A “young” girl’s, strange, “erotic” journey from Milan Saint Emilion to Minsk Amboise.

Only a short drive from Saint Emilon is the musical cars town of Cognac (Ed: written when drunk <as per plan>, expect musical chairs is reference to sparcity of vehicular, docking stations).  We were so well organised for this visit, and, of course, when we say organised we mean we had brunch from the boot of our Polo.  Stale bread and mouldy cheese.  Lea assured me that’s how the cheese was supposed to be, but this came from a (beautiful 🙂 ) lady who believes that walking past a boulangerie (in France…) is an act of God!

In Cognac, I managed to drag Lea on tours of the house with the largest market share, the oldest house and the two smuggest houses in town.  (Totalling two tours…). The main theme of the day was make sure your consummation is in moderation.  I think that was meant to refer to the alcohol and not honeymoon behaviours.  The message was consitent  when seeing James swirl brandy all over his T-shirt, then sneakily stealing Lea’s tastings and the incessant (and incestual) talk of passing on Savoir-Faire.  Which, in this circumstance, meant children following their Dads (let’s assume he meant and/or Mums) around the cellars tasting what they taste…before our Oxford schooled guide backtracked and blamed his perfect English, what he meant to say was “smelling” because of course they can’t taste until 18 years.  And then, in MODERATION.

Anyway, due to being so well moderated…we (James) couldn’t manage to get drunk in Cognac and thereby usurped Lea of her first opportunity to drive.  So to pass the time between tours, we reverted to “boot wine” (a new form of “<insert noun> wine” for us, which was from the boot of the car, not out of James’ boots which had so far done stuff all), on the street outside Martell.  Having no idea where to spend the night, the red wine / carbon monoxide rush gave Lea the brilliant idea of having a “Toin Coss” to decide where to go next!  However, completely bereft of toins, James instead offered up a coin and 2 cosses to zero, it was confirmed we’d travel hours out of our way and head for La Rochelle.

We actually had a great night in La Rochelle, snagging a room in a 2 star hotel with a view of the Dubrovnik-esque harbour, watched (what Lea called) our first sunset looking West, at the best beach we’ve seen in Europe (kind of like a really bad Australian  beach), had a lovely meal ordered 100% in French (I’m not sure what happened apart from I know ordered off the “Hors menu” and was more than surprised to receive smoked fish), and “je voudrais deux vin rose”‘d our way through the streets to finish another lovely day in France.