Bluette Matthey's Blog
February 28, 2023
Setting for Homicide Herault
When I decide the setting for my next Hardy Durkin Travel mystery I research the locale’s history, lore, and legends. Was someone martyred there? Is the area known for a murder or scandal of some sort? Any unsolved disappearances? Is there a local tradition that makes it unique or quirky?
My latest Hardin Durkin mystery, Homicide Herault, is set in the Herault area in the South of France. The small city of Béziers is the primary town here and the oldest city in France. (Second oldest, if you ask someone from Marseille.) It is simply loaded with history from as far back as the 6th century BC, and is a land full of legends, atrocities, and culture.
During the Algerian War of Independence from France in the early 1960’s many of the French citizens who had been living and working in Algeria moved back to the Motherland. Those Algerians fighting for independence violently targeted their countrymen who had worked for the French, massacring whole Algerian families in horrific ways as payback for the support they had shown the French military. Thousands of these hunted Algerians, known as Harkis, fled to mainland France to escape the terrible purge, settling in the southern regions of France.
My favorite Béziers legend is that of Saint Aphrodise who rode into town on his camel from Egypt around 65 AD. Just around the corner from the ancient Roman amphitheater, which was mostly torn down in the 3rd century so the citizens could use the stones to build up the city’s defense …. that’s another story… is a small plaza, Place Saint-Cyr, at the intersection of Rue Saint-Jacques and Rue Canterelles. You might notice the small brass caps on the pavement that say ‘Chemin Romeux’. This was part of the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, but I digress.
Look Up! See that headless stone figure on the corner of the building? That is Saint Aphrodise. Why is he there, you ask? Because … he was beheaded in the square where you are standing, and his head tossed in a well nearby. Not one to give up easily, the good saint fetched his head from the well and proceeded to carry it back to his cave on the outskirts of town. He is known as a cephalophore, a subset of saints who carry their heads after martyrdom.
Passing down what is now the Rue des Têtes, the Street of Heads, he was mocked by a group of stone masons who were turned to stone when Aphrodise stared them down (you can’t make this up!) with the head cradled in his arms.
It all ended well, with Saint Aphrodise being venerated in his tomb which is now a basilica where his relics repose, and his camel became a celebrity with the rich folks in town vying to take care of him. A dubious replica of said camel appears each April on the saint’s day to be paraded through town as part of the celebration.
Béziers hosts the largest festival in the South of France each August, the Feria, replete with flamenco, bullfights, street foods, and non-stop, out-door concerts. Almost a million people pour into the city over the span of a week to party and celebrate good times in a safe, family-friendly atmosphere with a laid-back Mediterranean vibe.
Into all this I insert my hunky protagonist, Hardy Durkin, who is leading a bike tour in the Herault with his irregular cast of characters and let the magic of imagination stir the pot. Expect a murder … or two. Enjoy the show!
My latest Hardin Durkin mystery, Homicide Herault, is set in the Herault area in the South of France. The small city of Béziers is the primary town here and the oldest city in France. (Second oldest, if you ask someone from Marseille.) It is simply loaded with history from as far back as the 6th century BC, and is a land full of legends, atrocities, and culture.
During the Algerian War of Independence from France in the early 1960’s many of the French citizens who had been living and working in Algeria moved back to the Motherland. Those Algerians fighting for independence violently targeted their countrymen who had worked for the French, massacring whole Algerian families in horrific ways as payback for the support they had shown the French military. Thousands of these hunted Algerians, known as Harkis, fled to mainland France to escape the terrible purge, settling in the southern regions of France.
My favorite Béziers legend is that of Saint Aphrodise who rode into town on his camel from Egypt around 65 AD. Just around the corner from the ancient Roman amphitheater, which was mostly torn down in the 3rd century so the citizens could use the stones to build up the city’s defense …. that’s another story… is a small plaza, Place Saint-Cyr, at the intersection of Rue Saint-Jacques and Rue Canterelles. You might notice the small brass caps on the pavement that say ‘Chemin Romeux’. This was part of the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, but I digress.
Look Up! See that headless stone figure on the corner of the building? That is Saint Aphrodise. Why is he there, you ask? Because … he was beheaded in the square where you are standing, and his head tossed in a well nearby. Not one to give up easily, the good saint fetched his head from the well and proceeded to carry it back to his cave on the outskirts of town. He is known as a cephalophore, a subset of saints who carry their heads after martyrdom.
