DAY 21: Mouse Turd

Dij - dij - dij - dijon - aise - aise - aise...

Meek few days it's been here in Dijonaise...
No Burgundy vines seen. No mustard drenched cuisine...
Just creaky museum floors, two Granny Smith apple cores...
Snow covered cathedrals,  generic shopping malls and zero phone calls....
Over priced cappuccino with no sign of Costco...
Definitely ready for the Mediterranean. And tan Italian men....
Beaches and sunshine, nicoise and red wine, I'm headed to the French/Italian border line...

Fascinating what the brain is capable of in dismal circumstances, ain't it?  Attempting haiku, or some sort of poetry in a French hotel is on the fence between a Pulitzer and an insanity trial...

It's the off-season in wine country, whoo-hoo! Party time- for the mice... The word "mustard" actually originated here in Dijon (believe it or not) when peasants were looking for food other than stale bread... the streets were infested with mice, and when times were tough, people had to subsidize their hunger with mouse turds. Over time it caught on, and... ok, I'm full of shit. Or mouse turds. Wouldn't be the first time in history...

Thought I had to switch hotels today, and just as I finished feeding Luigi, le phone rang and "Professor Basil" downstairs said I could stay another night, in my same "home." I drug my feet all morning due to the blizzard outside... speed-walked down to the Musee des Beaux-Arts. Supposedly it's right up there with the Lourve... yawn. Thank God it was free... it was about the size of the information desk at the Lourve and had some endearing marble heads and oily-haloed angels, but I was more concerned about falling through the floors. Literally every step was like walking outside on the ice... c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y. I stopped in a cathedral that looked exactly like St. Martins in Paris and decided I'd had enough enrichment for the day. Wandered aimlessly until I found a little cafe called B... very small, but a cheery, retro interior with the best flatware and glassware I've come across. The entire wall behind the bar was a cooler, full of pre-made "jars" and wine bottles... they specialize in soups, salads and desserts, all served in fat jars with glass lids. I ordered a Thai bouillon with udon noodles, shrimp, mussels and carrots in a miso broth. Hit the spot but was a small portion considering the size of its container... fresh baked bread served on a cutting board with the dish. A one man show, with only 12 tables, "Laurent" heated, poured and delivered everything to everyone...

Back to the streets, I was on a mission to find an English bookstore. Found a bookstore, but with only one shelf of English books. Toss up between the Twilight sagas and Pride & Prejudice- considering I was in Place du Darcy, I chose Mr. Darcy over Mr. Bloody British Fangs (there was a minimal internal debate)... I wanted to make it to a winery whilst in wine country, so I hopped on a bus, during rush hour (great idea) and headed to Marsannay. 45 minutes later I arrived at the end of a long road, and the last stop  for the bus. "Just up there?" I asked the bus driver. "Oui." Alrighty then, getting my workout in for the day... once at the main house, I was greeted by a hasty French woman who informed me that they wanted to close early for the day and wouldn't be able to do the last tour (that was clearly stated on their door AND brochure, at 6:30 p.m.). "Alright, well I'm going to use the loo-loo and be on my way." Back on the bus, I got absorbed into my favorite story starring Lizzy Bennett and Mr. Daw-sy...

Since there is nothing else to do, I might as well find a good restaurant. I believe I should have some sort of accolades or certificates of grandeur exposing my knack for dining. Into Marco Polo, home of Italian wood-fired pizzettas... can't go wrong with a the thin crust veggie and pinot noir.... both of which I've had before, but I wasn't in the mood to hunt for le exotica this evening. Tromped back to Victor's to re-feed Luigi, in a organized, tight-roll manner... I've worn the same outfit for 3 days just because I don't want to unpack the green monster.... I'm on a whole new level of self-disgust.

Off to Marseille in the morning- 4 hour train ride... can't wait! No mouse turd for this early bird.
Bisou Bisou!!!