Tours Encore

"Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, the death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, chief nourisher in life's feast."

(William Shakespeare, Macbeth, Act II, Sc.2)

Ah beautiful, restorative, uninterrupted sleep.  How nice that Ross didn't cough during the night.  Finally some rest!  He is better and all is right with the world again, A-l-l-e-l-u-i-a.

It was a lazy second day in Tours today.  We wandered the now familiar pavement past the magnificent Town Hall, stopping frequently to browse the shops along the way.   Ross was eager to buy some clothing with some 'French-ness' about it but we soon discovered that in the age of the multinational, there is no such thing.  Everything was much the same as you would find anywhere else - similar brands and all made in Asia.  Even slogans across T-shirts were all in English rather than in French -  perhaps it is considered more exotic.

Tours Town Hall (again)

Our feet took us as far as the Loire River and then back to the Cathedral where we found a shady bench in the forecourt and sat and watched the world go by.  It is a rare luxury not to be in a hurry and to be able to watch life's little stories unfurl before you - the tourists clutching cameras hurrying in and out of the Cathedral, the little dog pining for its owner and eagerly wagging its whole body when she reappears, the Cathedral bells chiming midday, and the sparrows darting between the benches picking at whatever crumbs they can find.

Lunch was a filled baguette sitting on the grass in a sunny park near the railway station and then a lazy afternoon with a book.  

And the fine and warm evening saw us out on another stroll but this time towards the west side of town.  Not so interesting and more mundane, grey, and commercial. There was one hidden gem tucked away in an unremarkable square announcing itself only when its bells chimed the hour, the rather grand St Etienne's Church.

Eglise St-Etienne

And so the sun set on our second day in Tours, the gateway to the Loire Valley.  Tomorrow we start to explore the Loire Valley in earnest when we visit chateaux, market towns and vineyards.

Tours, Loire Valley

The sun came out today - hurrah!  Not only did the morning haze lift to deliver us a fine day but after another uncomfortable night of coughing and little sleep for either of us, Ross finally admitted to feeling better.  And suddenly Tours seemed like quite a decent place.  Funny how everything seems sunny again once the mood lifts.

We started with a walk down the main shopping street – a beautiful wide promenade with hyper-modern trams running down the middle with plenty of designer and upmarket stores on either side.  Past the impressive Town Hall, we ventured into the Old Town where the remnants of the once mighty Basilica of St Martin straddled the street – once a huge building, only two towers and the old crypt remain.

Tours Town Hall

Basilique St Martin

The old quarter oozed charm with its narrow streets and irregular buildings, many with their original timber facades.  Although approaching midday, the town was only just stirring. Shops and cafes were opening and vans and lorries competed with cyclists and pedestrians down the narrow one-way lanes to make their deliveries. 

Rue du Grand Marche

We made it to the banks of the River Loire before turning inland again to the Cathedral St Gatien, a major Tours monument.  Built in stages between the 13^th and 16^th centuries in a blend of gothic and renaissance styles, the cathedral had a magnificent exterior.  The monumental interior hosted an impressive array of stained glass which no photo could ever do justice.

The River Loire

Cathedral St Gatien

There was also an opportunity to visit the remains of the adjacent cathedral cloister.  The canons used to work here in the scriptorium and library, busily conserving the books of the chapter library.  

Psalette cloister

Just to prove I did visit Tours Cathedral and these aren’t random pics cut and paste from Google!

The cathedral viewed from the cloister

Cathedral interior

After grabbing a sandwich we embarked on a quest to find a supermarket for the simple task of buying some water and fruit.  Pharmacies are on every street corner but a supermarket?!  It was another Bienvenue en France moment…. We had passed more than one on our morning walk but couldn’t recall where.  Logic dictated there had to be one close to the railway station but queries to people on the street only took us to one that had closed down in April.  Finally success! A small store not too far from our hotel.

We had the luxury of a lazy afternoon before heading out again in the evening once the sun started to sink towards the horizon and the sky turned a nice rosy pink.  After almost laughing myself into a coma when we passed a self-service launderette (the French at least know how to wash clothes), we happened across a hidden gem tucked away near the Cathedral.

 

It was the old Episcopal residence, now the Musee des Beaux Arts.  Although the museum was closed, the garden was still open and it housed not only wonderful formal garden beds, the design of which changes every year, but also an old Cedar of Lebanon, planted in the early 19^th century and now a very large and grand tree indeed.

