to Southern California,  I was in my car on the road into my small village when suddenly traffic came to a grinding halt.  I couldn’t see past the long line of stranded cars to find the reason, but I vaguely remembered some roadwork had been going on when I left.  Five minutes went by, then ten, and finally I got out of my car to see what the problem was since things still weren’t moving.  Then I saw the real reason: not roadwork but…SHEEP.  A local shepherd was leading his flock right up the middle of the road, seemingly oblivious to the motorists.  Best of all, there were few motorists who blew their horns or indicated their displeasure.  Eventually,  he turned off to cross a field,  and we all moved on.  Somehow I couldn’t quite see this happening in Los Angeles.

There are other advantages to living in a village, and one of my favorites is the
annual town “fête”, or party.  These always take place near the end of summer when most people are back from vacation,  but the kids are still out of school.  It’s always the “saint’s day” for each town, and miraculously they all seem to fall in August.  Daytime activities include horseback rides, carousels for small children, “boules” contests for the men, a band for dancing in the town square at least on one occasion, and always some large, communal meal for the whole town.  Since I live about 50 yards from the town hall (the center of activities) in my village,  I can’t help but be involved. And,  on Bastille Day the fireworks from the Mairie fall right on my terrace – a free spectacle!

I find the friendliness of the local merchants, several of whom have learned my name, to be a real plus.  My mailman, who is a neighbor, has become a valued friend.  Visits to the twice-weekly market are always a social occasion,  and most everything I need to find in town can be done on foot.  The passing hours of each day are marked by the bells from the church that’s just next to the town hall, and I’ve learned to recognize the different bells that announce a wedding, a funeral or Mass. Somehow it never occurred to me that all these little things could be so important…..

                                                                                                        by Marcia Mitchell

Looming in the distance it looks like a medieval fortress standing watch over the valley.  Up close you can see that it’s actually a cluster of huge rocks, formed by time in layers of limestone.  But, along the rim of the flat top,  you can see sections of a wall of hand-hewn stone.  It is what’s left of the defense wall for the three châteaux that once stood side-by-side on top of that mammoth rocky outcrop.

Yes, three castles!

This is Saignon, one of the perched villages of the Luberon region of Provence. It doesn’t boast the fame (or the tourists) of a Gordes or a Roussillon, but it has the distinction of having once been rich, or important, or crazy enough to have had three châteaux at one time, back in the Middle Ages when the average per village was just one, and noble neighbors never got along.

I read in a guidebook that Saignon is one of the “as yet undiscovered villages of the Luberon.”  That must be wrong, because I am an American, and even I know about it.  In fact, I left everything behind in Washington DC and moved to this rock fortress.  It looked safer.

My house is in the Place de l'Horloge ~ the clock tower place.  Believe me, living next to the clock tower makes you acutely aware of time’s passage (even when you’re no longer billing by the hour).  A thousand years ago, longer than I can remember, our building was part of the ramparts of the village.  Along the west wall runs a chemin de ronde, where soldiers kept a lookout for invaders.  In one corner, you can see the exposed stone base of the ancient signal tower.  Saignon, it seems, derived from the Roman word signum, for signal.  The giant rocky promontory above our village was apparently the message center for this part of Provincia Romana.

That rocky promontory is like a balcony attached to the Plateau des Claparedes on the northern face of the Grand Luberon. To prehistoric people, tired of their dark, damp caves in the Aiguebrun valley, it must have looked like a great place to live, because it soon became an oppidum, or fortified refuge.  Then in 976, documents show Saignon as a castellum, with a castle and tower of wood, given by the bishop of Apt to brothers Robert and Varacon.

That's where the Saignonnais took a characteristic turn off the straight and narrow one-castle-per-village path.  By the beginning of the 12th century, the tiny village had not one, not two, but three castles standing elbow-to-elbow on the rock ~ Château de la Roche, Château de Crugière, and squeezed in between them, Château de Tortamolle, or Méjean (middle).

We can only imagine the feudal turf wars.

I do know one example. As the 14th century dawned, one Bertrand Rambaud de Simiane ~“Rambo”, I call him ~ was lord of the runty middle castle.  Next door, within spitting distance, was the gigantic castle-with-the-best-view, owned by his cousin, the bishop of Apt, who was also his seigneur and landlord and to whom he had sworn fealty.

