The Lovely Loire Valley

When we arrived at our "resort hotel" in Amboise, it reminded me (rather unnervingly) of Auschwitz.  But the apartments were roomy and mostly clean, even if they had a curious assortment of features.  (Why, for example, would someone stock an apartment with a fondue set and a dozen wine glasses but no iron or dishwasher detergent?)  Nevertheless, it proved to be a useful home-base for the next three days...  

... and having some chickens pop by the back door to welcome us was a nice French-provincial touch.

C and E delighted in exploring the "pond," making friends with other children and looking for frogs.  This particular pond came with a "No Swimming" warning.  Not much chance of that happening!

The lovely Loire itself, as the sun burns off some morning mist.

Many French towns have delightful names like "Beaumont-sur-mer" or "Chemille-sur-Indrois," indicating their location on the oceanfront or river.  Unfortunately, the city fathers in the otherwise-picturesque little village of Marray  in the Loire Valley must have suffered from an astonishing lack of collective vision, and decided to officially name their town "Marray-on-the-D943" (the local highway).  Hmmm... Orem-sur-I15.

In the town of Loches(-sur-Indrois, an appropriately romantic provincial name), the purveyors of commercial goods have quaint signs like this hanging outside their shops.  No flashing neon or twirling fast-food marquees here!

Another street in Loches, with a magnificent late medieval thingy in the background.  (I believe it to be an incontrovertible fact that every little town in the Loire Valley must be able to boast a good patisserie, a flower market, and a magnificent late medieval thingy.  Towns that don't comply are immediately removed to the northern provinces.)

The chateau in Loches.  I suspect Joan of Arc did something here.  (That's actually true, but since we're suffering from an overload of historical information about, well, pretty much everything, that's the best I can do at present.)

This, believe it or not, is a water well in the middle of a field.  It is not a Mayan ruin.

On the drive to somewhere (undoubtedly another chateau or magnificent medieval thingy) we turned a corner and voila!  Beaucoup de chateaux.  I think this one was called Montpoupon or something like that.  But really, does it matter?  We didn't even go inside.  If it doesn't rival Versailles for sumptuousness, we're not going to condescend to stop.  We're chateau snobs now.

Can you belieeeeve it?  Another chateau.  The Loire grows them like weeds.  Catherine de Medici may have had something to do with this specific one.  I think she either took it from her husband's favorite mistress or gave it to her, which sounds potentially magnanimous but, according the story I heard, was really snarky and petulant.  As in, "You low-life, mean-spirited hussy, you!  Stop messing around with the king.  As punishment, now you have to live in THIS chateau instead of the other one round the corner!!"  

Our bus driver, Peter, shares a frite with E in Amboise.  He adores the girls, and we all adore him.
  
The best bus driver ever.

At the Chateau Royal d'Amboise, there's this little chapel that looks over the town below, and this is where Leonardo da Vinci is buried.  I didn't actually see the tomb, because it was in the floor and there were a lot of German tourists crammed into the tiny space.  But I was there, and that was good enough for me.

The Royal Chateau itself.  It was quite lovely, but the grounds (which were breathtaking) overshadowed the interior.

Aforementioned grounds.

Literally a short walk down the road from the Chateau was the house Leonardo da Vinci lived in for the last few years of his life.  He had been invited to France by Francois I, who thought it would be a good idea to invite famous people to the chateau--you know, to give it some street cred among the royal houses of Europe.  Leo loved it, stayed, and then karked it.

This is the bed he slept in until he died in it.  There, on the wall to the left of the bed, is a painting by Ingres (or is it David) of da Vinci's death in that very bed.  A little bit macabre, but if it involves very famous artists I can get over the ew-ness of it.

The best part of the da Vinci house (officially known as Clos Luce) is not actually in the house.  It's the sprawling parks and gardens, where da Vinci's designs have been brought to life.  Here is his Archimedes screw, being turned by C.  We could have stayed there for hours--I never knew our girls would think it so much fun to pump water from a pond--but we had to head back to the bus so we could return to the barracks... er... hotel

More quaintness in Amboise.

A portrait in metal of the most famous local boy.  This is stuck in the middle of the roundabout by the grocery store.  Would that we had culture like this near our grocery stores in Orem instead of, say, political campaign posters or ads for the local fun run.