Passing down what is now the Rue des Têtes, the Street of Heads, he was mocked by a group of stone masons who were turned to stone when Aphrodise stared them down (you can’t make this up!) with the head cradled in his arms.
It all ended well, with Saint Aphrodise being venerated in his tomb which is now a basilica where his relics repose, and his camel became a celebrity with the rich folks in town vying to take care of him. A dubious replica of said camel appears each April on the saint’s day to be paraded through town as part of the celebration.
Béziers hosts the largest festival in the South of France each August, the Feria, replete with flamenco, bullfights, street foods, and non-stop, out-door concerts. Almost a million people pour into the city over the span of a week to party and celebrate good times in a safe, family-friendly atmosphere with a laid-back Mediterranean vibe.
Into all this I insert my hunky protagonist, Hardy Durkin, who is leading a bike tour in the Herault with his irregular cast of characters and let the magic of imagination stir the pot. Expect a murder … or two. Enjoy the show!
February 7, 2023
The Journey
Hardy Durkin, veteran trekker and protagonist of the Hardy Durkin Travel Mystery Series, takes readers to off-the-beaten-path locales rather than the ‘Ten days in Europe’ itinerary, but locales no less intriguing. Thanks to my father, I have been travelling since a child, and it is the lesser-known destinations that have left a more memorable imprint. That is not to take anything away from the wonders of London, Paris, Rome, etc., but taking ‘the road less traveled’ has made a difference in my writing and spiritual journey in this life.
In Abruzzo Intrigue, Hardy had me hiking into a remote pre-11th century hermitage in Abruzzo, Italy, carved into a stone cliff face, where time was taken totally out of the equation. My thoughts stilled; my attention motionless … frivolity suspended. For brief moments, as Pope Celestine before me in 1274 had been, I was alone with my Creator, feeding my hungry inner man.
My protagonist has also taken me to the marvelous French island of Corsica, a place of great natural beauty and the miasmic contradictions of the hearts of men, in Corsican Justice. The Engadine Valley in Switzerland, playground of the rich and famous, summoned me for the annual Ski Marathon which was the backdrop for book #5 in the series, Engadine Aerie. Germany’s Black Forest was the setting for Black Forest Reckoning, which gave me entry into the Black Forest as well as an unforgettable day spa experience in exclusive Baden-Baden. And Dalmatian Traffick, set in Dubrovnik and Montenegro, afforded me a fascinating foray into the dark demeanor of the Balkans.
Homicide Hérault, my latest Hardy Durkin Travel Mystery, is set in the Hérault region in the South of France. The REAL South of France, we call it, because it has not been invaded by foreign oligarchs and gangsters, or the superficial ‘beautiful people’ crowd that has taken over the Côte d’Azur with their yachts and elitist silliness. The Hérault is a land whose coast is embraced by the Mediterranean Sea and whose inland villages were home to first the Cathars, then the Templars. The main town, Béziers, is the oldest city in France, depending on who you talk to. The history is profound and thrilling; the lifestyle laid back and kind.
Visit the Hérault with Hardy, immerse yourself in the good life, and enjoy a good mystery.
---Bluette Matthey
In Abruzzo Intrigue, Hardy had me hiking into a remote pre-11th century hermitage in Abruzzo, Italy, carved into a stone cliff face, where time was taken totally out of the equation. My thoughts stilled; my attention motionless … frivolity suspended. For brief moments, as Pope Celestine before me in 1274 had been, I was alone with my Creator, feeding my hungry inner man.
My protagonist has also taken me to the marvelous French island of Corsica, a place of great natural beauty and the miasmic contradictions of the hearts of men, in Corsican Justice. The Engadine Valley in Switzerland, playground of the rich and famous, summoned me for the annual Ski Marathon which was the backdrop for book #5 in the series, Engadine Aerie. Germany’s Black Forest was the setting for Black Forest Reckoning, which gave me entry into the Black Forest as well as an unforgettable day spa experience in exclusive Baden-Baden. And Dalmatian Traffick, set in Dubrovnik and Montenegro, afforded me a fascinating foray into the dark demeanor of the Balkans.
