Dijon, mmmmm mustard

Now that GPS Mrs Beckham is my bitch our drive to Dijon, the capital of the Burgundy area of France goes without hiccup. It is a long way from Nice. I’m pretty sure that driving up a highway for 5 hours is not the way to see the south of France but this is the whistle-stop tour. I’m just grateful and happy I’ve been here at all.

We passed this on the highway. It’s French for yoghurt!

Dijon, the home of THAT mustard is an idyllic town with gingerbread timber framed houses, cobblestone streets and roofs of multi coloured glazed tiles in geometric patterns. It’s two major exports are mustard and cassis (blackcurrant) which I’m very pleased to tell you is yet another new Lindt dark chocolate flavour. I think Lindt should start paying me for advertising or at least give me a lifetime supply.
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THE OWL
Dijon is a town that has its tourism sorted and they have designed a bunch of walking tours that are easy to follow with these cute little triangular gold owl symbols to follow. Like Paris, it has a Notre Dame and an Arc De Triomphe. The Notre Dame has an owl carved into the stonework that nobody really knows the origin of but it has managed to wangle itself into the hearts and minds of this town. The popular superstition is to touch the owl with your left hand (the one closest to your heart) to make a wish and for good luck. University students reputedly touch it for good luck with their exams. Perhaps they should try studying. Of course I gave it a good rubbing.

Notre Dame has an the best gargoyles

The walk around the city is very pleasant as you basically can’t spit without hitting an historical building. Also famous as a movie set for Cyrano de Bergerac with Gerard whatshisname. Everything worth seeing is within walking distance.

That bench from that film

My only complaint is that it is incredibly hot as the streets are wall to wall paving with no green life to cool it down. The funnest place in town is Place de la Liberation where against its stark limestone backdrop the kids gleefully soaked themselves in the fountain.

Some of the big kids too!

GARDENS
The two green spaces I finally found were sadly kind of crappy.
Jardin Darcy, guarded by a gigantic huggable polar bear (why a polar bear?) is a beautiful yet poorly maintained space with giant trees to shade beneath and a generous water feature completely devoid of water. It will be alright for the next group!

The Jardin l’Arquebuse, their main botanic garden was really unkempt and full of weeds. Perhaps they were just at the beginning of their spring work. They had a nice collection of big trees like Sequoias and some really disturbing statues. The roses were the most impressive with vigorous climbers absolutely abloom. I did manage to find something huggable.

How an elephant fits into this garden in the south of France was never quite clear to me.

Poor lion

Two very prolific scrambling rose bushes

The Swiss Family McRobinson Tour is over. We drove to Zurich for one night with my niece and then the family headed home to Australia as I headed to Rome for 3 weeks of Italian indulgence.

Zurich, you’ve changed!!
The drive from Dijon back to Zurich feels a bit like driving through the Australian countryside. Lots of flat land with small green hills in the distance. Blue skies and sunshine, a land of sweeping plains.

We passed this town on the way. Nimbin’s rival perhaps.

We arrive in Zurich to sweltering heat and the city is transformed. The people seem more relaxed and their dress code has certainly changed. Gone is the tidy stylish wear and out has come the shorts, dresses and flip flops. For the first time what poverty there is here is visible. We’ve been looking forward to our apartment here. It is Zurich after all. It’s going to be nice and clean and orderly. Instead we find ourselves in Zurich’s seedy underbelly. A street of brothels, streetwalkers and all night bars. We bring our mother to all the best places! The apartment is not as advertised, missing certain essentials that we were counting on like a dining table and washing machine. On the top floor with no air conditioning, the air is like hot soup and we have to leave the windows open all night and therefore subject to the noise of the debauchery on the streets. I choose finally to sleep on the kitchen tiled floor with just a doona beneath me and ear plugs to dull the noise enough to sleep a few hours. I have no photo evidence of said debauchery. Safer to stay indoors!

A few more picture of delicious Dijon

Tiled glazed roof