The plan was to drive to the Beaujolais area for the evening.
Didn’t plan to take the A route (the motorway/tollway), but to take the scenic drive. Ended up on the A route with a wrong turn, but wasn’t so expensive a mistake.
We eventually found our way back onto quiet roads.
Found a winery - it wasn’t open. Sadly though we saw a cyclist being attended to by the ambulance. Wet and slippery roads had taken their toll.
We found another winery that looked open, but we had no response when knocking on the cellar door. We were about to leave when the lady of the place came up to us and asked if we wanted to try some wine. What a wine tasting it turned out to be. She knew a couple of words of English, and between her English and our handful of words of French we shared a lot of laughs. Most of the French words we know refer to grape varieties. That makes a conversation at a winery flow. Great wines as well.
Just past Vience, we stopped for lunch. Later John was tired and started to feel sleepy, so just past Vienne we stopped for a nap.
It had been an interesting drive. Passed a couple of nuclear reactors. John couldn’t help but wonder what impact that had on the local environment.
We decided to just pass through Lyon. It is too large a city to do justice in just one day. We were amazed at how large a city it is.
We finally dropped into the Beaujolias info centre 10 minutes before closing.
Found a great place to stay for the evening. This is the view from our front window.
Went for a wander through the village and watched a heated exchange between a chef and an unsatisifed patron. We had no idea what was going on, but there was some intensity.
Thought we’d treat ourselves to a little bit of TV tonight. Fired up the TV tuner on the notebook, only to start watching a fave show ‘Mid Somer Murders’ in French. It was quite amazing. John then found he’d previously recorded an episode whilst still in Australia. So we watched that.
An interesting side note. John’s French is improving. He doesn’t really know any more words or phrases, but he has become very proficient with the 3 phrases he does know. He has become very adept at saying ‘Pardon moi, je ne parle Francais’. He must say it well, becuase often he gets a quizzical look and is asked ‘are you sure you can’t speak French?’ At least that is what he thinks they are saying.
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