Last summer I turned 50 and took my teenagers and my niece on my dream trip to Europe. So far, I have blogged about Venice, the Orient Express, and our road trip from Paris to Chateau Des Milandes in the Dordogne Region. At the end of our trip, we drove to Burgundy for two glorious days to see the land that produces my favorite wine.
Ahhh Burgundy, how I love thee–it’s light taste, gorgeous colors, and magical qualities. I visited a restaurant in NYC once, Daniel, which had pages and pages of Burgundies. I was so excited to surprise my ex-husband with an “astonishing” bottle of wine, but the “astonishing” ones started at $1500 a bottle so I chose one that was less “astonishing” and I had to “astonish” him with my personality and sparkling repartee instead.
I have to say, I knew nothing about wine other than they came in colors red or white until I met my first husband. Okay, so far, he’s been my only husband, but I may end up with a few more. He loved Burgundy and had studied wine for years. At first I thought he was a wine snob. But eventually, I grew to love it on my own. After our split, my friend said, “Now you no longer have to drink Burgundy!” But I had grown to love Burgundy. My decision to visit Burgundy was my way of showing myself that I would carry on my own passions and loves on my own. I had loved my ex-husband with all of my heart, mind, and soul. I thought we had a fun, sexy, romantic marriage. Boy was I deluded! Our divorce was brutally painful, and my bones felt like they were on fire–literal fire. I was heartbroken over every piece of separating, and as for Burgundy–-I was especially heartbroken over losing all our romantic wine-filled dinners, filled with philosophical conversations and laughing till our stomachs hurt. Going to Burgundy on my own, with my kids, was another step on my journey of taking back my power.
In any case, my teens weren’t enthusiastic about this portion of the trip. My daughter repeatedly rolled her eyes when I said we were headed to wine country. I tried to make it as fun for them as possible, but these two days I was taking just for me. Eye roll. Driving from Chateau Des Milandes was a bit longer than I thought. Somehow I had gotten in my head that we should stay in a castle or two on our trip, just for fun–probably from watching Game of Thrones and imagining myself as the Mother of Dragons–- so on the way to Burgundy we stopped at Chateau Des Bagnols, a castle I thought was in Lyon, but was actually in the middle of nowhere. As we drove up the terra cotta stone fortress, my daughter said, “Are we in Nacho Libre?” As in the Jack Black film, which sent all of us into peals of laughter as I pressed the button and the big iron gate swung open.
We parked and some uniformed guys came out to empty our trunk of the multitude of pink suitcases and hat boxes.
We checked in and with no elevator, the poor guys lugged all that luggage up two large flights of stone steps, and poor us lugged our smaller bags and purses.
We were given a big iron skeleton key and shown to our massive room, with 20-foot tall ceilings overlooking the gorgeous countryside. There were velvet ropes with tassels hanging from the ceiling, and the large yellow canopy bed looked like a doll bed because the room was so large. The tub was large and sitting on a small stage in the bathroom. I couldn’t find the toilet until I lifted the seat of a medieval chair, which was hiding it. Stunningly beautiful, the castle definitely felt like we had stepped back in time. The moat was filled with grass and flowers. Sunlight reflected off the ancient stone walls. We walked over rolling hills to find the pool in the middle of the trees. There was one other couple at the pool, a cigar-smoking, tattooed, middle aged man and a young woman I assumed was his daughter, but my daughter said was definitely not. I thought he’d be chill as the kids started playing Marco Polo, but no, he told them to please be quiet as he needed peace. So they had to wrestle in silence.
We walked back up the rolling hills to the castle, and changed for dinner. The courtyard had a Michelin-starred restaurant called 1217, the year the castle was built. I had reserved us a table, but we all decided we weren’t up for a formal dinner. The kids wanted mexican food… in the middle of France. To give them credit, we had been traveling for a while and had eaten a lot of french food. I got directions to a mexican restaurant in Lyon, and we set out in the car, blasting music and singing and laughing. I parked on a cobblestone street and we sat near the street as the restaurant had no front wall. It was lively and wonderful and one of our favorite meals during our travels. While we sat waiting for our food, we met some very nice ex-patriates who had moved to Lyon from the US, and the kids shushed me at one point and said, “Listen!”
“The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers was playing in the restaurant, my Dad’s favorite song. We all miss him so much, we put our arms around each other and sang along with tears in our eyes. It was my favorite kind of restaurant– the kind that encourages singing out loud and raucous conversation.
We drove back to the castle, and as you can imagine, it was impossible to keep the temperature of the room cool. After a hot night, I ordered room service for the kids and headed to the award-winning spa. It felt a little weird to be the only person walking the grounds. I entered the stone spa and there was no one there. I found a little pool to float around in until someone came to get me, a pretty young woman who gave me a wonderful massage. I returned to the room and the kids were happily eating croissants and hot chocolate. We did a little Game of Thrones photo shoot on our way out (mind you, they are too young to watch it, so it was just me living my Mother of Dragons fantasy. So much about the Mother of Dragons resonates with me. I feel like I’ve spent a night in a fire, burning with grief and love and heartbreak, and now as the fire simmers down, I emerge, not burnt and weak, but stronger, braver, with my arms full of fierce baby dragons. And I march forward in my life with the certainty that I am the true queen of my own inner kingdom, my own life, and nothing can sway me from that ever. Breaker of Chains! Mother of Dragons! Queen of Marci’s kingdom! YES!
Burgundy was only 45 minutes away, so we packed up the car and headed to Beaune. Our hotel in Beaune was our favorite hotel of our entire trip. Maybe because it reminded us of home, with its charming manicured gardens, little bridges, beautiful architecture, and all the modern amenities inside our room. It was called Hostellerie de Levernois and I HIGHLY recommend it.
After the castle, the kids were thrilled to be back in touch with the modern world, comfortable beds, and powerful air conditioning. Thank you Relais and Chateaux!
We drove downtown where punk rock street performers with mohawks were playing guitars, an interesting juxtaposition with the ancient churches and adorable little buildings. I was a little worried about leaving my car parked on the street, as all the windows had bars on them and there was no one around. This was unexpected for such a small quaint town in France. I eventually found a place that felt safer, and the kids were happy to see shops and restaurants and pedestrians after our previous few days in isolated medieval villages and fortresses. We found a restaurant that had a couple of Michelin stars and rave reviews. I was hoping for a mind-blowing meal, but alas, it didn’t blow anything. My daughter wasn’t thrilled with her plate– three pieces of asparagus with a raw egg on top, and all of our meals were similar, so we had to stopped and got pizza afterwards. I didn’t care, I was just so happy to be in Burgundy with my favorite people.
The next morning, we drove around the region, through charming little stone towns, vineyards, rolling grapevines. I squealed at the names of all my favorites: Volnay, Chassagne Montrachet, Puligny-Montrachet, Meursault, etc. It felt like I was seeing superstars as we passed each vineyard. The teens kept saying things like, “Boy you must really like grapes.” Oh I do, my darlings, I do. Grapes are divine. When Dom Perignon first tasted champagne, he said, “Come quickly, I am tasting the stars!” That’s how I felt our entire trip, like I was tasting stars.
And I highly recommend wearing your favorite pink strawberry dress, a big floppy hat, and carrying a purse shaped like a basket of strawberries. Choosing a fun sartorial ensemble for each section of our trip was one of my greatest joys, and I saved my strawberry dress just for Burgundy, so I could frolic barefoot through the countryside.
Living my dream: Dancing barefoot around Burgundy in my strawberry dress, floppy hat, and strawberry basket purse!
