Beaujolais me down in a bed of roses

Beaujolais me down on bed of roses

After my adventures in cosmopolitan  Lyon, it was time for a change of pace. I present to you with WWOOF-ing** at Les Dessous du Cep or "the bottom of the vine", the organic vinyard I volunteered at for a week. I know I usually put the "things I have learned" at the end, but i feel I need to get a couple of these out from the get-go:

- always read your train ticket. Even though I bought it at one station, the ticket started at a different one. And of course I realized this when I was at the wrong station and had 10 minutes to get to the right one. Needless to say I missed my train

- always check the ENTIRE departures screen for your train and platform. There may be more than one leaving from the same platform in a 20 minute period. Needless to say, I got on the wrong train. I gladly realized this before I left Lyon and made arrangements for the next one. 

- Skype does not work for numbers you are not contacts with and foreign numbers. I discovered this while trying to call Denny and Jeanne to let them know I had missed my train twice and would need a pickup at a later time. Also, pay phones are no help AT ALL.

- Romaneche-thorin is a lovely vinyard town. Especially the train station. I got a good look at it for about 45 min before I got picked up.

Okay, now that we have THAT out of the way, the week at the vinyard was amazing. Jeanne ( a french artist raised significantly in English speaking countries) and her spouse Denny (an Italian dancer and musician) together have a 400-hectare organic vinyard consisting of 2 Plots: one behind the house and another a short distance away. Of these grapes they make 2 red wines each fall which they rename every year. 2011's season was "Cleopatra", which is made from grapes from the far section of the vinyard, and "ErotiKa" made from a blend of the two plots.  Both are delicious, with ErotiKa being softer and a little fruitier. 

They also run a small, reservation-only organic restaurant out of their home, and I was grateful to get a daily sampling of their French-Italian fusion cuisine. (Anything I owed that was fitted however, not so much)

(ALL THE BREAD AND WINE AND COFFEE)

We didn't work in the actual vinyard so much because spring was late and the vines were juuuuust starting to bud. At that point they are so delicate the slightest brush can cause the buds to fall off, so the more we left the vines alone the better. We did however clear out the garden and help tidy the yard, preparing it for a season of guests.

On the day before I left, Denny also gave us a tasting of last fall's wine in the making, called "ISIS". He told us often times large wineries will taste the wine over the course of the fermentation and make changes to shape the taste and feel. He prefers to think of the wine as a baby still in the womb, and tasting the wine is like looking at a 5 month ultrasound-- it looks like a baby and has all the parts of a baby, but still needs time to fill out and develop, so making changes is pointless because its not done growing. And babies are exactly what each cask are to him. You can tell by the passion and care he puts into each one.

It really makes me want to come back to Europe and exclusively wwoof ** my way across the continent, tasting local cuisine and learning what people are doing around the world to put a dent in the industrial food crisis. I also want to see what wwoof-ing opportunities there are in Canada. Might be nice to go away to kelowna and pick fruit or pierce trees in Quebec for syrup. Road trip anyone?

**Note: okay, WWOOF! The World Wide Opportunities of Organic Farming. Basically it's a volunteer work-stay program. You get paired with an organic farm and work there for a week or two in exchange for food and board.  I have included the link below, as well as the link to Les Dessous Du Cep. There is way more about my stay there that I could write about, but you'll just have to take me out for wine for those details...

WWOOF: www.wwoofinternational.org

Www.wwoof.ca

Denny and Jeanne's: www.lesdessousducep.fr

Dijon isn't just a mustard and I ain't Lyon

Dijon was a chance for me to go waaaay out of my comfort zone and try couch surfing for the first time. And to great success! Seb was a lovely host. Finished his term in the French Air Force, he now builds and designs model planes. He took me to touch the owl on the side of the cathedral (which has been touched so many times he doesn't have a face. Poor faceless owl.) And gave me a walking your of the city he grew up in. It really is quite pretty. Like all the old parts of Paris but with more space and less tourists. He also introduced me to some of the Beaujolais wines and we made tagine in his swanky paella cooker. He even gave me a small tin of herb du Provence to take with me on my travels :) 

And then since I had so much experience under my belt from surfing in Dijon, I did it again in Lyon! This time with Yacine, a middle school maintenance man in his 30's and his 7 year old son Tijany.  While Tijany spoke little English, it was fun to play with him, and I even got to write my name in his cardboard bedroom castle. I know, gangster.

