two days in nancy, france...so francais, so lovely

So this just might happen to be a post about doors...and windows. Sorry, I can’t help it. Nancy, France has surprised me. It has shop windows overflowing with pastries, pain de chocolat, and éclairs. Along with pastel-coloured shutters adorning every house window, wandering the old town streets here is trés wonderful. 


Oh, and there's this amazing fountain.

The French city of Nancy lies just 2.5 hours from Frankfurt, and is a fairly pleasant train ride from Paris. Its town centre is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and rumour has it that Place Stanislas, which is home to buildings much more palace than city hall, is the most beautiful square in Europe. 

Place Stanislas

I'm not  sure if that's true, or if the French have just claimed that, because well, they're French and it's probably true. Once I've visited all European town squares I'll let y'all know :).

What is interesting is that Stanislas was the King of Poland, but Duke of Upper Lorraine, and he did much to better the lives of the citizens of Nancy at the time. He forged cultural and economic growth, fed the poor, and gave houses to those who had through misfortune lost everything.

This summer, the city put on an incredible light show every evening, creating magnificently vivid scenes detailing episodes from the past centuries. The scenes played out on the 4 major town square buildings, with the prominent focus on city hall. Both nights that we stayed in the city we experienced the Spectacle son et Lumière in Place Stanislas...it was just that incredible.

The Spectacle highlighted the industrial revolution, the renaissance, Nancy's surrounding wine and agricultural landscape, its schools, music and cultural heritage...all set to an inspiring and uplifting soundtrack.

Nancy is not a huge city, about a half million people, but it is an old one, dating back to 800 BC. Like most other well-placed European cities, this one has also gone through many soul-altering evolutions, sometimes due to war, often due to natural occurrences. Oh, who are we kidding? Pretty much all destruction and change was due to war, including when Nancy was set on fire in 1218, at the end of the War of Succession of Champagne.

I came to Nancy to experience more French towns, culture and cuisine, and Nancy was the perfect choice. Patisseries on every corner, much top-rated, but not top-priced local cuisine, and fascinating history made the two-day visit well worth the trip.

Since the late 19th century, Nancy has been a centre of art and architecture, giving Paris a run for her money at times. Around that time a group of artists and architects created the 'École de Nancy' and their Art Nouveau influences can still be felt while wandering many sidewalks.

What I just couldn't get enough of were the shuttered windows, neatly painted in soft hues, complimenting the buildings in all their variations of taupe. I'm not really sure if they are only decorative or if they have an actual purpose, but I don't really care. They are super cute.

Nancy also has an wonderful array of gardens, some centuries old. One of the cities oldest botanical gardens, now named Jardin Godron, used to house numerous collections vital to the Royal College of Medicine. Now, it displays vibrant horticultural specimens in long distinguished rows, making it easy and interesting to walk amongst and just enjoy.

Jardin Godron

The Parque de la Pépinière, just around the corner from Place Stanislas, is huge. There's a small concert bowl, outdoor dancing lessons, an assortment of peacocks ambling about, an intimate rose garden, a statue by Rodin, fields and fields of open green space to play or lay...and there's the most beautiful art niveau pergola which I have ever seen. I only took about 25 photos of it.

Parque de la Pépinière

What you should really do in Nancy is eat. I was treated to an incredible birthday dinner at C' Fred, an intimate, simply decorated restaurant just off the main drag. It boasts a seasonally fixed menu for 34€, with 3 choices for starter, entrée and dessert. Dishes such as, Terrine de foie gras au chocolat to start with, then Pot au feu de filets de boeuf à la truffe de Meuse or Cuisse de canard confite aigret doux. There is almost nothing more delicious...

C' Fred...plain excellent!

except for their dessert. I had to have the Fondant chocolat glace café. The warm chocolate insides melted my cold hardened heart and I could ease into the new year of my life a bit more content. Thank you C' Fred!

I would be remiss not to include C' Fred's excellent wine offerings. We indulged in a bottle of the Pezenas Madame du Parc from the south of France. I had never heard of it before, but oh was it delish. Apparently it's something special.

