Villeneuve-Loubet

After a rather lazy Sunday of doing stuff around the house, we decided it was time to get out a bit. Since we didn’t feel like taking the car anywhere, we decide to pay the old village of Villeneuve-Loubet a visit. It’s not what some would call an obvious choice, since a lot of Villeneuve-Loubet could be used as a bad example of town planning, especially the seaside, where concrete really rulez. I also work in Villeneuve-Loubet, actually, so I figured it was about time to visit the place properly.

Well, as often is the case on the Cote d’Azur, the old part of Villeneuve-Loubet was a lovely spot. Our short walk took us by the old castle of Villeneuve-Loubet (what we saw of it behind looked pretty cool – unfortunately the place is closed to the public), then down the hill to the old village, down typically winding little lanes, bordered by well-kept, cute houses. I guess you could say that the old town of Cagnes is more harmonious, and prettier, and, well, older. But Villeneuve-Loubet was still a very pleasant place to stroll around, and feels greener and more colourful somehow.

Having explored the streets of Villeneuve-Loubet, we decided to visit one of the two local museums; Musee Escoffier de l’Art Culinere (for some reason Mathilde preferred that one to the military museum…). Well, I wasn’t exactly opposed – any museum dedicated to the noble art of cooking must surely be worth a visit ;-). Actually, we couldn’t have picked a better place to visit, as the museum put on a wine-tasting/lecturing session for the afternoon. The wine tasting was preceded by a very thorough lecture on the wines of Bourgogne. As far as lectures go, this was one of the most interesting and entertaining ones I’ve ever been to. I didn’t realise there was so much to say about the wines of just one region (and the guy was obviously just scratching the surface). And did the guy know his stuff, or what. And I can’t really fault the wines we got to taste afterwards, either – although my criterias for what a good wine is supposed to be like are rather easier to fulfill than for the average Frenchman, I suppose…. ;-)

We only had about half an hour to visit the museum itself afterwards – which turned out to be enough. The museum is dedicated to one Auguste Escoffier, who was (according to that well of knowledge known as Wikipedia) one of the most important leaders in the development of modern French cuisine. The museum is actually located in his birthplace (he died in somewhat more glamorous surroundings - in Monaco). The museum was interesting enough, with old recipies, cooking utensils and menus on display (I especially liked the ones by Toulouse-Lautrec). There was also an exhibiton about the tragic life of Bernard Loiseau (who shot himself, rumour has it, because The Michelin guide was planning to remove one of his restaurant's 3 stars). Well, a well spent five euros, all in all!

Île Saint-Honorat

Since the sun was shining over the Cote d’Azur, as it often does, we figured some outdoors activities were called for before a dinner data we had booked for the evening in Cannes. After pondering various options, we decided on a trip to Île Saint-Honorat, just outside Cannes. So having prepared a picnic, we jumped on the train to Cannes. A brisk walk through sunny Cannes took us to the Vieux Port, where we jumped on the ferry.

Île Saint-Honorat is the smaller of the îles de Lérins (the other one being île Sainte-Marguerite, which we visited a while back). Apart from 30 or so good brothers living in the local monastery, the island is uninhabited. In spite of its diminutive size, its history spans back all the way to the 5th century, when Saint Honorat came to inhabit an island. Rather quickly his disciples followed him there, which prompted him to found a monastery there.

We started off our visit by walking around the island, taking in the crystal-clear waters (and all the yachts anchored there) and the neighbouring île Sainte-Marguerite. A 30 minute walk brought us to the still solid ancient monastery, stubbornly clinging to the shoreline on a small piece of land, surrounded on three sides by water. It actually resembles a castle more than a monastery. We spent a good while there, climbing up the narrow staircase all the way to the top, where we enjoyed some amazing views over the island and the adjacent modern monastery.

We then hurried down to the modern monastery, which dates from the 19th century. As the place is still in use, it’s only possible to visit the church, which in spite of its impressive façade disappointed somewhat. I was a bit gutted about the fact that we didn’t have time to visit the monastery shop, as reliable sources tell me the monks are famed for the wines they produce… Next time, I s’ppose…

We hurried back to catch the last ferry to Cannes, rather pleased with our little excursion. After doing a bit of shopping (hey, it’s Cannes, after all, right?) it was time for our dinner date. We were meeting up with my parents, and a big bunch of relatives who had come all the way from Karis, Finland, to visit (our good friend Karita was also there). My parents had chosen a restaurant called Caveau 30. The place was nice enough (and spacious enough for the horde of Finns) with good seafood, although the bill ended up being a bit steep (maybe I should’ve skipped the Kir Royal…).

