Chagny and Puligny-Montrachet

For the second half of our France trip, we took the train down to Burgundy. Ever since I learned about the TGV in French class, I have longed to take a trip on it. Achievement unlocked! Traveling on a Sunday when many offices and restaurants are closed was a little frustrating. We had an issue with getting the rental car out of the Dijon train station parking garage but soon we were on our way, me driving manual transmission in a foreign country.

A little bit later, we arrived unharmed at Chateau de Bellecroix in Chagny, our picturesque hotel for several nights.

That evening we had reservations at Maison Lameloise, a three-star Michelin restaurant, so we went into town early to walk around. Most everything was closed, but we did find a sculpture of a giant rooster.

The next morning after breakfast, we headed to Puligny-Montrachet for a morning of touring Maison d’Olivier LeFlaive. Though we aren’t new to wine, we were new to Burgundy and the French system of appellations. We began by taking a stroll through Puligny-Montrachet to the vineyards, where Regis introduced us to the soil.

Just from where we were standing, we could see many different types of soil due to geologic shifts that affect the quality of the grapes produced. It began to make sense why many people say that Burgundy is the most difficult wine region – a difference of a few meters can make all the difference in the wine!

Following our vineyard tour, we had a cellar tour from Olivier LeFlaive himself as he walked us through the wine-making process.

Finally, it was time to taste some of the wine we had heard so much about, alongside traditional Burgundian cuisine.

Joe’s tasting notes:

After our stomachs were full with food and wine, we wandered down the road to Meursault.

This was our first up-close glimpse of the traditional Burgundian roof, a Flemish-style seen most famously at the Hospice de Beaune.

That evening we had failed to make plans as our travel style is equal parts planning and exploration. Again, many places in Chagny were closed on a Monday night. We stopped into a beer bar (!!!) and ordered some charcuterie, and the woman was very apologetic that the bread was stale since the boulangeries were closed on Monday.

It was getting late and all of the restaurants seemed to have curiously few people in them. There was an advertisement for one last place on a side street, and as we entered, we found all of the people in Chagny inside a cozy stone space, heated by a large wood fire. Le Grenier a Sel was a very lucky find!

We were welcomed with a kir aligote by a flustered but efficient waitress and immediately settled on sharing some escargot and fondue. Again dining on Monday night meant that they had run out of several things, but we managed to make do.

 

While it wasn’t on the level of Lameloise, it was one of the most enjoyably laid-back and delicious meals that we had in Burgundy. I never wanted to leave the rustic stone cellar, but all of that eating and drinking is exhausting!

Before departing from Chagny the next morning, I went for a run along some back roads past farm houses and cows, through forests and fields. I didn’t take my phone but it was a rave run in every sense. Then we were off towards Beaune…

48 Hours in London

On our way back from Kenya in June, we budgeted some time to spend a couple of days in London. I had never been to the UK, and as an Anglican, this was obviously a situation that needed to be rectified. We arrived at Heathrow early in the morning, picked up our luggage, and paid to have our large bags held so we only had to take our carry-ons on the Underground. After making our way to our hotel near the Earl’s Court stop (along with a large Argentinean teenage football/soccer team), we took a moment to sit and charge our phones. We decided on Westminster Abbey as our first stop.

Look, kids! Big Ben!

I had my moments in Westminster Abbey, fawning over the graves of some of my favorite composers and bringing Joe up to speed on the English Reformation. We also participated in a brief prayer service at the shrine of St. Edward the Confessor.

Joe’s dad used to live in London, not far from where we were staying, so we headed back to that area, had lunch in a pub, and walked around. Then we checked into our room and took a much-needed nap and shower.

I figured that after several weeks of Kenyan food, we’d be longing for an upscale dining experience, so I’d made reservations at Launceston Place in Kensington. It was amazingly lovely. We were particularly fond of the sommelier who talked to us about the wine and his studies to become a master sommelier. I only managed one blurry picture of our cheese course with matching wines.

A copy of the full tasting menu along with the wines we enjoyed was presented to us as we left. It had started raining, so we splurged on a taxi back to the hotel.

The next morning, we hopped out of bed to go for a run! The elevation and geography at Kijabe was not conducive to longer runs, so I was looking forward to running to and around Hyde Park. We managed just over 6 miles, and despite the jet lag and giant meal the night before, we felt amazing. Must be that altitude training!

Do people still build gardens as a sign of love? If not, they should.

Harrod’s! We didn’t go in, but Joe really wanted me to at least see the outside.

We even stumbled upon Cardinal Newman.

After a quick shower and breakfast, we journeyed to St. Paul’s Cathedral. When we got off the tube, we headed the wrong way trying to find it. After turning around and seeing the large dome (thanks Christopher Wren!) right behind us, we had to laugh.