And since I don't have the warm chocolate cake anymore to warm my heart, I will leave you with a nighttime photo of my favourite fountain, which almost does the same for me...and I hope for you.

The Most Beautiful Chateau Award goes to...

Chateau Chenonceau in the Loire Valley, France.

This is a castle with stories to tell. It was essentially built by six women over the past 500 years, each one leaving an indelible mark through her design, expansion, landscaping or scandal.

It is a feminine building inside and out...not built to display power or might, but a home to live in and enjoy. You feel this as you walk through its rooms...I would move in immediately, given the choice.

An hour outside of Tours, which is a short 1.5 hour train ride south-west of Paris, you will need a car or bike to get here. But, the trip is worth every km. 

The River Cher runs through the chateau, giving you waterfront views out of every window. The keep in the front yard of the chateau is the only original structure left from the 6th century when Thomas Bohier and Katherine Briconnet built Chenonceau on top of the remains of a fortified castle and mill.

Years later, after investing decades in building the chateau, it was turned over to the State. Wanting to impress his mistress, King Henri II gave Chenonceau to Diane de Poitiers, a woman 20 years his senior, who he had a life-long obsession with...much to his wife's non-amusement.

Diane de Portier threw herself into developing the intricate gardens, creating expansive vegetable and fruit plantations, and developing the chateau into a well-functioning property.

But, the story goes that she pretty much kept to herself, consuming her time with gardening and personal grooming. She was beautiful, a slave to her looks, and spent much energy in keeping herself looking perfectly young. Cold showers to invigorate the skin, only the best home-grown food to eat, and botanical potions and lotions to heal and relax her insides and out.

In 1559, when King Henri II died unexpectedly from a splinter to the eye, his wife, Catherine de Medici immediately took Chenonceau away from Diane de Poitiers, relocating her to another chateau farther away. Catherine, a politically and socially minded woman of her time, filled the house with life, throwing grand parties and magnificent balls. The gallery above, was christened with opulent festivities in 1577 honouring her son, King Henri III.

From the Green Room, her study, she ruled France for nearly 30 years as Regent, after the death of her husband. It's a gorgeous room, small and octagonal. From her desk in the middle of the room, she would have been able to look out onto the gardens and river from windows on every side of her.

Walking through the chateau, I was drawn to the many original pieces of artwork still hanging on the walls, or painted on the ceilings. Intricate tapestries by Flemish masters cover entire walls, along with renaissance murals and paintings by the likes of Tintoretto, Jordaens or Rubens.

The above tapestry, "The Cher" by Neuilly (1883) was commissioned specifically for Chenonceau, details the galleried bridge over the river, along with the north-east corner's intricate chapel. I just love the texture and richness of historic tapestries.

Walking down the stone staircase towards the kitchens, I had a 'Downtown Abbey' moment. One can feel the energy, the work, and the living that went on in these rooms to run a chateau of this size. They are beautiful..and beautifully decorated.

The kitchens are built into the huge river pillars that the galleried rooms above rest upon. The large hooks for hanging meat are still displayed, along with gorgeous rows of copper cookery. My first thought was, do you know how expensive those are?!

In one of the rooms stands a long table where the chateau staff ate their meals. Windows looking out onto the water breathe fresh air and natural light into this, otherwise, basement area. I'm not sure what happened in the kitchen during the many times the River Cher flooded.

From a small wooden bridge joining the largest kitchen room with the room of stoves, a pulley system is still visible from which vegetables and fruit were pulled up from boats docking beside the kitchen. Food was delivered from other towns along the river and easily lifted into the kitchen, without disturbing the rest of the house.

The staircase leading to the second floor was one of the first straight staircases built in France. As with so many details in the chateau, this is another impressive Italian mark left by Catherine de Medici. She missed Italy and surrounded herself with signs of home. I can relate...Canadian Flag anyone? I have like 25 now, here in Germany. When I lived in Canada I didn't own a single one.

The vaulted ceiling above the staircase is made up of intersecting ribs, showcasing the centrepiece -  an ancient medallion depicting a lady with flowing curls.

