Sarlat, France

After our perfect picnic in the middle of nowhere Martin and I continued our drive through the middle of France to Sarlat, France. Sarlat was one of the first towns in France to become protected for its architecture (primarily from the early 900s up through the 18th century). The town came highly recommended by Martin’s parents who were just there, so we thought it was worth the detour. With a walking tour map (complete with historical fun facts) from their visit in hand, we couldn’t lose… although we could get lost, multiple times.

The historical center of town (which was the focus of the walking tour) was relatively small and the streets, avenues and alleys were even smaller. So it was easy to overshoot our route. For the 22 historical spots along the walk, we had to back track, re-route and constantly re-consult the map, spending more time trying to follow the tour than would have been spent just wandering through town. However, we did manage to see everything in the end and the town lived up to its promise of being a well preserved historical town.

That would make two historical sites seen in just 3 days.

A Perfect Picnic

To be perfectly clear, I had two goals (eating cheese and drinking wine) and one vision: Martin and I buying some local wine and cheese, creating an impromptu picnic in the countryside, then strolling through a small old village, all the while looking madly in love and possibly me wearing a ridiculously cute Parisian style dress and maybe a hat. But let’s be honest, that is just ridiculous…that is not a vision, but rather a Hollywood movie. Well if so, sign me up for acting classes.

Our drive from the volcanoes to the Dordogne region (our next stop) took us through the hills and countryside and the main region in France for Foie Gras. So after 2 hours of driving, when Martin started to get bored and we saw a sign for foie gras in the middle of nowhere (technically Paulin), we felt obligated to stop. Upon first sight (and second ring of the bell), the farmhouse appeared empty and right when we were about to give up hope the owner came around the corner to open up the shop – a small room off the farm house full of award winning foie gras. After much pointing and hand signaling (not surprising his English was very limited) we ended up buying 3 cans. And upon leaving he wished us safe travels in French and told us “Golf, good car” in perfect English.

Shortly down the road, we saw a sign for Fromagerie and once again pulled off the road to buy some local cheese. This time we were immediately greeted by two barking dogs and a smiling lady who led us into the shop and, after some confusion and a quick trip to the walk-in cooler, re-emerged with a tray of cheese for us to make our selection from (really, who needs to know French?). We selected the buche salapampa, a goat cheese log hand rolled in spices, and 3 discs of Chèvre (basic goat cheese), oh and of course two bottles of local red wine.

We had the wine, we had the cheese, and after a quick trip to marche, we had our baguette…now all we needed was a place for the picnic. We didn’t have to look too hard – we were in the countryside after all. We found a nice pasture just off the road with a nearby cornfield and woods in the distance. With a quick spread of the blanket and pop of a cork, Martin and I were enjoying a perfect picnic in the French countryside, me in a cute dress while looking very much in love. Ah, perfection… all we needed was a rustic village to stroll through next – thankfully we were heading to Sarlat for a detour before the hotel.

Puy de Dome

After saying goodbye to Jim, with both promises to return next harvest and our newly purchased 5 bottles of wine, Martin and I headed west towards the Auvergne region, Valley of the Volcanoes to hike Puy de Dome a “volcanic hump looming over Clermont-Ferrand”. The hill was formed as a result of 3 volcanic eruptions over 11,000 years ago. Apparently the views from the top showcased the surrounding 100+ volcanoes…so we were going to hike it.

But first, we had to get there; no thanks to Fifi, our GPS system. Our sometimes schizophrenic, always drunk, back seat driver, was not always the most reliable in giving directions (she suggested a full 360 in a roundabout). However she always managed to correct herself, and as a result Martin and I were able to get off the main roads and see some of the smaller villages and back roads of France (sometimes more than once).

We finally made it to Royat (our base camp) and began the drive up the hill to hike Puy de Dome. Per our book, you could park your car up the hill and then hike the 45 minutes to the top of the dormant volcano for stunning views of the surrounding valleys. Unfortunately, like Fifi, the book failed to mention that there were 2 parking lots – 1 to the right and 1 to left, a mere 3 km further up the hill and coincidentally the starting point of the 45 minute hike. Based on past experience, we parked in the lot on the right.

After 15 minutes of looking for the trail and 15 minutes hiking the trail (allegedly 1/3 of the hike) we realized that something was wrong…we were still at least 500 vertical meters from the top and probably 5 km in distance. Thankfully Martin sensed that something wasn’t right and we headed back to the car for assistance. We were then informed of the second parking lot.

We re-parked in the correct lot and made the hike up the hill, completing it in just over 35 minutes, no thanks to my constant rest breaks (I could swear I am training for a half marathon). We took the obligatory hot lap around the top to take in the views and made it back down the hill in 25 minutes. All in, we spent more time at the café at the bottom enjoying our hard earned cold beers and crisps (or as the French call them “chips”) then we did actually hiking the hill. And we further treated ourselves later that night with another 4 course dinner including plenty of wine and cheese.

Two nights of wine and cheese…the trip so far had the makings of my favorite to date.

