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We offer to Your attention stories about France Oksana Briar, which for many years lived in Sivoa with their family and are well familiar with the lifestyle and traditions of local life. Being a man of an active and inquisitive, she has traveled to many lovely places and with love and tenderness to share with us their impressions.
Last Christmas day, every family is in turmoil and anticipation of something hidden and mysterious. Somehow it wound up in our small French family that the most important celebration for us, it is the decoration of the Christmas tree and the whole house, but the menu came up without me already many years ago. In France each region has something different. Oysters, the liver of a duck or goose, fish, stuffed poultry, or lamb. For dessert-Buch and on our roll. They also make sponge cake and mousse, and chocolate. Here everyone has their own tastes.
The French love feast. They may go into the night. Conversation, laughter. I like their style of life. People just spend time together, not the feast of the abdomen. The tables are not crammed with salads, appetizers, alcohol, desserts. Pause between eating, give time to digest food. Perhaps this is the longevity? Preparation for the festival is coming quietly, evenly. The French do not like to complicate your life, so starters, hot and desserts or order, or already buy in stores. But I have my own principles in life, so treat those who do not like to complicate their lives, and to those who prepare for all the holidays.
It gives me pleasure when her husband, with a worried and serious face, making a purchase, puts everything on the table. Looks you in the eye, not everything is forgotten. I know he hasn’t forgotten, but still are reviewing the catch and smiled approvingly, put in the fridge. Husband removed with a triumphant look on his face the hunter. In France men take care of quite troublesome process to make purchases. He’s not as troublesome as takes a lot of time. Bake and make creams in the morning. Meat and other dishes are on a course before applying.
So, having prepared a dessert and delicious dinner, we decided to go to the nature. In France there is a guide for parents and grandparents, what to do and where to go with children-my grandchildren. When you live in Savoy, such a guide is not needed, because even though the vacation days are painted by the minute. It should be noted that the winter of 2015 turned out to be wonderfully warm. Flowers, roses, and birds singing, not looking to live in the French Alps, snow little or almost none. This is at ski resorts. If it’s + 15C and at your feet splashing the water of the biggest lake of France, Le Bourget (Bourget La) question: “where to go?” exhausted itself. Of course, the lake.
The road to the lake is lovely. Now behind known since Roman times for its baths of AIX-Les-Bains, enter the small town of Brison-Saint-Inosan (Brison-Saint-Innocent). This town still has the name “Savoy nice”, because of its special microclimate. It is also a city of millionaires. He is international. Here live the wealthy French, British, Germans, Americans. Exists with the 1081, but before this place was a settlement of farmers. Beautiful Villa hidden behind the trees on the shore of lake Le Bourget. Located 228 m above sea level. Due to its climate, this part of the Savoy is perfectly adapted to the vineyards.
Drive by beauty clinics “Lake”, and continue our journey. In the distance is the castle Rupel (Château de la Rupelle), named so as the house-fortress Rupel. Known since the 14th century as a fief, combining adjacent farm buildings, fields and vineyards. Belongs to the heirs of Baron de silane, the count de La Rupel and very old French noble family, known since 1612 b? scher de La Rupel. Currently in its beautiful summer Park concerts.
Now we continue the path along the lake shore. The road is built over the water. No place to the microscopic the beach, but precisely because of this, it seems that you do not go and swim on the lake. The view is impressive.
But here we pass near the train tunnel. It was built in the 19th century and belongs to the municipality of Brison-Saint-Inosan.
I have a favorite place. Château de Châtillon. Castle Satio. We discovered this magical place is also quite by accident. Every Saturday and Sunday, even despite the wind, rain or snow, leave the house for a walk. And so, seeing in the distance this amazing castle we decided to drive closer. Two years ago the doors of the castle were open to the public, and the family of the Baron de Satio gladly welcomed anyone who was interested in the history of the castle. And the story of his long, leads from the 11th century, the lives of the owners and their history is also interesting.
So, as they approached the unfamiliar we still have the castle, we went up to take a closer look and his foot was see what had not noticed before.
Castle Satio is located next to the beach. It is not visible from the roadway, even when passing through. Beautiful villas owned by English families ( the castle of Setio in the 19th century also belonged to the noble English family), and serve as a summer residence. Their parks are closed from prying eyes and the beach with restaurants and the port. Even some residents as AIX-Les-Bains and Chambery, not aware of the existence of this Paradise. In the early 20th century was a vineyard.
The owners of the castle sold the land for the construction of the beach, port and villas.
Satio, bears the same name as the castle belonging to the Baron of Satio, children’s Playground, mentioned above the beach, the port and a beautiful restaurant ” On the Varnish!”.
Famous French singing, diplomat Lamartine, amazed by the beauty of lake Le Bourget, wrote the poem “Oh, lac Lake”. Visited Lamartine and the castle, in fact in 1819, asked the hand of the daughter of the owner of the castle Mademoiselle Marie-Anne birch, an Englishwoman by birth, an aristocrat, and sent Ambassador to Naples.
Satio is famous for its microclimate, as Brison-Saint-Inosan. On the one hand the mountain on which the castle is located, and on the other the Alps. Even in cold and windy weather here is warm and cozy. I sit on the shore and looking into the distance. Clear water lapping at feet.
In the distance the snow-capped Alps, Abbey Autocomb, already in the afternoon, winter in the shadow of the mountains-sad and silent, as if keeping a secret and the rest of those who ruled the County of Savoy and Italy. Here is buried the last king of Italy, the may king, as it was called, Umberto Second wife.
I sit in silence. Rare around here. That’s why people come on those days when I know that the beach is empty. The owner of the restaurant “On the nail” comes down the stairs and brings a Cup of coffee and a glass of water. Not even order. Knows that some time would still go up to her and order the same Cup of coffee. We love that such short appointments, during which time to exchange a few words, to ask how things were going. The French love their customers. Even those who have bought only a Cup of coffee.
Hear the laughter of children and the conversation of her husband. Approaching. Children run, brought a lot of shells, some seaweed. We have a home aquarium with fish of the lake. We saved them from almost death. That’s it for a year. Live with them and a small lake oysters, and seaweed from our favorite lake Le Bourget.
Kids are asked strawberry juice. Well, how can deny. We climbed off the beach up the stairs to the restaurant. I Cup, kids and husband. Smiling sweetly, the owner makes on the street is my favorite table and chair and puts on the Sunny side. Continue to enjoy the lake and nature.
Fog lie on the opposite shore of lake Le Bourget. The air becomes more humid. I wrap up in a shawl. For some reason I came up with the idea, that’s how, a hundred years ago, ladies of the aristocratic houses of Russia came to AIX-Les-Bains water. So they sat on the shore of this magical lake, drank tea, looked into the distance and thinking about something good.
The fog is getting thicker, lit by the rays of the setting sun, similar to the striped mattress. Abbey Autocomb “hid” in the dark. One more minute. The sun, reading my mind, leaving finally a glimmer went over the mountain, illuminating the sky slightly pink light.
Children oncoming, ride on the swings, with wet feet and red hands, begging you not to leave. But tomorrow is Christmas eve. Gifts. Today-cooking, table setting….
Farewell, gracious side. You brought me strength and joy. To be happy, we must be able to be happy.
The LAKE. Alphonse de Lamartine
(Alphonse Marie Louis de Prat de Lamartine),
1790 – 1869
Places are sacred! Witnesses silent
Love, joys and sorrows of my
The siliceous rocks of the banks of desert still
And you, foaming waves!
You be the monument of my Elvira gentle.