46 hours in france
In October 2019 at a conference in Vancouver, the 2020 location was announced… Dublin! Ah! Geeking out while drinking Guinness? Sign me up.
Literally everyone knows the rest of the story. Come fall 2021, fingers were crossed that we’d be able to gather as an industry again. I had zero expectations that it would actually work out, but in September the conference was OK’d for anyone who was vaccinated. I considered extending my stay to attend a trade show and visit my coworker in Belgium. When I saw flight prices to Europe were about $400 RT, I decided to go for it all, and make the most of the trip.
As I have no dependents (well, I guess I have a furry dependent now) and an insatiable travel bug, I try to tag on self-funded weekends onto work travel to see the sights and eat the foods and such. My plan was to fly over on Friday November 5th and return the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Thus, I had a whopping THREE weekends to cherish on this workventure!
The show was in Cologne, Germany, which has no direct flights from the US. I noodled on a stopover location. At some point during quarantine, I had become enamored with “EuroVelo,” a network of bike routes around Europe. I am a very, very recreational biker that clocks maybe 3 rides a year, but the idea of exploring the countryside on two wheels was très romantique.
Part of the EuroVelo network is La Loire à Vélo, a 800km cycling route through the Loire Valley- a lush region in western France full of vineyards and chateaux. Riding a bicycle to a castle just felt RIGHT. And so, I arrived at Logan Airport on a Friday night with a buttload of hand sanitizer and a rental bike reserved for Sunday. To France I went!
My operations and logistics background was required to figure out the myriad of changing pandemic travel restrictions on this trip. I will give no advice here other than to expect random changes, always have a mask, and keep proof of vax handy. Everywhere I went in Europe required a mask to eat inside, and a “covid cert”- a fancy QR code that was unavailable to Americans. Luckily I had a crumbling piece of paper that got the job done. Joey B, can we join the new millenium here?
Anywho. Armed with a folder of travel attestation forms that I didn’t end up needing, I made it through security and onto my flight. I learned that I CAN sleep with a mask on, shocker. I arrived to Paris CDG, and in a jetlagged impulse decision, I rented a car. The plan was to take a train to my destination, Tours, but I TOTALLY overpacked and in my sleepy travel anxiety decided a car would be easier then schlepping my things through the metro and RER. This would prove both correct and incorrect later.
I chose Tours because it was along Loire à Vélo, had several bike shops, and was cycling distance from several chateaux. I stayed in a cheap hotel that had no walls between the bed and the toilet, and the tightest, steepest staircase known to mankind (ah, Europe!) I dropped my stuff, then waded my way through a giant anti-vax march to grab my rental bike from Roue Lib. Around 2 or 3pm I was settled and went out in search of crepes and other general France shit.
I walked in the direction of Vieux Tours (old Tours). The weather was crisp but clear, and the streets were full of people shopping, eating, and strolling. I did not hear a peep of English the entire day. I’m not sure if it’s pandemic travel slowdowns, or if Tours is just not a big destination d’Anglais, but it felt very cool to be walking around totally immersed in French.
Christmas markets were being assembled, and I found some sort of medieval festival featuring a drum/accordion group and donkeys. I walked through Basilique Saint-Marten de Tours, which made me teary in the way that big cathedrals always make me teary. Some genetic Catholicism still circulating in my bloodstream, I don’t know. I grabbed crepes at Comptoir de Mamie Bigoude, a place I had found online and was really excited about. Unfortunately, I got a ham and cheese crepe that I can only describe as tasting like “old dead pig.” I don’t think this was a reflection on the establishment, though, just my stupid American taste buds that cherish things like Pizza Hut and Annie’s Mac and Cheese. I am ashamed to say that I followed up my half-eaten crepe with a Poke Bowl, but it was soooooo gooooood. Listen, I tried to eat local food, okay. Blame it on the jetlag and my lack of general class.
As night fell, I wandered around the cobbled streets of Vieux Tours, and ended my walk at Cathédrale Saint-Gatien. Now THIS brought on the old Catholic waterworks. It was so ornate and huge inside! Just thinking about being a farmer in France doing a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage to a place like this… religion, it makes sense.