Phil and Stephane visiting

Finally, after a couple of aborted visits, our good friends from Guildford, Phil and Stephane graced us with their presence this weekend. You may know these two gentlemen from several previous blog entries – as I seem to run into them in pubs whenever I’m visiting the UK.

We kicked off the weekend’s activities by picking the lads up at the airport, and driving straight down to central Nice. Having showed them the Things One Must Absolutely See in Nice (Place Massena, the promenade des Anglais, the old town), we got down to business and went to the Thor Pub – or rather the Althor or some such silly name. Well, in spite of the name change, the place was much the same as always. After another drink in Ma Nolan’s (must show them the regular watering holes, after all) – where I much to my shame had to settle for a Coke (the woes of being the designated driver, eh…?), we headed down to Place Garibaldi for dinner at Le Petit Gari – a cozy little restaurant we’d read good things about on the ‘net. And a nice place it was – if a bit pricy. The waiter was especially entertaining – who amazingly even managed to figure out I was Finnish (I can tell you that's something that doesn’t happen very often…). Having wined and dined very well indeed, it was time to speed back home. But there was still time (there always is!) to have a couple of digestifs before going to bed – time to take out Mathilde’s nan’s bottle of Calva again - any excuse will do ;-)

Surprisingly, we didn’t get up very early on Saturday (I put part of the blame on Stephane – but then his lie-ins are rather legendary – I think on most days I probably have my lunch before he gets to the office – only due to the time difference, obviously ;-). After a nourishing breakkie (having guests has the upside of giving me the excuse to buy those lovely croissants and Pain de Chocolates), it was time to hit the road again. This time we decided to take our guests to Italy – to the lovely village of Dolceacqua. Having walked around the village's narrow cobble-stoned streets and taken in the lovely view of the castle overlooking the famous old bridge, we drove on to Isolabuona, the next village in the valley. It was a lovely little community, as these places usually are in Italy, if somewhat less picturesque than Dolceacqua. The village tour was quickly done, especially since our stomachs were grumbling rather loudly by now. So off we went in search of an open restaurant – a nearly impossible mission in Italy as it was after 2PM. But eventually we found a place, up a long and windy road, nicely perched on top of a hill. And what a gem of a restaurant it was. Not only was the food great – and reasonably priced – but the proprietor was a real laugh. Of rather interesting origins (Danish-Russian-Italian, brought up in Monaco), he entertained us with stories of what an adventure it was to go fishing with his wife, of how to cook poisonous mushrooms, amongst other things. I even managed to nearly have a conversation in Italian (although for all I know he might’ve been talking about something completely different from me all along).

Having downed a grappa (the old chap told me off for not drinking enough to “clean my glass” – that’s another thing that doesn’t happen very often to me…), we said our farewells and promised to come back, and drove back towards France again. Our next stop was Monaco – where we took the boyz on the standard tour (the old town, the palace, the port and of course the Casino). All seemed well in Monaco (the Ferraris were there, the yachts hadn’t gone anywhere etc.), credit crush ‘n all. I was even told off by the police for not crossing the road at the sidewalk – I thought things like that only happened in Finland and Singapore!

We had to keep our Monaco tour a short one, since we had a table booked in Haut-de-Cagnes for 8PM. This time we had decided to try out Josy-Jo, a classy-looking establishment just on the outskirts of the old town. Wd did have time for a quick walk around the town before dinner – good for working up the appetite. The dinner was tasty enough (reassuringly meaty – their speciality seems to be various types of meat, prepared next to the dining room in plain view), as was the wine, which was just as well, considering the rather steep bill. Shouldn't complain – but of the eateries we frequented this weekend, this one had the the least entertaining staff. As the local pub (which I affectionately call "Le Pub") was closed as always, we were happy to contend with digestifs back at the flat again.

And that was it for this weekend. Having taken Phil & Stephane to the airport, We pretty much spent the rest of Sunday assembling IKEA furniture….

Ikea, Toulon and some DIY

We’ve been staying in our new flat for a few months already, and haven’t really spent a lot of effort on the redecorating front. So it was time for the inevitable finally – the visit to Ikea. So we jumped into my parents Scenic, and down we sped the A8 down to Toulon, which is where the nearest Ikea is located. We were very well prepared, having pretty much decided what to buy beforehand (a bit unusual for us), but unsurprisingly managed to spend over 2 hours there. That’s Ikea for you, I suppose. But we left happy enough, having found everything we looked for and more.

