Why should the devil have all the good tunes?

This is one of those postings that I hesitate to write, primarily because I once again feel ridiculously lucky for being able to do so many cool things. Not that I would ever wish to know what my future holds, but if as a kid a fortune teller had told me that my life would involve so much stuff, I’d have told her that she was talking to the wrong Megan. I feel like I have come a long way since catching snapper turtles in the frog pond across the street on Canonchet Road.
With all of that said,here’s a quick synposis of my past couple of days:
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Oh yeah, I’m back in France.
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And oh yeah, the Boston Bruins are still the Stanley Cup champions. Even this Montreal newspaper can’t deny it.
I’m in Lyon, thanks to the fantastic suggestion of a friend who I first met in these parts back when I was sixteen and bulletproof. When he suggested that I come down here for the Fête de la Musique, my immediate response was “Nah, I’m leaving Europe a few days before.”  Fast-forward to some other grounded friends giving me some “Why the Hell wouldn’t you go down there?” advice, I changed my travel plans and now find myself in gastronomically-enriching Lyon. I have chosen…wisely.
I’m kind of hung over as I write this, and as I lay on the couch and type, I can hear an accordion playing down below. How French. Just about the only thing that I have accomplished so far today (it is now past 1pm) is going to the market in search of some good eats.
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Ahh le marché. It’s so good to be back in France.
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Bushels of chevre. You shall not go hungry here.
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It’s not a matter of do they have brains, but rather, what kind of brains are you looking for?
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I will have one of everything.
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…and on the seventh day the Christian god rested and ate saucisson.

Okay so all of that aside, yesterday was a day to get out of the city. I am once again super lucky to be hanging out with another Olmsted scholar, and we headed out for a day trip to the Crozes-Hermitage environs of the Rhône wine region. I don’t pretend to be anything more than a Trader Joe’s wine connoisseur, but here is a look at our roadtrip:
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We just drove south, looking for wine. I think that the Route des Vins was a damn good place to start looking for places to taste wine.

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Our wine quest leads us to check out exactly what the “Bélvédère de Pierre Aiguille” sign means…and we wind up going on une petite ballade to a little precipice.

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Wow. There maybe no wine up here, but the view of the Rhône river is pretty amazing.

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These incredibly fertile (and breathtaking) hills yield rows and rows of vines. Grapes, grapes everywhere….we are bound to find a the man with a corkscrew somewhere….
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My intrepid travel companion Paul takes cave divining into his own hands. “I’m just gonna walk in and ask if they have any wine.” Not a bad idea, actually- but we were coming up dry.

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Soon enough, we start to find our way to actual wine tasting. As it turns out, there are many drunk jovial wine purveyors who are happy to let you drink their work and talk to no end about wine and whatever else is on your mind. No problem if all you can say about the wine that you are tasting is “c’est bon”. I don’t pretend to know the first thing about wine.

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Even better is when they let you into their cellars to try the stuff that is still in the barrels. Maybe some of you wine snobs have already done this a thousand times over, but I found this whole experience very cool. I also liked how I was not driving and could swallow most of what was poured into my glass.

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And Monsieur Dumaine let me pretend to be extracting a sample from the barrel. He was extremely personable, and his lack of photograph framing skills make me question his sobriety. What a great job this guy has. And I am very jealous of Paul, the Olmsted scholar who is going to university right nearby this region. Lucky bastard.

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This is Fidèle, the awesome dog from the Chave cave.  loved this dog probably more than the wine that I bought. The proprietor said that she was bought as a truffle hound, but had never found a truffle in entire life. She was instead overly friendly, and not a guard dog.

I liked the second wine stop we made, but not just because of the adorable dog. We also had arrived at the same time that some young Parisian guys were visiting the vineyard. After awhile we exchanged the “Where are you from?” inquiries- and one of the guys impressed me with his knowledge of the Boston Bruins, and their amazing Stanley Cup victory. “Après 39 ans d’absence, n’est-ce pas?” This hockey interaction made my day.
After our wine tasting, we really needed to go and find some food. We crossed the Rhône river and ventured into the Ardèche region.
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Pretty, isn’t it? You can see that the hills are alive with grapes and grapes and grapes…
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We wandered around the picturesque town of Tournon for a little while before we decided to head back to Lyon and link up with my high school-era friend and his mates. It’s the Fête de la Musique in a few days, and he promised me that it would be a great time.
I’ve only been back in the south of France for a few days, but already I know that would have been stupid to have skipped this experience. Dakar just doesn’t offer this kind of normalcy (for me, at least), and being back in this environment of roaming around doing whatever seems cool is a breath of fresh air.

Just so long as I don’t get arrested, my friends don’t get arrested, and I continue to seek out culturally enriching aspects of this trip, I will have called this month of travel a resounding success.

God I miss being a sixteen year old living in the south of France….the times were just too damn good.