La Belle Vie: Must-visit French villages and is May France's best month of the year?
La Belle Vie is our regular look at the real culture of France – from language to cuisine, manners to films. This newsletter is published weekly and you can receive it directly to your inbox, by going to your newsletter preferences in 'My account'.
As families across France purchase chocolate and plan their
chasses aux oeufs
(egg hunts), workers are looking forward to a day off work.
Yes, you heard that right. A single day off work. In several European countries, Easter weekend involves two days off from work: both Good Friday and Easter Monday.
France is something of an outlier. Most of the country does not get a day off for Good Friday, but one portion of France does have a public holiday...thanks to its complex history as a former part of Germany.
Why is Good Friday not a holiday in (most of) France?
If you are a worker in France and you are not satisfied with the three-day Easter weekend, luckily you have the whole month of May to look forward to. This year, there are three public holidays - each falling on a Thursday, giving the perfect opportunity to
faire le pont
and take Friday off to build a four-day weekend.
If you are not a salaried worker, there are still many reasons to love May in France. From the flowers blooming to the long nights sipping wine on a restaurant's
terrasse
, there is plenty to look forward to.
5 reasons to look forward to May in France
In my opinion, April and May are the perfect time to travel in France, as the weather is not yet scorching hot (as it increasingly is in the summer) and the crowds are a good deal smaller.
For example, I've visited the Calanques national park near Marseille several times now. It has become so popular that local authorities have begun putting in summertime quotas for the most visited Calanques, in an effort to avoid a degradation of the natural environment.
I have gone both at the end of April and in the middle of July. While I admit we were less enticed to jump in the water in April, there were no crowds, the sun was shining, and the walk up and down the Calanques was calmer.
The same logic applies to visiting popular French villages. Here are 10 you might want to add to your list this spring or early summer.
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10 of the most beautiful villages in France to visit
In the last few days, I've been speaking with readers who chose to move to Nice. There's something about the French Riviera city that is very à la mode these days, especially for Americans. (Keep an eye out for our forthcoming article explaining this phenomenon).
As a teaser - one point I've heard over and over again is the accessibility of the Nice Côte d'Azur Airport to the city.
LISTED: The direct flights between the French Riviera and the US this summer
For some people, moving to France is a
coup de coeur.
You fall madly and suddenly in love, and you cannot imagine living anywhere else. For me, it was more gradual.
The first few months in France were so challenging I couldn't possibly have imagined finishing out the year, let alone spending six more years here and eventually applying for nationality. In the early days, you could say I had more of a
coup de barre.
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Coup: The French word that can mean a punch, true love, a one-night-stand and much more
If you're like me, you may start to feel more at home as your confidence in the French language grows. It's easy to surround yourself with other English-speakers, and sometimes you really need your fellow foreigners to lean on when times are tough.
That said, as you build your vocabulary and challenge yourself to go out and use it, you open yourself up to new possibilities and friendships.
A language expert's top three tips for learning French
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Euronews
14 hours ago
- Euronews
Seven days, five countries: My scenic Paris to Istanbul train ride
'So this is the great Orient Express,' says a character in Graham Greene's 1969 novel Travels with My Aunt. 'Maybe it's real luxury travel…for people not in a hurry.' That novelised version of the famed Paris to Istanbul train was a little run-down, and calamitously, had no restaurant car to sate passengers on its three-day journey. Ttitular Aunt Augusta bemoans the lack of caviar and champagne in which she'd indulged on a previous voyage. 