We did climb all the way to the top public access for simply stunning views of London. Even besides the gorgeous church and art work and history, the admission fee is worth it for the climb to the top alone.

We found a nearby pub for lunch, but unfortunately, our schedule did not allow for us to tour the Tower of London. We still took some pictures with the Tower Bridge and watched the many tourists.

Our next engagement was pretty touristy but also really fun: an afternoon tea on a river cruise!

We spent a couple hours eating and drinking up and down the Thames.

I’m lucky to be married to a husband who enjoys live theatre and music as much as I do, and he suggested we see a show while we were there. I really wanted to see Matilda: The Musical because Matilda, the book, was my favorite as a kid.

The show did not disappoint, even though it was quite warm in the theatre. It was amazing to see how professional and talented the children were. On our way back to the hotel, we took a detour to Piccadilly Circus to see the sights and sounds of Piccadilly Circus on a Friday night, but I was ready for bed by then.

The next morning we woke up and caught the very first train to Heathrow to travel back to the United States. Everything else in London will have to wait until next time!

Wrapping up our time in Kenya

On our way back from the Masai Mara (another, later post), we stopped for our traditional nyama choma down in Mahai Mahiu. Our driver Philip calls in the order, and by the time we get there, it’s ready to go. The goats are freshly slaughtered that morning, and the roasted legs are served with ugali, an odd cross between grits and cornbread.

The legs are then chopped into small, bite-size pieces in front of us. Washed down with a cold Tusker lager, it’s a fabulous Kenyan meal. Lots of places advertise nyama choma and the quality can vary, but we trust Philip to guide us to the right spot.

With only one working day left, we scrambled to wrap things up and pack. On my last day on the wards, I suddenly fainted for the first time in my life. There wasn’t anything particularly disturbing going on, so I think I must have locked my knees while at a patient’s bedside. More than anything, I was terrifically embarrassed. The patients all sat up in their beds, and the nurses rushed in. I continued to visit patients while seated with Abraham, my fellow chaplain. Later he commented how strong I was! If a Kenyan tells me I’m strong…

Even though we were gone from home for nearly three weeks, our time in Kenya went by very quickly. The next day we made our rounds of final meetings and good-byes. My chaplain family threw me a Kwaheri (Goodbye) Party with a huge platter of snacks.

Despite feeling more like a burden than a help most days, everyone said lovely and moving things about me. Oftentimes my own viewpoint is so myopic, limited to my city, my country, my denomination, and my culture. My faith is buoyed by their passion for Christ and knowing that we are brothers and sisters in the Church. Those bonds cross the boundaries of language, race, country, and continent. And with social media and e-mail, we can continue to keep in touch.

Pastor John Mugo, interim director of the Chaplain Department, and me.

We left Kijabe and stopped at the Bata shoe factory store at Joe’s request. While Bata shoes are available in Europe, they’re difficult to find in the US, and the factory store offers some steals. Both Joe and I bought some very nice, high-quality leather shoes for a pittance. My “comfort” sandals, equivalent to Clark’s brand, were about $22USD!

Then we visited the Kazuri factory in Nairobi. Kazuri jewelry is also available in Europe and in places like Ten Thousand Villages stores in the US, but it’s difficult to find and quite a bit more pricy than in Kenya. We went on a tour of the factory where our guide showed us how they make the ceramic beads. Kazuri employs mostly single and unwed mothers, and we saw how hard these women work to create this beautiful jewelry. The clay is fired at such a hot temperature that you can bounce a bead on the floor, and it won’t break!

Before his evening flights from Nairobi, Joe always takes Philip to a Nairobi restaurant called Carnivore. The concept is like that of a Brazilian steakhouse, and before the ban on eating game meat, they used to serve exotic meats. It definitely caters to the tourists, but we had a good time and ate a lot of food. All the better to help us sleep through our flight!

The ostrich meatballs were delicious, and the crocodile was a little chewy. We also tried some drinks made with Kenyan cane liquor made at our table.

Philip dropped us off at the Nairobi airport, and we said our tearful good-byes. The Nairobi airport is a crazy place, full of all different kinds of people. I managed to find a somewhat quiet corner to wait to go through security and get into the gate area. Next stop, London!

Back in the Swing of Things

Look what showed up yesterday!

We also got a water filter and a working showerhead/water heater. Never underestimate how a shower and clean clothes will effect your mood. Of course, retrieving the suitcase was a story. The driver called us at 8:30 pm, and we had some difficulty in translation. It was really dark. No moon, no stars, let alone streetlights dark, so we took our flashlights and booked it up the hill a kilometer or so to get the bag. Fortunately, he took pity on us and drove us back to our house with the suitcase.

