I’m writing this blog from the tiny village of Saint-Genies -de-Fontedit in the historic Languedoc region of southern France where we are currently house and pet sitting. The relaxed pace of life in this serene part of the world has rubbed off on us and as a result I’m a bit behind with my travel updates.
Where I left off last time we were heading across the Alps after leaving Lake Orta in Italy, destined for Lausanne in Switzerland. This was to be a fleeting visit with the purpose of visiting my cousin James and his wife Irene.
The road from Italy to Lausanne took us over the Simplon pass in the Alps and provided us with some incredible scenery. Switzerland sure knows how to impress. We wound our way down into the valley along roads that seemed to defy gravity, stopping for a picnic lunch in one of the impressive road-side stops they have in Switzerland, this one was outside the town of Sion overlooking medieval terraced vineyards and a castle and came complete with a viewing tower. It was a slow journey, but we had anticipated this. We’re now used to adding 45 minutes to an hour onto the journey time suggested by Googlemaps.
Our first view of Lausanne was stretches of terraced vineyards rolling down the hills to the steely blue waters of Lake Geneva. These are the UNESCO-listed Lavaux terraces and we were to explore these during our stay.
Lausanne is the Olympic Capital; home of the International Olympic Committee. The headquarters, currently undergoing an elaborate renovation, were near our campsite. Like most Swiss campsites this one was expensive and the facilities no better than much cheaper sites in other countries. The up side was they provided us with a transport card for the duration of our stay. It’s an excellent initiative as you are inclined to go further afield than you would on bikes and by foot.
That evening, after arriving late afternoon, we walked up the road to James and Irene’s apartment for dinner. I hadn’t seen James in years and had never met Irene. They live in a great location and their lovely apartment has views of the lake, perhaps better described as glimpses. Living in Switzerland is expensive but as James and Irene told us, the wages are comparably high to counteract this. James works at Nestle in product development and Irene is a research consultant in nearby Geneva. They both love the outdoors and Irene shares James’ passion for climbing and skiing, for them Switzerland is one big playground. Andrew was intrigued to know more about the languages of Switzerland. We had already travelled through the German region of the country and now being in the French region it was so obviously different, so very French. Switzerland has four national languages: French, German, Italian and Romansh. Irene and James speak two of these; French and Italian. Irene is Italian by birth and is tri-lingual and James speaks French fluently and a smattering of Italian. English, though not an official language, is often used to bridge the divides. Irene told us there was a push to have school and university exams in English to make sure it was an even playing field as translations can be ambiguous, but this quashed. It seems the German language and culture is the dominant one. Irene pointed out that TV and radio commercials are mostly targeted to the German regions and retailers are surprised when sales are down in the French region, the cultures are so different.
After an enjoyable evening getting reacquainted with family and learning more about this somewhat mysterious little country we said our goodbyes and agreed to meet the next afternoon for a walk through the Lavaux Terraces.
We spent the next morning in the centre of Lausanne. There is no escaping hills in Lausanne and the trek from the train station to the town centre got our blood flowing. The markets were on and the town buzzing. We wandered through the cobbled streets, along Rue de Bourg with its high-end retailers to St Francois church, and then through to Place de la Palud. The market stalls were all along the streets selling fresh produce, honey, cheeses, cured meats and handmade soaps. Making us hungry it was time for lunch. We found a hip little burger joint tucked away on a terrace halfway up the stairway to the cathedral. With signs promoting the football it was obviously popular with ex-pats and, perhaps aptly, called the Great Escape. The day we walked in they happened to have the Bledisloe Cup game playing live. Despite what many people may think Mr Love barely ever watches rugby and wasn’t at all interested in seeing this match. He got more entertainment out of watching a lone Australian fan muttering to himself and giving air punches every time the Wallabies scored. Our burgers were delicious, and the chunky hand cut chips just what we needed to refuel.
Re-energised, we climbed the rest of the stairs to Lausanne Cathedral. Considered one of the most beautiful Gothic buildings in Switzerland the cathedral was consecrated in 1275. The beautiful rose window and gothic arches didn’t disappoint. After admiring the cathedral and the view over the city from outside we took the 13th century covered stairway, Escaliers du Marche, back down into town, winding past picturesque boutiques and cafes.
We met James and Irene at the train station and took the train to the Lavaux Vineyard Terraces. Rising 1,100 feet above the lake and terraced over 40 levels these are among the steepest vineyards in the world and stretch for about 30kms along the south-facing shores of Lake Geneva. There is evidence that vines were grown here in Roman times, but the present terraces can be traced back to the 11th century, when Benedictine and Cistercian monasteries controlled the area. Much of the wine is still made using traditional techniques, with little chemical use and barely any irrigation. Picking grapes on steep hillsides requires ingenuity and here they use monorails with small tractors attached to pull the grapes up to the roads. They look like rollercoasters curling across the hills.
Walkways wind through the vineyards and along the terraces and we spent a good few hours meandering along these paths admiring the views across the hills and the charming farm houses and cute little grouping of residences, not quite large enough to be villages, dotted along the hillsides. The autumn colouring added to the magic of the place.
We headed back into Lausanne and said our final goodbyes to James and Irene.
The next day we were off through to Lyon. The roads that took us through the French Alps were incredible, magnificent tunnels and long sweeping viaducts making traversing these rugged mountains easy. However, it came at a cost. We were stung with a 29-euro toll at the end of it.
