Dijon and Beaune

Having a few days remaining on my railcard, and a pouch full of leftover monies from various places, I felt I had to at least stay a couple of nights in a Hotel of some quality. It was the end of the trip. I'd been scraping around in places like Budapest and Prague, dossing in Zurich and Florence and lying rigid but cheaply on the night trains. I felt I owed it to myself to have a wee splurge.
And anyway, I arrived into Dijon late at night, my Barcelone plans having been thwarted by the obscene price of the night-train (CHF111!), and I wasn't about to haggle a hostel.
I found a stone courtyard, laced with grapevines, the welcome glow of warmth eminating from a tiny reception up a flight of wooden steps. The kindly madmoiselle showed me to my quarters. The 2-star Hotel Sauvage. A notch above simple, and all elegant. Sleeping in a double bed, without the snorting and shuffling of other travellers, nor the rolling and clunking of the night train couchettes (with their infestation of nimble fingered prowlers), nor the racket of church bells, nor the socks and pencils of so many sofas was a great luxury. And I totally rinsed it. Going to bed early after a pot of Burgundy and morcel of cheese, I relaxed to the chatter of a bit of French "television", rising late to a Hotel breakfast and ready for a walk.
The town is of course a delight with its cobbly, narrow streets and fountained squares. There are wine caves every two steps, and degustation restaurants every three. Even a suitably shack-like reggae club said to me that this city had it all.

After two nights there I saw the wee city of Beaune. The capital of French wine. In fact, a network of cellars and caves and tunnels for aging wine with a city built on top. I had my enormous rucksack, and since ut was one of those places in which everyone has a decent siesta during the day, I was bound to wander about alone without being able to see the Wine Cave Museum or find a decent grub.

My trip is now ended, I just have a few more nights in Paris.