Musee des Beaux Arts with the grand cedar to the left and cathedral behind

The formal garden

 A fitting close to our first day in Tours.

 

Bienvenue en France

The morning

Edinburgh had one last sting in the tail for us.  Getting to the airport and returning the hire car turned out to be the easiest part of our morning.  First there was the disappointing discovery that Air France charges per item of checked baggage - a vital piece of information missing from any website or literature associated with our booking.  Air France/FlyBe/Expedia will be hearing about it soon:)

The close of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival last night also contributed to a mass exodus which led to long queues and confusion at a less than user-friendly airport.  It took a few minutes just to find Departures!  Just as well we were early.  Our departure gate moved location twice which saw increasingly disgruntled passengers shuffling across the terminal, and the final insult was a delayed flight which finally left the ground an hour late.  Coincidentally the musicians of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, many from last night's concert, were on the same flight jealously guarding their precious instruments from callous air crew keen to shove as much as possible into the plane's hold.

The minutes ticked by and became more nail-biting as our transit window in Paris got ever smaller.  

Tick, tick, tick.... only 60 minutes left at Paris airport to get to the train.

Tick, tick, tick... only 50 minutes ....

Tick, tick.... only 40 minutes.....

The afternoon

Fortunately we made up some time in the air but even so it was Panic Stations on arrival at Charles de Gaulle.  Racing to collect bags, we made it to the train platform with less than 5 minutes to spare.  And then I remembered that the French really aren't renowned for observing the diplomatic art of queuing and it was every man, woman, child and fluffy white dog for themselves, piling onto the train holus-bolus and taking all the available luggage spots.  Bienvenue en France!

 

Once on the train, we could at least relax for 90 minutes while we passed through the outer suburbs of Paris and into the countryside.  At St Pierre des Corps it was a quick change to a smaller regional train for the 5 minute journey to Tours and then a short walk to the Best Western l'Artist Hotel.

Tours Railway Station - arrived at last!

 

The evening

Bliss at having got through a very long and tiring travel day and having made all our connections.  Ross lasted the day although his cold continues to be bad.  Thinking we might head out for a bite to eat at 8pm, the heavens decided otherwise and a summer thunderstorm and heavy downpour put paid to our plans.  

And so it was that our first night in France turned out to be quite as unglamorous as our last night in the UK - a quiet night in snacking on the last of the meagre provisions collected from various B+Bs along the way.   Hopefully some sleep tonight and a happier and more relaxed day tomorrow. 

Edinburgh

Edinburgh tried hard to redeem itself by keeping the rain in check behind grey skies and even put on some sunshine in the afternoon but overall it hasn’t been very kind to us.  Ross’ cold deteriorated but he put on a brave (albeit pale) face in the morning so we could venture into the city centre.  It was a half hour walk to town and to Usher Hall where we have tickets to a concert this evening.

 

Usher Hall - named for the whisky distiller who contributed a small fortune to its construction

Then it was past the imposing castle perched high on the rock.  We didn't venture up the hill, preferring instead to admire the castle from below.

Edinburgh Castle

After collecting our concert tickets we joined the throng of tourists inching slowly along the Royal Mile. 

Edinburgh Royal Mile

Edinburgh Royal Mile

Being the last day of the Edinburgh Fringe the spruikers were out in force trying to offload the last of their leaflets to afternoon shows.  They were trying all sorts of ways to get attention including fancy dress, rolling around on the pavement, even tapdancing down the Royal Mile dressed as clowns.

Edinburgh Fringe

Pop-up stages along the Mile lent colour, music and character as a series of 5 minute acts came on one after the other including a capella singing groups, and dancers in Japanese costume.  Together with the obligatory bagpipers, buskers and other fringe acts, it was chaos.   

Although fine and dry, the buildings of the Old Town still looked grim and dark.  There were many little cobblestone alleyways leading off to unexplored vistas but Ross looked miserable so we didn't linger.  After a quick detour to Grassmarket for a bowl of hot soup, it was a taxi back to our accommodation for a restful afternoon.

* * * * 

And so it was that my last evening in the UK was spent alone.  Ross didn't feel well enough to attempt an evening concert so I sampled an Edinburgh Festival treat on my own, although poor martyr did drive me into town.  Either that or it was a clever ploy to avoid having to sit through Haydn and Beethoven!