Homicide Hérault, my latest Hardy Durkin Travel Mystery, is set in the Hérault region in the South of France. The REAL South of France, we call it, because it has not been invaded by foreign oligarchs and gangsters, or the superficial ‘beautiful people’ crowd that has taken over the Côte d’Azur with their yachts and elitist silliness. The Hérault is a land whose coast is embraced by the Mediterranean Sea and whose inland villages were home to first the Cathars, then the Templars. The main town, Béziers, is the oldest city in France, depending on who you talk to. The history is profound and thrilling; the lifestyle laid back and kind.
Visit the Hérault with Hardy, immerse yourself in the good life, and enjoy a good mystery.
---Bluette Matthey
September 3, 2020
Tales of Beziers
Every town has a story to tell.
Because Béziers, France, is so old (second oldest city in France, after Marseille), it has quite a few tales that define its history. My favorite Béziers legend is that of Saint Aphrodise who rode into town on his camel from Egypt around 65 AD.
Just around the corner from the ancient Roman amphitheater, which was mostly torn down in the 3rd century so the citizens could use the stones to build up the city’s defense …. that’s another story… is a small plaza, Place Saint-Cyr, at the intersection of Rue Saint-Jacques and Rue Canterelles. You might notice the small brass caps on the pavement that say ‘Chemin Romeux’. This was part of the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, but I digress.
Look Up! See that headless stone figure on the corner of the building? That is Saint Aphrodise. Why is he there, you ask?
Because, he was beheaded in the square where you are standing, and his head tossed in a well nearby. Not one to give up easily, the good saint fetched his head from the well and proceeded to carry it back to his cave on the outskirts of town. He is known as a cephalophore, a subset of saints who carry their heads after martyrdom.
Passing down what is now the Rue des Têtes, the Street of Heads, he was mocked by a group of stone masons who were turned to stone when Aphrodise stared them down (you can’t make this up!) with the head cradled in his arms.
It all ended well, with Saint Aphrodise being venerated in his tomb which is now a basilica where his relics repose, and his camel became a celebrity with the rich folks in town vying to take care of him. A dubious replica of said camel appears each April on the saint’s day to be paraded through town as part of the celebration.
Oh, by the way, that lovely old church, Église de la Madeleine that you passed a few streets back brings another story to mind. In 1209 Pope Innocent III (who was not innocent) sent his henchman to Béziers to rout out the Cathars …. You get the idea, right?
See you in Beziers!
Bluette Matthey
bluettematthey.com
Because Béziers, France, is so old (second oldest city in France, after Marseille), it has quite a few tales that define its history. My favorite Béziers legend is that of Saint Aphrodise who rode into town on his camel from Egypt around 65 AD.
Just around the corner from the ancient Roman amphitheater, which was mostly torn down in the 3rd century so the citizens could use the stones to build up the city’s defense …. that’s another story… is a small plaza, Place Saint-Cyr, at the intersection of Rue Saint-Jacques and Rue Canterelles. You might notice the small brass caps on the pavement that say ‘Chemin Romeux’. This was part of the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, but I digress.
Look Up! See that headless stone figure on the corner of the building? That is Saint Aphrodise. Why is he there, you ask?
Because, he was beheaded in the square where you are standing, and his head tossed in a well nearby. Not one to give up easily, the good saint fetched his head from the well and proceeded to carry it back to his cave on the outskirts of town. He is known as a cephalophore, a subset of saints who carry their heads after martyrdom.
Passing down what is now the Rue des Têtes, the Street of Heads, he was mocked by a group of stone masons who were turned to stone when Aphrodise stared them down (you can’t make this up!) with the head cradled in his arms.
It all ended well, with Saint Aphrodise being venerated in his tomb which is now a basilica where his relics repose, and his camel became a celebrity with the rich folks in town vying to take care of him. A dubious replica of said camel appears each April on the saint’s day to be paraded through town as part of the celebration.
Oh, by the way, that lovely old church, Église de la Madeleine that you passed a few streets back brings another story to mind. In 1209 Pope Innocent III (who was not innocent) sent his henchman to Béziers to rout out the Cathars …. You get the idea, right?
See you in Beziers!
Bluette Matthey
bluettematthey.com
September 25, 2017
Le Locle's Subterranean Museum
Visiting Les Moulins Souterrains in Le Locle, Switzerland, is a bit like a trip into a Tolkien dwarf cave. At a constant temperature of 44.6 degrees, the subterranean caves, unique in Europe, offered a work environment more amenable than the typical Swiss climate, so in 1652 three millers set up a system of water chutes using the below-ground streams for the purpose of powering water mills located in the underground caves.
