Today was our last day in Tours, but
tomorrow, we’re going to London! I’m super excited, but let’s concentrate on
Tours, first.
As I said yesterday, we were to visit
two chateaux today. So we hopped into Patrick’s van (Unfortunately, Michael was
nowhere to be found) and headed for Amboise, a small town home to two chateaux;
Clos Lucé, and, well, Amboise…
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| Flying Machine with Clos Luce in the background. |
Clos Lucé was Leonardo Da Vinci’s home,
the great Italian artist, architect, inventor, and countless other things, as
well. He had lived there in the last years of his life. A grand house
surrounded by a park, the manor was, although slightly smaller (like, Azay Le
Rideau-sized), very interesting and informative. I think the best part was Da
Vinci’s bedroom. Well, I thought it was pretty funny, anyways. One of the first
rooms that we visited, the bedroom housed a cat. Yes, a very alive, very cute
cat. Walking in, I saw a family pointing to a ball of fur on the bed, and it
was a cat, curled up and asleep, asleep on Leonardo Da Vinci’s bed. Well, I wish
I were a cat. I suppose he was used to crowds staring at him and taking
pictures, for he stayed asleep the whole time.
The house was pretty cool; every few
steps there was a Leonardo quote hanging on the wall. The coolest part was the
basement, however. It was filled with models of inventions he had dreamed up,
built by IBM from the sketches he had drawn all those years ago. There were
also animated videos showing how they would work; it really gave the impression
of how much ahead of his time the engineer was. There was a tank, a boat, a
flying machine (obviously), a swivel bridge, and some things I had never even
heard of, such as Archimedes’ screw, a machine for bringing water up. It was all
very interesting.
Finally, we toured the park. Filled
with more, life-sized models of his inventions, the park was really fun.
Grandma and I tried out one of the flying machines (unfortunately rooted to the
ground) and the tank. We kept walking and walking, and regretfully decided to
leave.
Walking back towards the center of
Amboise, we wanted to go check out a market that the town is famous for. In one
word? It was huge. There was
everything you could have ever wanted; clothes, shoes, food of all kinds. There was a guy selling chickens—alive—and a
charity raising money for animals, I think. They had two puppies sleeping in a
box. About the chickens—why would people want to buy chickens, anyway? Were
they bringing them home to kill them themselves? Were they starting a chicken family? Did they
want one as a pet for the kids? I don’t know, but if you ask me, I’d much
rather buy my chickens already dead, thank you very much.
Buying some Chinese food, Grandma and
I sat down on a bench to feast. Unfortunately, the Har-gow (I am pronouncing it
this way, correct or not) was cold, since it’s steamed and all and they
couldn’t heat it up, and so was the lo-mein. I forgive them, however; they had
good excuses. They did heat up some
crab spring rolls and breaded shrimp for us (no, not tempura—breaded shrimp), though.
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| Amboise |
We finally headed for Amboise—the
castle. After climbing up a huge hill, we bought our tickets and climbed up
some more. Amboise is at the top of an
enormous cliff overlooking the city. For someone who hates physical exertion, I
can say that the view was worth the climb. We could see for miles around. We
took lots of pictures, and I couldn’t help thinking how inconceivably high we were. Going inside the
castle—for yes, it is more of a castle than a chateau—we saw lots of suits of
armour and more portraits, rooms, and old pieces of furniture. It was pretty
cool, although there were even more stairs inside. The castle itself is beautiful.
Just like Chenonceaux; something out of a fairytale. And it’s just as amazing
from the bottom looking to the top of that cliff. After visiting the castle, we stopped by a chocolate store and
bought—wait for it—six chocolates.
Grandma made me order. She chose a “craquant,” a milk chocolate “chenonceaux”
filled with caramel and other good things and a pralines one. For me, I picked
a dark chocolate caramel, a dark chocolate chenonceaux (I like dark chocolate)
and a truffle. They were so good. One thing I will give to the French—they make
good chocolate.
A short summary of my
chateaux-experience: For a wedding and photos, Chenonceaux; for photos in the
gardens, Villandry; for living, either Villandry or Clos Lucé; and for a
palace, Chambord. My favourites were, I think, Chenonceaux and Amboise.
Anyways, to get back to Tours, we had
planned on taking the train. We had to cross the Loire River on a bridge—it was
loooooong. It’s a pretty large river, separated in the middle by a thin strip
of island. We were there two hours early—we spent one outside and one inside of
the station.
We bought the tickets and sat down.
There was this machine that said “Compostage de billets.” Grandma, assuming
that compostage=composting, thought that it was a great idea. When someone left
the train, they could throw away their tickets in there, instead of, say,
throwing it on the floor. Then, people started coming in and placing their
tickets in the machine. It would then make a buzzing noise, and they would take
it out. Um, it wasn’t composting at all. This is what she wrote in her journal:
“Given there are so many tourists coming to
France, you would think that clear information would be given to tourists. For
example, there are little yellow machines at train stations that say
‘compostage de billets.’ I thought it was for composting your used ticket. Now
I know they are not for that. What does ‘composter’ mean? Validate? I
don’t care, I am not going to composter my billet.”
After having pointed it out to me, we
laughed so hard. Whenever someone would show up and “composte” their ticket,
our laughter would resume. I have to admit, it was pretty funny. Despite her
assurances that she would not “composter” our tickets, and reading at the top
of said tickets “BILLET a composter avant l’acces au train,” she finally gave
in, and buzzed the machine. All it did was stamp the date at the top. We didn’t
really see the point of it, since it already said “Validé” at the bottom. Meh.
French people. They never explain things properly, do they?
Getting back to the hotel after the uneventful
half-hour ride, we relaxed for a while—I was on the computer while Grandma went
on many walks. Finally, we went out for dinner at a Japanese place—they didn’t serve Chinese rice, although
Grandma said it tasted weird. They just can’t get it right, can they? I had my
usual kappa maki with miso soup, and Grandma had some grilled salmon, tuna and
shrimp. All very good, except apparently, the soup was too thin. Now we’re back
at the hotel. I’m so excited for tomorrow, although we’ll mostly be traveling.
It’ll be my first time in England!