A Perfect Beginning – Fuisse

My only two real goals for the driving tour through France were to eat cheese and drink wine. We achieved (and surpassed) both goals in the first night in Fuisse. Well off the beaten path, we had stumbled on the true French countryside…the countryside and rolling vineyards.

We arrived at our French country inn (Domaine la Sourse des Fees), were greeted (in English, surprisingly) by our innkeeper “Jim” and shown our “room”, which was more like an apartment, with living room, bedroom, bathroom and porch overlooking the backyard and rolling hills of vineyards in the near distance. After dropping off our bags we headed directly to the main house for a tasting of the local wines and cheese. The wines, 5 in all (3 chardonnays, 1 red and 1 sparkling rose from the Pouilly-Fuisse appellation) were perfectly complimented by the local aged goat cheese. The cheese was tasty and I realized that French wines could grow on me. And not to be completely spoiled, but Jim translated everything from French into English for us, explaining the different years, timing of harvest and style of wines.

Unfortunately, being spoiled by Jim, only set us up for failure later that night at dinner. Upon being seated, Martin politely asked the waitress if we could order in English. He was answered with a resounding non (French for No). And so began our 7 course dinner completely blind. My starter of Tarrine Maison, thought to be soup, turned out to be a plate of compressed mystery meat and the unidentified pancake side dish (or were they potatoes) still remain a mystery. Thankfully we got the wine right and you can’t really mess up when ordering off the cheese cart (the waitress had given up at that point so we resorted to hand signals and pointing).

Overall the dinner was great and the language barrier only added to the fun of the evening. The language barrier also allowed for Martin to innocently leave the restaurant with the half full bottle of wine without a cork.

Fuisse got us going on a good start! Sad to leave, we were heading to the Valley of the Volcanoes…Royat, France.

The Abbey of Cluny

After packing the car Sunday morning (a task in itself to get everything in) we were on our way to Pouilly-Fuisse, a small village in the Beaujolais region of France for our first night of the holiday! But before Martin and I arrived in Fuisse for the night, we made our first detour of the trip and ended up in Cluny to see the Abbey of Cluny.

The Abbey of Cluny was the largest religious building in the world before St. Peter’s Basilica was built. Unfortunately, after paying 7 euros each to see this “impressive” church, we were informed that shortly after its completion in 910AD, the French began to disassemble it. All that remained was one of the 3 tall steeples (extremely impressive), the old courtyard (seen one of those before) and a museum showcasing the old sculptures and carvings that used to adorn the complex.

Based on the model we saw, the abbey, in its full glory, would have been amazing. What stands today, not so much. But at least we were off to a good “road trip” start. Random side detour – check. Next stop, Fuisse for our first night in France!

Four Pillars of Maturity

Over the years, I have measured my various accomplishments against the benchmarks of life - the four pillars of maturity if you will. The four pillars of maturity include: being married, owning a home, having a dog and having a baby. These pillars seemed reasonable enough at the age of 22 and fully achievable….8 years later, I am still struggling to hit the first one.

And unfortunately when compared to my best girl friends, all of whom have at least one pillar (and some of which I had banked on never meeting a single one – sorry girls), I am far behind on my accomplishments of life’s goals. So, like most other situations when I am behind in the learning curve (granted they are my own pre-defined guidelines), I have decided to redefine the benchmarks. The four pillars of maturity now include a few additions: a decent career, a long-term relationship, owning a car, and saying no to participating in illegal acts….based on these new guidelines, I am already half way there….Granted, based on these guidelines, I am no more mature than my 17 year old self working at the GAP with a (pretend) boyfriend in college, but those are just minor details.

Happy 30th!

The Jet Setting Life

I have always wanted the jet-setting life: thinking nothing of flying across the country for the weekend or night, hoping over to Europe for a weekend get-away and knowing all of the ins and outs of the airport routine. However after these past two weeks (with 5 cities, 10 airports and countless lines – for security, check-in, taxis, etc) I have learned that there are pros and cons for this life style.

The Pros - After so many flights (and not hesitating to take a non direct route for points), I have managed to reach an elite status on my airline of choice –United. This status entitles me express check in, free baggage and potential upgrades…on my flight from Minneapolis to Chicago I was upgraded from the cattle call of coach to first class. And while it was only an hour and a half flight, I managed to make the most of it….free glass (es) of wine, reclining seats and a fast exit off the plane. And the same holds true for hotel points… my status with Starwood got me an upgrade at the W to a lake view in Chicago and a free drink at the bar! The only problem is when you randomly end up on a non-preferred carrier, the experience can be traumatizing, as was my experience trying to get home to SF on a regional airline.

But even better than the freebies, is the zen-like attitude I have adopted with traveling. I can no longer take the time to get upset when someone boards out of their seating order or takes too much time in the security line. Those little concerns, in aggregate, would lead to a very short, frustrating life. And in the end, I will still get on the flight and my seat will still be available. Amazing how that works.