Wheat was brought to the caves for grinding into flour, which was used to make bread, a mainstay of the local diet. The leftover stale bread then became the basis for fondue, a popular national dish. The subterranean area also became a sort of factory where clothes and rope were made from flax grown locally. Hemp was also used for making rope, and its cousin, cannabis, was smoked by the workers to help pass the tedium of working underground.
In 1898 the caves became an abbatoir, or slaughterhouse. Livestock brought in from France (Les Moulins Souterrains was almost on the Franco-Swiss border) was inspected for quality, and all diseased or poor-quality animals were killed and dumped in the caves, along with parts of the animals that could not be used commercially. This went on for almost seventy years, filling up the caves, creating a major site of pollution.
Reclamation of the caves began in 1973 and continued for fifteen years. Today, Les Moulins Souterrains has become a museum, recounting a major facet of the lives of residents of the small Swiss town of Le Locle in canton Neuchatel.
Wheat was brought to the caves for grinding into flour, which was used to make bread, a mainstay of the local diet. The leftover stale bread then became the basis for fondue, a popular national dish. The subterranean area also became a sort of factory where clothes and rope were made from flax grown locally. Hemp was also used for making rope, and its cousin, cannabis, was smoked by the workers to help pass the tedium of working underground.
In 1898 the caves became an abbatoir, or slaughterhouse. Livestock brought in from France (Les Moulins Souterrains was almost on the Franco-Swiss border) was inspected for quality, and all diseased or poor-quality animals were killed and dumped in the caves, along with parts of the animals that could not be used commercially. This went on for almost seventy years, filling up the caves, creating a major site of pollution.
Reclamation of the caves began in 1973 and continued for fifteen years. Today, Les Moulins Souterrains has become a museum, recounting a major facet of the lives of residents of the small Swiss town of Le Locle in canton Neuchatel.
May 21, 2017
Pezanas, France--a Beautiful Languedoc Town
The Languedoc region of southern France has a bit of a problem with dog waste. Some towns and cities are worse than others. Dog owners simply don’t feel the need or responsibility to clean up after their pets. Last fall, when staying in Ceret down near the border with Spain, it was a daily challenge to watch where you put your feet. I felt like the little boy who never looked up! Street cleaners would be on the streets every day blowing and sweeping up fallen leaves, but the dog poo would stay put.
Recently, I spotted this sign outside a park in Pezenas, France. About twenty minutes from the Mediterranean, Pezenas is an intriguing, historic town full of character and culture, especially in the old village at its center. The narrow, winding streets give on to interesting façades, stone archways, and small, hidden plazas with café’s and shops snugged everywhere. A large, lively street market takes center stage each Saturday.
Artisans abound in Pezanas, and it is famous for antiques, with two major antique fairs each year. The town also lauds Molière, who lived in Pezanas for a time, and hosts an annual Molière Festival. A small mince pie, shaped like a large spool of thread called a petit pâté, is a staple in town. The pie was introduced when Lord Clive visited from India with his cooks in 1768. The Mince Pie Brotherhood meets annually to promote its namesake and keep it flourishing. Any excuse for a party!
Recently, I spotted this sign outside a park in Pezenas, France. About twenty minutes from the Mediterranean, Pezenas is an intriguing, historic town full of character and culture, especially in the old village at its center. The narrow, winding streets give on to interesting façades, stone archways, and small, hidden plazas with café’s and shops snugged everywhere. A large, lively street market takes center stage each Saturday.
Artisans abound in Pezanas, and it is famous for antiques, with two major antique fairs each year. The town also lauds Molière, who lived in Pezanas for a time, and hosts an annual Molière Festival. A small mince pie, shaped like a large spool of thread called a petit pâté, is a staple in town. The pie was introduced when Lord Clive visited from India with his cooks in 1768. The Mince Pie Brotherhood meets annually to promote its namesake and keep it flourishing. Any excuse for a party!
April 9, 2017
Those Contented Swiss Cows
Why is Swiss cheese so excellent? Because it comes from really contented cows!
