Encore France: Day 13, Amiens

From the journal: 

Started the day with a can of iced tea (yes, I know – how sad!) in lieu of anything else, but looked forward to a nice cooked breakfast and some great coffee somewhere in town. So, after a quick shower we rugged up like Eskimaux and took to the streets in search of an inviting eatery. Huh, what a fruitless search! It was 9.30 of a Sunday morning and we could not find a single place open. Amazing. Not even McDonald’s opened before 10.00 am, which we found really stunning, not that we would have gone there but it wasn’t an option anyway. We kept wandering and wandering around the streets, only to discover that lots of places – read “lots” as “most” – weren’t even open by 10.30. 

Amiens town centre has some lovely buildings

 

Eventually we spotted a little café which was open - it was a tea house, actually, and quite a charming place – and so we eagerly entered and there enjoyed the most superb Croque Monsieur and fantastic coffee. And we weren’t alone: there were two English families who had similarly been walking around for ages in search of somewhere to take breakfast, plus a middle-aged German couple. 

 

Some great streets to wander down.

 

The Germans, professional people from Berlin, sat at the next table along and started chatting to us, firstly simply expressing how unbelievable they found it that this was the first place they had found to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee. They then stunned us as they talked of their amazement over the damage inflicted on France in two wars, and actually said that they had always only thought about German towns being destroyed and that they had no idea other places, other countries, had suffered so much. We were staggered. I mean, where had these people been hiding for the last half a century to be so ignorant of the devastation of two world wars? Then they were quite insulting by saying that while on their tour they had noticed quite a few memorials to Australians who fought in World War One and they asked us what business either wars had been of ours anyway. Wow! 

 

Not a lot of people around, that's for sure.

 

After breakfast we strolled down to Notre Dame d’Amiens Cathedral to have another look. What a perfect time it was to do so as there was a mass being held in the beautiful central chapel area and when we entered the organ was playing and a choir was singing. It was indeed heavenly. We sat there enthralled for 15 or 20 minutes until the service ended. It was such a beautiful interlude. 

The magnificent Notre Dame d'Amiens -
impossible to capture with our little camera.

 

Leaving the church, we went for quite a long walk around town to build up our appetite for a yummy lunch somewhere in St Leu, perhaps at one of the two restaurants which Bertrand had recommended to us – Tante Jéanne’s or Belu. 

And fabulous, fabulous St Leu style

 

As it happened, Belu was closed and Tante Jéanne’s menu simply didn’t appeal. The man really felt like that most French of dishes – steak frittes – and I just wanted anything hot and yummy. After following the local habit of slowly cruising backwards and forwards along the canal-side checking out the displayed menus for all the wonderful restaurants at least twice, we decided to opt for lunch at Le Quay Restaurant, probably the most expensive one on the St Leu strip. 

What a fantastic area St Leu is.

 

What can I say? What an experience. Sometimes a restaurant and a meal are truly memorable. This was one such restaurant and one such meal.  

 

Incredibly beautiful.

 

We decided to sit outside, even though the day was freezing, and so the young, and totally charming, waiter - who we were to learn had recently spent two months in Australia - brought over an outdoor heater and positioned it near our table so that we were soon comfortable. For our Kir Royale he actually uncorked a bottle of Moet et Chandon, which he opened at the table so that we could see it was the real deal. We may have intended to have a simple meal, but as soon as we sat down we knew it would be special and it was. Kir Royale made with Moet, an amuse bouche of fresh scallops with tarragon, meat so tender you could have cut it with a spoon, and crème caramel that deserved a medal, all washed down with a pichet of light and lovely red, and finished with a delicious espresso. We agreed that we could never ever return to Amiens without returning to Le Quay Restaurant.  

Just open your mouth and say Ahhhh. Lovely St Leu.

 

Fully sated and having stored away for ourselves a lovely memory, we then walked along the riverside and through the parklands, pausing to watch a soccer game in progress. Despite the day not starting as we had expected, it had turned out to be a wonderful one and we happily wandered around Amiens for a few hours before returning to the hotel in the evening, with some simple fare and the usual bottle of vino for our evening repast.

 

Tomorrow we train it back to our beautiful Paris. See you then. 

Encore France: Day 12, Cappy to Amiens

 

From the journal:

 

After a light breakfast and a quick tidy-up of the boat, we completed the handover formalities with Bertrand, including giving him a box of Australian chocolate-coated macadamia nuts (yum yum) and receiving from him a Locaboat cap. All went very smoothly and there were, of course, no hassles with the vessel.

We were now ready to say goodbye to Cappy, and so Bertrand phoned a taxi for us and it turned up very quickly to whisk us off on the next stage of our holiday: a little time in Amiens. The fog was incredibly heavy, but the driver drove surely through the greyness and we were in Amiens in no time at all, with him pulling to the kerb outside our hotel.

Our room wasn’t ready as it was still only mid-morning, and so we left our luggage with the receptionist and went in search of the famous Notre Dame d’Amiens. The hotel was very, very close to the Cathedral and all we had read said that you could see it from the hotel and so would have no trouble locating it. However, the fog was so heavy that nothing was visible in the sky, and it was actually quite difficult to get our bearings as the visibility was so low.

