After two nights in Châtillon-Coligny, we woke up to this. (A screen-shot from my phone.) What a shock!
My phone said the temperature outdoors was 12 degrees. I can’t remember the last time it was this cold. I had to put a sweatshirt on as we pulled away from our mooring. Of course, it wasn’t going to last. By afternoon, it would be 30 degrees. Later in the week, the high would be 39 degrees. For now, 12 degrees feels wonderful.
We were, again, cruising through the brilliantly-green countryside.
I’m fascinated by the variety of homes we pass – from large almost castle-like houses to small buildings that were once the home to lock-keepers. Now, they’re private residences.
This one caught my eye. Connected by a bridge so two families could visit each other? Or so the son of one family could sneak over the bridge in the middle of the night to visit the daughter of the other family?
We often see families walking or cycling along the tow path. Sometimes, we see families right on the canal. And there’s always one who wants to go his own way.
After 23 kilometres, eight locks, and seven-and-a-half hours, we moored in Montargis – opposite the police station.
It’s called “La Venise du Gâtinais.” (Gâtinais is what the region was called in the 10th century.) Venice is an apt name for Montargis – as long as you accept it as being on a much smaller scale.
There is a walking tour of the 17 bridges that cross the tiny canals.
And there are spots with no bridges.
The canals run close to the centre of town.
As everything in France comes to a halt from noon to 2pm, so did we. At an outdoor (but under an umbrella) table at “À la Place.”
While still deciding what to have, an amuse bouche of smoked salmon was delivered to our table. Alongside it, bowls of octopus in a secret sauce.
We decided to choose from the “Menu Ardoise” rather than the “Menu Bistronomique.” I’m still trying to figure out what that means. If your eyes are good – or your device will let you zoom in – you can see the choices on the sandwich board at the bottom of the exterior photo above.
Since it was lunch, Jeannie and I decided to forgo a plat and just have an entrée. We both had the “Carpaccio de Noix St. Jacques au Citron Vert et Espelette sur Lit d’Avocat. (The French call scallops “Noix de St. Jacques.” It was done ceviche – no cooking, simply marinated in the acid from the lime.)
We may have skipped the plat, but I couldn’t pass up dessert – “Tatin d’Abricots’ with apricot sorbet.
Jeannie, who doesn’t share my sweet tooth, had the cheese plate.
After lunch, we walked by a chocolate shop. It was closed until 2:30. Probably a good thing. I’m not sure I’d want to taste their speciality – called “Dog Turds.”
Jeannie and I both liked Montargis – I probably more so than her. How could I not be enamoured after I found a bookstore that had a Citroen 2CV as part of its display. Not just any Deux Chevaux – but an antique one like mine. With suicide doors and just two (not three) windows on the side.
