La Belle France

France really is a wonderful country. They do so many things well there: food, roads, railways, and many more. Even the beer is better than I remembered. And - best of all - their mosquito population all seems to be en vacances up at Kezar lake, in Maine.

Kim and I just returned from eleven days in the department of Indre, in the region Centre, visiting with my mother, brother, sister-in-law and niece Mia. Mia is seven and a real joy. More on her in a future post. Their village has a marvellous medieval feudal layout with the castle on the top of the hill and the serfs' houses spread out between château and river. The weather was wonderful, starting just a little too hot (mid 90s/30s) but becoming very comfortable in the following days.

We went with a list of activities and we managed all of them with the exception of visiting a vineyard. Oh dear -- next time. We played bridge (see Le Bridge), we attended a service at a Benedictine Abbey to hear the plain song (Gregorian chant), we visited two castles, walked some of the GR3 (one of France's wonderful Grand Randonnee routes), rode a narrow gauge railroad (see future blog), had some great food (and some that was not-so-great), did some bird-watching with Paul in La Brenne (where we first went 40 years ago!) and just hung out.

We finished up at a fantastic bed-and-breakfast (Château de Jonvilliers) near Chartres, but unfortunately tropical storm Danny threatened a problematic return today and so we flew home yesterday instead, thus missing our second night at the chateau and our visit to Chartres itself.

So what's so great about their roads? Apart from excellent paving of the meanest, narrowest country roads, their signage is really excellent (contrast with Massachusetts for example). Their speed limits are clearly marked and are reasonable (contrast with the U.S. in general). Their trains are probably the best and fastest in the world (Japan notwithstanding).

There are a few things which aren't so wonderful. There's apparently a law which prevents them from having English language options for telephone messages or web sites (well, if it's not a law, it's a moral imperative). Their menus are works of art in the obfuscatory sense. Would you expect Salade à la Maison not to have a sprig of greenery but instead be a plate of nameless fleshy objects, for example? But these are minor irritations.

Next blog: Le Bridge