The smaller garden on the north-west side of the chateau, was built and designed by Catherine. I preferred this one to the other because of its more intimate design, surrounded by water on one side, the chateau on the other side, and on the remaining two sides by large, lush trees. The obligatory selfie...no apologies.

The garden is filled with "Clair Matin" roses (my new favourite), standard roses, box hedges, a circular pond in the centre, and rows and rows of low-cut lavender. It is heavenly scented!

Catherine de Medici's bedroom still contains her incredible Renaissance four-poster bed, which stands in the centre of the room. Walking through all of the rooms gives you a feeling of being in an art gallery, and this room is no exception. The highlight for me, was the Correggio, "The Education of Love", painted on wood, hanging on the wall next to her bed.

The last king of the Old Regime (Ancien Régime) to visit Chenonceau was Louis the XIV in 1650. This room commemorates that visit and displays, among other prominent works, an original Rubens, "The Child Jesus and Saint John the Baptist", bought from Joseph Bonaporte, Napoleon's brother.

During Catherine's time of power, France was embroiled in the Huguenots War, a bloody and turbulent time. After her death in January 1589, the widow of King Henri III (Catherine's fourth son, who was killed by a monk the following August), Louise of Lorraine sought comfort and solace at Chenonceau, surrounding herself with the colours and symbols of mourning. Walking into her bedroom is like entering a dark basement...the only sad place on the property.

Spending time at Chateau Chenonceau was a true highlight for me. Wandering through the rooms, inhaling the stories and passions that so many interesting women lived before me, was a treat. And outside, the various rose gardens, the Orangerie, the maze, and 16th century farm which still supplies all of the interior floral decoration of the chateau, can be strolled through and appreciated by their many visitors. I was definitely one of those...and I'll be back!

The Loire Valley is the perfect girls' trip destination.

christmas on the mosel...uncanny, underground, unequalled.

An underground Christmas market? What? Why? France for the day? Okay!

For the past three weekends I have been on tour. One of the best things about Germany (for a travel lover) is its size (small!) and its location (central!). For a Canadian driving two hours to get somewhere is...totally normal. So, the chance to drive to France for the day, to an old old city, at Christmastime, sounded perfect.

Germans do Christmas, well, differently than North Americans. Think less giant blow-up lawn Santas, and more white twinkle lights, wooden ornaments, and alcohol...hot alcohol.

When I heard about the Christmas markets along the Moselle Valley, as the river makes extreme switchbacks through steep vineyard-covered hills, I knew I wanted to check them out to see what the fuss was all about.

So, join me, won't you, as I show you three unique cities along the Moselle ('Mosel' in German) which are all decked out for Christmas...each interesting in its own way - food, architecture and location.

Metz, France

Let me begin by saying that the city of Metz has aged well. It's over 3000 years old. It also wears its very important past as gracefully as a once-famous actor who hasn't turned to drugs and alcohol. Like Grace Kelly, Metz just moved on to other important things, not needing to be in the spotlight anymore.

I visit France any chance I get. The atmosphere, the language, the people (really, we were walking down the street and a mother, wearing the cutest outfit of pea coat, boots and little hat, comes skipping by us, hand-in-hand with her young daughter, her left arm out and her head back..I thought, am I in a movie?)...and the food. Or should I say, the food style. In France, it's the style of everything that's different...the French do everything with an élan that stands out from the rest.

Which brings me to the most stylish of cookies. The Jackie O of cookies. The macaron. ('macaron' or 'macaroon' in English). A meringue cookie filled with ganache or cream, they are sweet, expensive and really hard to make. It's one of those DIY projects that I won't attempt again. Mine tasted okay, but I never knew a cookie could have the colour of death. The sad grey discs that came out of my oven were so unappetizing to look at I had to eat them all myself. To think that such an elegant confection had a birthplace other than Paris, can only mean one thing...Venice.

Metz was once the hub of Gaul and then Roman activity. Walking the narrow, cobbled streets in the shadow of massive stone structures, you feel the presence of a thousand ghosts. Even more so wonderful then to turn a corner and see a gorgeous patisserie! Each item displayed as if in a showcase...the key to the French diet: savor what you eat. Indulge in excellence in tiny bite-sized portions. Quality over quantity. Personally, I usually opt for both.

