Ypres

Our week in Grimaud over, we woke early for the drive to Marseilles to catch our flight to Paris. The early morning drive was a hairy one, through the windy, narrow mountain road in heavy fog with bleary eyes following the big farewell dinner..Once I was on the expressway it was fairly plain sailing, as was the connecting flight, a smooth short trip. 

We spotted some familiar landmarks from the window.

We picked up our new car in Paris, an upgrade, the Citreon Picasso. A long sit to get familiar with the new appointments, including the best concealed handbrake in motoring history, three laps of the car park, then onto the A1 motorway. A few little techno stuff ups left us without a GPS or map, so we were going to be travelling a la 1990. As we flew along the highway Michele fiddled with the dashboard and presto, a GPS seemed to be appearing in amongst the multitude of blips and lights on the dash. Then as we pulled into a roadhouse, a French voice crooned "Prenez a droit." We had navigation!

It was Inspector Clouseau and in French, but C'est la Guerre!

So we made our way, interpreting the French and watching the arrows all the way to Ypres.

The hotel Michele booked on spec was perfect. It is in the main square opposite the Cloth Hall and Cathedral. Ypres Centrum. We have a very large room, more like an apartment and it is cheap.

Wanting to book a battlefield tour for the next morning we took off and found a little shop recommended to us and got ourselves on the morning tour starting at 10. The tour was amazing. The guide was pom from Gloucestershire who really knew his history and enhanced his speech with well choreographed black and white photos of the Great War.

He took us to many spots where some of the fiercest fighting in military history took place, including the St Julian monument which commemorates the first use of chemical weapons in warfare. The Germans unleashed chlorine gas on Canadian soldiers killing 2 000 of them. Our guide pointed out that the Allies, given the green light then by the Germans, used far more gas than the enemy in the fighting from then on.

We visited the sites of other atrocities, including the extraordinary Langemark. Langemark is the burial ground of the German dead from the surrounding battlefields. 

In it 40 000 German soldiers are buried. The remarkable thing is the amazing way the German dead were treated. The cemetery of Langemark is the size of a football field and it contains a centre section about 60 square metres in which 25 000 bodies were interred...a mass grave. 

There have been improvements made to the cemetery so that it now has some dignity, but the Belgian government has had ongoing debate with Germany about this site. Our tour guide showed quite a lot of bias during this section of the tour and I didn't like the way he portrayed the Germans as culprits and therefore deserving of the poor treatment. Their young men were just as blind and innocent as any and deserved better, in my opinion.

After more fascinating visits and input from Chris, we pulled over for what he promised would be a powerful visit. We were at the bottom of a long grassy slope from which we could see a distant memorial. He told us we were looking at the Tyne Cot cemetery and beyond, the village of Passchendaele. 

He then stood on the roadside and described the battle that took place in October 1917 on the slopes in front of us. Chris described how the Australian, New Zealand and Canadian forces worked up that slope against the German machine guns through uncut barbed wire in pouring rain for a month. 35 000 Australian lives were lost, our worst loss on any battlefield in history. The field commanders under the direction of Haig fired millions of shells into the field prior to the advance, trying to dislodge the German machine guns. They only succeeded in tearing the field to pieces, which turned to mud following the torrential rain that fell throughout October, making progress impossible.

The hill was finally won.

This was a really emotional and insightful tour, brilliantly conducted.

That afternoon we insisted the Flanders Fields Museum in the square. It was really interesting with a history of the War from start to finish and how the local area was affected. It was sympathetic and I thought was pretty subtle and dignified...not too much chest beating happening.

Having made the mistake of getting to the Menin Gate too late last night we made sure we were there half an hour before the 8pm ceremony to get prime positions. We did.

It was a special ceremony for us with some Aussies laying wreaths, but also a local pipe band played and they were fabulous. 

The ode and the Last Post really mean a lot here in the middle of the battlefields and the Menin Gate is quite eerie, standing there carrying the tens of thousands of names of the fallen who have no official burial spot.

We had decided earlier in the afternoon that we would stay another night in Ypres and luckily our room was available. We love this town. It has something special. Apart from being stately and truly beautiful, knowing it has been completely flattened and rebuilt from scratch gives it so much character. A wonderful place with a tragic past.

Our extra day was taken up with a day tour out to Bruges. Having been here long ago, but only briefly, we wanted to explore it some more. We began with a canal tour.

The canals wind through wonderful architecture and under ornate bridges and are home to much wildlife. The tour guide gave commentary in three languages, giving his English a Michael Caine "Alfie" feel. Hilarious, but we were the only ones laughing. He must have learned his English from "Till Death Us Do Part" on the Fox Comedy Classics Channel.

We wandered the streets and found a cafe for lunch in amongst the chocolate, lace and Waffles emporiums and tried to get some wifi to confirm our early arrival in Paris. We have decided to get straight to Paris, instead of looking for another night elsewhere in France. We are both happy with this decision as Paris has endless things to do and see and why not make the most of it while we are here?

