Today is Rueben’s birthday (22 years old) an occasion that reminds us of family and home. To our families that may be reading this, we miss you all and we think of you every day. To Reuben, have a fantastic day, we wish we could be there (or you here), and we hope to see you again soon.
We started this morning like hobbits having breakfast in a hole in the ground. The kitchen appears carved out (or rather rough hewn) out of the stone face. The space for the fridge is just an extra niche carved in the rock. This kitchen in any other circumstances would be described as ‘a little rough around the edges’ with curtains for cabinet doors, pots and plates jumbled where ever there is room, and a mish-mash mixture of furniture and fittings, but somehow here it appears completely in keeping with what you would expect, it seems … right. Very cool. With the stairs winding tightly upwards, you gather the impression that whenever another room has been required, they have just carved out another level, and added more stairs. Little rooms darting off in different directions from each tiny landing on the stairs. For those that are frail of foot, they have been catered for with a comfortable chair placed on the tiny landing at each level. Something else to wend and weave your way around as you make your way upwards. We thought that we were in the attic, but there is at least one more level higher up. The rooms themselves are a good size, all located around a central staircase.
In the bathroom there is a tiny washing machine that we were able to make use of (a welcome change from the usual hand washing in the sink). The washing machine is a strange combination that is obviously built to economise on space. Imagine a frontloading washing machine, that you access from the top, with the drum facing sideways. To load your clothes, you lift the lid and open a flap on the wall of the drum. An interesting contraption, but it seems to work, and it takes up very little floor space.
But today we have more interesting things in store for us than the domestic necessities of washing clothes. Today we are heading out into chateaux country. The problem is which ones shall we go to, or rather which ones first. To help us along the way we went to the Tourist Information office, where the staff were as usual very helpful, but you had the impression that they didn’t want to show bias. However we did manage to get our hands on a good guide book. They have these in a selection of languages, French, Spanish, Italian, German, etc. The most suitable for us seemed to be the one that had both English and American translations. Yep, that’s right … evidently Americans speak a different language to the English. Either that or neither wants to acknowledge the other.
We decided to head to Chateaux de Chenonceau today. This is probably the most popular Chateaux in the area and from our impressions today, certainly has a few tales to tell. Perhaps that is the attraction. We arrived at the Chateaux first driving and then walking down a long avenue of autumn coloured trees. Our first glimpse of the castle itself brought a groan to our lips, most of the building is obscured by cloth and is undergoing renovations. Surprise, surprise! There is a tower standing to one side, and the main building straddles the River Cher. This created some complications during WWII as the River Cher was the demarcation line between Nazi occupied and Free France, the ideal portal that was utilized by the Resistance to ferry a considerable number of people over to the Free Zone.
The Chateaux was gifted by Henri II to his mistress, but on his death the rightful Queen demanded that it be returned to its rightful owner (her) along with the crown jewels that she had in her possession. It was in the time leading up to this that the Ladies of the Court would regularly attend parties semi clothed hoping to use their wares to gather information to pass on to the humiliated queen (a woman scorned?!). Another highlight of the parties that they used to have a round here were the cross-dressing parties, where the kings dressed as queens and vise versa (not a modern phenomenon evidently).
Another example of the intricate lives of the aristocracy was the painting that was on the wall of ‘The Three Graces’ (nudes of course), the three young beauties (sisters) who were the successive favourites of King Louis XV. The walls of these places are covered in tapestries and painting by the great artists, that any art gallery would be proud of. Downstairs is the kitchen, which is a huge affair, divided up into a butchery, a bakery, a larder, and a preparation area. It really is impressive with its array of cleavers, copper pots and pans, solid ovens and various mechanisms driven by wind, water and counterbalances.
On leaving the castle we had the sense of the complex and complicated that this and its inhabitants have had. Plenty to contemplate as we wandered through the formal gardens, kitchen gardens, and woodlands that in the days of yore were used for hunting parties. Late in the day we were treated to the sight of several hot air balloons coming down, skimming the water of the river, before rising up and disappearing into the distance again. A perfect end, to another perfect day.
