Road trip Berlin to Spain, part 2
France: Dijon, city of mustard and gingerbread
I haven’t been to France in decades—and never by car. Will my “red lightning” on four wheels get me safely through the neighboring country? And remain unscathed itself? My excitement is building.
I had completely forgotten that you have to pay tolls to drive on France’s motorways. Shorter sections are free, as are the older “national roads” (“routes nationales”), which run parallel to the newer, sleeker motorways and lead through towns and villages. If you choose this more leisurely option, the journey time roughly doubles. So I pay – and get annoyed. What strikes me is that English-language songs are now at a disadvantage on the car radio. Whereas in Germany it feels like mainly US hits are played, since crossing the border I’ve been hearing French, French, French... Since I’ve neglected my school knowledge of the language for decades, I eventually just turn off the car radio.
Large blue electronic display boards on the right-hand side of the road show not only the distance to the nearest gas stations, but also how much gas costs there. A driver-friendly feature. Electronic “gallows” above the road also display the time and traffic information at regular intervals. The speed limit is 80 m/h, often reduced to 70 m/h. That’s the average speed I drive in my Volkswagen Fox. It can still easily reach 80 m/h, but I want it to last a long time. So it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Once I cross the German-French border, staying with relatives and friends is no longer an option. Fortunately, as a member of the peace organization Servas International (see my reports), I can access their online member list and email members at my destination to ask if they would be willing to host me for a night or two. This has allowed me to meet many exciting and lovely people so far – and this time is no exception. Sylvaine invites me to stay with her in Dijon, a two-hour drive from the border. Around 160,000 people live in the commercial center of the province of Burgundy, famous for its delicious wines. Sylvaine’s apartment is on the fifth floor, and I can see the whole city from the large terrace. On clear days, after rain has cleared the air, she can see Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in Europe, located in the Alps between France and Italy, about 125 miles away as the crow flies, Sylvaine explains, showing a photograph, she took on such a day.
The retired psychologist is a passionate amateur photographer—and an excellent one at that. When she had to spend five weeks in the hospital years ago, she reversed her perspective and looked through her camera at the people who visited her in her hospital bed, at the television hanging on the wall to entertain her, at the tubes that supplied her with what she needed. Many of the pictures capture the bleakness of her existence in the hospital bed, while others are downright funny. For example, in one photo, the faces of two friends beam at her – while her own bare toes peek out from under the covers. Five years and an encouraging medical prognosis later, a friend convinces Sylvaine to show her photos to an audience. She calls the exhibition “Vu du lit” (View from the Bed).
Sylvaine insists on showing me around her city during my visit. When I hear the name Dijon, I naturally think of the mustard of the same name. It’s a specialty of the city. Until 2006, there was even a mustard museum in Dijon. At Edmond Fallot, a traditional mustard manufacturer in the city center, a salesperson explains the production process to me. The shop offers 25 different flavors. Among them is “Cassis,” blackcurrant, which is used in France to make a liqueur that is mixed with white wine to create the popular “Kir.” Sylvaine served me a glass with dinner the night before. Now it’s an addition to the famous Dijon mustard. I buy a small jar as a souvenir and one with the sweet, cinnamon flavor of “pain d’épice,” another specialty of the city. This spiced bread is traditionally sweetened with honey and flavored with anise, a characteristic spice of the region, as well as cinnamo
n, cloves, ginger, and nutmeg.
The city center is easy to explore on foot. There are many winding alleys, magnificent half-timbered houses, and antique shops. It’s France, after all. The most striking building is the 14th-century Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy. Today, it houses both the city hall and the Musée des Beaux-Arts, one of the oldest museums in France, with exhibits ranging from ancient Egyptian art to modern painting.
However, Sylvaine draws my attention to something else: she directs my gaze to houses whose roofs are covered with different colored tiles. In the Middle Ages and early modern times, such tiles adorned the roofs of cathedrals and the residences of princes and wealthy townspeople as a symbol of prestige. The characteristic colors—including mustard, green, and burgundy red—are created by adding minerals and metal oxides, which form a bright surface when fired. The glazed roof tiles are not only colorful, but also weather-resistant. The use of glazes spread throughout Europe—from Magdeburg to southern Germany and Switzerland.
Those who don’t have such a knowledgeable guide as I do can entrust themselves to the “Owl Tour.” This free city tour takes visitors through the historic old town in 22 stages. You follow the shiny bronze arrows with owl motifs embedded in the cobblestones on the ground – similar to the stumbling stones that have been laid in Berlin since 1996 to commemorate the victims of National Socialism. Here in Dijon, however, the owl arrows have a positive connotation. For children, there are additional highlights in the form of figures on house walls, such as Tarzan, the jungle hero, who appears to swing from a climbing plant next to a house to the house wall with the help of a vine. Among other things, they pass the historic carousel. It is one of the oldest surviving carousels in Europe and was built in the 19th century. It has been restored several times, including in the 20th century, and is a listed building. A few years ago, an unknown person carried out an arson attack on the carousel, Sylvaine explains, but it has been restored to its original condition. Two girls sit in a fire truck and cheer with joy.
Of course, Dijon has a Notre Dame church, and a “Rue de la Liberté” is also a must. The Street of Freedom was named after the French Revolution to symbolize the newly discovered ideals of freedom and democracy. The nearby Place de la Libération, or Liberation Square, is different. Created in the 17th century, it surrounds the former ducal palace in a semicircle and invites visitors to linger with its cafés, restaurants, and sunken fountain. The square got its name after World War II, when the Allies liberated Dijon from the German occupiers.
Thank you, Sylvaine, for this entertaining and informative city tour!
Next stop: Montpellier
This text was first published on my German website and translated by me.
Wonderful travel review. Of all the Servas visits we have done it’s France that gets an A+ for architectural culture! Thanks for the share!