I returned to Usher Hall for a concert by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra under maestro Rene Jacobs.  The Hall is a beautiful round performance space with two tiers of balconies, decorated sparingly but with two grand columns fringing the stage and supporting a decorated ceiling.  I couldn't believe that the Hall was less than half full and I had an entire row of seats to myself.  At home, a concert like this would be over subscribed.  Maybe the Scots are just festival-ed out or they're so used to high calibre performances like this that they don't even bat an eyelid.

The emptiness of the hall seemed to lend a rather echoing acoustic - not helped by Darth Vader sitting a few rows back.  Poor man was attached to oxygen and had to keep gasping for air.  Still, he chose to devote his laboured breath and perhaps last days to some of the finest music ever written so I couldn't begrudge him for that.  

The music was wonderful and it was a nice way to spend the evening - in peaceful surrounds with mellifluous sounds.  Not so my return to bed - poor Ross was coughing all night and could have given even Darth Vader a run for his money.

Loch Ness to Edinburgh

Let me make the point that scotch for medicinal purposes really isn’t scientifically proven, although Ross did keep insisting it was worth a try.  Sadly his sore throat didn’t cure itself during the night and his percussive breathing while he slept only added to our collective fatigue.  Oh well, at least there’s now definitive empirical evidence that scotch doesn’t cure sore throats!

We said our goodbyes to four very lovely people after breakfast – to Tom and Lyn who so warmly welcomed us to Scotland, and to Russell and Hillary, the newly rediscovered family we have been so privileged to spend time with this visit.  After a quick detour into Fort Augustus to stock up on cold+flu medications for Ross in case the dreaded lurgy makes a show, we set off for Edinburgh.

Since arriving in Scotland it has been put to us a few times that we should do the scenic drive via Glencoe and this did not disappoint.  Although we set off in a light drizzle and mist hung over the peaks, it only added to the brooding atmosphere and when mountains momentarily emerged from the cloud it became a revelation.  Stopping briefly for morning tea in Glencoe village, the ensuing journey through Ben Nevis and Glen Coe National Park was amazing. 

View from Glencoe Village

I sometimes think that had I not been to the South Island of New Zealand before coming here the landscape would have an even greater impact.  Not wanting to take anything away from it however, the Scottish Highlands have a very unique majesty.  Both places have similar glacial topography with steep angular mountain peaks, lakes/lochs and vast bare stretches of moorland – all very Lord of the Rings – yet there’s something uniquely intense and brooding about Scotland. 

Rannoch Moor

Ben Nevis kept itself perfectly cloaked in cloud today, as Snowden had foiled us a couple of weeks ago, but its fellow peaks at least made a show.

Glencoe National Park

Glencoe National Park

Ross started to fade and the heavy and slow Bank Holiday weekend traffic on the roads didn’t help.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  We pulled over and I swapped my map for the driver’s seat.  Not that I really had the chance to get used to the car or the vagaries of speed in MPH.  I lasted 10 miles before Ross ushered me back into the passenger seat – he got too anxious instructing me on gear changes, speed and how to drive in general.  Fine with me – I put my navigator’s hat back on.  Sheesh.

Another break in Callander for a light lunch and then it was the final push to Edinburgh past the striking skyline of Stirling.  We arrived at MDs Guesthouse early in the afternoon so there was time for Ross to have a much needed rest.  The rest of the afternoon was set aside for essential chores in order to free up tomorrow for the Big Smoke.  On our hostess’ recommendation we headed towards neighbouring Stockbridge for the all important task of finding a laundromat.

Attention boys and girls: make sure you do your laundry before you get to Edinburgh as there is a decided lack of suitable establishments.  Any establishments actually.  Take note Lonely Planet – Edinburgh doesn’t have 24hr coin operated laundromats.  Not anywhere we could find anyhow.

The quest for a laundromat became an all-consuming epic task.  After stopping at a service station to refuel the car, the attendant pointed us in the direction he thought was correct (it wasn’t).  Then there was the friendly pharmacist at Boots who pointed us in the right direction.  Then there was driving up and down the street to locate the laundry place and Herculean task to find a parking spot.  Then there was the walk back along the street with a big bag of clothes only to find the shop….closed.  It shut at 3pm and stays closed on Sundays.  HA! 

I think Ross could see I was ready to quit Edinburgh on the spot at this stage so he hastily ushered me into a restaurant for dinner.  Refreshed and slightly more sensible we headed back to our lodgings so I could indulge in some good ol’ fashioned hand washing!  

I miss my washing machine. 

And I really hope Edinburgh redeems itself tomorrow.