Of Le Jardin

I may have been a bit vague in that last posting about where I was and why and how I got there. Well, let us backtrack. I had always planned on going back to France, if only to visit an authentic French vineyard and participate in a tasting. Lana, one of my travel mates, and I had actually planned to go to Bordeaux - home of French wine - but at the last minute, she decided to take a solo trip to the Isle of Skye, which left me by my lonesome as the only person who wanted to go back to France.

Short of hating myself for the rest of my life for not going back to France, I decided to throw caution to the wind and buy myself a plane ticket to Tours, France in the Loire Valley, recommended by many travel websites for its white wine and chateaux. What commenced was five too-short days traveling completely alone. Why so short? Because any longer and my brother-in-law, the only person in my family who would not kill me for doing this, was the only person who knew.

And because for safety purposes, a 4'11'' Asian girl with a lack of street smarts traveling around for an extended period of time all by herself is a recipe for trouble.

The reasons I wanted to go to the Loire Valley was three-fold: self-examination (ruminated on in the prior post), the wine, and the chateaux, of which there were more than 300 in the valley. Oh to be a rich nobleman in France during the 17th-19th century...or to be his wife...

The first one is the most famous: the Chateau de Chenonceau, out of more than 300 chateaux in the Loire Valley (also known as "Le Jardin de France" because of the rolling green hillsides dotted with beautiful castles).

In the afternoon, I boarded a train from Tours to visit the chateau. Getting off of the train, there was nothing around except for the sound of the birds. Then, I followed a grove of trees which I recognized from so many historical dramas with the main heroine being taken to a secluded mansion in the countryside, hidden by a tree-lined path. That was what I felt like, except my carriage was my two feet and I was trying to look past the trees, to catch my first glimpse of the chateau.

Then, my breath caught in my chest as the trees, like curtains, opened up and presented me with this:

In the late spring sun, with the chirping of the birds all around, I was a lady, calling on the owner. The most beautiful part of the chateau, besides its 3 stories of tapestry filled rooms, where the gardens, filled with the scent of spring roses blooming in every color and arranged in romantic swirling patterns. Everything had that feminine touch of romance, which is no surprise since it was owned by Diane de Poitiers and Catherine de Medici (at different times), who were both involved with French monarchs.

And speaking of monarchs, the next day was the Chateau d'Amboise which I chose as a pilgrimage to the grave of Leonardo da Vinci, who died there. The chateau was located in the town of Amboise and overlooks it like a crown. Prior to coming, I wondered how I was going to be able to find the chateau if it was located in the town. To my surprise, it was not hard to find, as it was my first sight as I crossed the bridge from the train station into the little town of Amboise.

This one belonged to King Francois I. The rooms were a bit simpler than Chenonceau yet elegant all the same, with wooden chairs, decorated pillars, and gargoyles (indicative of a residual Gothic influence).

Afterward, I visited the Chateau du Close Luce, located about a couple of blocks north. This modest house, by royalty standards, here Leonardo spent the last 4 years of his life, at the request of King Francois I, who funded his experiments and art during that time. There was also a tunnel underneath the house that connected it to the Chateau d'Amboise, and where Francois could visit Leonardo whenever he wished.

It is also to this place that Leonardo brought the Mona Lisa when he finished it, not wanting to part with such a unique piece of art. Perhaps that is why the roses grown in the Renaissance-style garden are called Mona Lisa roses.

Visiting these chateaux, filled with so much history and beauty, one can't help but feel a little like royalty. Especially when they are not as well-known as Versailles and as such, you can walk the rooms alone and pretend you are a solitary visitor, a Renaissance noble, calling upon the master of the house. I almost did not want to leave this dream.

The Loire Valley, the photo album

Of Tumultuous Weather

I am sitting in my room, 24 hours and 600 words from being finished with my last Warwick Uni essay (ironically enough, the highest essay score I have received yet was on one that I absolutely abhorred writing. Which always seems to be the case in University). And it just down-poured for a good 10 minutes before clearing up back into greyness.

I am not one for stereotypes but times like these, I do find that sticking to the British stereotype of massive amounts of rainfall is the most likely way to predict British weather. At this point, I have given trying to look up the day's forecast on weather.com because I know that in one day during this season, it can go from overcast to drizzle to downpour then to sun. Sometimes all in the span of one hour. I guess that's part of that British charm; like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get when it comes to the weather here. I have also had a couple of really hot days here that were comparable to California summer. But like most things British, it was quickly eclipsed the next day with rain.

One thing that I can say positively about British weather is, though tumultuous, it is a lot more lenient to its denizens than California spring. Case in point: wildflowers. You never see this kind of bed in Orange County.

Oh look! It just got sunny again!

Of Lethargy and Amsterdam

To tell the truth, I am not entirely sure what was it the compeled me to Amsterdam. I've never been obsessed with smoking pot that seems to permeate most California university campuses and the only thing I really liked about the Netherlands were tulips and the art. Of course, after walking around the Northern Europe section in the Louvre, and the National Gallery, and the Getty, I feel like I have gotten my heart's content in terms of that area. So why go you wonder?

Probably because I am a college student and I figured I would do what most college students would dream of doing during Spring Break. So time spent in Amsterdam: 2 days.



And I stayed away from the "coffee shops," which did not sell coffee but rather pot by the joint, brownie, or smoothies (I don't want to know). The wonderful thing about walking by coffee shops was that you always knew which ones were coffee shops and which ones were "coffee shops." To differentiate, look at the clientele (older folks reading newspapers for the former) and use your nose. Apparently, a popular chain is the Bulldog.



So, when you are not in the mood for pot but still want Amsterdam culture, then there is always a little bit of history (albeit sad) at the Anne Frank House. I have not been to a Holocaust monument since the Museum of Tolerance (and that gave me sleepless nights for days) but it's amazing when 40 years after, despite the fact that I do not come from that background of people who were any way connected to it, seeing such a place can still move you enough to tears. Not to mention that walking through the house, through those small rooms that housed 8 people, and almost tripping up those narrow stairs that led to the Secret Annex, you cannot help feeling both moved and have your hair standing on ends from the ghost of decades past. I wonder how it would feel to visit Poland...


I found the sight of people posing and smiling in front of the house just a bit inappropriate.

Then, there was the Rijkmuseum, which housed an impressive collection of Dutch art...so I am told. They closed down half of the museum for renovation so all you could see were the highlights. Which would have been a decent sample if they did not charge the full 11 euros admission price to get into what amounted to only a quarter of the museum. Even though I finally saw Rembrant's impressive "Night Watch," as a student, 11 euros was too much to charge for seeing it. Not cool, Rijkmuseum, not cool at all.


Pretty courtyard though.

And there was a very interesting walk through the red-light district with its heavily perfumed rooms that you can smell as you're walking past and its church that is ironically located at the very end of it. I wonder how many confessors and tithes the church gets on a daily basis...



Finally, my favorite part...


Tulips


Lots and lots of tulips sold at the Westermarkt...they even ship them worldwide!

All in all, Amsterdam was basically a place to casually stroll around and maybe take in a sight or two if you were really motivated. But I felt that the majority of the time we spent there was just lethargically strolling around. There was something about the air that made you feel tired even if you had been sitting down previously. Suffice to say, I was glad I went but it probably won't be a place I'll want to come back to.

And now for something completely random while we were there, the carnival!


That sold the largest stick of cotton candy I have ever seen, which took the strength of two girls and one guy to finish.

Amsterdam, the photo album