'We practically lived in the dining car. One meal ran into another and night into day.' Just as Aunt Augusta harkened back to the glory days of train travel, so too does Golden Eagle Luxury Trains. Passengers on its new French-Turkish connection will hardly find themselves going hungry, but they certainly won't be in a rush. A champagne reception at Gare de Lyon set the inaugural journey off on a footing of opulence and pleasure. While Paris slipped away behind a drizzle of rain, we first travellers were treated to a boozy on-board lunch that portended the extravagance of our seven-day voyage to the Bosphorus. Coupled to the royal-blue wagon-lits of its Danube Express were two restaurant cars and a bar car, all in full swing, with enough caviar and champagne to last well beyond Istanbul. Golden Eagle's itinerary touches on many of the locations taken by previous iterations of the multifarious 'Orient Express' trains — Austria, Serbia, Bulgaria — although it traces an original, more languid, sinuous route across the continent. The train makes additional stops in France's Reims to visit a champagne house, an afternoon at Slovenia's Postojna Cave, spirit-tasting in Belgrade, and a city tour of Sofia. This was late May (the route is offered in spring and autumn), the perfect time to make a cross-continental crop inspection of Europe. The budding grapevines of France trailed into the soggy barley fields of Austria, to Serbia's parched beans and corn, and Bulgaria's squat, as-yet-faceless sunflowers. Fat Brown Swiss cattle in Alpine pastures begat Croatia's sheep, which gave way to the skinny Dardanelle goats of Turkey. And every day of the journey, sprouting between the railway ties as though they had been seeded by passing trains, was a festive tri-colour of poppies, butterwort, and early-purple orchids. Greene's Aunt Augusta was right to say that 'in middle age pleasure begins, pleasure in wine, in love, in food.' Food was on my mind from the get-go of this trip, and did funny things to my senses. At our stop in Reims, I was happy to hear our guide say, 'We will be visiting the Café Drole.' I was honestly surprised to find us then at the city's cathedral rather than a brasserie. The statues carved into the church's façade, chewed by acid rain, looked leprotic without various fingers, hands, noses, and toes, and put me in mind of gorgonzola. The next day, as I passed through Austrian Tyrol, the waiter bent with a basket of bread and asked if I wanted 'The normal, or the terrible kind?' Too curious to refuse, I asked for the terrible, only to find it was, in fact, made with tarragon. The bread, the butter, the finicky meals, and delicate desserts are judiciously constructed in the cramped swelter of a railcar kitchen. It feels certain that, were it not moving on rails for weeks at a time, the Danube Express restaurant would have a Michelin star or two — that system being predicated on the anonymity of reviewers, who are unlikely to spend a week or more eating at the same establishment. Yet I could think of nothing better than having my regular breakfast of poached eggs and bacon while passing through Slovenia's Julian Alps, or eating octopus carpaccio, grilled sea bass, and baked mango cheesecake as we traveled south through Croatia, to my left was a wolfish Balkan wood, to my left, fishing boats and Adriatic beach sand. Each evening, Gábor Viczián, the train's resident musician, would fill the bar car with music — tunes from his native Hungary, the Great American Songbook, and Elton John. One night, the carriage slowly emptied, until it was just the two of us, him at the piano, and me drinking my champagne. I tried to listen with sincerity while Gábor explained to me how Chopin's modulated romantic chords led to the swing and jazz of Gershwin and Joplin, but between the rocking of the train, the drink, and Gábor's unique spin on the English language, his explanations soon became a little blurry. In my clear moments, I knew this was a special voyage. As the trip wore on and Istanbul loomed, it became a topic of conversation — the historical connotations of the journey, in literature, film, and the imagination, were inescapable. The last supper on board, a semi-formal 'black-tie gala,' was held as we rattled between Sofia and Istanbul. I sat with an Australian gentleman, who expressed amazement that everything had gone so well. 'This trip just flowed like wine,' the Australian said. 'Smooth from start to finish.' Yes, I thought, and the train is the terroir, providing us with everything needed for an excellent trip. 'We can only do so much,' said Tim Littler, Golden Eagle's founder, who travelled with us on the journey. They have refined their mission after years of operations in Europe, Central Asia, and India (new itineraries will soon begin in China, Tibet, and Vietnam). What is under Golden Eagle's purview — the delicious food, the drinks, the comfortable cabins, the friendly and smiling staff — was better than anyone could ask for. As in any kind of travel, the rest was up to us passengers. How could the torrential rain we encountered in Vienna be a problem when we had a private orchestral concert waiting for us at the Burgtheater? Why bother over the occasionally spotty Wi-Fi when we had the breadth of Balkan Europe to look out upon? How could anyone complain about the wait times at the Bulgarian border when the formalities were entirely taken care of by Golden Eagle staff, leaving us free to continue sipping champagne and reading our novels? The time allotted to us was the true luxury. To paraphrase Greene, this is the great Golden Eagle; it is real luxury travel for people not in a hurry. The writer was a