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It’s been years since I left Angers, with mixed memories of great ingredients, beautiful up scale downtown but miserable restaurants and people with attitude.
The city lays in the Loire Vally, in a region with good white wines and decent sparkling wines. There may be even a few famous Saveniere wine houses around it.
I loved strolling up and down the pedestrian center, stopping by my favorite ‘hole in the wall’ sandwich bar, selling crunchy baguettes filled with hamburgers, French fries, melted cheese and pickles.
A phenomenal grilled chicken joint, a few blocks away, was an alternative.
The Saturday farmers market, had real farmers, with selection of produce, cheese and meat products, un matched with what you find in any deli or shushu farmers market in the US.
So a few years back, en route from Spain to Switzerland, we decided to stop for a day and revisit the magic.
We found our way to town, parked the car in the underground garage in the city center, got out at Galleries Lafayette and turned down the street direction the sandwich Bar, better known as “Broodje Fred” (Dutch for Fred’s Sandwiches).
We had a plan. Grab a bite, pass by the local launderette and do our laundry, shop for some food and other necessities, check out the town and be on our way.
As we walk down the main drag, the city morphs to a scene from a funky movie. At the doorstep of the launderette, a hobo is fighting with a gipsy, on begging territory. He is throwing his food around, screaming that she should leave town since she is taking away all his “customers”.
We hang around, sensation curiosity kicking in. A young, slightly disturbed young man, cruises by in moon walk style, oversized headphones on his ears, singing weird songs in a high pitch, loud voice. As he passes by the fountain, a Greek Orthodox priest shows up in the doorway of the house across the street, and starts shouting obscenities towards us. us of all people surrounding the fountain.
Picture this, A restored medieval town, with a picturesque fountain surrounded by 18th century houses. A dirty homeless leaning against a wall, with a sandwich smeared on the floor across the stone alley. The guy is screaming in French,the gipsy, telling her to go do things to herself. The chubby gipsy beggar shouting at him in what sounds like Romanian, god knows what her response is. The local Michale Jackson, is moon walking and squeaking in high pitch voices, just as the Greek priest makes an appearance out of a large stone doorway, sending profanities our way.
Needless to say, I was laughing my butt off by now. I don’t remember ever being in such a surreal scene, definitely not with an active role in the act.
Angers will forever be the city that lives in a movie for me, and no longer the posh French countryside town.
There are no Camels in Japan. When I first visited the US from Israel, in the late 70’s, people asked me if I owned a Camel and if that is how I got to school. I always considered it a result of ignorance. Israel was a modern country and my Dad was driving an American car at the time.
During this trip to Japan, I had a few “Camel” gaffes and I am about to put myself to shame as a way of redemption.
Rice fields:
on the plane to Tokyo, a lady named Michiko was sitting next to me and we struck a conversation about what to see in Japan. I asked her where can we best see Rice Fields in the country.had pictured in my mind, steaming flooded fields stacked down a mountain side, in a foggy day. She smiled politely, and told me that there are several places depending on where we go. She was polite, Japanese style. Well folks, the answer is everywhere. Once we landed and got out of the airport, we found out that other then down town Tokyo, there is no single road or view that does not include a rice field somewhere. We have 2,000 km of footage to prove it.
Buddha:
When riding into Kyoto, a giant Buddha statue was seen on the mountain above one of the town’s shrines. Whe I was discussing what to see in Kyoto, with the concierge in the hotel, I asked what is the site of the giant stone Buddha. The lady concierge giggled in a typical Japanese way and told me that it was not Buddha, just a stone statue… It sure looked like Buddha to me.
Shoji doors:
Our first night was spent in a traditional Ryokan in Goyakama, a heritage village near Nagano. Danielle was interested to know how do the people here keep the snow out of the house, with the Japanese doors made wood and paper doors. She asked a girl who was sharing dinner with us, how do the doors with Rice paper windows, keep the snow out. The girl giggled and told us that it is just paper, not Rice paper… Didn’t we always learn that Japanese doors and screens are made with wood and rice papers?…
Mai Perso - Travel adventures 