Beattys Overseas

We've spent the last few days in Dijon, a mid-sized French city whose charm has crept up on us each day we've spent here. 

We arrived on Sunday afternoon by train, checked into our little business hotel and went out to find food and wifi spot, preferably in the same place.  And, thus, we partook in our first truly American guilty pleasure of the trip: McDonald's.  We're not really fast food people at home (Whitney can't even remember the last time she consumed food from the Golden Arches), but we welcomed the idea of a meal costing under 10 Eruo, and the ability to stay and work online for as long as we wanted with no questions asked. 

Over the next few days, we wandered Dijon and did some errands (dry cleaning, pharmacy supplies, etc.), and began to feel like locals.  It's an easy town to navigate, and offers a quite a bit of culture for those seeking it...  The opera scene is booming in Dijon, and the current production of Faust was advertised all over the place.  We went to the box office to buy tickets and were delighted to discover that Whitney's ticket cost only 10 Euro (compared to John's 38), simply due to her youthful age.  Yahoo!  The opera was a lovely night on Tuesday, and we enjoyed people watching while we sipped champagne before the show started.   I'll admit it, I took an accidental nap during the second and third numbers of the first act, but I truly enjoyed the rest of it.  The voices were amazing, and none of the performers were microphoned, so you know they were really singing if we heard them in the back of the huge theatre.

Pre-performance champagnesThe story concerns the fate of Faust in his quest for the true essence of life. Frustrated with learning and the limits to his knowledge and power, he attracts the attention of Satan, with whom Faust makes a deal to serve him until the moment that Faust attains the zenith of human happiness, at which point Satan may take his soul.  Toward the end, after experience love, war, and taming the forces of nature, Faust experiences a single moment of happiness.  The Devil, trying to grab Faust's soul when he dies, is frustrated as God intervenes – recognizing the value of Faust's unending striving.

After the Opera, we walked around Dijon trying to find a late-night restaurant, and found only one place open.  As we're walking in, John joked that it would be hilarious if Satan was in there hanging with his buddies. Well, a few steps into the place, and it turns out, this bar is THE place for the performers to hang after their show.  The man who played Satan was there, and spoke English and asked our whole story and loved that it was Whitney's first opera.  He was quite genteel and charming (just like a devil would be!).  So, we got a few pics with the main singers, and once they found out we were Americans on a honeymoon (translated to them by the Devil man), they teasingly played the national anthem on the bar's piano.  They all laughed and smiled and giggled, and I frankly wasn't sure if they thought we were cute or if they were laughing at us.

- Whitney

Opera-man plays the US national anthem on piano with lots of French flair 

You must know by now that this guy was none-too-keen on spending four days in a town named after mustard (I hate mustard).  Actually, it is named after a mustard recipe which includes a certain mustard seed, but it doesn’t even have to be made here, and the smell of mustard makes me want to throw up, so anyway who cares.  I was especially peeved since we were planning to go there for some R & R and trip brainstorming; once we figured out that my “Dan Kirk Boots on The Ground” theory of planning each day as it comes wasn’t exactly working out as perfectly as I had hoped it would.  Save the commentary, folks, I admit my mistake, and we collectively move on without the “I/WE told you so’s.”

The town had been visited by our pal Kieran during a 5 hour layover at the train station last weekend, as Whitney learned during a dinner in Beaune. He informed her that Dijon was, in his experience and estimation, a sh** hole. He then asked her, truly uninformed of our plans, “So where are you guys off to next?”  Poor Kieran, he was almost overcome with guilt when she explained our next stop was Dijon and we'd be there for 4 days, and why we were going in the first place. No problems, mi amigo, call ‘em as you see ‘em, I always say.

So any hew, of course our spirits were a little uneasy as we boarded the train from Beaune to Dijon on Sunday afternoon. At least we were in 1st class, baby! We were soon enroute to the imagined Shangri la that I had spent quite some time bragging about in Beaune, because it sounded so French and cool, but to which Jon Ford replied, based on Kieran’s report, that “it’s like going to Washington Heights for rest and relaxation."  Well, gentlemen, no one is happier than me to report that Dijon France has little working against it other than its name and the dirty industrial section that Kieran must have veered off into during his sojourn here a while back.  In fact, it’s a GD pretty little city, and one I was proud to be a temporary resident of, if only for a short time. 

We stayed in a decent Dijon hotel, and by that I mean it’s a business traveler’s hotel. Clean sheets, but no room service and a miniature closet with no drawer space. Remember, we’re on a pension!  But, we’re already doing better than we were in Paris.  Right next to our hotel, which happened to be about 300 meters from the train station, is lovely botanical gardens. I spent a morning or two in here breathing in the scents and taking in this local gem. I attempted to jog around the gardens - as well as a fella with one useful arm can - and just took in the statues and the pond with the ducks and the smell of the trees and fall leaves. It was gorgeous!

We spent hours walking through the village, stopping to admire the touristy mustard shops and beautiful slate roofs on the 15th century buildings that still stand. I also enjoyed waiting a bit extra at McDonalds since I ordered my burgers “sans moutard”. (AND DON'T SAY IT - WE WERE THERE FORE THE FREE WI-FI!!!! The French are killing us with their 20 Euro charges for a few hours of online time!!! It sure wasn't because Whit wanted a McFlurry -- wink wink).  I must say that I loved the look on the kid's face when he asked me incredulously 3 times “Sans Moutard? Sans Moutard? Sans Moutard?” You got it Frenchie, and make sure that order comes 'avec' [with] some freedom fries, too.  Si vous plait, fella.

-John