We left Sarlat in the early morning fog, wondering if every morning in this part
of France is foggy. An early start was essential. The drive from Sarlat to Burgundy
would be the longest of the trip, nearly 600 kilometers through some of the most
rugged French countryside outside of the Alps and Pyrenees. Depending upon road
conditions, we expected five to six hours of actual driving time.
Nearly thirty minutes were required to negotiate the road connections in the
industrial town of Brive-la-Gaillarde. We simply needed to leave the A20 Autoroute
and pick up Highway N89. On the map it looked trivial. In reality, it was a
stressful and time-consuming exercise in frustration. Although I generally give the
French highway system high marks, one of its greatest, and most obvious, flaws is
the practice of routing highway traffic directly through a city center to make a
connection with another major highway. Some French cities and towns have ring roads
that spare drivers and residents this annoyance. Others, however, do not, and
streams of vehicles, large and small, fast and slow, end up on small roads not
designed for large volumes of traffic. Eventually, we persevered and made it
through the city center, but not before driving a short distance along a one-way,
one-lane street. The frustrations were not quite over. While leaving the city in
a direction that the road signs assured would lead to Highway N89, we encountered
what seemed, at the time, to be an endless succession of traffic circles, followed
by speed restrictions associated with road construction.
We lost considerably more time than expected in Brive, but eventually left the small
streets, traffic circles, and road construction behind, and reached a cruising speed
of 130 km/hr on Highway N89, which soon merged with the A89, another fast-flowing
Autoroute. The highways of France are not for the timid. Although the French do not
drive quite as fast as the Germans, they are notoriously more reckless, inconsiderate
and aggressive. The US State Department Consular Information Sheet on France
describes French driving habits as posing "special dangers." In fact, French road
culture is among the most lethal in Europe. Only Portugal and Greece, with
substantially poorer roads and much older cars, have more disconcerting highway
fatality rates.
Studies indicate that France has the highest European incidences of speeding, ignoring
traffic regulations (including stop signs), and drunk driving, as well as the lowest
incidence of safety belt usage. We repeatedly witnessed motorcyclists cruising the
center line along two-lane undivided highways, and once watched in astonishment as a
driver turned left into a traffic circle to pass a slow delivery-type truck.
The A89 Autoroute passed directly through the Parc Naturel Régional des
Volcans d'Auvergne, an immense national park dominated by ancient extinct
volcanoes. One of the most visible volcanic constructs is the Puy de Dôme,
rising more than 1000 ft from its base to reach an altitude nearly 5000 ft above sea
level. Unfortunately, the flat summit is cluttered with unsightly radio, television
and meteorological towers.
Just before 1:00 pm, we reached Clermont-Ferrand, an industrial town primarily known
as the historic home of Michelin tires. The highway descended a long hill and offered
aerial-like views of the city, the largest in the Massif Central region. The rugged
Massif Central, through which we were passing, consists of some of the most sparsely
populated terrain in France. This land of ancient volcanoes is the birthplace of many
notable French rivers, including the Loire and the Dordogne. Most tourists, ourselves
included, are only passing through. The few that stay are seeking outdoor activities,
not ancient castles and great cathedrals. Because we live in Colorado, we have no
desire to travel overseas in search of the finest that nature has to offer. We came
to France to see the creations of Man, not geology. So we kept moving, occasionally
stopping for a stretch or a picture, but nothing more.
East of Clermont, the A72 Autoroute meets the Loire River, which the highway follows
south to the unremarkable town of St-Etienne, where it abruptly turns north toward
Lyon. To avoid this detour of more than 100 km, as well as any possible congestion
associated with the large city of Lyon, we left the highway near the small town of
Feurs and headed directly east, with the objective of reaching the A6 Autoroute
twenty to thirty kilometers north of Lyon. At that point, the A6 would take us
directly into Beaune. Although this route was much slower than we anticipated, we
were rewarded with our first glimpse of a colorfully tiled roof on the steeple of
a church. Such a roof could only mean one thing— we were in Burgundy.
Beaune
We arrived in Beaune just before 5:00 pm and found our hotel, the Au Grand Saint
Jean, within ten minutes. Any luck involved in quickly finding our hotel momentarily
seemed to vanish when the receptionist could not find our reservation despite repeated
attempts. I went back to the car and returned with our e-mail confirmation. When I showed
it to the receptionist he said "Ahh, Myoo-LAIRE," pronouncing my name in the most
French-sounding manner imaginable, and then explaining that the problem was that I did
not pronounce my name correctly. So for the next two days, I would be Steven Myoo-LAIRE,
which seemed like a small price for a room.