Slabs of nougat, candied ginger and all sorts of fruit, and giant marshmallows are some of the sugary treats found in the wooden huts at the Metz Christmas market. The French like to experiment with flavours so that you'll find yourself saying 'Oui' to a foie gras macaron or a whiskey-infused marshmallow. You'll eat it and most likely enjoy it because it has a certain something...it has flair!

What I didn't expect at a Christmas market was escargots! We were in France and so it shouldn't have come as a surprise. These little suckers are the perfect le snack!

With the aromas of roasted almonds, skewers of marinated beef, all sorts of baked goods and chocolate; not to mention the trails of wafting goodness from the glüwein (mulled wine) stands you will want to snack a lot....at least un petit peu.

After a vin chaud blanc (mulled white wine... oh so good) at Place Saint Louis , my French-speaking, Germany bestie made quite the unattractive face as we came across the stand with big white letters:

cuisses de grenouille.

My French isn't that great and I didn't realize 'cuisses' meant 'legs' until she tentatively moved to take a closer look at the nice gentleman who was swiftly turning small v-shaped bundles in fine breadcrumbs. Now I do realize the irony...what's the difference between consuming plates of wings from a chicken and legs of a frog? Nothing. Except that one I'm used to and the other not so much. Usually, I'm very much a when-in-Rome-let's-try-it traveler, but on this day I couldn't bring myself to nibble at these former little hoppers.

While I was doing a little background-check on Metz for this post, I came across the following piece of trivia, and actually had a physical reaction:

„Frog muscles do not develop rigor mortis as quickly as muscles from warm-blooded animals (chicken, for example) do, so heat from cooking can cause fresh frog legs to twitch.“ - wikipedia

No matter what you eat or drink, there is something magical about a Christmas market - everyone huddled together, friends and families greeting each other, the crisp cool air mingling with the steam of mulled wine, the sun going down and twinkle lights appearing as if by magic.

In the darkness, the city takes on a whole new look. At the Place de la Comedie a park of winding pathways through truck-sized lit characters awaits kids of all ages. It feels fairytale-ish, probably due to the excited children running amok and the warm glow of christmas lights. One last parting look backwards at the Cathedrale St. Etienne. Now back to Germany...the perfect daytrip.

Bernkastel-Kues, Germany

As the Moselle River winds into Germany it carves out a steep path amidst vineyard-covered hills. This is one of Germany's oldest wine-making regions, with Riesling being the star of the show. If you get the opportunity to visit this area, make you explore a town or two.

I think the word 'cute' originated in the town of Bernkastel-Kues (okay, I do know that it didn't, but it should have). The half-timbered houses seem to lean into each other for support...trying to stay standing after all of these hundreds of years. For the tourists, ya know.

Christmas spreads into every narrow space here, oozing along the Gassen (lanes) and up the housefronts. The Christmas market stands are set up, really anywhere there's room. Coming from the river, you wander criss cross inbetween these ornate buildings, all eyes up, while Christmas vies for your attention...ever the diva.

The half-timbering building traditon can be found all over Germany, and into France and Austria. On a foundation of brick or stone, a frame is constructed using whole, squared timbers. The frame was often left exposed from the outside, while the spaces were filled with straw, plaster or layered sticks.

These 'spaces' were then, depending on the region, often decorated with patterns, often looking like the most beautiful x's & o's board you've ever seen.

There is a fairytale-feeling you get wandering among the buildings here, as if Alice herself had taken up architecture and practiced it here. One of the most photographed houses is the 'Spitzhäuschen' (the pointed house) which is fairytale exhibit A.

It was built in 1416 in the middle of the Old town. Even though it looks so whimsical, it's origin was absolutely practical. Back in the day, home owners here were taxed by the amount of surface area they built upon. Therefore, many of the still-standing, centuries-old houses grow wider, not just taller, as you look up.