The next morning I geared up my bike and grabbed a croissant at Around the Bread. It was a misty Sunday morning and I can’t describe how good it felt to be slowly biking my way around the beautiful, quiet city. I made my way out of the center and was finally on the Loire à Vélo bike route. It wound through old forests, little clusters of farm houses, and wide farmlands. The path traced the inky-black Loire River nine miles to Chateau de Villandry, “the last of the great chateaux of the Loire built during the Renaissance in the Loire Valley.”
It was just me, myself, and I in the castle on that chilly Sunday morning. My favorite parts were checking out the copper setup in the kitchen and finding the lumpiest, orangiest pumpkins I had ever seen in the garden.
On my way back to Tours, I saw something new to me… legions of old people, in pairs, in wetsuits, with boogie boards, swimming up the river. It didn’t seem like an extreme exercise event- more of a Sunday gab session, but in freezing cold water. I tried to ask a few Europeans about this later and no one knew what TF I was talking about. It will remain a mystery.
I totally blew by my checkout time after my little bike tour, apologized profusely, then hit the road. I impulse stopped to see Chateaux de Blois, the former seat of the King of France back in the 1500s. Catherine de Medici lived there, too. That’s a historical figure that even I, a dumb ol’ American, knows! I ate a weird panini and walked around the castle. I also saw some sort of animatronic dragon show? Part of traveling abroad solo sans a guide is you have about a 14% understanding of what is going on at any given time.
Here is where my rental car strategy went awry. Tours is only a two hour train ride from Paris, but that’s because trains go real fast and there’s no cars in the way. My journey into Tours wasn’t too bad, but I hit mega traffic getting back to drop my car again at the airport. Added to the list of regrets: I flew into CDG, north of the city, which meant I needed to get alllll the way around the ring road. And the cherry on the cake was on that particular day, they were doing construction on the train route from the airport to the city… so when I finally ditched the car, I wasted an hour wandering the airport trying to figure out how to get to Paris, then ended up taking a très expensive taxi back through allllll the traffic I had just sat in. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Baaaaad Theresa. Stick to le plan! Bad impulsive car rental!
I finally dropped my gear at the AirBNB around 9pm, and went to catch the metro. Lo and behold, this ONE line was ALSO CLOSED FOR CONSTRUCTION on this ONE DAY. Grumble grumble! I saw it was a 35 minute walk to the place I had planned for dinner, and to Google Maps I said, “Try me!” Thoroughly grumpy, I set off for dinner. And then, looking up from my stewing… I realized I was in Paris. On a long evening walk. To get dinner! So to my grumbles I said, “Eat dirt!'“
9pm is a normal time to eat dinner in fancy pants France. Paris was alive with bistros and Christmas lights being strung up. I walked over the Seine and spotted the Eiffel Tower, lights spinning slowly in the distance.
The last time I was in Paris, my friend Emily B and I had tried to go to a wine bar recommended by Bon Appetit, but they were full. My original plan was to try again, but when I read more recent reviews, a commenter said “Eff that wine bar, go to THIS wine bar.” I followed the random stranger's instructions… and when I arrived at La Grande Cremerie, I knew it was the correct choice.
It was a perfectly dim little cave-y hideaway. I had a delightful ravioli… super simple (pasta, cheese, basil, olive oil) but just divine. I had a glass of red and a glass of white, and while I cannot tell you anything about wine, I assume they were good. And to top it off, I ended with a melt-in-your-mouth little lemon square that washed away any remaining traffic stress.
At this point it was pushing 11, and I had a 7:55 AM train to catch. But I ethically couldn’t go to Paris without visiting the Eiffel Tower, so over there I trekked. I will never, ever get over the beauty of the Eiffel Tower. France was my first trip abroad when I was 17, and it totally changed the trajectory of my life. I paid homage to brave, tiny 2009 Theresa, and to sheltered-in-place, very uncertain 2020 Theresa, and took a moment to soak it in.
The next morning I booked it to Gare du Nord, giving myself plenty of time to grab a pastry and a coffee. It ended up being breakfast with a show; in the middle of the station, an angel man was playing the entire Yann Tiersen soundtrack to Amelie. From memory.
Seriously?? It was the perfect ending to an action packed 46 hours in France. Full of croissants and hopped up on espresso, I headed to Belgium.
where: tours + paris, france
when: november; beanie weather (erm, beret weather)
how: hotel val de loire, chateau villandry, chateau de blois