We thought we’d take the opportunity to visit Toulon for a bit, while we were in the ‘hood, so to speak. Toulon has a bit of a scruffy reputation, being one of the main military ports of France. And to be frank, the suburbs of Toulon won’t win any rewards for beauty or architectural inventiveness. But the town centre was pleasant enough, with its typical Provencal old town. After grabbing a quick sandwich, we strolled along the lively port for a bit – very nice too. Then we hit the road – promising ourselves to come back one day and properly explore the place.

In the evening we met up with Marianne, Mikko and Sami in Haut-de-Cagnes for dinner. The only place we were able to reserve a table at was actually Le Manoir – a nice enough place we’ve been to once before. This time we were a bit disappointed – I’ve never waited half an hour for drinks before (thankfully, Sami provided us with great entertainment all evening, the sight of a miniature horse on the table seemed to make him think he was back in Lapland herding reindeer or something…). The food was nice enough, though.

Sunday was spent swearing whilst assembling Ikea furniture – one of my favourite pastimes. My parents also came over for lunch.

An offer I couldn't refuse

This weekend, a great honour was to be bestowed upon me. I was to become godfather to Florian, the son of two very good friends of mine, Nathalie and Patrick. So it meant a trip to Nantes for this weekend. As flights from Nice to Nantes were rather steeply priced, we decided to take the train – a decision some might question as the train journey takes no less than 10 hours. After considering various options, we finally decided to take the night train to Paris on Thursday night, and then the TGV in the afternoon from Paris to Nantes. And back on Sunday via Marseilles. That’s a lot of train for one weekend!

The trip from Antibes to Paris went pretty well – I even managed to get some sleep. I was actually looking forward to spending a day in Paris – it’s been some time since my last visit. After a pleasant breakfast near Gare de Montparnasse (in a real Parisian-style bistro), we headed off into the sunshine to explore Paris. It was a glorious autumn day – we were lucky to pick a weekend when the weather on the Cote d’Azur actually seems to have been worse than elsewhere in France. After walking down Rue de Rennes, we made a quick detour to visit Saint-Sulpice. Perhaps sadly enough, the reason I wanted to go was the fact that the church featured in the Da Vinci code. We did find the famous “Rose line” featured in the book (and learnt – not much to our surprise – that the stuff in the book about the Rose line was a load of Blarney). I suppose that’s why must tourists visit the church (even now – 10 AM on a Friday, there were quite a few) – but this atmospheric and majestic church really does merit a visit. Carrying on our walk, we headed down Boulevard St-Germain and Boulevard St-Michel, where I managed to acquire a few bargain-price BD’s in the superb 2nd-hand bookstores that are a big feature of St-Michel.

We then sped back to Gare Montparnasse where we met up with Ollie for a nice lunch in one of the local brasseries. Having filled our stomachs and said our goodbyes to Ollie, we did some last-minute suit shopping (er, this was due to some rather poor planning on my part…). We did eventually manage to find one big enough for me ;-). We still had time to squeeze in a visit to a photography exhibition at La Fondation de Cartier-Bresson – who is of course one of the best photographers of the 20th century. Great stuff – and the guy didn’t even use Photoshop ;-).

And then it was time to jump on the TGV to Nantes. That marvel of French engineering took us to Nantes in seemingly no time – in just over 2 hours. Nathalie was kind enough to pick us up at the station, and take us to their lovely house in the suburbs of Nantes. After some slight initial shyness on the part of the kids (I have to give them credit – I didn’t manage to scare them in spite of my best efforts) we all got along great, Florian and Timothe even provided some free track ‘n field action in the living room – Florian ended up with an astonishing 19 gold medals (Timothe also did pretty well though, pinching no less than 19 silver ones!). A few tasty pizzas later, Nathalie’s brother Nico took us and Kathryn, an Australian ex-colleague of Nathalie’s from her days in the UK, back to our apartment hotel.

Saturday was the big day for all of us! So up we got bright ‘n early, and sped down to the town hall, for the big triple ceremony (that’s right, all three boys – Florian, Timothe and Gurvan, were to be baptised). I actually had the honour to take part in a revolutionary ceremony – as the mayor (Mathilde did tell me afterwards it wasn’t really the mayor of Nantes – in spite of the fact that he fulfilled all the criteria of a French mayor. I mean he was a “well rounded”, jovial and had a tricolour band around his waist – that’s all it takes right?). I say revolutionary, since the civil baptism ceremony was actually introduced along the civil marriage during the revolution by no less than Mr. Robespierre. Anyway, the ceremony went well without any gaffes on my part – at the end of it I got a great little certificate and my proud god-son Florian got a little medal (to round up the 19 he got last night to a nice and even 20 ;-).