One day, “Rambo” got fed up and told the bishop just exactly what he could do with his outrageous rent bill.  Then he got a bunch of his men together and tore down part of his chateau along with some of the neighbors’ houses.  The bishop promptly excommunicated “Rambo” (which in those days meant devastation) and made him rebuild everything at his own expense.

Finally came the Revolution, and without nobility to occupy them, the three castles started falling to ruin.  The people of Saignon, knowingly or not, took their cue from “Rambo”.  They climbed up onto the rock, knocked down most of what was left standing, and carted off the stones to build houses of their own. 

When you visit Saignon, as I hope you will, pass through the medieval portal and follow the signs to Le Rocher, The Rock. Take your camera, maybe even a baguette, cheese and a bottle of wine.  Enjoy the spectacular 360° view, from the limestone cliffs of the Claparedes, across the Calavon Valley, over other perched villages, to Mont Ventoux, the Vaucluse mountains and in the far distance, on a clear day, even a smidgeon of the Alps. 

And while you’re up there, imagine those three châteaux rising even higher above you, surrounded by massive walls, guard towers, and a treacherous moat ~ accessible only through a forbidding iron gate.  Then look down at the village houses of everyday people, their open shutters and flowering window boxes, alfresco tables set for lunch. Their walls are built of the stones those ancestral villagers retrieved from the noble ruins. 

I like to think that, in a way, the three châteaux are once again standing side by side, in a new and more peaceful neighborhood.

                                                                                                       by Sue Boxell

Burgundy on a Plate, my wine and gastronomy tour company based in Burgundy, is the eventual flowering of a seed planted long ago while I was working on floating hotels on Burgundy’s inland waterway network.  Working as a chef in the region had been a revelation to me. I delighted purchasing my ingredients from the wonderful outdoor markets ~ a riot of colorful fruits, vegetables and flowers ~ and I was astonished by the sheer variety of cheeses and the quality of the meat and fish.  In addition, the wonderful vineyards where we would take our passengers for tastings were the icing on the cake.  I developed a real passion for the region,  and I vowed that one day I would return to create my own business.

However, ‘life is what happens while planning other things’ as they say ~ and one day I woke up in London and realized that my long-held dream was looking unlikely to be fulfilled.  It suddenly came to me that not pursuing my dream was going to be far more painful in the long run than simply throwing myself into action and going for it!  So after a period of research and several visits to Burgundy, I set a date for departure.

My first step was to actually get to France, which I did by crossing the English Channel in my Dutch ex-sailing barge.   With the help of friends, I navigated for three long weeks through the waterway network going through, what seemed at the time, hundreds of locks to get to St Jean de Losne in Burgundy where there was a mooring awaiting me.  In France there are not that many suitable employment opportunities for foreigners, so I knew I had to get straight in there and get my business up and running.

I was confident that I had the skills necessary to offer a truly special experience for my clients, and my nine years working for Eurotunnel had honed my business and language skills, both essential in my future undertakings.

Now, I’m delighted to say that my company Burgundy on a Plate offers a taste of the real Burgundy, as it’s experienced by the people who live here. The pride in its cuisine, the magnificence of its vines and wines and the quality and variety of its produce makes Burgundy a perfect region for a wine and gastronomy discovery tour. 

These private, guided tours will bring participants a deeper knowledge and understanding of the history, wine, and gastronomy of this region, enabling them to meet wine producers in family-owned vineyards, to taste artisanal local specialities in some remote locations, and to dine in some unusual restaurants, such as a ferme auberge run by local farmers' wives or a restaurant in a wine cellar.

In addition to our week-long tours, there are eight one-day themed tours to choose from ~from wine and cheese to Cassis, Cooking, and Côte de Nuits ~ for those people with limited time in the area.   We also offer custom-made tours, and whether one's interests lie in wine, gastronomy, history, art, architecture, golf or cooking, we can design and create a tour especially for those interests. 

At last I am doing something in my life that I love,  and I hope that some of this love of Burgundy rubs off on my clients.  Judging by their reactions ~ it’s working!