The Cons - After so many flights, hotels, office buildings, time zones in such a short period of time I started to get slightly confused as to where I was and where I needed to go. I stayed in 3 different hotels (one twice) on floors 14, 5, 30 and 7; I visited 3 different KPMG buildings (floors 37, 20, and 41, I think) and went to several different client buildings, offices and locations. By the time I was back in Minneapolis for the second time (in 24 hours), I had no idea what hotel room I was in or what floor I should head to in the office. The effect was paralyzing, and if it weren’t for my blackberry to phone a friend (or the front desk) I could have easily tried to get into the wrong office, or worse, hotel room.

Unfortunately, the worst part of all this current travel is that with all of the flying around, I haven’t had time to fully look forward to or plan for my upcoming holiday to France with Martin! I leave in 2 days and there is still so much to do…hopefully I can use these travel skills and pull it off.

Brooklyn Heights?... As in Brooklyn?

Those were my exact words a few years ago in response to a friend telling me her plans to move from Manhattan to the “Other Borough”. I just couldn’t fathom why anyone would intentionally leave the island - I wasn’t even a local, and yet it seemed wrong. But after this past trip to New York (4 days for a 2 day work training), I am beginning to understand the lure.

After a full Sunday of doing what I love - bottomless mimosa brunch, shopping, cocktails, shopping and dinner with the girls (Anna and Erin) in the city - Anna and I made the trek back to her place in Park Slope, Brooklyn for the night and the following day off. Park Slope is a cute neighborhood near Prospect Park with a laid back atmosphere and locals with stroller envy – yes, it appeared I had entered the stroller capital of NYC. In Anna and my relaxing walk through the Park and out shopping on Monday morning we passed countless high-end strollers with either a Caribbean nanny to follow or a matching high-end mother…ranting to her friends about the importance of homemade organic baby food.

I am not sure if our stroller was able to compete with their rolls royces, however Anna was hands down the cutest mom and Emery was by far the cutest baby so overall we won. We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out at the apartment, catching up and living the Haus Frau lifestyle….I could easily get used to that one…so why did I have to go to work the following day?

Two days later, after a grueling 8 hours in the office (special thanks to a mind-numbing tax training) I was ready for a drink (and I suppose dinner), so I made my way back across the river, this time to Williamsburg, Brooklyn to hang out with my friend Katya and her boyfriend Unity. If Park Slope was the Upper East Side of Brooklyn, Williamsburg was the up and coming answer to Greenwich Village. The buildings were lined with artful graffiti, yet filled with understated but exceptional restaurants, bars and shops. And Katya and Unity’s apartment was no exception; located in a historic old warehouse, their apartment provided modern amenities including a dish washer, gym and in-house washer/dryer, but also maintained the exterior/structural charm - including floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the Williamsburg, Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges and the NYC skyline across the water.

The best, no, the only way to compliment a view like that was with a home-cooked meal (lasagna from scratch), bottles of wine, good conversation and lots of gourmet cheese (8 different kinds to be exact)…I had died and gone to NY cheese and wine heaven.

In short, with the big parks, great restaurants, stunning views and all of the charm I thought only Manhattan could offer, Brooklyn has moved up in my book. And if Erin ever decides to leave the island for Brooklyn as well, I guess I will have to declare it unanimous, Brooklyn is the new destination borough.

The Elephant Upstairs

An elephant lives directly above me… that or an extremely heavy-footed elephant lover. I have no idea what “she” does up there or who “she” is, but I do know the layout of her apartment better than mine, she tends to pace it nightly.

All is silent until 11pm when she comes home and/or wakes up. From there, she typically walks to the kitchen, then to the living room, back to the kitchen, then living room all the while stomping her feet, practicing her best drill sergeant march. At this point, she typically drops a large jar of coins which hits the ground, bounces a few times, scattering the coins (some which hit the shared radiator) and then approximately 20 minutes is spent walking around the living room picking up the coins. (I will admit the coins are not confirmed, however it is the only logical explanation I can find that would require her to walk around her living room every evening without pause).

Around 11:30pm she walks into the bed room (directly above mine) and blows up an air mattress. Why she still needs an air mattress after living above me for the past 6 months, I again have no idea….it is around this time that I finally fall asleep. What she does after she blows up her bed, I am not sure. The bright side is she is surprisingly quiet each morning.

Now I don’t consider myself that finicky of a person, however I do believe in consideration of others… I have area rugs in both my living room and bed room, I take off my shoes in my apartment and try to walk lightly in the hall way. So I get slightly frustrated when others are less inclined.

Surprisingly though, it took the elephant upstairs to recognize the large elephant in my own room… I seriously miss Martin and our home together. And my dislikes of the apartment (it is noisy, lacks charm and is anti-feng shui) are only exasperated by the fact that Martin isn’t here and the apartment in SF isn’t yet home.

So, in order to fix the problem, Martin and I are going to look for apartments together in the city next time he is out here (conveniently in November, right when my lease is up). And while Martin won’t be living here until May, at least we will have picked out a place together to eventually call home.