As it was still too early for lunch, we were taken to acquaint ourselves with a rather special elephant. Basically it’s a huge mechanical contraption constructed by various artists and engineers in Nantes – all a bit in the spirit of Jules Verne. It really does look a bit like something out of 20,000 leagues under the sea, both on the inside and the outside. We all got to go on a ride in the thing – a most pleasant experience (but it’s not a very fast means of transport, I’ll tell you that). All I can say is – if you ever visit Nantes, do make a point of checking it out. After this it was time for the Big Meal (that’s what I like about Important Events in France – they never go cheap on the food, that’s for sure ;-). The restaurant was quite an interesting place – situated in an old villa, kind of like an oasis of class stuck between car dealerships and warehouses at the outskirts of Nantes. Several delicious courses, several glasses of wine and a fair bit of chocolate cake ensued – what else can one ask for? And the godsons got their pressies, of course.

With our stomachs well filled and our minds content, we bade everybody farewell and then waited for Aude and Magaye (who also live in Nantes) to pick us up. They took us down to the city centre, where we ended up parking the car in the middle of a Breton nationalist demonstration (Nantes is kind of just outside Bretagne). From there we made our way to Le Cigale, which is something of a Nantes café institution, apparently, for a coffee and some pastries (as if we hadn’t already eaten enough…). I can see why the place is a local institution; the interiors wouldn’t look out of place in Versailles… After a pleasant walking tour of Nantes (which took in the lively old town, including the castle and cathedral) – our stomachs were growling again (well, mine was anyway), so we headed back to Aude and Magaye’s flat for a great dinner. Having filled our stomachs to the brim once more, we were chauffeured back to Nathalie’s and Patrick’s place, where we said our final goodbyes. Nico was kind enough to take us back to the hotel again.

We had to get up very early on Sunday to catch our train, which was leaving at the ungodly hour of 7:30… Nico, poor chap, was kind enough to drive us again (we really need to make all the driving he did up to him one day…). The train journey back to Antibes was surprisingly pleasant, considering it lasted 10 hours in all. I guess being a bookworm helps… I just find train travel a lot more relaxing than flying.

Anyway, it felt nice to be back home after a very eventful and important weekend. And I still feel pretty proud about now being a double godfather ;-) (I think I should even be able to remember Florian’s birthday as it’s on the 29th February – rather unusual, that…)

More photos here.

Flore & Christian visiting

Flore and Christian (as well as their little boy, Lilian) have been kind enough to organise more than one skiing trip to Megeve, in the Alps, over the years – so we were very happy to be able to return the favour and welcome them in our home, for a change. They have relocated from Paris to the Alps recently – a change they both appreciate a great deal I think (especially Christian, who’s a born and bred Savoyard and true ski fanatic). It was great to see little Lilian as well, who was a lot more energetic and talkative than the last time we saw him (seems to have inherited his dad’s musical talent – a born drummer, he is).

After a rather busy Saturday morning of shopping and tidying up, we were ready to receive our guests by the time they arrived just after midday. We started off with a nice kitsch for lunch – along with some Rose wine, of course. After our relaxed lunch, we decided to head down to the beach for a swim and to catch a few rays. Much to my shame, I have to admit it was my first swim in the Med at Cagnes-sur-Mer – and we’ve lived here for over a year now! That’s what having a swimming pool does to you – it makes you lazy! It was great, actually, a swimming pool just isn’t quite the same as the sea… After the mandatory post-beach ice cream, we headed to a Belgian shop Mathilde had advised me about, which specialises in all great things Belgian – beer, chocolate and comics. One rather large beer bottle richer and ten euros poorer, we headed back home.

In the evening we headed off to explore Haut-de-Cagnes, parking Christian’s car in the ultra-modern car park just beneath the old town. Having wandered around for a bit, we got down to the serious business of finding a place to eat. Haut-de-Cagnes is certainly not short on good options – but we wanted to try a place we hadn’t gone to before. We ended up at a place on the main square – which is quite handy when kids are involved (lots of space to run around…). I decided on the exotic option and went for some Vietnamese noodles with king prawns – not bad at all. For the desert I went all classic and picked the strawberry Melba ice cream - a safe and tasty choice. After a tisane back home we all felt ready for bed.