Much of the region's slate was also used in building the houses' wine cellars or used for delightful facades. Taking a riesling break in one of these weinstuben (tavern) is a treat.

And as I was about to leave for the hour-long drive home, I got another pleasant surprise. I came upon this little guy busily writing down all of his Chrismas wishes into the wishbook for the Christkind to bring on Christmas Eve. I think he'll become a writer when he grows up.

Traben-Trarbach, Germany

 

A colleague mentioned that the Traben-Trarbach Wein-Nachts-Markt takes place underground in a maze of the town's wine cellars and I came to see it the very next day. Christmas underground has a lovely ironic feel to it, and with the weather as dreary and rainy as ever, there was no reason not to spend some time as close to the underworld as I'm comfortable getting.

Don't get me wrong, this is in no way similar to the Paris catacombs experience. These cellars are large, cavernous, rooms, which stretch on seemingly for miles, but there wasn't anything creepy about them. No bones, just wine barrels, as we made our way down the tunnels.

As I've already mentioned, this area is prime wine-real estate, with a fragrant history. It was the monks (it's always the monks) who began a thriving business of producing great wines here. In the 19th Century, Traben-Trarbach was the biggest wine trading point on earth, second only to Bordeaux.

The Christmas markets spread through four underground locations of interconnecting cellars. Filled, not only with families, couples and shoppers, but also with every handmade item you can think of to wear, eat or put on a shelf.

 

Jewellery, leather, stoneware and pottery. Italian pastries, chocolates, candies and cakes.

Wine, wine, and then some more wine. Schnapps, liquors, and glüwein...all to taste first, of course!

The air was warm, stuffy at times, but the aromas of Christmas - roasted almonds and glüwein, the standard must-haves - found their home underground. Combined with twinkle lights along the rounded cavern walls, adorning the massive stone pillars and many of the stands, it was as merry a feeling as any other market I've been to.

It was honestly, just much more interesting! I followed the crowds through the tunnels, slowly moving from one cellar to the next, with no one really knowing what to expect around each corner.

Opening into one such space...really, I have no idea how vintners used these insanely long cellars...was an elderly man standing beside four overflowing tables of the most intricate woodwork the likes I haven't seen since being in the mountains of Bavaria. He was a crochety man, which I can't blame him for. Being stuck with Christmas shoppers and tourists, all-together in an underground hole for three days must not be much fun...especially in your golden years.

He grudgingly nodded when I asked if I could take some photos. I smiled and thanked him. He turned away. Okay, so he's not into sales. I find overbearing salesmen so annoying anyhow - this is almost better. So I focused on his craft, which was incredible to say the least. If great guy wouldn't have kicked me right out of the house, I would've bought a whole forest of these most-lovely wooden trees. No decoration needed.

A couple of cellars later, I was herded into a long and very narrow room filled to the arched ceiling with the aroma of sausage. I got hungry. The urge to move along and get out of this packed stone coffin was high, but instead I waited patiently to buy a small meat present for great guy.

The choices were mouth-watering, some very peculiar. Donkey or Kangaroo sausage, anyone? I opted for walnut, but it was a tough choice. Camembert, fig, haselnut, elk, paprika...the list was a table long, and the line double.

Moving down from sausage, was cheese and then bread. If all of the people had left, I could've easily spent quite a few days making myself comfortable. These simple, homemade foods piled high against a raw, stone wall reeked of a simpler time, when what we ate didn't all come enclosed in plastic; when we knew the names of the those who made what we took home to feed our families. I had that lifestyle in Saskatchewan and I want to find that again here. It's important...and lovely.

Waffels are also important - pronounced 'vuffel' auf deutsch. And these little boys waited very patiently for the waffelman to finish building theirs. The wait was worth it judging by their satisfied smiles after the waffels were history. Off to the next underground tunnel!

As dusk approached I came up for air and was greeted, again, by this lovely river. The Moselle, a slower, calmer cousin to the hectic Rhine, looks as serene as a lake in places. The people of Traben-Trarbach festively lit their houses and hotels in soft colours, while trees everywhere were adorned in white twinkles.

With a chilled Riesling and family, Christmas can come.