Loire Valley - From Grumbling to Gratitude, Bed #8

I have truly never been in a place that smells as good as our little piece of heaven in the Loire Valley. Within a 5-hour drive we went from an urban jungle to the fresh, French countryside. Opening the car door in Saint Georges sur Cher in the Loire Valley was like a Christmas miracle, hyperbole intended. With all the spring blossoms in the valley blooming at once, the aromas were so sweet and fresh that we walked around our new home with our noses in the air, exclaiming to each other, “Smell this one!” “No, smell this one!” Add the birdsongs, the peaceful Cher river, and the quaint French homes to the scene and we were elated.

Our little gite (cottage)

Now our disappointments and downtrodden feelings of San Sebastian seemed so inappropriate. It was hard to imagine that we had any reason to feel down about anything. I felt as though we had been grumbling, spoiled brats. But then, upon further reflection, those feelings were real and had validity. We were at a crossroads and it seemed that “no one wanted us.” By that I mean that we had tried very hard to add elements of service or community to this experience, and all the doors we had knocked on were closing. Again, my spirit of openness was tested. My expectations for this trip, and my sense that we could write our own story, were coming into conflict with reality. Writing now I can see, as if in a rowboat, that opportunities to connect with others have opened up, but at the time, we couldn’t yet see it. 

The best way to describe how I was feeling was like the time when we snorkeled out farther into the ocean than we realized a few years ago in Mexico. When I looked up and realized how far out we were, I had a sense of “oh dear.” I knew that as long as I didn’t panic, we’d be fine, but I also knew that if anything “stormy” happened, I’d have nothing to hang on to. Being here in Europe has felt a little like that. Plus, you’ve got a little one beside you that depends on you and is completely oblivious to the danger. You can’t let on that anything is amiss, so you steadily make your way toward shore. We do have so many things to “hang on to” out here, but even when your head knows that, your heart sometimes needs reminding. We are so fortunate to have people at home who are praying for us and supporting us and we feel it.

Our new “home” was a cottage beside an old-mill-turned-B&B. The cottage was a bit tired from years of vacationers, but it was spacious and had all we needed. There was a beautiful path along the river that you could take in either direction, and if you walked about an hour west, you would reach Chenonceaux which is one of the nicest castles to visit in the area.

A little friend we met on the way to the castle

Until now, we’ve seen only castle ruins. Not only that, but the older, medieval castles were built with defense in mind, so they look more like fortresses than castles. The castles here in the Loire Valley were built for show. Anyone who was anyone in the baroque era had a castle here. They say there are over 1000 in the Loire Valley. Some are private homes (one owned by Sir Mick Jagger), some are empty and some have been lavishly restored for touring. Possibly the most lavish is the Chenonceaux, so on day 1, we tied up our hiking shoes and set off for it on foot. The 1 hour hike along the Cher river was a delight. Again the smells of spring blossoms just bewildered us. Even in the middle of the forest it would smell as if you were in a parfumerie – of which there are many here. Every little small town has a parfumerie and many people carry a “flowery” essence about them. So different from the scent-free culture at home.

Chenonceaux

Every room had a different arrangement to match the decor, cut from their own gardens

The gardens

Chenonceaux did not disappoint. Every single room had an enormous fresh flower bouquet. Most rooms were furnished and decorated with period pieces and some rooms even had crackling fires to take out the spring chill. The grounds were equally as impressive with lavish gardens and a labyrinth (which Aria thought was too easy). 

Aria's head popping out of the labyrinth

We did not anticipate that after a 3 mile hike there, and at least as many walked on the grounds and in the castle, we would not have quite enough fuel in the tank for the 3 miles home. The conversation on the journey home was not quite as chipper, but after a rest and some supper we were as good as new. 

A little friend we found on the hike

Enjoying the beautiful spring weather

Next day – down day. Smelled the flowers, petted the cat, read some books…  

One day the dandelion bouquets will stop, until then I'll take 'em!

Mr. Allergies decided that he wasn’t a fan of the spring smells and after a few nights Rick’s nose became a thorn in his side. He could have posed for an antihistamine ad. We tracked down some antihistamines – thank goodness it’s the same word in French – but they didn’t help much. So maybe it was a cold? In any case Rick suffered a little, but he was a brave soldier and carried on.

We visited 2 more castles, Cheverny and Chambord. Cheverny was interesting as the original family’s ancestors still live in the castle. Of course you can’t see their rooms, but their family pictures are displayed in the rooms you can tour, so you get the sense that you are in someone’s home, not just in a museum. Cheverny is near a forest so they still keep hunting dogs and at 5pm everyday you can watch them get fed. It’s quite a spectactle to see 100 bloodhounds eat their dinner. The trainer begins by rounding them up on the roof of the kennel and closing the gate so that he can prepare the feast. He hoses the floor down, for obvious reasons, and then wheels in the huge wheelbarrow full of chicken carcasses. He spreads them out in a neat row and empties a bag of dog kibble on top. The gate is then opened, but the dogs do not eat until given the OK from the trainer. It seems to take all their will power to obey him and their excitement is deafening. Then, when it’s time to eat, all is quiet and within 5 minutes, the cement floor is licked clean. Entire chickens, bones and all were swallowed with gusto. It was hard not to feel sorry for them as it seemed they could eat twice what they were given, but we had to trust that the caregivers knew what they were doing.

Cheverny

The 100 hunting bloodhounds that we were NOT teasing

Watching their feast being prepared

It smelled as bad as it looks

They wanted it soooooo badly!

Then he said the French equivalent of "Come and get it!"

Chambord was less exciting. The size is really the only impressive thing about it as very little is furnished, so it seems cold and uninviting. The highlight here was renting bikes for an hour and riding through the adjoining forest.

Chambord

The other portion of sightseeing that we did were 2 wine cave tours; one winery known for it’s sparkling wine – Monmousseau, and one for it’s still wine – Caves Dufour. It seems endless what you can learn about the nuances of wine, but when you know next to nothing to start out, you feel like you learn a whole lot. The little we do know was mainly about red wine, and as the Loire Valley is better known for white, we learned about the art of white wine making. These caves are immense, with many galleries of wine at different stages in their development. Very interesting, and of course the best part – tasting it at the end of the tour. Each winery also made sparkling grape juice so the girls got to taste something too. It’s hard for them to see why anyone would go to such lengths for a drink that is just for pleasure and a drink they don’t even enjoy.

Monmousseau ("My Sparkling")

At Dufour, we chose a bottle of Vouvray from 2000 from the wine list. Then the owner disappeared for awhile and emerged from the caves with a filthy bottle, wiped it off a bit and slapped a hand-written label on it with a rubber band. Never bought wine like that before. Cool. The owner was more of a philosopher than a wine maker as he kept on waxing eloquent about how wine is only to be enjoyed with good food and good friends. Amen to that.

The Caves of Dufour

Our grounds had a heated pool, so on our last day, the girls decided it was warm enough to jump in. They stayed in for a few brave minutes, but it’s still April even in the Loire Valley. It was still heavenly to sit by the pool and read. It’s always hard to say goodbye to a place you’ve enjoyed, but time is ticking, so Normandy, here we come.