Easter Weekend in London

Gilles and I headed to London for the Easter long-weekend. It was our first time in an English country since we were in Canada last summer, and it was a refreshing break. The culture of an anglo-saxon country is very distinct, and being in London was almost like returning home.

One of our biggest goals while there was to get in lots of shopping, and as our Visa will attest, that mission was accomplished! In fact, the shopping in London was better than any other city I have visited. We picked up lots of clothes and books, and some fun English treats that we cannot buy in France: Gilles returned home with Crunchy bars and ten Cadbury cream eggs, I filled my suitcase with six boxes of crackers.

After a day and a half of shopping, we decided it was time to see some of the sights. London is certainly not the prettiest city we have visited, but it does have some great museums, and plenty of fun options for tourists. And the tourists were everywhere. It was the busiest city we have visited, and we almost always felt as though we were surrounded by tourists. We heard other languages being spoken as often as we heard English. Of course, not all the non-English were tourists. London has a huge immigrant population, and non-natives were working everywhere from restaurants, to the museums, to the underground transit system.

One of the best parts about London is the handy writing on the pavement that indicates which way to look when crossing the road. They drive on the opposite side of the road, and this has major implications for walkers. You would not believe how subconscious the act of looking both ways before crossing the road is. But the direction our brains want us to look is the wrong direction in London, setting us up for getting hit. In fact, I am sure that tourist accidents are what prompted the city of London to paint the useful directions on the road: Look Right or Look Left.

We did not see the queen, or visit an English pub, but we did eat Indian (twice), rode the ‘tube’ and rode on a double-decker bus…very London-y activities indeed.

Mushers for a Day

My favourite activity on our northern vacation was dog-sledding. The sled dogs are beautiful and amazing. They live to run, and the colder the better; they function best at temperatures of –10 to –25˚C. Because of this, they get the summers off. The winters are for working and the summers are for grooming and relaxation.

We visited two dog farms. The smaller one had 115 Siberian Huskies. Each dog has a name and their own house. These were the friendliest dogs I have ever seen. This farm was within walking distance from our hotel, and Gilles and I strolled over there one afternoon to meet the dogs. We spent over an hour just petting and playing with them. We were covered in hair and a waxy substance from their fur that helps insulate them, but it was worth it. The second farm we visited had over 300 dogs from all three breeds of sled dogs: Siberian Huskies, Alaskan Huskies, and Alaskan Malamutes.

Our first mushing experience was at the larger farm. Gilles and I had a sled of four dogs, and we took turns being the musher. We were a parade of about five sleds, with the professional at the front setting the direction we were to take. The dogs we used were competition dogs: a cross between a husky and pointer. They were not as pretty or calm as the pure huskies, in fact they were rather crazy! They were clearly designed to race, and as soon as they were harnessed in, all they wanted to do was run. Even with my full weight on the brake, they could make the sled move! I will try and post a video of the dogs going ballistic, waiting to run. We went around a short course, and did we ever fly! We had so much fun that we decided to go on another husky safari the next day.

Our second excursion was at the smaller farm with the dogs that Gilles and I had already met. This time we had six dogs to a sled. This was a much more peaceful ride through the snowy countryside. The dogs were less speedy than the racers, but much stronger with great endurance. The trail we took was not groomed, and the dogs had to run through some pretty deep snow. These dogs understood their job: they ran when it was time to run, and relaxed when it was time for a break. I just loved sitting back, watching their six fluffy tails pointing straight up (apparently a sign they are happy and in no distress) as they hauled us through the snowy woods.

Not Quite a Good Night's Sleep

On our second night in Finland, the hotel we were staying in was overbooked. To free up a room, they asked us if we were interested in spending the night at the nearby ice hotel. The otherwise costly 240 euros/night stay would be free thanks to our flexibility. We thought about it for a little while, but in the end decided that we could not pass up the unusual opportunity.

