by David McGuffin | Apr 18, 2007 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, Eating & Drinking, Restaurant Reviews
I’m in my “European Planning Mode”, and last weekend I took two days to methodically inspect my summer tour schedule. I am one of those guys who enjoys piecing together the individual tour elements in order to make a stress-free and seamless travel experience. Yesterday, I was talking with a friend who is considering studying architectural design. As the conversation went on I began to draw a lot of parallels between constructing a building and building a good group tour. You can do most of the planning up front and lay it out on paper just like a blueprint, but eventually there is always something that crops up to change your plans.
Brunelleschi, the designer and architect of the dome atop the Duomo in Florence, encountered many such problems. Did you know that he wrapped a series of chains and timbers inside the dome just so the gently sloping dome would be pleasing to the eye? Even today you can climb inside the dome and see where he had to alter his original plans to make the final product even better.
A few weeks ago I was taking a group from Interlaken, Switzerland to the Burgundy region in France. It was a Sunday morning and our route took us through the Jura mountain range and some pretty remote countryside. There were 23 of us on the bus and many needed to make a toilet stop. Unfortunately, villages were few and far between and none had any services available. Things were not going according to my plan. You see we were supposed to make a stop at a big restaurant on the highway just before leaving Switzerland. Well we either missed the place or it had moved since the last time I was through the area.
It was almost noon when we came to the town of Pontarlier. I had Peter, our driver, pull the bus off the road and I walked up “Main” street to find a toilet, an ATM, and somewhere to eat. We did find an ATM machine, but that was it! Back on the bus we finally came to a group of fast food highway restaurants. But much to everyone’s dismay, I had Peter drive right by them. We certainly were not going to have our first Sunday lunch in France at a McDonald’s!
I knew from experience that France is covered with little mom and pop run “truck stop” restaurants serving gourmet home cooking meals at a value price. I had my fingers crossed that we’d run across one of these restaurants and it would be open for Sunday lunch. Finally we came upon a lone restaurant. There were no cars but the lights were on inside. I had Peter stop and I ran inside.
The place was empty. I could here some people banging around in the kitchen out back so in my best French accent I shouted bonjour. Out came two ladies and I began my stilted French explanation about a bus full of people, could they serve us lunch, how much would it cost, and is there a toilet nearby. After a few moments we came to an agreement and I went back outside smiling and motioned the group to “come on in.”
You should have seen the two restaurant ladies! At first they were startled that I was even in the restaurant. Then I shocked them again with my lousy French (I am sure they wondered why an American was so far off the beaten tourist path). Their eyes got as big a saucers when I asked if they could serve 23 people. I think they thought I had not learned to count correctly in French. “Vingt-trois,” they exclaimed in unison. “Oui, oui, vingt-trois,” I said as I pointed out the window to the huge 50 seater bus. They looked around, spoke rapidly in French, ran back to the kitchen and took a peek into the refrigerator and return a bit calmer with a nice menu proposal.
By the time I got the group inside the tables had been rearranged with fresh sets of wine glasses, silverware, and napkins all neatly in place. The stressed and panicked looks which had been on their face just minutes before were replaced with kind and understanding expressions. They spoke no English, we spoke very little French, but we all managed to understand what we were ordering and how it would be served.
This began a two hour dining experience where we enjoyed the food, local wine, friendship, and most importantly , the hospitality of the staff. All this was offered at a cost of 17 EURO per person. (Had we had a remotely similar experience in the United States it would have been in a 4-star restaurant and at a cost of $60 or more, not including the wine). I think I can speak for everyone in the group that this was a good decision as our first impression of France. So when my best laid travel plans don’t seem to be going just right…I look for something better!
Restaurant “Le Petit Paris” was completely filled by local folks by 1:00 p.m. Obviously it was well known for good home cooking. We were offered three courses, each having several choices. I had homemade vegetable soup, pork sausage with wine and mushroom sauce, vegetables, and a pear tart for desert. Many of my friends said the “house” salad was to die for! The restaurant is located on route 57 between the towns of Pontarlier and Besancon, about 40 km north of the Swiss border. The owners are Laurence and Patrick Dufau. They can be reached at Tel. 03 81 60 04 42 and only speak French. Closed on Sunday evening and all day on Wednesday.
by David McGuffin | Jun 6, 2002 | Adventures in Tour Guiding, David's Journal, Destinations, Eating & Drinking
Il Campo – Seina
Il Campo, the town square of Siena is a big as three football fields. It is paved with red brick and is surrounded by cafes, vendors, and local businesses. Viewed from the air it reminds me of a half completed sunset, red bricks radiating from the central public fountain. Towering above is the bell tower of city hall. Il Campo is a gathering place for all people.
