Rain on the Nivernais

Saturday 30th June

Morning, and il pleut.  It pleut-ed and it pleut-ed.  Just soft rain, but enough to keep the skies very grey and the trees soggy.  We left our layover around 9am and have been on the go ever since.  The boat goes at walking pace, so you can easily hop off at a lock and walk to the next one.  The small villages that we go through are really devoid of life - as if they have closed down.  No sound of life, no children playing outside, no one walking in the evenings.  In a way, it is, I have to admit, slightly disappointing inasmuch as I’d expected the villages to have cafés with good coffee and croissants.  That, however, is not the case and the villages are very quiet and empty-looking.  There are no children playing, no adults out walking in the evening (other than us) and it’s so quiet that you start wondering whether you’ve been through a time warp and the villagers are in hiding.

View from cabin window!

We stopped for lunch at Mailly la Ville, looking eagerly out for a café and boulangerie, but to no avail.  There was one tiny shop that sold bread, wine, knitting wool, and an assortment of tinned foods.  Quaint.  But no coffee.  I am sure the bigger towns will have restaurants. 

The weather finally picked up in the late afternoon and the grey gave way to patchy blue.  Lock after lock and eventually we arrived to where we are this evening; Mailly le Chateau.  We passed by some stunning cliffs which Nick had to climb, naturally, and which gave him a great view of the village and town across from the canal.  We entered the village with high hopes as the documents we were given said that there was a restaurant and a bar.  We first found a small tabac which sold wine and beer, so we settled down to try the local Chablis.  Both Jenny and I turned up our noses at what we decided was an oily, slightly kerosene taste to a simple and definitely not complex, wine.  The boys had a wheaten beer each.  In my best French I asked if there was a restaurant in the village.  It’s all very well being able to ask these things en francais, but it’s understanding the response that is the difficulty.

But we found the place – L’Etape des Gourmet - and prepared ourselves, with another wine and beer, to translating the menu.  What we had was beautifully plated and looked a picture.  Much of it was pre-prepared and not freshly cooked, but it still was very nice and a pleasant surprise.  In the village was also a fresh bread shop which we will make haste to tomorrow morning.  I bet we wake up early with the church bells...

Canal Nivernais Day One

Today’s the first day of our canal trip from Vermenton to Auxerre.  We drove from Hochstetten, Germany, to Vermenton in France, taking about 4 hours.  It’s interesting insomuch as journeying by road – to get from A to B quickly – is via the motorway and of course, there are no small villages with cafes to stop and have a leisurely coffee.  Stops are made at petrol stops laybys where there are large shops that also sell coffee, but via machines.  Put your money in, choose what you think is the right type of coffee and within moments it arrives in a wax cup.  Not so good.  But efficient and certainly no time wasted.  

I thought of the Brown Sugar café in Taihape and the little cafés up and down the country where we  stop, safe in the knowledge that the coffee will be excellent.   Are we now spoiled in New Zealand that we have such good food, coffee, and wine?  Are our tastebuds so used to luxury foods from all around the world that we feel jaded?  But one must not compare, for the whole reason of travelling is surely to experience the difference rather than complain about it.

Vermenton is a cluster of yellow stone houses with narrow streets; in the center of which is a large church.  Nothing was signposted, but we found our way to the riverside where saw all the boats tied to the side.  We were introduced to Guilliame, our boat for the duration.  William, or “Sonny Bill” as we decided he might be named (isn’t it odd to have a male name for a boat?) is smallish with two cabins, each with their own shower and loo.  One fore, one aft.  To begin with, I was sure there was no room for any of our clothes (which we’d reduced to one suitcase, leaving the other in the car, safely locked for the duration), but it is interesting how you can find nooks and crannies.  You have to be incredibly tidy, of course and since I am the only untidy person in the group of 4, it will be a test of my skills.

We were given at least an hour’s tuition by a guy from, of all places, Perth.  He came with us for the first lock just to make sure we were going to be ok.  Of course, we have John, Captain in the Royal Navy as our team leader, so we weren’t unduly worried.  Nick is the ‘boy’ and so far, he and Jenny are taking care of all the tying up business and doing the locks.  They are all in their element.  I am observing carefully, just in case my skills are tested.  We are lying-to for the first night in the Canal Nevernais at Ste Pallaye.  It is quiet and peaceful.  The canal water is dirty and more so since all bilge is simply pumped into it – you would think, wouldn’t you, that that kind of thing would be in the past?

We are going south, away from Vermenton to Prégilbert, to Maille la Ville, Mailly le Chateau, Merry sur Yonne, Chatel Censoir and ending up at Clamecy.  We return the same way.  Because the boat travels at walking pace only, this is about as far as we will get.  There are many locks, all of which take time, and so the mileage covered is going to be less than I imagined.  We come back the same way, but we will skip some villages out on our way south, and stop at them on the way north.  Nick and I will end up in Auxerre, but the boat will not be going that far.

I'm really sorry that we didn't get bikes.  I suppose I wasn't forceful enough when the decision was made.  It was raining and the 'boys' went to organise the boat and came back saying that bikes weren't really that necessary.  Pity.