Having weighed various options for what to do on Sunday, we decided upon going to San Remo. Flore and Christian were driving back via Italy, so it was kind of on the way home for them – and I never say no to an opportunity to make a fool of myself with my dodgy Italian. After showing the main sights of San Remo (the faded glory day mansions of the seaside, the casino, the ruggedly attractive old town), it was time for – yes you guessed it – lunch. We found a nice enough place wiith friendly waiters (Lilian seemed to get along with them very well), and ate well as well. I had hoped for a proper Italian Sunday lunch (with Antipasti, followed by Primo Piatto, Secondo Piatto and a desert of course), but alas I had to be content with a pasta followed by a main course, and a doppio espresso to finish off the meal. Still, can’t complain ;-).

After the lunch we headed down to the beach, but unfortunately it started raining the moment we arrived. By the time we had left the beach and gotten the umbrellas out, the rain had stopped of course ;-). Instead of going back to the beach, we decided to go straight for the post-beach ice cream (a bit of a disappointment actually, considering we were in Italy).

And then it was time to call it a day – Flore and Christian had a long way to go back home – so we said our goodbyes and headed back for France…

More photos here.

Another trip to Finland

Barely had things quieted down at home, until it was time for me to pack my bags again – my destination Finland was this time. The flight via Munich on Wednesday night was eventless – which for me is a positive thing when it comes to flying with Lufthansa (since an event with them normally means them losing my luggage).

In spite of a rather busy day at the Ruoholahti office on Thursday, I managed to squeeze in a lunch with Jani M. and Micke at the nearby shopping centre – they both also work in the ‘hood… It was good to catch up with them, especially with Micke who’s a very hard man to meet up with these days (that’s what young children tend to do to your social life, I suppose….). Jani seems to be adjusting back to civilian life well enough after his 12 month sting with the EU military forces. Later on I ran into Frank in the office, who decided to join me for a pint in downtown Helsinki after work. Since I know Frank from my days at our Southwood office in old Blighty, we decided Pub Angleterre would be an appropriate watering hole to spend our hard-earned cash. That’s a funny name for an English pub, by the way – even the British pubs in France have at least vaguely English-sounding names – but I suppose as long as the beer is good, who cares, right? After dropping things like badge and laptop off at home (thought that might be a good idea – being by now all too aware of my impressive record of loosing things…) we carried on to a German pub in Forum where Jani R. and Jocke joined us. A couple of pints later, we all headed back home – making lame excuses about having to be at the office the next day and so forth.

Unfortunately, the main reason for my visit this time was not a pleasant one. My dear grandmother Nelly, whose 94th birthday we had just celebrated a few weeks earlier, had sadly passed away recently. So I joined the rest of my family and other relatives to bid my farewells to her on Saturday. I won’t write any more about that, since it is not really in the spirit of this somewhat lightweight blog. Suffice to say that she lived a long, eventful and very rich life, and her time had come – and she passed away without pain.

We actually had another family event scheduled for the Sunday, which was to celebrate my other grandmother Kyllikki’s birthday (her 95th!). Which meant that we had to speed back to Helsinki on Saturday evening (as Kyllikki lives on the other side of Finland, in Varkaus). We arrived rather late, so decided to have dinner in Saaga, a Lappish restaurant on Bulevardi, near my parents’ flat. It was my first visit to a proper Lappish restaurant – and we all enjoyed it very much in spite of the somewhat steep prices (the reindeer I had was the best I ever tasted…). Strangely enough, the waitress insisted on speaking English to us – I didn’t realise my Finnish was getting THAT dodgy….

As we had a long drive ahead of us, we got up rather early (we managed to leave the flat before 9 – which is quite an accomplishment for my family!). Which meant we actually arrived in Varkaus on schedule – before 2 PM. The festivities were taking place in my grandma’s elderly home, a converted farmhouse – seemed like a very cosy place indeed. It was very nice to see Kyllikki as it had been about 3 years since my last visit. She was talkative as always, and seems to remember even recent events very well (I wish my memory will be half as good as hers if I ever get to be her age)!

After some musical performances from my brother and my nieces, and of course some cake, we bid our farewells to Kyllikki and headed downtown Varkaus for lunch (that cake just wasn’t enough – need to maintain a balanced diet). As it was Sunday, the choice was rather limited, but we actually managed to find a real gem of a restaurant. The place was located in the old refectory of the local paper mill – which had been tastefully and originally converted into a classy yet unpretentious restaurant. Their speciality was sturgeon – brought in from a fish farm in Varkaus where the fish are used to produce caviar… (There is a BIG market for that not too far East from Varkaus, obviously). What’s really interesting about the place is that the refectory used to be operated by my great-grand-father!

That brought an end to a rather strange and emotional weekend – as it was time for us to be on the road for Helsinki. On Monday it was time to head back to France – and Lufthansa impressed me again by managing not to lose my luggage on the way back to Nice!

More photos here.