Le Bon Homme, Alsace region of France
The nice part about traveling independently with a car and no reservations is you can be impulsive. During our recent European adventure we had one morning when we drove an hour and a half and said let's stop here. We had not covered much ground but found a place we just wanted to enjoy.
We had driven the small roads through sheep farming country in the early morning. At 10:30 we approached the small hamlet of Le Bon Homme, France tucked in the valley between the mountains. (Jon still refers to this place as Le Boheme.) We stopped to look and decided on a coffee break. The hotel had the most charming "bar" where we were served coffee. The inn keeper spoke English. Behind the hotel was a winding, aqua blue water stream. We inquired about a "chambre" and were shown a lovely suite with a balcony overlooking the mountain stream. The price was right. That sold us on the idea of an early check in to enjoy the day relaxing.
At midday we drove to the ski area on the top of the mountain. Continuing on we stopped at St. Marie Aux Mines for lunch. There may be tourists here in the ski season but today everyone spoke only French. We both ate the special at a local bistro, Quicke Lorraine. Jon ate it and liked it. I am not sure he has ever eaten anything he thought was quiche because he calls it sissy food. Later, we spent time walking the town of Le Bon Homme and sitting on the balcony listening to the babbling brook.
That evening we had a wonderful French meal complete with two wines and dessert in the formal dining room. Jon's had a choice between escargot and jambon & oefs for his second course. He knew he didn't want snails, but eating a sunny side basted egg and ham for second course was a little strange.
We tucked in early. Jon fell asleep in minutes. I had a supply of books to read until I felt sleepy. The evening air was cool and we kept the balcony doors slightly open. At 12:30 I finally turned out the lights attempting to sleep. After tossing and turning I begin to wonder when someone was going to turn off that "babbling brook" which now sounded like a torrential river. My imagination was also kicking into gear. Our Hotel was one of a chain of European hotels called Loges de France. Their motto printed on the soap, stationery and shampoo is "Tradition and Terrior". Now I understand the tradition part but at that late hour sleeping with the balcony doors open waiting for the "terrior" to start was not inducive to sleep.
Here we are in "Le Boheme" and maybe it is not over until the fat lady screams.
1 comment:
It's amazing how loud a brook can be isn't it? It's quaint until it's the only sound (roar) you can hear. It reminds me of Innsbruck (I think), where dad and I visited on our trip together. We were walking down a street at night, a babbling brook on one side and a clanging of bells. It wasn't until the next day, when we drove by in daylight that I realized the bells were from the livestock (sheep maybe?)out in the pasture. In town. You don't see that at home. At least not my home! Or the church bells....I hear you are fond of those as well.
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