Lyon really is a beautiful city. It is definately trying to sell itself as the cosmopolitan alternative to Paris. More modern, but still embracing the picturesque Rhone-Alps around it and the history that goes along with them. It also happens to be the gastronomical capital of the world. So guess where I spent most of my time? That's right, MCDONALD'S. *sigh*  see, McDonald's (or McDou to the French) has free Internet. So I an order a small fry and Skype my friends and family without paying for meal or standing on one foot with a hanger in my hand as per most hostels. That, and I was too embarrassed over the quality of French to sit in a restaurant, and McDou has self serve kiosks in English. Yeah. Yeeeaaaahh.

I also marked my 26th birthday in Lyon. It was a simple affair. I went to the textile museum, meandered the shopping district. Yacine taught me how to make crepes for dinner and we decorated them In both savoury and sweet forms. Did I have a great epiphany? No. But I did reflect on how far I'd come and where I was going next. At least where I hoped I was going.

The next day I checked out the fourviere cathedral that over looked the city and the roman theatre ruins. I spent a good hour just sitting and writing in the audience. The weather was gorgeous and it just felt to peaceful I'd hate to ruin it by spending it inside. If it wasn't for the anti-gay marriage rally happening in the main square that i could hear it would have been perfect.

I spent the latter part of the afternoon at the gadagne museum checking out the collection of world puppets and marionettes and indulged in some ardechian pear sorbet before buying a ticket to see ironman 3 with French subtitles. Yep. Cultural rockstar right here.

The last day I spent in Lyon I rented a bike and roamed the tete d'or park. A giant urban park with a botanical garden, lake and zoo, it was a welcome break from all the cityscapes and tourist shops. I also got my first signs of a tan. Take that Canada.

Things I have learned:

- 30 year old single men who offer you their couch are not all serial killers or rapists!

- ironman 3 was disappointing. For multiple reasons. Buy me a drink when I get back and I'll tell you why

- French people eat cookies for breakfast. BREAKFAST. 

- teaching me how to make crepes was a dangerous thing. I will probably now make them/ eat them all the time

-you can get an electric pan for cooking just paella. I want it.

Gay paris!

Paris!

Hey kids sorry about the hiatus! Internet has been dodgy in Italy and I've been bit busy with other things. But I'm back now! And for your patience you will get not one, not two, but 4 updates! Each in their own loving update-y package. In my head the packages are made of those little organza gift bags that bubbles come in at weddings.

So paris! The city of lights! And love! And pastry! Finding my hostel was a bit of an adventure, but it did give me a chance to have a mini walking tour of montmarte (it's the old boho neighborhood of Paris. Think Amelie and the Moulin Rouge). While the days were beautiful, it ended up raining every evening, so it kind of put a damper (ha ha) on exploring the city of lights with any of the lights on. And I happened to show up just in time for may 1st, which is French Labour Day. Which means most museums, restaurants and shops would not be open. Hu-zaaaah...

I decided I would remedy this by doing one of those pay-what-you-can walking tours, so I could fit in as many major sights in the couple of days I had. I was actually super impressed. The tour guide gave us not only a history of  Paris, but also gave us cultural tips about not having French people hate us and how to order a proper baguette. Win-win! There were 2 other Canadian girls on the tour too, so after it was over we went across the seine towards the musee d'orsay and grabbed some quiche together. As the musee d'orsay line up was RIDICULOUSLY long post-quiche-ing, the 2 girls  went over to the petite palais art museum while I took a stroll along champ d'elyss. i ended up finding the comedia francais theatre and paying my respects to Moliere. 

At breakfast the next morning, I met 2 sisters from Australia, and we decided to hit sacre coeur together, as we figured it would be one of the few monuments open. It is also the highest point in Paris and boasts an amazing view. Which it had. ( you win this round, church)

The rest of the day was spent roaming the marais, Paris' gay and Jewish quarter. It's fairly commercialized now, but had a nice blend of recognizable stores and little independent ones. I found an AMAZING red trench coat for 20€ in a thrift shop and had probably the most delicious dessert of my travels.**  It was a poppyseed apple strudel from a Jewish Bakery in the Marais. It was a piece as large as a rubicks cube with a thick layer of poppyseed paste and a thiiick layer of an apple filling that was somehow more puréed than a pie filling but not so puréed it was apple sauce. And the pastry between each layer was a little buttery and somewhat flaky but not crumbly and none of the dessert was too sweet and just-- yay.

