Of course it was too good to be true that the time difference wouldn’t get me in the end – I woke up at 2:30 and never got back to sleep.
I stewed over various things, and had a revelation at 4 am that I’d chosen the wrong dog two years ago when I had the choice between Ratdog and a gorgeous brown spoodle puppy. It put me in a cold sweat. Of course I knew my mind was playing tricks on me but the feeling of intense regret made me feel sick. In the cold light of day I know I’ve regretted the decision a number of times since I made it – as when she gets into a murderous frenzy with some innocuous dog who just happens to walk by too closely, or when paying huge amounts of money trying to escape proof our fences. The stupid thing is, I knew at the time that no matter which dog I chose, I’d convince myself intermittently that I’d picked the wrong one. Second guessing myself is my favourite hobby. My logical brain knows that A) I have no idea what flaws the other dog might have had and B) more importantly, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I promise to work on it with my mindfulness training, but it’s very hard in the dark of night, in an unfamiliar bed in a foreign country, with your husband gently snoring beside you.
Anyway, I gave up around six, and rather than torment myself with my own thoughts, I did it with various international news sources. Gosh things are grim out there at the moment. And Dolly Parton has died.
Simon had worked out it was going to take us four hours to get to Beaune, so we’d planned to get underway straight after breakfast so as not to arrive too late in the day. However, when we got into the car and plugged the hotel into google maps, it said it was only going to take two hours. He’d forgotten that he’d set it to avoid toll roads. Paying tolls is a breeze over here so we decided to save time and go the quicker route. It took us through rolling farmland and past a number of windmills – the electricity generating ones, not the flour grinding kind. The toll cost 21 euros.
Our hotel is a very scenic one within the walled old town. After checking in, we walked to a bustling local restaurant and had a quick lunch. Most restaurants over here are only open for strict hours over mealtimes – lunch is only served between 12 and 2, and then they close until dinner. This place was open the whole day – I wonder if that was the secret to its success? The only trouble was, the young, bored wait staff had no time or interest in humouring foreigners – as soon as they heard me speak, they reverted to English and refused to go back.
After lunch we did a self guided tour of the historic ramparts around the old town. Many parts of the old castle and fortifications are very well preserved. We could only see the outside of the buildings as most have been repurposed but they still look very impressive. The temperature was in the mid twenties which was as warm as I’d like it to be – any hotter would have been quite oppressive. Lucky for me I wasn’t here earlier in the summer! Back to the hotel for a nap.
…..
While I was napping Simon did some work emails, befriended the barman, had a few beers, and then explored the hotel complex. It’s enormous and virtually empty. It’s a huge rambling collection of old buildings, full of charm and eccentricity. There’s even a large traditional barrel sauna running at a constant 88 degrees in one of the many courtyards.
I had a brief nap and then we headed out to look for somewhere to eat. The receptionist had given us a couple of dinner reservations, so that’s what we aimed for. We’re right in the middle of the old town where all the tourists go so it was very busy. The first restaurant was full so we aimed for the second. We followed the map but at the X that was supposed to mark the spot there was nothing. While we were standing there baffled, we suddenly felt some drops of rain, and then the heavens opened. Simon tried googling somewhere to eat, but the first restaurant he found was also full. Then the thunder and lightning started. We decided to head towards a busier area but then I spotted a restaurant at the end of the street that was open, so we ran to it through the rain. Simon found the maître d who considered for a moment and then said “Give me a couple of minutes” and he cleared a table for us and we sat down. That’s when we discovered that it was actually the restaurant that we’d been looking for – in a completely different place to where the receptionist had marked it on the map. What a stroke of luck! It was a charming place, with art nouveau stylings, a fish based menu, and friendly and attentive staff. Fabulous. I had a kir because – in a quiet voice – I’ve given up on the local wines (not a patch on NZ wines). We had two types of tuna for dinner, and shared a baked Alaska for dessert (called bizarrely a Norwegian omelette in France). The best meal we’ve had this trip so far, especially precious because of the serendipity factor.
Back to the hotel afterwards, and half a tablet of amitriptyline to ensure a good nights slumber, fingers crossed.