I live in Le Locle, Switzerland, surrounded by pastures on rolling green hills in the Jura Mountains. This time of year the hills are darkened with cow manure that accumulated as the cows were shut up for the winter in barns while mountains of manure piled up outside. With the advent of spring, the farmers are busy spreading the natural fertilizer over the pastures, which will result in the greenest, healthiest grass you can find. The air is ‘perfumed’ with what I call ‘Eau du Locle’. The Swiss farmers excel at sustainable agriculture.
I’ve also noticed that farmers hang large brush contraptions outside the barns. The brushes are activated when the cows stand up against them and, as they rotate, the cows get a stiff brush massage. I’ve actually seen cows standing in line, waiting their turn at the spinning brush.
And then there are the bells the cows wear around their necks, tinkling and jangling as they meander the Swiss hillsides, creating their own symphony of sound. Some farmers have switched the bells out for a GPS tracking device attached to the cows’ necks with a collar … not nearly as poetic.
I live in Le Locle, Switzerland, surrounded by pastures on rolling green hills in the Jura Mountains. This time of year the hills are darkened with cow manure that accumulated as the cows were shut up for the winter in barns while mountains of manure piled up outside. With the advent of spring, the farmers are busy spreading the natural fertilizer over the pastures, which will result in the greenest, healthiest grass you can find. The air is ‘perfumed’ with what I call ‘Eau du Locle’. The Swiss farmers excel at sustainable agriculture.
I’ve also noticed that farmers hang large brush contraptions outside the barns. The brushes are activated when the cows stand up against them and, as they rotate, the cows get a stiff brush massage. I’ve actually seen cows standing in line, waiting their turn at the spinning brush.
And then there are the bells the cows wear around their necks, tinkling and jangling as they meander the Swiss hillsides, creating their own symphony of sound. Some farmers have switched the bells out for a GPS tracking device attached to the cows’ necks with a collar … not nearly as poetic.
March 5, 2017
The Engadine Skimarathon
The Engadine Skimarathon is a cross-country race held annually in the pristine Engadine Valley in eastern Switzerland. The second Sunday of March sees anywhere from eleven to thirteen thousand skiers in a race on trails that cross the valley’s frozen lakes and zig-zag through a handful of villages for a total of forty-two kilometers. The population of the Engadine Valley swells, and the buoyant attitude of the guests and their hosts gives the valley a festive air.
Starting at the famed Maloja Palace Hotel, the race participants glide across Lakes Sils and Silvaplana, and then through the resort town of St. Moritz. After climbing into the Staz Forest, the trail descends to the village of Pontresina. Many of the trees in this descent are wrapped in bright, orange mattresses to protect out-of-control skiers as they careen down the long glide, avoiding trees and fallen comrades. Hence, the nickname, ‘mattress alley.’ This section of the race is the most entertaining, as race observers watch flailing bodies pile up before them.
The race finishes in the small village of S-chanf, where the Upper Engadine Valley ends, amid cow bells clanging andh cheers from an appreciative, enthusiastic crowd. Some of the racers glide across the finish line, upright, while others collapse in the snow, gasping for breath.
The race debuted in 1969 and became a part of the Worldloppet, a ski federation of long-distance cross-country ski events established to promote the sport of cross-country skiing, in 1978. It’s a major event in the Engadine Valley, where life is to be lived out-of-doors no matter the season.
My latest Hardy Durkin Travel Mystery, Engadine Aerie, takes place at the Skimarathon. I’ll be visiting St. Moritz for next week’s race to promote my book at a Saturday book-signing in the Hotel Laudinella, and enjoy life in the High Alps. Hope to see you there!
Starting at the famed Maloja Palace Hotel, the race participants glide across Lakes Sils and Silvaplana, and then through the resort town of St. Moritz. After climbing into the Staz Forest, the trail descends to the village of Pontresina. Many of the trees in this descent are wrapped in bright, orange mattresses to protect out-of-control skiers as they careen down the long glide, avoiding trees and fallen comrades. Hence, the nickname, ‘mattress alley.’ This section of the race is the most entertaining, as race observers watch flailing bodies pile up before them.
The race finishes in the small village of S-chanf, where the Upper Engadine Valley ends, amid cow bells clanging andh cheers from an appreciative, enthusiastic crowd. Some of the racers glide across the finish line, upright, while others collapse in the snow, gasping for breath.
The race debuted in 1969 and became a part of the Worldloppet, a ski federation of long-distance cross-country ski events established to promote the sport of cross-country skiing, in 1978. It’s a major event in the Engadine Valley, where life is to be lived out-of-doors no matter the season.