** note: as I am writing this entry a couple of weeks later while in Italy, I still hold true to that statement. It's still been the best dessert I've had.

I have to say that Paris is the only place where I wished I had had more time. There were lots of other things I had wanted to see, but I had already made arrangements to stay in Dijon. I can understand why people fall in love with it though. There is just something about it that excites you and romances you so that you never want to go anywhere else. 

Things I have learned:

- you can order 2 types of baguette in a Boulangerie: regular or traditional. The traditional one is made with better ingredients and more care. Worth the extra 10 cents.

- Paris is not as dirty as everyone told me it would be. Yes , the subway stations all smell like pee, but that's true for any city.

- Ia vie en rose WILL be stuck in your head the entire time you're there. Especially when you're in the more recognizable areas.

- French grocery stores have more than one cookie/chocolate aisle. Again, how Europeans do not have diabetes astounds me.

Amster-DAMN and the land of (mannequin) Pis.

Sorry for the delay in updates kids. My most recent hostel has SUPER crappy Internet and even checking my Facebook has been a challenge.

So Amsterdam! Land of decriminalized marijuana and hookers! In all reality I was kind of disappointed in it. I thought it would be prettier once you got away from the main tourist hub, but not so much. Just...confusing. The morning my train came in I met another Canadian at the hostel who was also heading my way, so we decided to adventure together. It was nice having company to navigate the rail system for the first time. Once we got to Amsterdam proper, we exchanged info so we could meet up for drinks or something before we went out seperate ways again. From that point on it was myself and the ever lovely Sophia, who had just come in from Heidlburg. We caught our shuttle to our hostel which was about 30 minutes outside of Amsterdam in a beach town called Noordwijk. Beautiful little place in behind all the tulip fields and across the street from the North Sea.

Sophia and I's original plan was to go to the Keukenhof, the worlds largest spring flower garden. What ended up happening is we rented bikes and rode 35km in a marked loop behind the tulip fields, through a few beach towns, up through a national park of desolate shrubs and dunes and ending at the beach by our hostel. While EXHAUSTING, it was nice to get out of the city and explore a bit. All of the flowers were in full bloom, with the hyacinth fields aggressively perfuming the air almost as strongly as the rows of colour along the ground.

Yes, I did dip my toes in the North Sea. And yes, it was BLOODY FREEZING. But kind of nice after biking for 8 hours. Kind of wish I had stuck my butt in instead.
 Sophia and I DEVOURED the Appel pannekoeken (a thin crepe like pancake with apple slices cooked in drizzled with syrup and icing suger) we ordered at a beach side stand. I think we scared te nice Bangeladeshi lady :/

And then it was Brussels!

Where I had the most delicious fish and chips of my life. Period.

It's this little place called Bia Mara were fish and chips is all they do.  But not just English bitter ale and haddock. No. I had curried salmon with a spicy tarragon tarter sauce with balsemic and white truffle tossed chips. For 10 euro. (For you playing along at home, that's pretty cheap for restaurant food). I would have gone there everyday if I could and I wasn't trying to diversify my palette.

The third night I was there I ended up going to a bar called delirium with 4 American guys (California, Washington, North Carolina and New York), a Brit from Gurnsey and 2 girls from Calgary. It was a pretty wild and crazy time. We made fun of each others accents and the Americans inability to hold their liquor. There were also shots of absinthe involved. La vie boheme!

Thanks god I was just riding a train to Paris the next day because I'll admit I was a little worse for wear. But it's nights like that that make me enjoy traveling alone and staying at hostels. You will ALWAYS end up meeting someone if you just step that liiiittle bit out of your comfort zone and say hi to a complete stranger.

Things I've learned:
- Amsterdam in over-rated if you are not a pot head
- I need to learn the name of that marzipan filled cookie I kept eating. Freaking delish.
- I also need to  find out where to get the curry ketchup the Dutch put on things. Way tastier than normal ketchup and lighter than mayonnaise
- not all hostels keep cooking basics (like salt, pepper and oil) in the kitchen. This is inconvenient.
- I WANT to say I'm all chocolated out, but I'm totally not. If anything I crave it more. All the time.
- beer however is another story. I think I'm ready to switch to wine now.

