![]() We toured the former hospice, stopping to take photos of its iconic polychrome roof, and then unclipped the baby from his pram to creep into the labyrinthine cellars of Maison Joseph Drouhin, the storied Burgundy winemaker whose barrels and bottles are fanned out beneath the town in crypt-like tunnels.Ĭontinuing along the canal the next day, we carried bicycles onto the towpath after breakfast and rode up and down next to the water for exercise, easily outpacing the barge by miles before doubling back to catch it. Of all the stops on this trip, Beaune was the irresistible candidate for a return visit-a patchwork of stone squares, restaurants and wineries, spun outward from the gothic charity hospital turned museum, Hotel-Dieu. After finishing a buffet lunch on deck and mooring at Fragnes, we were driven to Beaune, the busy, historic walled city renowned as a hub for winemakers (and drinkers). In the morning, fortified with local pastries (the captain himself goes out early to collect pain aux raisins and hot baguettes from a different bakery each morning, and comparing the goods on this informal tour became a daily rite), we left the Saône River for the Canal du Centre, a slimmer waterway that cuts through the outskirts of villages and pastures of Montbéliarde cattle. It was something else to see my parents, divorced for twenty years, sitting under the same umbrella at the sublime, tucked-away courtyard restaurant at Hotel de Crillon, both eating the sole meunière and disagreeing about whether the film The Favourite was any good.Īmenities onboard include an open-air hot tub. Having the baby with us, and grandparents who wanted to pass him around, softened our schedule. From there we would head to the nearest park, the Jardin des Tuileries, to push the pram along the shaded allées and find a bench near the carousel, or cross the Seine to look into the windows of the antique shops on the rue de Lille. ![]() Our fixed plans were limited to wherever we were eating lunch: on one day it was bowls of homemade pasta at Tosca on another, oysters and strawberry tarts at Brassiere d’Aumont. We didn’t try to visit the Louvre or the Musée d'Orsay, or climb Montmartre, though we did walk past Notre Dame, whose damage from the fire in April seemed more severe and troubling in person than on the news. ![]()
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