We went for a walk around Freiburg this morning before leaving. On our way into town we came across a kid of about 15 yrs on a bike waiting at the traffic lights. While he was waiting a girl rode past him, through the red light, and out the other side (there were no cars to be seen). The reaction from him was hilarious. He immediately started yelling and screaming at her at the top of his voice and gesturing wildly, effectively telling her that she was blind and couldn’t she see the red light. But he kept this up for about three minutes and long after she was well out of earshot. Then the light turned green and he quietly proceeded around the corner. They start this behaviour young around here.
We went into the Cathedral this morning and were surprised by how dark the interior was, probably the darkest church that we have seen. Once outside, it was a different scene, a market selling all manner of fresh goods, vegetables, fruit, flowers, handcrafts, etc. Something that has been noticeable in this city is the number of people gathering chestnuts from under the many chestnut trees that line the streets. An indication of the changing of the seasons, and nearing the end of summer.
On our way back to the car we noticed a number of small brass plaques (about 100mm square), inserted into the footpaths between the cobbles on the footpaths outside some of the shops in the old town. Inscribed on these plaques is something that we think translates into something like; ‘Here lived … born … deported 1940, Auschwitz’. Are these more of the silent reminders like we saw in Munich?
After leaving Freiburg we headed for our destination Beaune in France. We wanted to fill up with diesel before we left Germany, as we had been told that it was quite a bit more expensive in France. Unfortunately we had crossed the border before we had realized we had, but economy wise, this was a good thing. Diesel is cheaper here (off the Autobahn) than where we were in Germany. You can’t always believe what you read or are told.
After traveling through countryside changing between rolling hills, small fenced paddocks, and bush-like forest areas (more like NZ than we have seen yet). Through to wide open spaces of flat agricultural land and cropping, we arrived in Beaune late in the day, after following the river Daubes. Justine has been a little nervous about going into France with minimal French language ability. We have always been told, of the French arrogance and the refusal to speak English, but so far we have found this to be nothing more than an untrue stereotype.
I have to say that Justine’s dependence and trust in my schoolboy French is a little misguided. I seem to remember that my lovely French teacher (Miss Proud) told me in the nicest way possible that it was a good thing that I had no intention of going to France, as my French was crap. And here we are! What a shame I didn’t pay more attention to Miss Proud 30 years ago.
We were directed by the tourist information office to a bed and breakfast right in the middle of the city. The B&B is run by a little old lady of ‘indeterminable age’ who has been running this house since 1959. We were told by the tourist info, that it was “clean”. From that description we really weren’t sure what to expect. What we found was something quite endearing and so typically (what we imagined to be) French. Up some narrow, spiral, dilapidated, wooden stairs we were introduced to our room. It was large, it had a double bed and two singles, it had a bathroom opening off in one corner, large shuttered windows opening onto the square, it had furniture that had been through at least two wars, and tea towels that dated from the early 70s. It wasn’t until it was time to go to bed that we found that the mattress appeared to be stuffed with straw. Probably the same mattresses from 1959 (hopefully not the same straw), but even that seemed to be somehow … right. We’re yet to find what they are like to sleep on.
After settling in we headed into town, through the enclosing ramparts, and were treated to the sights and sounds that you would expect of a small French village. This place is so cool! Old, aged, worn, … but cool. The houses have the appearance that the owners have the attitude that, if they have lasted for the last four hundred years, they should last for the next four hundred as well. Why should they do any maintenance.
It is hard to believe that we are here.
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