French Food

Cindy's been working through a list of meals we can't get in America to eat while we're hear here in France. We've had quite a few crêpes, French-style calzones, pains au chocolat (we call 'em "chocolate croissants" but they're not a type of croissant here because they're not crescent-shaped), rillettes, pâté de lapin and choucroute. (As for choucroute, normally I don't like cabbage but I've found that cooked with enough bacon, ham and pork it can be good.)

Tonight we're having a special, complicated-looking dish - raclette. It's like a fondue only it's poured, not dipped. (It comes from the region of France near the Swiss border.) There's this certain meat that they pour it on, grisons, which is now made from beef but traditionally was made from donkey! Apparently it's almost impossible to find the donkey version anymore but old people will sometimes search for it at their local boucheries chevaline. That's right, they have specialised horse butchers. That's how they do things in France, a charcuterie sells pork (and sausages, like a delicatessen), fish comes from a fish-monger and horse from a specialised butcher. The real surprise is that the market near Cindy's house has three such horse shops!

Last time I commented on French food I forgot to mention that they never drink fresh milk, it's always UHT. Cindy claims that this is because of the strong influence Pasteur had on the nation. I find this ironic given the state of their cheeses, and how they refuse to pasteurise the milk for most traditional cheeses. "That," she explains, "Is good contamination."

On a positive note, I think I've finally learnt to tell the difference between brie and camembert. But I still doubt I'd be able to pick out coulommiers in a blind taste test as it's about half-way between those two.

Catacombs

I knew Paris was an old city and I had supposed that there would be all sorts of planning and infrastructure issues involved with keeping such a city running. The question that hadn't really crossed my mind before is, "What happens when all the cemeteries fill up?" (Being a mainly Catholic country they wouldn't want to turn to cremation.)

Apparently this was a serious problem towards the end of the 18th century so they dug up all the bones and packed them densely into catacombs. In front of each pile a sign was placed stating from which cemetery the bones were taken; but of course no identification of individual skeletons. It's a little strange when the signs say something like, "Mixed in with everyone else are the bones of such famous people as Robespierre and Lavoisier."

Since the 19th century they've been a tourist attraction so this afternoon we went and took a tour (something Cindy hadn't seen before). There were signs at the entrance warning people that the ossuary was a bit intense so I was a little surprised to see quite a few children down there. At first I thought it was good that they weren't hyper-sensitised to mere bones but then I noticed an English woman forcing her kids to pose in front of the various piles of skulls. I thought that was a bit macabre.

Champagne

Today was Mothers' Day in France so we drove with Cindy's parents to visit her brother and his family in R(h)eims. The first thing we did there was take a tour of a champagne cellar at the Pommery winery. In fact, it was quite busy so we had to wait for a tour to start and the next tour in French was so far off that they actually decided to take the next tour in English. Which was easier for me and fine for Cindy but the other six of us had little idea what was going on. The cellars were all converted from Roman-era chalk mines so they were quite deep and a little chilly. As we walked through the guide gave us a little info on the production of champagne and constantly reminded us that it was Louise Pommery who first marketed brut champagne at a time when champagnes were much sweeter. (They're almost all brut now.) This all sounded very classy until a couple of weeks later at the airport I saw bottles of Pommery's newest blend, POP, which comes in small, brightly coloured bottles with a straw attached!

After lunch we went to see Rheims cathedral, where many of the French kings were crowned. It was pretty but they didn't give us a glass of champagne at the end of that tour.

Scotland

We really enjoyed Scotland. Our advice was to spend as much time in Edinburgh as possible and don't worry about Glasgow; we're glad we followed it. Edinburgh is a lovely city to walk around and having a castle in the centre just tops it all off nicely. Having a guided tour made it worthwhile. Seeing the Scottish crown jewels was interesting but while we were there we were lucky enough to see a re-enactment. It was a military policeman arresting a soldier from the Black Watch, which gave them the opportunity to discuss the military lifestyle at the end of the Victorian period. The best bit for the tourists (something I'd heard about but wasn't too sure of) was when the MP decided to inspect the soldier's uniform. He took out a mirror on the end of a stick and stuck it under his kilt then asked a lady in the audience to have a look. Well, the actor was wearing underpants, which mean he was out of uniform (apparently they were allowed but only for mixed highland dancing or highland games) so he made up a medical excuse.

There were a lot of tartan shops but not many touristy things to see apart from the castle. (We didn't see the royal yacht Britannia that was recommended.) But we did visit Greyfriars Kirkyard and saw the statue of Bobby.

After a day and a half in Edinburgh we caught a train through Glasgow to Prestwick (a RyanAir hub; it works out cheaper to buy the train ticket just to get on the cheapest airline) to fly back to Paris. Cindy didn't try to bring any knives on board this time but they did insist on confiscating my jar of English marmalade, despite the fact it seemed quite solid to me. Still, I managed to get a fair bit of Cadbury chocolate (which Pat insists is better in England than in Australia).

The North

So after eventually getting the car we drove east to see Stonehenge, where we only stopped for a little while before turning north.

On the plane from America to France we watched (half of) a new French comedy called "Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis". Basically the whole movie is a series of jokes about someone from the south of France not wanting to move to the cold north where people are backward and talk with a funny accent.

All that made me worry a little about visiting my cousins in Yorkshire. Likewise, on their side they were worried about having a French girl stay with them. "Park your Citroën out in the driveway so she feels welcome," they told their grandmother. But all went well. I've heard enough Yorkshire to cope well with the accent. The only thing for me is that, with no definite articles, every noun sounds like a proper noun; "go to fish shop" sounds like there's a town called 'Fish Shop'. But Cindy found it easier without all those superfluous little words getting in the way of the meaningful part of the sentence. And of course our hostess (my third cousin, twenty-eight times removed) was very welcoming and fed us well so I was very happy that I got in touch with her.

The next day we went to York with her and a grandson. The best part of that town was a mediaeval street called "The Shambles".
And we also went to a Viking history centre to learn about the North's Norse heritage. It was quite an elaborate animatronic ride with commentary in several languages and even smells piped in. The smell was a novelty at first but it soon wore off when they showed us a mediaeval toilet. The straining animatronic face was going a bit too far.

We had dinner at the local pub with plenty of family that night and generally felt like we got a good taste of England.

The last thing we saw in England was Hadrian's Wall. For such a long wall it was hard to find! And once we found it we were a little underwhelmed.

London

Like our visit to Italy last year, we're taking a short side trip from our stay in France, this time Britain.

We had a bit of bad luck with the underground. We chose a motel out in the suburbs of north London but near a metro line. Yet when we arrived that line was closed for repairs. (The same thing that happened to us in Rome!) So we had to walk a couple of kilometres from another station, but we made it.

We had two full days there and managed to see plenty - the Tower of London, with a Beefeater-guided tour; Houses of Parliament; Trafalgar Square; St Paul's Cathedral. We didn't get time to go inside Westminster Abbey but I did get a chance to cross Abbey Road.

On the third day we went to pick up the hire car only to find that Google maps had sent us on a wild goose chase. We wasted an hour or two looking for something else. But at least we got to ride some double-decker buses.

Paris

So I'm in Paris with Cindy's family for a few weeks again this summer. I think I'm getting used to French culture; I'm not so surprised now when I see them dipping bread into their bowls of coffee and eating their mouldy cheese.

This time I'll be doing some work while I'm here, some research in the archives of the Académie des Sciences. In the period I'm working on it was called the Académie Royale des Sciences but Cindy tells me I mustn't ever call it that in front of French people, "We behead our royals," she explains proudly. It's going to be interesting when I take her to London to visit the Queen.