My latest Hardy Durkin Travel Mystery, Engadine Aerie, takes place at the Skimarathon. I’ll be visiting St. Moritz for next week’s race to promote my book at a Saturday book-signing in the Hotel Laudinella, and enjoy life in the High Alps. Hope to see you there!
February 19, 2017
The Traboules of Lyon, France
Besides being France’s premiere city for gastronomic delights, Lyon is also famous for its traboules, the hidden passageways and staircases woven throughout the buildings and courtyards of Old Lyon. Dating back to the 4th century, the traboules allowed Lyon’s citizens a more direct route to their water supply, the Saône River.
Lyon was also a major Templar stronghold since it was the departure point for overland crusades to Jerusalem. The Templars, it is believed, added to the existing traboules by building subterranean passages, allowing them the secrecy they desired in their activities. When Philip the Fair of France ordered the roundup and detention (and torture and murder) of the Templars in France in 1307, it seems the Templars located in Lyon escaped Philip’s dragnet by using the secret passages to avoid capture.
In the 15th and 16th centuries, Lyon was important in the silk trade with Italy, boasting 25,000 silk looms in the city. Ships laden with silk would dock on the quai running along the Saône. The streets of Old Lyon were laid out to run parallel to the river. The solid blocks of tall Renaissance apartments did not allow for cross streets, so the courtyards of these buildings were connected by secret passages and stair wells which allowed for shortcuts through the old city.
These passages were especially helpful to the silk merchants, who could transport their silk from the river into the heart of Lyon using the traboules. It not only saved them time and work, but protected their precious silk from inclement weather. Ever see silk fabric that has been spotted with water?
The traboules are hidden behind massive doors throughout the old section of Lyon, many of them closed off to the public. However, there are numerous traboules available for the public to explore if you know how to look for them. Facing a closed door, you will see the key pad for accessing the apartments within. If this is an accessible passageway, you will also notice a small, white square with a white raised button in the middle. This indicates that the traboule can be accessed by the general public.
The architectural design of the traboules is fascinating. Some of the ceilings in the passages are frescoed; some are vaulted. The covered staircases are equally impressive, though quite a few of these are closed off by iron gates to protect the privacy of those living there. In any case, visiting Lyon’s traboules are a step back in time. A word of caution: when visiting the traboules please do so quietly so as not to disturb the residents.
If you’re interested in the fate of the Knights Templar, join Hardy Durkin in his next travel mystery, Engadine Aerie, to be released 26 April, 2017.
Lyon was also a major Templar stronghold since it was the departure point for overland crusades to Jerusalem. The Templars, it is believed, added to the existing traboules by building subterranean passages, allowing them the secrecy they desired in their activities. When Philip the Fair of France ordered the roundup and detention (and torture and murder) of the Templars in France in 1307, it seems the Templars located in Lyon escaped Philip’s dragnet by using the secret passages to avoid capture.
In the 15th and 16th centuries, Lyon was important in the silk trade with Italy, boasting 25,000 silk looms in the city. Ships laden with silk would dock on the quai running along the Saône. The streets of Old Lyon were laid out to run parallel to the river. The solid blocks of tall Renaissance apartments did not allow for cross streets, so the courtyards of these buildings were connected by secret passages and stair wells which allowed for shortcuts through the old city.
These passages were especially helpful to the silk merchants, who could transport their silk from the river into the heart of Lyon using the traboules. It not only saved them time and work, but protected their precious silk from inclement weather. Ever see silk fabric that has been spotted with water?
The traboules are hidden behind massive doors throughout the old section of Lyon, many of them closed off to the public. However, there are numerous traboules available for the public to explore if you know how to look for them. Facing a closed door, you will see the key pad for accessing the apartments within. If this is an accessible passageway, you will also notice a small, white square with a white raised button in the middle. This indicates that the traboule can be accessed by the general public.
The architectural design of the traboules is fascinating. Some of the ceilings in the passages are frescoed; some are vaulted. The covered staircases are equally impressive, though quite a few of these are closed off by iron gates to protect the privacy of those living there. In any case, visiting Lyon’s traboules are a step back in time. A word of caution: when visiting the traboules please do so quietly so as not to disturb the residents.