F*ckin' BRUGES - April 26

"If I grew up on a farm and was retarded, I would think Bruges is nice. But I didn't, so it isn't." - Ray (Colin Farrell) In Bruges

Regardless of what the famous movie may say, Bruges is a beautiful city. Definitely touristy, but it is pretty enough that you don't even have to see the sights to appreciate it. Narrow cobblestone streets and rows and rows of medival and renaissance buildings hugging the canals. Just... breath taking.

My hostel this time round was LEAPS AND BOUNDS better than the last [and not only because they had 1 euro beers, although it certainly helped]. It was full of travellers who just wanted to get to know people, as well as lockers that had outlets inside of them os you could charge your stuff in safety. Also, a slightly more elaborate breakfast with DRIP coffee. Not instant. Huzzah! Although I didn't find out what breakfast was like until the second day, as the first night I met 2 American brothers from northern Maine. We shared a few brew and discussed the difference between the States and Canada before going to this little bar called T'Poatersgat. The only thing that marks it is a cellar door with a waiter painted in single line across it. It totally looks like you'll get stabbed from the entrance, but once you get inside it was AMAZING. Dried hops along the support arches. A steady soundtrack of Motown music. Beer for 2.50. Fooseball and darts. I had my ass handed to me in Foosball, and then we went to Simon Stevin Plein with some cans of Bush and drank in the square til 4 am. Needless to say I slept in a little the next day and missed the cut off for breakfast.

I stopped in a little cafe called Li-o-Lait where I had the most elabortate long black served to me. the coffee, with little letter cookies (which I have since learned are called nic-nacs}, a fluffy pink marshmellow, and the tiniest pitcher of milk. It was exactly what I needed to rechardge my battery (sic: cure my hangover). I spent the rest of the afternoon climbing the famous Belfry and wandering the streets of Bruges. I came across a cathdral with an art installation taking up the entire inside, as well as a nunnery where the internal courtyard was completely in bloom with daffodils.

At breakfast the next morning I met another Canadian gril named Danielle who was also going on to Amsterdam that day. We shared one more cup of coffee and caught the train together. It was nice to have company while navigating the European rail lines together.

Things I learned today:
-Belgians must have a rampant diabetes problem. Breakfast consists entirely of chocolate. Chocolate flakes, chocolate spread or sprinkles on thier toast, nesquik...
-Belgium also has supermarkets that make vegetarian pepper salami! Yay train sammiches!
-you do not get nearly as bad of hangover from belgian beer as you do from Jamesons.

Stumbling and insomnia

April 22: currently sitting in St. Pancras station drinking a latte and waiting for my train to Bruges to depart. And boy, did I need a freaking latte this morning. The hostel I was staying in was also over run with a 10 year old French boys  rugby team. And they were the WORST behaved little snots I hav ever had the displeasure to come across. They were smoking in the building, running up and down the stairs, and literally SCREAMING through the halls. Oh, and one of the kids had gone into the shower outside my room, and his buddy figured it would be a good idea to pound on the door yelling "Ouvre!" And asking him about why he was in the shower. I don't know, maybe he was taking a GODDAMN SHOWER. He could be masturbating to pictures of queen Elizabeth for all I care, just get the HELL AWAY FROM MY DOOR. *rage*

It probably didn't help that I had a gingerbread latte at 9:00at night, but I wanted to go somewhere where I could get away from all the ruckus and just read a book. Although people here just seem to close their business whenever they feel like it. :S anyhoo, it resulted in me having more run just the above preventing me from restful slumber. Also, anytime I would juuuuust about to tip over the edge into sleep, some fellow traveller (let's call them d-bag mc-inconsiderate) would come in, slam the door and turn on the lights. Oh, but they would whisper. Thanks for that. No, it's 2:30 in the morning and I have a tiny curtain in front of my bed. It's practically a sound proof wall. *sigh*

Now that THAT'S out of the way...

London! It's pretty!

