Castles with Coralie

3 Avril 2011

Castles with Coralie

I woke up Sunday morning feeling so well rested. I hadn’t had a sleep that deep in weeks; I even started dreaming again. The heat and sunshine from the day before had left, and it was gray and drizzling outside. Mike and I decided to go out for a morning run. Running along the Loire river seemed like the best idea. That section of the river has a parallel running canal so we ran along this canal 3 miles from the city and 3 miles back. There were a few other runners up early in the gloomy weather but we mostly had the place to ourselves. As we finished our run, we encountered a flea market and small food market setting up and decided to come back for breakfast after cleaning up.

My cousin, Coralie, just happened to be on vacation in France for the same week as I was. She was mainly in the Paris area visiting with her French relatives, but they were all staying in the Loire valley over the weekend so this was the reason I decided to start my weekend off in that region. After I called Coralie to make plans for meeting up later that day, we checked out of the hotel. We strapped on our backpacks and walked back to the riverside area. The morning market was actually running a fundraiser for AIDS, or “Sidaction” as the organization was called in France. My breakfast of coffee, croissants and a crepe all went to a good cause. I even managed to pick up a sandwich for lunch later as well; a delicious baguette filled with cured ham, cheese, lettuce and butter.

Mike and I made our way to the train station to catch the next train to Chenonceau, one of the most famous chateaus in the Loire valley. The town was quiet and sleepy that morning and the train station was nearly deserted. My travel book had said that there were trains departing from Orléans every hour to Chenonceau. We quickly learned that this was not the case on a Sunday however. The next train would not be leaving for almost three hours. I felt bad as I already knew that this would have the subsequent effect of altering my cousin’s plans. I called to let her know we would be delayed and we set out to kill some time.

Sundays in Europe are very quiet. Most of the shops are closed or do not open until late in the day. As we walked through the damp cobblestone streets, we finally found an open-air café where we could spend some time. We ordered cappuccinos and watched a few of the earlier risers walk by while listening to the latest in European pop stream in over the radio.

It was a short hour and half ride to Chenonceau through the countryside. The weather was still a bit grey, but the rain had stoppped. The train practically dropped us off at the front door of the chateau. After purchasing entrance tickets and dropping our bags in a luggage locker, we found Coralie, her husband, Greg, their two kids Wyatt & Eliot, and her aunt and uncle, Marie-Pierre and Jean-Noel. They had gotten there quite a while before us and had already toured the chateau. Little Eliot was napping in Marie-Pierre’s arms when we arrived.

Coralie lives in North Carolina and I hadn’t seen her since last May when my grandmother died. It was the first time I got to meet her new baby, Eliot as well. It was great to catch up together and play with the kids while being in such a beautiful setting. Marie-Pierre looked as though she hadn’t aged at all since I had seen her last. She told me that I better come visit her in Paris before she dies. I don’t think she will be going anywhere anytime soon!

Unfortunately the visit with my family was all too short. They little ones had to get back to their hotel for a nap so we said our “au revoirs.” After they left, Mike and I walked through the Chenonceau chateau. I had visited this very place thirteen years ago, the first time I ever visited Europe, on a school trip with my French class. It was still quite familiar. The castle is impressively built across a river. The water runs under the arches that support the castle from below. The castle rooms were adorned with huge beautiful bouquets of fresh-cut flowers from the castle grounds. After we had thoroughly explored each room and warmed our damp bodies next to the fire burning in the massive fireplace, we left.

On the way back to the train station we explored some stone buildings that made up the castle farm. There were rows upon rows of vibrantly colored tulips outside the farmhouse as well as purple wisteria that clung to the stone walls. As we got back to the luggage lockers, we heard the train pass through the village again. I had a bad feeling that we had just missed our train back to town.

After reading the train schedule, we got confirmation that we had, in fact, missed our train out of town. Luckily there was another train passing through again in just over an hour. We took some time to walk through the cozy little village of Chenonceaux which had just a few inns and restaurants along with the required boulangerie and patisserie that every French village must have. This village even had a small vineyard. While we looked at the vines, a motorcade of antique cars drove through the town.

Our next train ride would take us to the town of Tours, just about an hour southwest of where we currently where. It seemed like this would be a convenient place to spend the night before taking an early train to Bordeaux. Tours and Orléans are the two main cities of the Loire valley.

Tours was a bit busier than Orléans when we arrived, however we still found most shops and restaurants to be closed for Sunday. We set out in search of a place to crash for the night. I was beginning to feel surprised at how few hostels I was encountering in France. During most of my travels to Europe I have stayed in hostels and always found them plentiful. The travel guide only listed a handful of places and none in Tours. Luckily the search for a hotel in Tours was not as epically long as the search had been in Orléans. After about fifteen minutes we walked by a sign advertising a two-star hotel. It was a modest place filled with eclectic old furniture, which reminded me of a grandma’s house. There was an Asian woman working at the front desk; we spoke in French. She offered us the cheapest room in the house for about €50. I immediately said we’d take it. The room was four flights up a winding spiral staircase. It was a tiny room in the attic with sloping ceilings and a hideously pink walls. The bathroom was about the size of an airline bathroom, even with a shower included.

After abandoning our bags, we decided it was time for dinner and to sort out our train tickets to Bordeaux. We stopped by the train station which was just a five minute walk from the hotel. We found the ticket office closed and the machines still unaccepting of our credit cards. Our focus turned to dinner. Tours looked like it would be a bustling little city on any day but Sunday. We didn’t get much of a tour of the city as it was already dusky and we were hungry. There were some typical pretty French buidings lining wide avenues. Unfortunately ninety percent of the restaurants were closed that evening. The remaining options were as follows: quickie mart, Dominoes pizza, Chinese hole-in-the-wall, brasserie, Italian restaurant, McDonalds, or the equivalent of a French diner. After actually sitting down at the brasserie and realizing that the menu was horrible, we ended up at the Italian restaurant next door. We each got a glass of the house wine and some decent Italian food. I was barely halfway through dinner before I felt the effects of jetlag and alcohol setting in. Back at the hotel we finally realized we could book our train tickets online with our American credit cards and pick them up the next morning. The Asian French woman at the front desk was kind enough to print out the paperwork for us while I slept on the ugly 1970s grandma couch.