A three hour train ride from Paris and you can find yourself in Burgundy wine country. The countryside actually reminded us of the Willamette Valley in Oregon. The houses and buildings were a different story entirely.
From the moment we stepped off the train, it was like stepping back into another time. Another time where people drive tiny little cars with cute names like Bebop and Clio, but still. It felt otherworldly.
This is the street to our hotel – an abbey from the 1200s.
Look to the left and there’s a looming dark castle hulking over the little street.
Keep winding around to the right, and the hotel soon makes its way into view. (All of the streets go in circles, so on the one hand you constantly feel a little disoriented, but on the other hand, you’re comforted knowing if you miss your turn on the first go round, you’ll likely pass your destination again shortly.
This is the door to our hotel. Does it look like its meant to be elf accommodations, or a port to an alternate land? Yes. We actually couldn’t find our hotel door at first, because its in a long, circular, very high wall with a series of unmarked, discreet looking doors set in about every four feet. We cautiously tried the doors to several private residences (hola! Je suis Americain!) before figuring out this was our entrance. (And yes, sometimes in the more stressful moments of speaking to a French person, I speak Spanish instead. I have no idea why. )
At any rate, our door to the hotel is in fact about four feet high, and you have to open the door to duck thru and simultaneously step down into the foyer. It’s really really charming.
Here’s the dining room. We already have reservations for tonight.