I’ve visited Il Campo at all hours. Early morning brings the local people, merchants and vendors, setting up for the day’s business. The street cleaners are out sweeping with their homemade brooms and gathering the nightly ration of empty bottles and left over food. I love watching a city wake up and morning is my favorite time for catching the spirit of a place. Around the square, shopkeepers too are sweeping and tidying up their places, deliveries are made, the ever present buzz of the APE (the small Italian version of a delivery truck on a motorcycle body) zoom in and out of the square. There are old women walking past on their way to morning Mass almost sneaking into the many community churches. And no Italian town would be complete without the ever present construction site and its busy workers getting down to serious business before the sun runs them inside for the afternoon. Mornings give a view of the real place!
By 10 a.m. the first groups of tourist arrive on Il Campo. Buses, parked outside of town, unload their tourist just a few blocks from Il Campo. The groups trudge from the unloading zone to Il Campo. All are frantically clicking photos and desperately trying to catch the essence of Il Campo. Then the magic takes over. Il Campo funnels the crowds out and into the town. I sit at one end of the plaza and watch group after group arrive, they take pictures, strain their neck looking up at the bell tower, checkout the fountain and local pigeons, their tour guide assembles the group, says a few words and then the group break up to wander around the small streets and allies of Siena. This same scene happen many times, day after day, week after week.
By 5 p.m. most of the tourist have returned to their buses and headed back to their big hotels in Florence. Left on Il Campo are the few lucky tourist, like me, who have a room here in town for the night. The vendors begin to pack up their wares, the umbrellas come down at the cafes around the square as the shade inches its way across the reddish-orange pavement. School children begin to play football and tag, their mothers visiting in the shade of nearby buildings. Older kids talk, flirt, flaunt their stuff for all to see. Tourist like me, grab a seat on the pavement and take it all in. Romantics, hold hands, nestle up to one another and sneak a kiss or two. The square is alive with life. The older men sit in the distance, drinking their wine, smoking, reading a paper, and discussing what ever old me discuss. Across the square, old women again head off to the evening services.
Il Campo at night is a delight. Tonight could have been a washout. The evening begun with rain. Most of the locals have been driven in doors. But I’ve got just tonight for Siena and I’ll make to most of it. My friends find a dry spot under the eves of a store that has closed for the night. Here we spread our ponchos using our packs as a backrests and settle in for the ambiance of Il Campo. Earlier in the afternoon we had shopped for our picnic supper…an assortment of olives, cheeses, prociutto, freshly baked bread, and a ruby red Sangiovese from the hills of Siena.
The stage is set, we’re comfortable and have wonderful views across Il Campo which is practically empty because of the drizzling rain. I’ve never seen Il Campo like this. The light from the surrounding businesses reflected off the rain covered pavement. The fountain can be heard spurting water in the distance muffled just slightly by the clink of silverware and conversation from the cafe guests. This is what makes life worth living, a true travel experience that’ll provide a lifetime of memories.
Later, the rain stopped, the local folks came out from their shelter and strolled across Il Campo. From a dark alley, a group of teenage girls emerged arm-in-arm singing and giggling. Soon, from another alley a group of boys arrived to play football on the square. Football was soon forgotten when they spied the girls. Suddenly, before our eyes, we witnessed a “rooster and hen” show steaming with unbridled energy only available to adolescences. The boys puff up, strut their stuff in front of the giggling girls. The girls sing and chant something, laughing at the boys, crushing their big egos. A few guys get up enough nerve to talk to the girls. As they met in the middle, the boy’s group and girl’s group shout encouragement and throw verbal jeers to their friends. Finally, the girls hurry arm-in-arm from Il Campo, singing their way back down the streets. The boys, leave just as loudly as they entered, each trying to out do the other with their version of their encounter with the opposite sex.
Suddenly, Il Campo is quiet again, broken only by the rustling water, the distant cafe chatter, and the sighs of bliss from me and my friends.
Exploring EUROPE is an adventure. Grasp the moment and make the most of it !
Brunelleschi, the designer and architect of the dome atop the Duomo in Florence, encountered many such problems. Did you know that he wrapped a series of chains and timbers inside the dome just so the gently sloping dome would be pleasing to the eye? Even today you can climb inside the dome and see where he had to alter his original plans to make the final product even better.
I knew from experience that France is covered with little mom and pop run “truck stop” restaurants serving gourmet home cooking meals at a value price. I had my fingers crossed that we’d run across one of these restaurants and it would be open for Sunday lunch. Finally we came upon a lone restaurant. There were no cars but the lights were on inside. I had Peter stop and I ran inside.