We were driven to the hotel after supper. I warmed up my feet by the fire before we left hoping to start the night off as warm as possible. The young couple that run the hotel was very welcoming and proud of their endeavour. They showed us around the ice/snow buildings: six large suites, a bar, a chapel, two ice saunas, and two large buildings with numerous small bedrooms. We stayed in one of the small rooms. The mattress sat atop a bed made of ice, and there was a bedside table made of ice. They assured us the temperature inside the bedrooms remains between 0 and –5 ˚C, regardless of the outside temperature. We rationalized that we have spent the night in our tent around 0 ˚C, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?

They also have a large, heated, wooden lodge. This facility is available for use all night long. Among other things it contains bathrooms, a large sauna, fireplaces, and two rooms with beds in case their guests choose to abandon the icy rooms in the middle of the night. They provided us each with a pillow and two sleeping bags: a thin, fleece mummy bag to be placed inside the large, thick mummy bag. They suggested we keep only our base layer on to be in close contact with the sleeping bags.

Once in our room, we undressed as quickly as possible and hopped into the two bags. I kept my gloves, socks, base layer, and toque on the entire night. At first I was nervous of sleeping under a snow roof, but soon forgot about that for another fear: suffocating. It was hard lining up the two face openings of the bags. As soon as I rolled over, one of the bags was always covering my face. We did manage to get a decent sleep. I was not cold, but not really warm either. Our faces were very cold, and there was frosty condensation from our breath covering the sleeping bags. It was much colder than the cold camping experiences of our past. The couple greeted us in the morning with warm juice and certificates for having survived a night in arctic conditions. It was a worthwhile experience, but I was certainly glad the hotel was not overbooked the next night!

It Looks Like Home!

That is what we said as soon as our bus pulled away from the Rovaniemi airport en route to our hotel. More specifically, it looked just like Northern New Brunswick. Northern Finland is where we spent last week, frolicking in the snow. The social committee at Gilles’ work has a travel agency that offers about a dozen trips a year at competitive prices. When we saw the trip to Finland, we jumped on it. We were surprised that we missed winter last year, so thought a week in the great white north would fill the void. People in the South of France think this winter season has been great because the Pyrenees actually have snow, but if they think that wet, slushy snow, zero degree temperatures, and over-crowded ski hills is winter, they don’t know what they are missing.

So we retrieved our winter clothing out of storage, and headed north: Arctic Circle north. We were part of a group of 26 people: 24 French, and 2 Canadians. All meals and activities were planned. We took part in many different cold-weather activities, several for the first time. We went cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, and on several skidoo trips. We went ice fishing, but did not catch anything. We fed, were pulled on a sled by, and ate reindeer. They are really small and slow (not sure what Santa was thinking!). We spent a night in an ice hotel and went on two dog-sled outings (more on those later). And, we visited Santa’s house. According to Europeans, he lives at the Arctic Circle near Rovaniemi, not the North Pole. But I am not sure that they can be trusted because only Gilles and I could name his reindeer. Regardless, Santa has his own post office there and charges 25 euros to have a picture taken with him. He is probably using the funds to upgrade to a dog-sled team (much faster than reindeer!).

It was funny traveling with the French. They marveled at things that are different than in France: double-paned glass in windows, houses made of wood, no shutters on windows. They were amazed with my winter boots because of their rubber exterior. And the food just didn’t quite cut it. I don’t think they could travel anywhere in the world and be truly happy with the food. The stewed rhubarb wasn’t cooked enough, we were served too much warm berry juice, and I overheard the following complaints: “they are serving potatoes again!”, “they call this bread?”, and “I can’t believe they are serving cucumbers and tomatoes!”. The latter statement shows how much the French are seasonal eaters. They do not eat cucumbers and tomatoes in the winter because they do not grow then. They are not used to northern climates with a growing season of two-three months, requiring that most fruit and vegetables are imported the majority of the year.

We did have a wonderful time in Finland. I will write more about the ice hotel and dog-sledding experiences later.

