The food is too good and too much, even for me, a reason why I have to do dieting now. If I would be a Spanish Landsknecht coming through here, I would have deserted or died at the road unable to roll on my cask-like belly any further.
We went to several old villages like Perrouges and Chalons de Chateaux, a waterfall and abbeys, or how they all called, and discomforted the indigenous population with relentless requests for alcoholic beverages.
We had parties and visited the Saline Royale with some great architectural exhibitions, maybe an uncle of Vauban.
The whole land is flat, they have uncomfortable seatings in parks, huge wooden fish totems and gold fishies swimming in their local water supply. And they do put ashes into their food, even in the cheese - and call it morbier. So no wonder most of the rurals live next to cementaries – very quiet neighbourhoods!
I can only recommend it!
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| An early-late Breughel |
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