Traveling with Rob in La belle France

Chenonceau is built over the river Chere. The gallery or long reception hall spans the gently flowing water like a bridge. Looking out from the big, recessed stained glass windows, you feel floating on a riverboat.

For most of its history, Chenonceau has been in the possession of queens whose legacy has survived the ages. Queen Louise,
widow of Henri Ill, created the black room after the death of her husband. The sad beauty of this lasting testimony of mourning is still haunting visitors today.

I was especially impressed by the huge, vaulted kitchen,
storage, and work area located at the foundation pillars of the castle. I visualized wonderful feasts being prepared on those spacious, heavy oak tables and countertops. Only robust chefs with strength and stamina could operate those heavy cast iron and copper cauldrons, pots, and pans over the gigantic spits and artistically crafted wood stoves. And yet they also had to possess
the exquisite finesse and gastronomic savoir typical of French cuisine.

The grounds are artfully landscaped. Trimmed hedges, manicured lawns, trellised vine arbors, pruned trees, shaped flowerbeds, and paved paths are skillfully arranged to create symmetrical designs. Rob and I feel pleasantly tired after a leisurely walk through the forest-like park, which has retained some of its natural wildness.

Late afternoon, we reach the famous Villandry castle and gardens. The air is still balmy, and the sky is without a cloud. We seem to step into a picture book. Against the backdrop of the flawless sky, the architecture of the gleaming white castle and the arrangements of the meticulously groomed, terraced gardens seem perfect. We are awed and delighted by the intricate geometrical designs and patterns created by the artful interspersing of colorful flowers, herbs, vegetables, shrubs, hedges, small trees, and trellised vines. We feel transported into an époque of the past when splendor was a way of life, and natural surroundings were shaped into art pieces.

In the golden glow of the setting sun we drive off to our final destination, the Castello de Brays and Mons.

“There will be a surprise for you, Mom!” says
Rob with a promising look on his face.

Continuation of traveling with Rob dans la belle France

Miraculously, from now on, we have no more trouble with our capricious little French vehicle. I started enjoying the landscape painted in pastel colors in the early spring. Blooming meadows, yellow rape fields, flowering orchards, green vineyards, small orderly villages, blossoming trees, and spring flowers against ancient stone walls create a colorful kaleidoscope in my mind. We journey on at a reduced pace, stopping here and there to briefly visit a less-known castle, an ancient fortification, or a charming village. The old stone houses with low rock walls encircling their front yards have become part of nature. They are overgrown with vines or other trailing plants. Even flowers grow in the stone crevices.

At Loches, an enchanting medieval-looking town, we buy fresh strawberries at the marketplace, admiring the colorful stalls selling the season’s first produce. Fresh asparagus, lettuce, peas, and strawberries are a tantalizing feast for the eyes of a seasoned housewife like me. The air is perfumed with the scent of spring flowers. Beautiful bouquets of violets, daffodils, tulips, lilacs, and roses are offered everywhere. An ancient cathedral overlooks this timeless scene, a silent witness to countless market days of the past. There is laughter and good •cheer as people of all ages mill around, enjoying once again the wonderful gifts of a beautiful spring day.

We stop at Moulin Pierre, a small garden restaurant on the way for lunch. The ancient water mill is turning with a monotonous gurgling sound as in days long gone by. Sitting at a rustic table enjoying the warm sunshine and peaceful atmosphere, we leisurely feast on an enormous platter of various aromatic cheeses and fresh crusty bread. I indulge in some red wine and Rob slurps with contentment a refreshing raspberry drink. Our spirits are wonderfully revived by this relaxing repast.

In the early afternoon we reach Chenonceau. The spacious parking lot and reception area are full of people. Enormous tour buses with license plates from different European countries are spilling hordes of noisy and excited tourists. Many boisterous schoolchildren are also milling around, heading for washrooms, souvenir shops, and refreshment stalls. Past the tall entrance gate of wrought iron, colorful groups of sightseers are walking on the wide alley, which used to lead horse-drawn coaches and carriages to the castle in days gone by. The old shade trees flanking this imposing driveway have recently sprung into leaf. The fresh green is a delight for the eyes. I wish they could talk about the romantic history of this unique and beautiful water castle.

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Continuation of travelling with Rob in La Belle France

“Mom, you must be crazy. How can I stop in this traffic?” Rob replies with irritation.

His face has regained some colour, and his expression has some assertiveness.

“Look for the sun; where is the sun?” he asks impatiently.

“What do you need the sun for?” I cry out in disbelief.

“To turn west, ” he replies curtly.

I locate the sun peeking behind some buildings to the right. Without stalling, Rob succeeds in turning west onto a secondary highway. I fervently pray for safe passage.

My prayers seem to be answered. The traffic is easing, the car rolls smoothly, and my heartbeat slows. After successfully entering a deserted country road, Rob sighs in relief.

“I can handle this baby now. The funny pin I have been pulling is only for the reverse gear. The dealer didn’t tell me. I had to find out the hard way, ” he smiles, stopping the car in a slightly sloping parking spot near a country lane. Freshly plowed fields of white chalk-like soil stretch before us. A rooster is crowing from a farm nearby. Birds are singing. The morning is still young.

“You can have your walk now, “Rob laughs, jumping out of the vehicle and sprinting with his long legs toward a blossoming orchard.

 Rob had talked too soon. The capricious “baby” of a car started rolling as soon as I stepped out. Trying to hold on to the open door, I started screaming in desperation. In one leap, Rob was there and, with the unexpected presence of mind, corrected the problem. He had left the clutch in neutral.

We silently walk for a long while along the quiet country road, trying to recover from our last shock. The air is crisp, the sky a hazy blue, and the early morning sun radiates gentle warmth. We come to a small river, leisurely meandering through the pastoral landscape. We sit in solitude on a bench, listening to the water’s soothing prattle. The meadow is lush green, and bees are buzzing around buttercups. Suddenly, as if on cue, we both burst out laughing. Racked with laughter, we run back to the capricious little car. Our tension eases. We are ready to continue our adventure with restored confidence.

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