If you’re interested in the fate of the Knights Templar, join Hardy Durkin in his next travel mystery, Engadine Aerie, to be released 26 April, 2017.
February 11, 2017
South of France: Vermillion Coast
The Vermillion Coast is a twenty-mile stretch of coastline along the Mediterranean Sea in the Pyrenees-Oriental region of southern France, stretching from Argeles-Sur-Mer in the north to Cerbere at the Spanish border. You could say it is a counter-part to the French Riviera, except it isn’t as expensive, chic, or exclusive as the renowned beaches in Provence. Be warned: the beaches here tend to be less sandy and more inclined to pebbles, with the exception of the vast expanses at Argeles-sur-Mer.
Collioure, France, is an idyllic seaside village on the Vermillion Coast. The village has all the required ingredients for a perfect Mediterranean village: Catalan colors in the charming buildings, a castle, lighthouse, winding streets, boutiques, and restaurants and cafes that line the beaches along the aquamarine sea beyond. Matisse and Picasso found inspiration here.
The Sunday morning market is a weekly event that draws hordes of people, but come early to get a coveted parking space. After browsing the wares of numerous vendors selling everything from sewing thread to fresh fish, enjoy a meal at a seaside café, and taste one of the local wines bottled nearby. Sun, sea, wine … life really doesn’t get much better.
Collioure, France, is an idyllic seaside village on the Vermillion Coast. The village has all the required ingredients for a perfect Mediterranean village: Catalan colors in the charming buildings, a castle, lighthouse, winding streets, boutiques, and restaurants and cafes that line the beaches along the aquamarine sea beyond. Matisse and Picasso found inspiration here.
The Sunday morning market is a weekly event that draws hordes of people, but come early to get a coveted parking space. After browsing the wares of numerous vendors selling everything from sewing thread to fresh fish, enjoy a meal at a seaside café, and taste one of the local wines bottled nearby. Sun, sea, wine … life really doesn’t get much better.
January 30, 2017
Great Food in Bled, Slovenia
Great Food in Bled, Slovenia
You can tell a lot about a country or region by its food. We recently experienced the culinary delights of Bled, Slovenia, when we ate in the restaurant located in Bled’s castle. The restaurant is contemporary and pleasant, with spectacular views out over the lake and valley. It was peaceful.
We ordered the charcuterie and cheese board, which provided a litany of yums and ahs from one end of the board to the other with an extensive sampling of dried meats, cheeses, pickles, olives, nuts, fig tapenade, and lovely rustic bread. The presentation was a work of art. One of our party ordered a large salad which was a palette of colors, textures, and tastes that raised the bar for salads to a new height.
Our main dish was a Slovenian specialty, fried chicken legs. I was curious. Having lived in the South for decades I have a pretty good idea of what fried chicken is, but this dish was something else! The chicken legs were short, extremely plump, sweet, succulent, and fried to perfection. And the mashed potatoes (again, I’m somewhat of an aficionado) were unique and delicious. Stuffed, I decided not to order the cream cake, a signature dessert for Slovenia.
The wait staff at Bled Castle Restaurant topped off the dining experience. They are very professional, pleasant, and impeccably trained. We left with full tummies and warm feelings for Bled, Slovenia.
You can tell a lot about a country or region by its food. We recently experienced the culinary delights of Bled, Slovenia, when we ate in the restaurant located in Bled’s castle. The restaurant is contemporary and pleasant, with spectacular views out over the lake and valley. It was peaceful.
We ordered the charcuterie and cheese board, which provided a litany of yums and ahs from one end of the board to the other with an extensive sampling of dried meats, cheeses, pickles, olives, nuts, fig tapenade, and lovely rustic bread. The presentation was a work of art. One of our party ordered a large salad which was a palette of colors, textures, and tastes that raised the bar for salads to a new height.
Our main dish was a Slovenian specialty, fried chicken legs. I was curious. Having lived in the South for decades I have a pretty good idea of what fried chicken is, but this dish was something else! The chicken legs were short, extremely plump, sweet, succulent, and fried to perfection. And the mashed potatoes (again, I’m somewhat of an aficionado) were unique and delicious. Stuffed, I decided not to order the cream cake, a signature dessert for Slovenia.
The wait staff at Bled Castle Restaurant topped off the dining experience. They are very professional, pleasant, and impeccably trained. We left with full tummies and warm feelings for Bled, Slovenia.