Late Nights in Madrid

Last weekend we drove to Madrid to meet our friends Debbie and TJ Bunka. They were in Spain’s capital for three days before heading to the Canary Islands. For us it was a great chance see friends and check out Madrid. The six hour drive down was oddly through a snowy landscape. Europe was just recovering from an uncharacteristic cold snap that dropped snow on unlikely areas, including the arid Spain countryside (and in our backyard in Pau).

Madrid is a lively city that doesn’t seem to sleep, and we did our best to take part in the liveliness. On our first night we spent our time in three tapas bars, enjoying the cheap wine, delicious tapas, and each other’s company. Somewhere between the jamón and the cheesy eighties music we lost track of time, and the next thing we knew it was 3 AM. We hauled our butts off to bed while the Spaniards ordered another round.

The next day we toured the extensive Prado museum and walked around the historical areas of Madrid. More time was dedicated to jamón, Spain’s best contribution to the culinary world. These cured ham legs are a national obsession. There are a variety of types ranging in price and flavour, the most expensive being a little black pig that is fed acorns. The meat is delicately shaved by hand with a knife, and oozes greasy goodness. We enjoyed several helpings, including some on the street immediately after buying a few slices at the Museo del Jamón.

That night we were much more disciplined and made it back to the hotel at 1 AM. We could easily have stayed out later, but the Bunkas had an 8 AM flight the next day and we had a long drive ahead of us. When Debbie and TJ boarded the shuttle for the airport at 6 AM Sunday morning, they said the streets were packed with partyers straggling home. Those crazy Spaniards!

In Flanders' Fields

On our last day in Belgium we rented a car and visited several World War I monuments and cemeteries. Of all the historical events that were taught in school, I seem to remember what I learned of WWI the most. I am not sure why that is; perhaps it was a particularly interesting subject to me, or maybe Mr Cool, my junior high social studies teacher, taught that subject with extra enthusiasm. Whatever the reason, just hearing the names Vimy Ridge, Ypres, and Passchendaele conjures up images of battles, trenches, and muddy fields. So it was a bit surreal driving through Flanders’ fields in our little VW Polo, passing by a commonwealth cemetery every few kilometers. It was a cold day with a thick ice fog hovering over the fields, limiting our visibility. The fog added an eerie element to our day. As we walked through the Tyne Cot cemetery, the resting place of almost 12,000 soldiers, we could not see the edges of the cemetery. It seemed as though the graves went on forever.

As we crossed into France and headed toward Vimy Ridge, the fog lifted and revealed a beautiful blue sky. We were fortunate because the Canadian monument at Vimy is very large and we would not have been able to appreciate it in the fog. The recently restored monument is the most impressive of the WWI monuments. The fields surrounding the site are off-limits to tourists because of the undetonated ammunition below ground (just as I remember learning in grade 8). The fields, originally flat, are now a series of rolling hills created by the bombs that attacked the area. I would love to return during the summer when they provide guided tours of some of the original trenches.

We crossed back into Belgium to track down a few additional Canadian monuments. In the tiny town of Passendale, we took Canadalaan to the small monument that commemorates Canada’s involvement in the battle to capture the Passchendaele ridge. We then headed to the solemn monument at St Juliaan that marks where Canadians withstood the first German gas attacks.

We finished our tour in Ypres, hoping to visit the In Flanders’ Field Museum, but got there too late. It was interesting to see the town, though, as it was completely annihilated during the war. It has since been rebuilt, and is a large, lively town. To show their appreciation to the people of the commonwealth for their sacrifice, the town flies several British flags and holds a short remembrance ceremony every day.

It was a memorable and patriotic day, ending a great trip to Belgium.

Belgium: the Land of Beer and Chocolate

After Gilles’ parents returned to Canada, we traveled to Belgium to ring in the New Year and enjoy plenty of chocolate, beer, and waffles. Belgium was not a country that we were previously interested in visiting, but due to its proximity to us and rave reviews from friends, we decided to give it a try. As usual, we were not disappointed by what we saw! We split our time between Brussels (the capital) and the quaint medieval town of Bruges.