The Hotel au Grand Saint Jean, which I found while wandering around Burgundy
on the internet, is fairly large, with just over one hundred rooms. It is an establishment
that apparently caters primarily to German tourists, as suggested by the racks of
German-language tourist brochures in the lobby. Nothing in English. Nothing in French,
either. Of the ten television stations, six were in German and four were in French.
This was the only hotel of our trip that did not have an English-language news
channel. All other hotels had either CNN or the BBC.
The hotel was separated from the historic old town by no more than half a dozen
buildings and the ring road that surrounds the city center. It was also next door to
a small shopping complex, complete with grocery store, and directly across the street
from Place Madeleine, a small quintessential European square lined with
restaurants.
There was still enough daylight for a walk around the town. The historic core of
Beaune is relatively compact, but extremely confusing. The old town is a rat's maze,
in which it is rarely possible to walk in a straight line for more than three or four
minutes. Rare was the moment at which we were certain of our location. Disorientation
was the norm. We soon stopped trying to seek specific sites. The single time we tried
to find a particular area of interest, a small grove of vineyards near the edge of
town, we became thoroughly confused. Eventually, we realized that we had no choice
but to surrender to Beaune and accept what the town offered. We sought out nothing.
We merely wandered and appreciated whatever the town "chose" to show us. After each
"expedition," we found our way back to the room by walking east until we encountered
the ring road, which would always lead us to the hotel. Despite this disorganized
approach, we did manage to visit all of our high-priority sites in the town. We did,
however, pass certain places multiple times.
On our first walk, we crossed the ring road into the old town and immediately turned
left onto the 15th century Rampart Madeleine, part of the medieval
fortifications of Beaune. We then visited the Place Carnot, one of the major
squares in the historic city center, full of souvenir shops and bakeries. Afterwards,
we followed the crowds to the Hôtel Dieu, Beaune's premier tourist attraction.
Built as an act of faith and charity in the 15th century by a wealthy civic
leader of the town, the Hôtel Dieu, literally means the "Hotel of God." This
medieval hospital for the impoverished is probably the most famous building in Burgundy.
The benefactor of this great landmark, who also bequeathed more than 100 acres of the
region's finest vineyards as a source of income for the hospital, wished to provide an
establishment that would allow the seriously ill to die in comfort and dignity,
regardless of their financial situation.
When viewed from the outside, the complex appears severe in its simplicity. In part
this austerity is a display of religious humility and in part an attempt to discourage
theft. From the inner courtyard, however, the Hôtel Dieu embodies a
striking opulence. With distinct Flemish architectural elements, reminiscent of
northern Europe, an assortment of intricate ironworks, elaborate pinnacles, staggered
dormer windows and especially the colorful roof of glazed tile, create the appearance
of a palace, but, in the words of its benefactor, it was a "palace of the poor."
The interior of the Hôtel Dieu has been left essentially unmodified since
the first patients were admitted in the 1450's. Today, mannequins replace the doctors,
nurses and dying patients. The function and purpose of each room, including the kitchen
and apothecary, is conveyed through the use of lifelike displays. The most impressive,
and touching, room of the Hôtel Dieu is the Grand Salle, or "Great
Room," where the sick beds are positioned facing an elaborate chapel built into the
back of the room. Such an arrangement assured that the patients could participate in
religious services.
We left the Hôtel Dieu just about dusk and returned to the hotel room to
drop a few things off. By 8:00 pm, we were back in the town centre looking for dinner
and checking out the shop windows. It seemed that every other display had something
to do with wine— bottles of wine, wine glasses, books on wine— even the toy
store had some tiny plastic wine bottles.
Tourists and locals alike were out and about on this slightly chilly Saturday
evening. The cafes were doing a brisk business. We were tired and anxious to get back
to the room, so we settled for French-style fast food. In a place near the edge of
the old town, I ordered, in my best French, a steak sandwich and fries for myself and
a chicken sandwich for Carolyn, which we planned to eat at the hotel. To top it off,
we also found a patisserie that was open and bought some pastries.
When we got back to the room, I discovered that the steak sandwich and fries that I
ordered were packaged as a single item. At first I thought that the fries had spilled
and lodged in the sandwich. Closer inspection, however, revealed that the fries were
intentionally placed inside the sandwich and secured with generous amounts of
mayonnaise. To this day I don't know if this is standard or if something I said
indicated that I preferred it that way. Good thing we had the pastries.
|
Previous Day
|
Next Day
|
More Images of Beaune and Burgundy
|
|
<br>Hôtel-Dieu<br>Beaune,%20France)
