Wednesday two weeks I ago I packed my bags, stowed them into my car and drove it onboard the ferry that crosses the Skagerak at 1400 hours precisely, from Oslo to Kiel in northern Germany. I spent twenty hours on the ferry - which is more like a small cruise ship than anything else - and I had a great time. I treated myself to a 75-minute massage, did a little bit of shopping, watched a show called "Cool Britannia" - yes, you guessed it, all about British pop hits - had a Bloody Mary with the show and a Dry Martini before dinner, ate a fabulous meal in the à la carte restaurant, then went to bed in my cabin and slept well.
Prawn starter
Halibut/salmon main course
At 10 a.m the next morning I drove off the ferry, accompanied by my own loud sniffles and some heavy sobs, and this is the way I continued through Europe on my road trip, destination my house in Thuir, France - all in tribute of my husband, and his and my frequent drives across the continent. Except that now I was on my own - and in the driver's seat all the time.
I drove nearly 500 kilometres to a small village called Michelsrombach, just off the motorway, not very far north of Frankfurt. I asked for "ein Zimmer" at the friendly Hotel Rhönhof, which turned out to be just the kind of place we have stayed in on numerous occasions, and I felt at home immediately. The schnitzel, the bratkartoffeln and the gemischte salat tasted deliciously, and the schnapps was already on the table. Suddenly I found myself speaking German!
So this road trip was my "next time." He was beside me in the passenger seat and I said - look! I'm stopping in Strasbourg. I'm stopping in Lyon. This time you have no choice, my darling!
I spent one night in Strasbourg. I spent the next night in Lyon. I drove fearlessly right into the centres of two of France's largest cities - with a little help from my friend in the Sat Nav box - but she's more often than not a nuisance in places where streets and traffic patterns often change. I think she needs to be updated, though, so it's not her fault she gets some frequent verbal abuse from me.
Strasbourg is - just as I thought - a total mix of French and German architecture, food, culture, language, situated as it is practically on the border between the two countries. After a quick look at both the city map and a recommendation of restaurants on the Internet I made my way to nearby Petite France, the beautiful old part of Strasbourg. It was dark by then, but I was "herzlich willkommen" or was it "bienvenue" in a traditional restaurant on the canal - Maison des Tanneurs.
The waiters carried out enormous pans of sauerkraut, sausage and chunks of pork meat, and it seemed to me I was the only one in the restaurant ordering something completely different - chicken in Alsace wine sauce. But to be honest - the grey heaps my fellow guests were digging into had no temptation for me. Another time maybe. (Actually it reminded me quite a bit of our Norwegian Christmas food, but I swear I make it look more inviting when I cook it)...
Munster cheese from Alsace, shaped as a heart. Appropriate for an elderly woman, dining alone
I was lucky this time and only got caught in one "stau," but there were several in the opposite direction. Worse though is that the tarmac is so badly worn in some places that you think there's something wrong with your car all of a sudden - it rattles and shakes as though it'll come apart. And you shake with it! In France though the roads are smooth as silk, but easy to drive very fast on. I was jolted back into reality when I suddenly spotted my own registration number up on an enormous flashing screen above me, mounted the full width of the motorway - DL 95316 trop vite! Too fast! Shame on you! Well, it didn't of course say "shame," but wow, was it an effective message! God knows I've had my share of speeding tickets. Road safety in France is huge and a good investment in saving lives.
Lyon - at the Presqu'Ile, where the rivers meet - Saône and Rhône
I wish I'd have spent longer in Lyon. "Next time, sweetheart!" There was a bustle and a "savoir-vivre" there that I sensed straight away. It's the gourmet capital of France, or even Europe, and I noticed quickly that I had the famous Brasserie Georges right next to my hotel. Not that I think it's particularly renowned for its food, a lot of sauerkraut again here, but it's the atmosphere! Well, passing by at dinner time I decided NOT to try to ask for a table - the place was packed with people inside and outside, and the human noise was mad, the lights were bright and glaring. I opted for a quiet meal in my hotel restaurant. The hotel had a jazz theme decoration and was in fact very trendy. And the hamburger was excellent!
But I can't really believe I had a hamburger in the BIG GOURMET CAPITAL. Well, somebody's gotta do it...
Benny Goodman watching over me
I arrived at my house in southern France on the fourth day of my road trip. I was so pleased. I was home. This is my home. It's not even my second home, I think - it's becoming more and more my first one. This is what we were planning, my husband and I, to spend more time here.
I see him everywhere here, I think of him in all the rooms, on the terrace, in the pool. (Which is now covered, but day temperatures are way up in the twenties, so a dip would be nice)!
I see him removing the weeds, painting the gate. Cooking, relaxing, reading. He would have been so excited to see how Jean-Marc has dealt with the weeds and the bamboo - just shutting them down! Covering them with pebbles! And he would have been pleased to see that the palm tree seems to be surviving the murderous butterflies - the little monsters have been killing palm trees all along the Mediterranean coast.
Contrasts: Oslo harbour when I left, the beach at St Cyprien on Sunday
But then suddenly disaster descended upon France. I will need to write about that, soon.
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