And on a final note, “Happy Birthday Reuben”.
We started this morning like hobbits having breakfast in a hole in the ground. The kitchen appears carved out (or rather rough hewn) out of the stone face. The space for the fridge is just an extra niche carved in the rock. This kitchen in any other circumstances would be described as ‘a little rough around the edges’ with curtains for cabinet doors, pots and plates jumbled where ever there is room, and a mish-mash mixture of furniture and fittings, but somehow here it appears completely in keeping with what you would expect, it seems … right. Very cool. With the stairs winding tightly upwards, you gather the impression that whenever another room has been required, they have just carved out another level, and added more stairs. Little rooms darting off in different directions from each tiny landing on the stairs. For those that are frail of foot, they have been catered for with a comfortable chair placed on the tiny landing at each level. Something else to wend and weave your way around as you make your way upwards. We thought that we were in the attic, but there is at least one more level higher up. The rooms themselves are a good size, all located around a central staircase.
In the bathroom there is a tiny washing machine that we were able to make use of (a welcome change from the usual hand washing in the sink). The washing machine is a strange combination that is obviously built to economise on space. Imagine a frontloading washing machine, that you access from the top, with the drum facing sideways. To load your clothes, you lift the lid and open a flap on the wall of the drum. An interesting contraption, but it seems to work, and it takes up very little floor space.
But today we have more interesting things in store for us than the domestic necessities of washing clothes. Today we are heading out into chateaux country. The problem is which ones shall we go to, or rather which ones first. To help us along the way we went to the Tourist Information office, where the staff were as usual very helpful, but you had the impression that they didn’t want to show bias. However we did manage to get our hands on a good guide book. They have these in a selection of languages, French, Spanish, Italian, German, etc. The most suitable for us seemed to be the one that had both English and American translations. Yep, that’s right … evidently Americans speak a different language to the English. Either that or neither wants to acknowledge the other.
We decided to head to Chateaux de Chenonceau today. This is probably the most popular Chateaux in the area and from our impressions today, certainly has a few tales to tell. Perhaps that is the attraction. We arrived at the Chateaux first driving and then walking down a long avenue of autumn coloured trees. Our first glimpse of the castle itself brought a groan to our lips, most of the building is obscured by cloth and is undergoing renovations. Surprise, surprise! There is a tower standing to one side, and the main building straddles the River Cher. This created some complications during WWII as the River Cher was the demarcation line between Nazi occupied and Free France, the ideal portal that was utilized by the Resistance to ferry a considerable number of people over to the Free Zone.
The Chateaux was gifted by Henri II to his mistress, but on his death the rightful Queen demanded that it be returned to its rightful owner (her) along with the crown jewels that she had in her possession. It was in the time leading up to this that the Ladies of the Court would regularly attend parties semi clothed hoping to use their wares to gather information to pass on to the humiliated queen (a woman scorned?!). Another highlight of the parties that they used to have a round here were the cross-dressing parties, where the kings dressed as queens and vise versa (not a modern phenomenon evidently).
Another example of the intricate lives of the aristocracy was the painting that was on the wall of ‘The Three Graces’ (nudes of course), the three young beauties (sisters) who were the successive favourites of King Louis XV. The walls of these places are covered in tapestries and painting by the great artists, that any art gallery would be proud of. Downstairs is the kitchen, which is a huge affair, divided up into a butchery, a bakery, a larder, and a preparation area. It really is impressive with its array of cleavers, copper pots and pans, solid ovens and various mechanisms driven by wind, water and counterbalances.
On leaving the castle we had the sense of the complex and complicated that this and its inhabitants have had. Plenty to contemplate as we wandered through the formal gardens, kitchen gardens, and woodlands that in the days of yore were used for hunting parties. Late in the day we were treated to the sight of several hot air balloons coming down, skimming the water of the river, before rising up and disappearing into the distance again. A perfect end, to another perfect day.
And on a final note, “Happy Birthday Reuben”.
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