Bruge was a great choice for our day out. Every corner is picture postcard stuff. This is one of those places that makes you feel like you are in a movie....and not Weekend at Bernies. It also has a really bizarre church, full of strange artefacts and reliqueriums. 

And the strangest painting of the madonna I have ever seen...

..try and work that one out.

Home, dinner, bed.

Paris next.

Up a little earlier than usual to pack up, pay parking meter, load car, pay bill then head off under the expert guidance of Inspector Clouseau our nav man. 

I have not been looking forward to the drive into Paris, knowing from previous experience how insane the roads are....and that was twenty three years ago!

The roads around the Belgium border are narrow and there is very vague speed signage, so I have actually found this some of the hairiest driving of the trip. But Clouseau was pretty reliable, apart from one or two directions, that would have had given us a little "bermp" at the very least, had they been followed. Luckily it is hard to take a French accent seriously.

Then it was onto the A1. This section of the freeway between Lille and Paris has more trucks on it than cars as it is the main arterial road for commercial traffic. You need all of your concentration all of the time. Then, once you pass Charle De Gaulle airport, the trucks leave and the drive into Paris

begins in earnest..

With my two expert navigators Navman Clouseau and Navwoman Michele, we managed to negotiate the insanity of the Paris streets, 

get the car to our apartment in the centre of the city, drop off our bags, then return our car. 

We used the Metro to get back to Le Marais, where we are staying. It was bedlam. Finally we got back, met our lovely hostess, Genevieve and settled into our magnificent apartment.

We walked down to Notre Dame tonight.

The bells tolled during our walk, but no sign of Quasimodo.

We are here. An exhausting day, but we are here and excited with the chance to spend four nights in this magical city.

Grimaud

As usual, our day began with breakfast on the terrace. A beautiful view out to the countryside.

Unfortunately I have developed a cold so have started on the codrals and will soldier on.

Jim had a lazy morning at the hotel whilst Libby, Angela and I headed off to Port Grimaud on the Petite Train to check out the markets.

We stumbled across the markets in our own village so had a quick look before heading off to Port. I bought a very un-Michele jacket. Should have stayed at the village- not much of interest at the big markets.

The train ride there and back is a very unusual experience- looks like you are in a fair ground until you enter the highway with all the other traffic. A bit hairy at times. Not sure what the plastic chain on the open doorway would have done to protect me should the need have arisen.

Port Grimaud is a man made gated community. It has many canals that can accommodate three thousand boats. A fairly ritzy place to live, I think. They have done quite a good job of making it blend in to the older feel in the vicinity. Certainly it is not as quaint an old as Grimaud, but neither is it an eye sore. I'd love to see inside the little houses.

Jim and I headed into a village called  Cogolin on the recommendation of others in the group. What we didn't hear them say was to look for the old part of town which is very hard to find. We were oblivious, so wandered around for a while, quite perplexed as to why the others enjoyed it. We did, however, visit the much talked about supermarket. We are used to seeing alcohol in supermarkets now, but not on the scale of this place. The champagne cave was fantastic.

You could also buy white goods, electrical, clothes, gold and diamonds. Walls and walls of products.

Tonight we gathered for Mark's official birthday dinner. Before heading off to the restaurant at the end of our street, we had drinks and nibbles on the terrace ( special permission was granted from Monsieur Minaud who joined us for a short time). We watched the sun set behind the hills as we geared up for another evening together.

Off to the restaurant- the first time we sat inside and did we feel it! The opening of a window helped some, but it was still quite warm.

 It was a magnificent meal : chilled yellow tomato soup ( in a tiny cup), celery soup, chicken with tiny individual bowls for each of the three veges, cheese platters then dessert of crepes with glacé and brandy snap.

Another wonderful night.

The next morning Jim and I headed off to Le Thoronet Abbey set in a forested vally to the north. Everyone else had been and had highly recommended a visit. We arrived after a 50 minute drive on the windy road. It was beautiful. Not ornate like all the other churches but simply beautiful. It gave a real sense of what the Cistercian monastery must have resembled in the Middle Ages.

Next stop was the village of Ramatouelle. It is a fairly short drive south of Grimaud. We ran into lots of the other couples here at different times. We walked through the small arched entrance beside the church to enter the medieval centre of the town. It was a maze of tiny residential buildings, spotlessly kept. Again, I would have loved to peek inside.

 

Our day ended with drinks in one of the village squares followed by dinner back at l'Olivier- our fave.

As this was our last night together, everyone was in good form, ready for a great night. Shaun serenaded us in the square with a beautiful song ( the name escapes me as it was a new one). He also sang a beautiful Irish blessing at our dinner table. Apart from that, it was a pretty animated night. I thought I would be brave and order the drinks in French. I was obviously quite successful as our waitress kept popping up to me all night speaking French assuming I could understand her. I was horrifed at first ( how does everyone want their meat cooked?) With a lot of help from Jim we managed to sort all things out. A fantastic dinner with great company. 

And so another chapter comes to an end. We leave Grimaud in the morning for our final stint.