The beds were surprisingly comfortable, at least mine was, since  I had the wider of the two single beds up the pointy end.  Mine was supposed to be a double, apparently, although I can’t see how two people would have ever slept comfortably there.  Nick had a single bed, bless him, while I had already tucked in two extra duvets on top of my mattress.  One might say, shame on me, but first up, best dressed etc.  And there're hips and knees to be thought of.

John and Jenny had the double bed, and bigger cabin and en suite, but the bed was hard against the wall with no way of getting out, should you be on the wall side.

The galley is perfectly adequate especially as we do not propose to be spending too much time in it.  There's plenty of room in the fridge for wine and cheese.

And so ends the first day.

Dubai to Freiberg

 25 - 27 July

Desert Fox

After a good flight from Melbourne we descended into the heat of Dubai. Early in the morning, 5am, it was already 35C; like walking into a heated sauna. Our hotel, the Arabian Courtyard, is full of charm, with décor to suit its name.  The staff are extremely polite and helpful, food is good, room is spacious.  It is in the old part of Dubai directly across the road from the museum and old fort which dates back from the 1840s.  The museum is divided into an exterior look at what life in a fort might comprise, and a much cooler underground display of different styles of work and living in the old days.  Actually, when you roam around the old souks, it doesn't really look as though life has changed much at all.  It’s only when you see the new buildings and the vast malls that you begin to see the wealth of this nation.

The museum had some good little dioramas of craftsmen making pots, selling cloth, weighing and haggling out pearl prices, and one is of desert animals who come to life when the sun has set.  A hare, and a hedgehog being two, and even a red desert fox.

Dubai is a good stopover after 13 hours flying.  We had dinner with Matt who was working in Dubai for a few months - very nice Thai & Chinese restaurant in our hotel where we finished up with fortune cookies.  Among the three of us, Matt got one that said, "No go, if can't pay", I had one that said, "Friends long absent, are coming back to you."  Nick ended up with, "Time may be a great healer, but it's no beauty specialist", and there was a final one which advised, "Keep your feet on the ground, even though your friends flatter you."  Hmmm...

Next morning after a 4am wake-up with the very near-by minaret call to prayer, we departed Dubai for Zurich where we were met by John and Jenny and driven to Hochstetten, near to Freiberg where they live.  The temperature dropped by some 20 degrees and left me wondering why I'd deliberately chosen not to pack my jeans, but just keep to summer clothing.  

Today, Nick and Jenny climbed the Kohlerhoff while John and I took the car - in the rain - to the gasthaus where I, once again, ate the most beautiful, melting, goat cheese wrapped in smoked ham.  Delicious.

We shopped for supplies, packed the car, and tomorrow we set off for France...

Shortest (coldest) day

It is the shortest day and longest night, and it is quite the coldest, wettest, windiest that it has ever been here.  Snow blankets the South Island, severe gale-force winds rock Wellington city, and here, well it just rains.  Biting, cold rain whipped by the southerly wind.  The Wellington airport has been closed for most of the day, ferries are not sailing - waves are 8m apparently - and even trains have been stopped in and out of the city.  Coastal roads are swept by huge waves and this storm has been likened to Wahine Day, that fateful storm when the ferry foundered on the rocks in Wellington harbour and 51 lives were lost.  A friend who was flying to Melbourne early this morning, sent me a text at 8.30pm to say she was still waiting at the airport.

We fly out in three days' time and I hope the weather will have improved by then, surely.  It's an evening flight which allows us plenty of time to drive to Auckland if the weather is still disruptive.  We're flying with Emirates which only departs Auckland, so the connecting flights are our responsibility.

Thin summer clothes are all laid out on the spare bed; almost impossible to believe we will be sweltering in the Dubai heat.  The donkeys have winter coats on, but still they are cold.  I hope the poodle survives life in a kennel.  The house is relatively tidy; ready for daughter no.1 and tiny son who arrive the day we get home.  Passports, tickets, money, conference papers, suntan lotion, back-up USB plug. sunglasses, gifts, plug converters.  Pack, repack, clean the fridge, check the donkeys again, sweat the small stuff.  Going away is such a pain.  And still it rains.  

In the Fox's Footsteps

There is something about travelling that not only broadens the mind, but it feeds it also.  Memories give hours of happiness, contemplation and pleasure.  Photos tell stories when the memory might fail and flicking through an album brings further reminders of yet more stories.

This blog started when I was talking to friends who have travelled through many continents, countries; visited hundreds of cities and walked many miles across beautiful countryside.  We have had lots of long chats about places visited, bucket lists and wish lists and, quite often, we've found our paths have either crossed, or that we have been following in their footsteps.  During our last discussion we discovered that the upcoming canal boat trip we are about to do down the river Yonne, in Burgundy, France, was exactly the river that our friends had also been on, so out came the photo albums, maps, and even a rather dog-eared business card of a restaurant, La Salamandre, in Auxerre  .http://www.lasalamandre-auxerre.fr/

Our trip begins in a couple of weeks' time when we join John and Jenny in south Germany and drive together to Vermenton where we find the barge waiting for us.  Hopefully.

Before we do, though, we have an overnight stay in Dubai.  It's a city I really enjoy visiting simply because it's man-made, extreme, seems to have unlimited money, yet the dichotomy of life under the burqa remains a mystery.