Nevertheless, by a very circuitous route – probably covering double the actual distance – we at last came upon the Cathedral, which is actually the largest in France, and we were indeed duly impressed. The dimensions are absolutely awesome, and somehow the incredible soaring ceilings inside make your soul soar also. You feel so tiny in this space but somehow so lifted up. Were such structures really built for the glory of God, or for the glory of man? Whichever is more true, I doubt that anybody could visit such places without thinking of God.

How sad, though, and what a reflection on society, that outside all such monuments to God’s love and grace one always finds beggars holding out their paper cups for alms while inside people spend so much money on candles, postcards and – frequently quite tacky – souvenir medallions.

After visiting Notre Dame we wandered along the main shopping mall and found a jeweller’s store where we were able to buy a watch for the man’s battery. That the watch hadn’t been working for a few days on the boat was no big deal: time becomes almost irrelevant when you are drifting slowly through the beautiful French countryside.

By now we were both beginning to feel, however, that we had stepped out of France and into the Arctic Circle – it was absolutely FREEZING. We spotted a Galleries Lafayette and went in there to buy some warmer gloves, getting the shop attendant to remove the labels so that we could wear them straight away as our normal gloves just weren’t doing the job.

Now much warmed – no, now less freezing, we went to a café, La Forum, for a truly delicious lunch of Ficelle Picardie, a truly great ham and mushroom crepe, and local cider. Wonderful food, and also wonderful to have heaps of room in which to enjoy your meal, so different to the usual matter of sitting almost thigh to thigh with strangers at cafés and bistros in Paris.

Beautiful building opposite the Cathedral

 

It was now time to return to the hotel, which we were glad to do because as soon as we left the café we were hit once again by the cold, cold air.

What a surprise awaited us in our room! We were allocated room 130, which was obviously VERY newly renovated (smell those paint fumes!). One wall was covered in totally gorgeous wallpaper of drawings of sheep, white on a black background, obviously a little something for when you can’t sleep. Another wall was painted bright, bright, bright lime green. Wow! And then we checked out the bathroom. Truly amazing! The vanity, which was a large glass bowl raised up over a lime green cupboard, was quite groovy enough, but then – the piece de resistance – we noticed the burnt orange/vermilion glass shower screen over the bathtub. It was the same colour as the paint on the walls above the tiling, which mercifully was white. Incredible décor indeed. It was just so delightfully quirky and unexpected that we absolutely loved it, I have to tell you.

My man then opted for a shower in that fantabulous bathroom while I decided to walk back towards the town centre in search of a hairdressing salon. I found one only a couple of blocks from the hotel, and was delighted with the treatment I received there – shampoo, trim, blow-dry, and a great cup of coffee all for about €20, a damn sight better than the 60-odd I had paid in Paris previously.

 

Now you really can count sheep.
Fabulous, isn't it.

 

When I got back to the hotel we checked out our local map and, as the fog had now lifted and we could actually see where we were going, decided to head out to have a look at the St Leu area, which had been described to us as the “Venice of the North”. Well, the streets we walked down in search of this particular Venice certainly did not inspire confidence: lots of scary looking skinhead types, young yobs, beggars, and graffiti everywhere.

But then – ah, doesn’t this happen so often – we turn a corner and … no, it wasn’t “Venice of the North”, but suddenly it was there in front of us, charming, quaint, absolutely lovely, lots of old houses squeezed together fronting the canal, many of them restaurants offering wonderful-sounding dishes and with great smells emanating from inside. We decided to return the next day for lunch.

We then retraced our steps to the hotel, stopping at a supermarket along the way for some iced tea, chocolate and wine. And, hey, here are some of those yummy French party mix type lollies. Must have some of those. A good idea?

Back in our room we drank our iced tea and munched on some lollies while we read a newspaper (our first in over a week). We then opened a bottle of wine for a little pre-dinner drink, thinking of what culinary delights we might sample this evening.
 

The buildings opposite the cathedral.
(Just bought my first ever photo-editing software and have to try it out - sorry.)

 

Hm! I quite suddenly started to feel really, really tired. I had no enthusiasm for dinner, but was quite sure that once we were out I would be okay and so we rugged up and headed to the centre of town. By the time we got there I was almost sleepwalking and was once again experiencing strong stomach pains. The thought of food was decidedly unappealing, to the point where I couldn’t even face watching my husband eat and so there was no way we could go to a restaurant.

My poor man; it was happening again.  He was so sweet and settled for a waffle from a street trader which he ate while we walked back to the hotel. I wasn’t as ill as I had been in Picquigny, nowhere near it, but it certainly spoilt the evening for us.

And the lesson is: avoid those French mixed lollies, as they must be the culprits. My man thinks it’s the blue ones, that blue lollies are just wrong. I can’t agree there, instead feeling that there is simply a sweetener (or some additive) used in the local lollies which my whole system objects to.  Such as bummer as they taste so good.

And so to bed – a lovely, comfortable bed with crisp white sheets and a fantastic pillow. Ah, heaven.