Our campsite in Lyon was quite far out from the city centre, as is expected in larger cities – Lyon in France’s third largest city. We arrived on a wet and cold evening, set up camp, wrapped up warmly and went for a walk. Being a Sunday the place was deserted and all shops closed, it didn’t make for an inspiring first impression.
The next morning, we were up early and off into central Lyon. The bus stop was directly outside the camping ground and after winding our way through the outer suburbs we were dropped at the train station to catch a very modern and clean train directly into the city centre. We got off at Vieux Lyon in the Old Town quarter and started the day by taking the funicular railway to the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourviere above the Old Town and overlooking the city. The interior of this magnificent cathedral is lined with intricate mosaics and hosts beautiful stained glass and a gilded crypt. One of the stairwells is lined with the lord’s prayer in every language of the world including our own Te Reo. Apart from being a beautiful church to visit, Notre-Dame offers stunning panoramic views across Lyon from the terrace.
We wound our way back down the hill through the rose gardens to the Old Town. Lyon’s medieval quarter is mostly a haven for tourists with plenty of traditional restaurants and gift shops lining the narrow, cobbled lanes. We had a hankering for crepes and despite probably paying too much in the Old Town indulged in the traditional fare at quaint little bistro on a cobbled square.
The pedestrian only Passerelle du Palais de Justice took us across the Saone River to the peninsula that lies between the Saone and Rhone rivers. Here there are no narrow lanes, instead it’s all 19th century elegance with French flair – grandiose buildings with magnificent facades line the wide sweeping streets, tree-lined promenades run beside the rivers, and expansive squares with majestic statues and fountains punctuate the urban landscape.
Cross the Rhone and the city changes again. Here it’s modern and chic – the new city.
Our experience in Lyon was not as relaxed as we had hoped. We had documents that we needed officially witnessed and thought we’d try our luck here. In hindsight we should have given up earlier as this exercise consumed a large portion of our day. The French police and the staff at the three courts we were sent to at opposite ends of the city could not have been more helpful and obliging, going over and above to try and assist us, despite the obvious language barrier. However, we hit a dead end at the last court when told that French officials can’t authorise documents issued by another state – we were only after an official witness stamp.
Lyon was not what we expected. We had thought of it as a stopover, another big city. But it was much more than that. Vibrant yet graceful, this city is distinctly sophisticated, and we didn’t do it justice. We would happily have stayed longer if we weren’t on a tight schedule to get to our first house-sitting assignment further south, and we may well go back next year as we make our way “home” to the UK.
The next day we were off to Provence and the city of Avignon, 230kms south of Lyon. We took the A7 and once again paid the price, being charged 32-euro in tolls. That’s an expensive piece of road. As we got closer to Avignon we started to notice the distinct change in the landscape. The rolling green fields and forests were replaced by low lying scrub, craggy clay outcrops, ochre stone buildings, and wiry grape vines planted in dry dusty plots. We were nearing the Mediterranean.
We arrived in Avignon, the ancient walled city on the banks of the Rhone River, as the sun was already dipping in the sky. The mid-afternoon autumn sunlight bathed the sienna stone buildings and the city was glowing gold.
Our campsite was across the Rhone, less than 2km from the historic centre. We wasted no time getting our bikes off the racks, the first time since Slovenia, and were soon biking back to that alluring golden city.
Avignon has huge historical significance, with Palais des Papes being one of the largest and most significant medieval gothic buildings in Europe, and is therefore a tourism hotspot, but it’s the off season, the crowds are missing, and we are getting to enjoy these places in peace.
Palais des Papes is an imposing stone palace that dominates the Avignon skyline. It was the papal residence and the seat of Western Christianity during the 14th century and proudly stands in heart of this fortress city. Inside the palace are grand chambers, chapels, deserted galleries and stoic gothic archways.
Across the square from the palace is the other famous historic monument in Avignon – Pont d’Avignon. This weathered stone bridge extends halfway across the Rhone and abruptly stops. It once did reach the other side, but repetitive floods battered it over time and it eventually lost the fight to the river in the 17th century. The remaining part of the bridge is a four-arch span that’s survived since the 14th century. The small Chapel of Saint Nicholas on the bridge’s second pier was built in the 12th century, but extensively renovated since that time. Ironically, the bridge was used to collect tolls from barges as they transported goods up and down the Rhone, tolls are not new for France.
A lot of the streets of Avignon are pedestrian only making exploring very relaxed and easy. There are lots of picturesque squares dotted throughout the old town, many with lovely old churches and always places to sit and people watch.
We spent the afternoon and early evening visiting Palais des Papes and Pont d’Avignon, and losing ourselves in the endless maze of narrow lanes, before heading back to camp for the night. The next morning, we went back for more, wandering the streets as the town came to life and stopping for a breakfast of fresh croissants in the sun.
We took the backroads to Saint Genies de Fontedit as we had plenty of time and wanted to avoid those tolls. It’s a much nicer way to go than the motorways if you have the time. We wound our way further south, the vineyards stretching out on both sides, through small villages and then down along the Mediterranean coast before crossing back inland and finally arriving at our destination.
And now here we are in Saint-Genies-de-Fontedit, a little village plopped in the middle of thousands of acres of grapevines, with a few olive groves mingled throughout. We are looking after a very engaging and energetic golden Labrador and two beautiful cats. So far, our days have been filled with long walks across the countryside through the vineyards with Bailey the dog leading the way. We’ll no doubt have more stories to tell at the end of our stay.