That morning, two men came to pick up the 50 lb suitcases full of medical supplies to bring them to the ICU. This is what that looked like:

They just slung them above their shoulder and hiked up the hill to the hospital. Kijabe is situated on the side of the mountain, so everything is either up or down. Our house is on the down-side of the hospital and the business district, on the edge of the forest. Our little pink house with a view of the Rift Valley:

And the view of the main road on my walk home today for lunch from the hospital:

Yesterday I was mainly in Salome, the women’s ward, with Pastor Abraham. It took me a few visits to get in my chaplaincy groove, but I found that many more of the women spoke English than I remembered from a year and a half ago. One woman was healing from a brutal attack by her husband that very nearly killed her. Today, I went to Wairegi, the men’s ward, with Pastor Gitau. We met with a man with a horrible face and neck tumor. It was difficult to see and looked incredibly painful. Pastor Gitau told me that some of the relatives believe that a curse has been put on the family since this man’s mother died of the same kind of tumor, and every time the tumor is removed, he requires a blood transfusion. Then I visited the maternity ward before the other chaplains needed to prepare to lead worship for the visiting family members.

Pastor Benjamin playing the piano:

The group of visitors waiting to get in to see the patients. Visiting hours are restricted from 12:30-2 during the day in addition to morning and evening hours.

Pastor Kithae preaching on Revelation:

Today’s unexpected challenge was that the gas ran out for our stove in the middle of cooking some eggs for breakfast. Fortunately, the stove has one electric burner, so I was able to finish up the eggs. And now we have another gas tank for the stove!

Of course, we have to light the stove with a match, so I’m praying I don’t burn off my eyebrows before we leave here!

I Always End Up In Tears in the Nairobi Airport

Karibu means “Welcome,” though the Nairobi airport is anything but.

Last time it was post-24 straight hours of travel by myself, wrangling two large suitcases (one full of medical supplies), and a tense customs exchange when I walked into the large receiving hall ready to see my husband, a tall American face in a sea of shorter African ones. I looked and I looked, but he wasn’t there. I had no phone with which to call or text, and while I rightly assumed that the driver and he were stuck in traffic, I was all alone in a very foreign country with two big bags fending off people offering me a taxi. Joe showed up probably fifteen painfully slow minutes later, and all was well.

Monday and Tuesday’s travels were obnoxiously difficult. Weather delays led to us hanging out in the Nashville airport for nearly three hours, though fortunately we were able to change our flight to London and still make our connection to Nairobi. We had limited time in London, made worse by people unfamiliar with security screening procedures. Luckily, our flight to Nairobi was not full, so we were able to stretch out. Flying British Airways is fun because your tea comes with milk in a stick!

Our flight to Nairobi was slightly delayed due to security measures which prohibit the plane from flying with baggage belonging to people who don’t make the flight. When we arrived in Kenya after a “short” (according to our pilot) flying time of around eight hours, the deboarding process seemed unusually slow. A fire last year required that we exit onto the tarmac and take a shuttlebus to the baggage claim. Since we were at the back of the plane, everyone had arrived before us to fill out their various forms that all ask the same information and stand in line for visas. After switching lines several times to insure we were in the right line, made it to the front, nearly an hour after our plane had landed.

The upside was that the crowd at baggage claim had thinned out, and we easily spotted three of our four bags. My personal bag was the one missing. Six weeks ago, on our way back from France, my bag decided to stay in France rather than come home with us, though since we were going home, it wasn’t as stressful. When the baggage handlers started pulling the remaining bags off of the carousel, I knew I was in trouble. The line at baggage services assured me that I wasn’t the only one with this issue, but the single agent was overwhelmed with the number of people needing assistance. I was exhausted and hungry, and my body hurt in that way only squeezing into an airplane for hours on end can cause.

Joe decided to attempt to go through customs by himself to meet Phillip, our driver, while I stood in line to file my claim. While I stood in line, he was arguing with the customs agents over the taxation of medical donations (apparently a new policy). He paid up rather than risk them confiscating the equipment, and I learned my bag was still in London just after midnight Nairobi-time, over two hours after our plane landed. I was promised that it would be on today’s flight and then be driven to Kijabe tomorrow (Thursday). Once we got that sorted out, we ran through customs to see Phillip, our driver, still waiting patiently for us. We were all thrilled with the reunion and tried to relay to Phillip the circumstances that delayed us for so long.

He hurried us to the Amani Gardens Guest House where we were shown to our room, took a much-needed shower, and went to bed. After my experience coming home from France, I took care to pack a change of clothes, pajamas, basic toiletries, and all of my chargers in the carry-on. This morning, we awoke to a cool, gray mist over the gardens, had our breakfast in the dining area, and prepared to travel the rest of the way to Kijabe. I spent a few moments in the prayer labyrinth, a path of eye-level bushes leading to a bench in the center for meditation.