I stumbled upon some great stuff On Saturday. I had originally planned to see a west end show that night and spend the day on the south bank. However, I slept in until 1 in the afternoon after stumbling home from the always delightful Kim and Andrew Gibson's house at 6 am. And always the gracious hosts, they also sent me on my way with a crippling hangover. So once a shower and some Tylenol were had, my epic plans for the day got quickly rearranged. I figured I would pick up my ticket to Bruges at King's Cross, then head to Leicester Square and still see what show tickets were like for that night. Once I got to the west end, I noticed throngs of people heading towards Trafalgar and then saw that it was The Feast of St. George. Apparently all the local food shops that specialize in traditional English food were gathered in the square to show what London's farmers markets had to offer. EXCITING RIGHT?! So my hangover cure that day was a delicious shallot and parsnip pie on the sunny steps of a cathedral across from the National Portrait Gallery.

I didn't end up seeing a show that night as most of the cheap tickets to the shows I wanted to see were sold out. But I did meander over to the Tate Modern and took in some art. And stumbled across a gathering of furries. Super nice. The kids around were excited, it was cute.

Sunday was Brick Lane market. Fan-friggin-tastic. I pretty stuck to the main market in the old Truman Brewery, where I came across a designer sample sale (didn't buy anything) a 3 for £10 vintage clothing clearance (SCARVES!) and a Pop-Up art gallery where all the work was about coffee. I actually liked it WAY better than the Tate. There were watercolours made with coffee and typographs of Starbucks orders and clothing made from coffee. Some incredibly talented stuff. There's also a whole bunch of street food stalls where I got a solid helping of chickpea and veggie tagine for like, £4. Yay cheap eats!

I continued to explore the the area when I realized Brick Lane was more than just those 2 blocks. And then it just became busy and crowded and I was just anxious to go home by that point.

Things I've learned:
- Never stay in an all ages hostel.
EVER.
- I will always giggle at the train station for "cockfosters". Heh.
- Pluto has a moon called Bacon (thanks Natural History Museum!)
- never do 2 major English museums in the same day. Your brain and feet will turn to goo.
- unlike Canada , London theatres are dark on Sundays, not Mondays. Guess I'm checking out a show when I come back through in June :S
- it was the London Marathon on Sunday! Which sucked because the tube was PACKED but great because everyone was watching the marathon and not at the usual tourist places. Like brick lane.

An adventure begins!

So I figured that this would be the best way for me to keep in touch with friends and family regarding  my trip to Europe. And since it is my starvingartistadventures blog, I also thought it would be good for me to mention some of the food I'll be experiencing! So here we go:

After approximately 24 hours in transit, I finally made it to London! Everything is already green here, and the smaller communities outside of the city proper look exactly like stock scenes from an episode of The Tudors. Quite a change from the grey and white pallet of Snowy Dedmonton.

My flights and everything left and arrived without a hitch (well at least until untried to leave Gatwick airport, but more on that later). I have to say that I Am actually quite impressed with Air Transat. I had requested the dairy free vegetarian meal and the food was really well put together I thought. Lemon thyme pasta with white kidney beans, a green salad, multigrain bun and fruit salad. Balanced AND nutritious? Who'd a thunk? Breakfast was just as delightful with a blueberry muffin, orange juic and apple slices. Although I wish there had been peanut butter. But then I always wish there was peanut butter. The airline also had a strong selection of both English and French Canadian content in the on board entertainment. Coeur de Pirate, A separation, Bon cop bad cop.... Kudos Air Transat for supporting Canadian artists and filmmakers! I would definitely recommend them for your next trip.

Oh, and did I mention complimentary wine with dinner? FREE. WINE.

As for the gatwick story I mentioned before, here's what went down:

I was tired but coasting through each checkpoint on my way out if the airport. Security: check. Baggage: check. I was winning left right and centre. Until I got to the shuttle bus stop. I had bought my ticket online and printed off the email confirming my purchase. I pulled t out of my bag and started glancing around, realizing my sheet of paper did not look like other people's sheets of paper. I then read the email and came across that line of horror: "this is not your ticket."

...*facepalm*

So winning rachel turned into panicky rachel as she stopped at information to ask if there were computers with printers anywhere. Which there were, but they only accept change. Zap icky rachel then stops into a shop and buys a Star Bar (English wunderbars, *om nom nom* ) so she can get some change to print off her shuttle ticket to make it within the one hour window that her ticket allows. *sigh* Everything worked out fine, but it taught me the first lesson of my trip: Always read the fine print.