The highlight for many tourists visiting Belgium is sampling the beer and chocolate, two culinary treasures that the Belge have been renowned for for centuries. There are over 400 different types of Belgian beers; remarkably each one has its own glass. The main classes of beer are: white/witbier, trappist, abbey, lambic (unique to Belgium), ales, and seasonal beers for Christmas-time. Most restaurants serve ten to twenty different beers, but we were in two whose menu listed over 400 varieties! Imagine not only stocking that many different beers, but subsequently having to stock that many different glasses! We managed to try 21 different beers, including one that smelled like a blueberry strawberry shortcake doll I had as a child, and one that smelled like cherry lifesavers. Some of the beers we tried were reminiscent of ones I have had from the Quebec brewery Unibroue. We liked all but one or two of the beers that we tried, not a bad record!

Mmmmm, chocolate! While in Belgium we felt like Homer Simpson in his ‘Land of Chocolate’ fantasy. I am sure we had chocolate three times daily, and if we were ever running out of supplies, there was guaranteed to be a chocolate shop only a few steps away. We learned about the history of chocolate in the chocolate museum in Bruges, then marched straight over to the nearest chocolate shop for more goodies. We sampled chocolate from about seven different shops; our favourites were Dumon, Neuhaus, and Pierre Marcolini. The Marcolini shop looked more like a fancy jewelry store than a chocolate shop. His chocolates were well worth the hefty price and the long line. We returned home with almost 1 Kg of pralines (filled chocolates, a Belgian invention), and are using them to stave off the resultant chocolate hangover. As a side note, in our well researched chocolate opinion, Bernard Callebaut, the Belgian chocolatier who has set up shop in Calgary, offers a product that rivals what we tasted in Belgium.

A couple of additional notes about Belgian cuisine: they consider fries an essential part of any meal, they have the best mussels we have ever eaten (combined with fries = moules frites), and the waffles are incredible!

We did much more in Belgium than eat and drink, but chocolate and beer is much easier to describe than what we saw. Bruges had a few seasonal sites set up that we took part in: an amazing ice sculpture display inside a cooled tent. It included an ice bar with shotglasses made of ice, and an ice slide that chilled our bums as we slid down. There was an outdoor skating rink in the main town square. Most people do not learn how to skate here, so we spent more time dodging adults and children on their backsides than we did actually skating, but it was fun nonetheless!

A French Christmas

After three wonderful days in Paris, Gilles, his parents, and I flew down to Pau. As soon as we landed we rushed to Les Halles, the morning market, to stock up on food for the coming days. Walking through a large French food market is a great cultural experience, and our guests were enthralled by the countless cheese vendors, butchers, olive stands, fishmongers, traiteurs, and many more. We picked up numerous cheeses, pâtés, foie gras, olives, fruit and vegetables, then rushed home for a French lunch in the sunny backyard.

That was not the end of our food errands. On Christmas Eve we picked up more supplies for the coming feasts. We visited our favourite poissonerie (fishmonger) for an essential component to any French Christmas: oysters. There are several varieties, each available in three or four sizes. The French buy them by the crate, but we opted for a much smaller quantity of 18 to enjoy before seafood chowder on Christmas Eve. Next, we visited our favourite chicken guy. He sets up a traveling rotisserie in the parking lot of a nearby bakery every Sunday, and we visit him almost weekly. His chickens are incredible (and I never thought I would say that about a chicken), so we chose to buy our chapon from him this year. Then, off to the bakery to pick up our pre-ordered bûche de noël and our daily bread. I am sure that Nancy and Bernard would say that running food errands was one of their favourite French activities!