Phillip took us to the market on the way to purchase SIM cards and a 3G dongle modem as well as some groceries. Our house in Kijabe is much more spacious than our last apartment but not quite as nice. We’re waiting on maintenance to fix the water heater/showerhead-thing and bring us a water filter. For now, I’ve boiled some water to keep in the fridge for drinking and brushing teeth. The weather is much chillier than in January, hovering around 55-70 degrees. It feels good coming from 90 degree weather, but some of the Kijabe hospital staff were wearing scarves!

We both start work at the hospital tomorrow, three days after initially departing Nashville. Between the travel, time zone change, getting settled in and set up, and everything just moving much slower in a developing country, it’s been a long few days and a rough adjustment period. Hopefully my bag will arrive in Kijabe tomorrow, and we’ll get started at work.

Karibu Kenya!

April in Paris

The last time I traveled to France, I was 16 and with a large group of Methodists. Needless to say, this trip had a slightly different focus. Of course, we saw churches and museums, but we also had leisurely gourmet lunches and drank a lot of wine and walked a lot.

Our first full day, we opted for a super-touristy bike tour. Unexpectedly, we were the only Americans; everyone else was Australian! This was a great way to see all of the highlights and absorb some of the geography. It was fun, but not something I would need to do again. I didn’t find our tour guide to be very knowledgeable despite having grown up in Paris, or at least there were several discrepancies between what she told us and what I had read online and in books.

The next day I scheduled a walking food tour with Flavors of Paris. Lisa, our guide, led us through Saint Germain-des-Pres and we stopped in boulangeries, chocolateries, a store that specialized in olive oils and goods from Provence, and a few other places. She also told us about the history of the neighborhood, showed us the oldest restaurant in Paris, and the cafes where Hemingway and crew would hang out. We had a wonderful time with Lisa, capped off by a stroll through the Marche Saint Germain-des-Pres and a cheese plate with some wine.

We then took advantage of the evening hours at Musee d’Orsay (hint: Most of the museums have evening hours a couple nights a week if you want to avoid the peak crowds). Since our dinner reservations weren’t until 9:45, this gave us plenty of time to enjoy the art and digest from the food tour before heading to Verjus for dinner.

Roast asparagus from Poitou, house trofie pasta, pesto, pea vines, pine nuts, egg yolk, and brioche at Verjus

The next day we visited Notre Dame, and all of the tourists made me stabby. As someone with an interest in church architecture and history, it was maddening to not be able to enjoy it slowly and reverently.

As it was raining off and on, we were happy to head to our lunch reservations at La Tour d’Argent, an institution with beautiful views from the dining room. The service made upscale places in Nashville look like McDonald’s, and it wasn’t a surprise to see photos of John F. Kennedy, Richard Nixon, and Bill Clinton eating at La Tour d’Argent. The food, the view, the wine…everything was exquisite.

Amuse bouche and Kir royales.

Coffee service with mignardises.

View of the Seine and Notre Dame from our table.

Even gray and rainy days in Paris are marvelous since all I wanted was to sit in a café, drink wine, and write depressing poetry. I kept singing Debussy’s setting of Verlaine, “Il pleut dans mon coeur comme il pleut sur la ville.” Since we hadn’t had enough of the tourist throngs, we navigated ourselves to Sacre Coeur in Montmartre.

The church is marvelous, totally different from Notre Dame and yet just as beautiful if not more so. And, of course, the views from in front of the church are fabulous with the city laid out in front of us.

Again, we took advantage of the evening hours at the Louvre. It’s huge and overwhelming, but I was happy to see some of the things I didn’t get to see at 16, particularly the Sphinx and the Code of Hammurabi. I had a Bible nerd moment in the Ancient Near East hall before we moved on to the Grand Hall. While Joe paid reverence to the Mona Lisa, I took in the enormous painting of the Wedding at Cana across the room.

Our last day in Paris was unscheduled, so we slept in, went for a run along the Canal St. Martin, and went back to Saint Germain-des-Pres to do some shopping. The caviste from our food tour had recommended some jazz clubs, so we had an early dinner at Pierre Sang for the 7 pm seating. I would highly recommend this experience. It’s a steal of a deal, chef’s choice, and the staff makes you guess the flavors.

After our dinner we traveled to Sunside/Sunset for the 9 pm jazz concert. It’s one of the original jazz clubs in Paris, and I was reminded how many African-American musicians spent time in Paris due to limited opportunities in America. While we saw a French quintet, the act downstairs was a jazz musician from New York.

It was a fitting closure to our time in Paris before hopping a train to Burgundy.

Arc de Triomphe from the Champs-Elysees

The top of the Musee d’Orsay from the Tuileries

Locks on the Pont des Arts