Amongst all the shopping and subsequent eating, we did manage to fit in a few day trips. As with most of our guests, we ventured to two coastal villages: France's St Jean de Luz and Spain's San Sebastian. The latter includes the much loved activity of visiting tapas bars. We also visited Lourdes, Toulouse, and the medieval village of Carcassonne.

Their visit seemed to fly by, and before we knew it we were dropping them off at the airport. It was their first Christmas away from home, and while there were some unfamiliar aspects, they loved experiencing some new traditions. Thanks for a wonderful time!

Wonderful Paris

Happy New Year! We had a busy holiday season here in France. Now that real life has recommenced I will get caught up on some blogging.

Gilles’ parents joined us for Christmas this year. It was their first trip to Europe, so everything was new and exciting. We met them in Paris the morning they arrived, then spent three days touring that wonderful city before voyaging down to Pau.

I love Paris anytime of the year, but there is something special in the air in December. The ‘City of Lights’ is even more illuminated than usual, there are amazing window displays at the large department stores, and only the best food is on the menu. We earned our food indulgences by walking all day long. Paris is best seen on foot, and we did our best to keep moving, fitting in as many sights as possible in three days.

Gilles and I have explored Paris several times in the past year, and have gotten to know some excellent, affordable, and non-touristy restaurants. We love venturing into Paris’ neighbourhoods to find the best eats, and Gilles’ parents were more than willing to join us. We also fit in some of Paris’ best sweet treats: macarons, roasted chestnuts, and street crèpes, which Gilles refused to let us sit for, claiming all street food tastes better when standing. For those who are not familiar with macarons, they are a famous Parisian pastry consisting of two meringue cookies held together sandwich-like with a creamy filling. We waited in lengthy lines at two famous macarons shops: Ladurée and Pierre Hermé. Ladurée tends to stick with traditional flavours (ie raspberry, lemon, chocolate), while Pierre Hermé is much more adventurous. There we purchased macarons containing foie gras (surprisingly good), truffles (we were not fans), and fleur de sel (delicious combined with caramel).

We left Paris happy: with heads full of history facts and bellies full of goodies. Next, on to Pau for Christmas.

Snowshoeing Success

Gilles and I went on our first snowshoeing trip in the Pyrénées a couple of weeks ago. I was almost ready to write-off the Pyrénées as our past excursions have been disappointing. I couldn’t help compare this mountain range to Canada’s Rocky Mountains, which we love dearly. But the Pyrénées, though beautiful in their own way, are not the Rockies. So as we drove to our destination on the Spanish border with the temperature hovering around ten degrees, I tried to remain open-minded, but was doubtful we would have much success.

As our little car with summer tires (chains in the trunk) climbed the windy roads, the temperature slowly dropped to two degrees and when we reached our destination there was actually snow! Snow, and many Spaniards and French people who had the same idea as us. In past snowshoeing trips, our group had been alone in the great outdoors. I felt like a pioneer, deciding on a route, trudging through mounds of fresh snow. But I am not comparing, right? So we buried some snow beer (some things never change), and strapped on our snowshoes. But our top-of-the-line snowshoes ideal for blazing trails, steep climbs, and icy conditions looked out of place in this landscape. The people around us were wearing small plastic snowshoes, not much larger than their boots. Nevertheless, we set out to the admittedly beautiful pass for some fun in the snow. The area was very large so we were able to separate ourselves from others and do our own thing. We finished our venture by building a snowman. We felt like two kids playing in the snow, and it was great!

One fun aspect to a Pyrénées trip that cannot be had in Alberta is cross-border shopping. At the border, 1750 m above sea level, there are several Spanish bars and grocery stores that cater to the French who cross into Spain for cheaper gas, cigarettes, alcohol, and food. We ventured over and stocked up on chorizo sausage and canned octopus (don’t ask). Further down on the French side was a cheese vendor set up on the side of the road. So, we stopped and bought some of the wonderful alpine cheeses. We just needed to add some bread and wine and we had a perfect post-snowshoe supper!