guest of Golden Eagle Luxury Trains. I smile as Silvia – our tour leader on Intrepid's eight-day Best of Switzerland rail trip – guides us confidently through Zurich's main station, tickets to Lucerne in hand. Though Italian, Silvia now spends much of her time in Germany and Switzerland, and she navigates the local railway systems with ease. Trains are arguably the best way to explore Switzerland, renowned for its punctual transport and panoramic vistas. But there's more to train travel than hopping on and enjoying the view: timetables, routes and accommodation along the way. All of these factors require know-how and planning, which can prove challenging for time-strapped travellers. Consequently, companies such as Byway, which help customers book self-guided train itineraries, are proving very successful. Yet there's an even easier way to get onboard, thanks to a rise in small-group rail trips like Intrepid's. Here, a knowledgeable guide and the chance to meet like-minded travel companions are added bonuses. Such benefits inspired me to try my first European Intrepid trip. Driven by a soaring demand for train travel, the small-group adventure company recently launched a rail-based collection spanning old favourites to new itineraries, and it was here that I spotted the Best of Switzerland. Cheese, chocolate and superlative scenery? Swiss bliss indeed. Switzerland is expensive, and this tour reflects that, with prices starting from €3050. Perhaps due to this, my group was on the older side of Intrepid's demographic: ranging from 60-something Americans to an Aussie in her forties. I am 33 and there was just one person younger than me. Yet, as I often find on these trips, we bonded well despite our various ages and all relished the ride. We begin with an evening welcome meeting and walk in Zurich, before leaving the next morning. With little time spent in Zurich on the trip, I agree with Intrepid's advice to arrive early and explore. From fondue spiked with cherry liquor in the old town, to myriad museums and Bahnhofstrasse's dazzling jewellery, you'll find plenty here besides watches and banks. I recommend staying three or four days and buying a Zurich Card, which covers public transport, plus discounted entry to multiple attractions. Up next was Lucerne, about an hour from Zurich by train. Cue a typically scenic journey, where jagged snowy Alps glint in the distance and buzzards soar overhead, followed by a small city with big charm. An azure lake spanned by wooden bridges, frescoed buildings depicting craftsmen and jesters, medieval cobbled streets and city walls – Lucerne is a true supermodel, right down to its mountain backdrop. Our two days here also include a 'golden round-trip' Mount Pilatus tour: covering a steamboat cruise across Lake Lucerne, the world's steepest cogwheel railway up to the summit, and finally a gondola back. This is slightly ruined by foggy conditions on Pilatus, but as our next stop, two and a half hours by train from Lucerne would show me, fickle mountain weather is hard to avoid. Hills dotted with gingerbread chalets, tinkling cowbells, streams rushing through conifer forests; then suddenly fog, mist, a brutal world of rock and snow. Such was my disorientating experience of ascending towards Jungfraujoch, 3454 metres above sea level, in the Eiger Express gondola. I then catch the Jungfrau Railway – an awesome feat of engineering that saw a tunnel blasted through mountains far above the perennial snow line – and emerge onto the so-called 'Top of Europe', where clear conditions promise a stellar Alpine view. My view? Snowy blizzards. It's lucky Jungfraujoch has indoor entertainment, including a karst cave and an ice palace, too. Mountain weather is indeed fickle, but I enjoy our two days of free time in the Jungfrau Region nonetheless. My favourite excursion is Trümmelbach Falls, where subterranean waterfalls plummet through rock ravines in a milky-blue roar. Enhanced by adjacent wildflower meadows, impressionist canvases of purple and yellow, it feels like the setting of a fantasy movie. The Grindelwald Hotel is also a highlight, with its abundant wood and mellow lighting, as is my cheesy Alpine macaroni in the restaurant. Talking of which, our next stop is cheesy indeed. After around three hours and two train changes from Grindelwald, we arrive in Bulle: a pretty pastel town in French-speaking Switzerland. Our final destination is nearby Gruyères, where we visit a small factory to learn more about its renowned hard nutty cheese. This is often used in fondue, and so beloved that it's inspired a tradition of intricately carved wooden Gruyère spoons. My unsurprising highlight is the tasting, as with the chocolatier we visited afterwards. Chocolate is another product that Switzerland famously makes well, particularly via artisanal makers like Richard Uldry, who sources quality cocoa from places like Peru and São Tomé. After explaining his bean-to-bar process, Richard offers us samples of products like his Gruyère double-cream truffles. Yum Backed by a massive fang-like mountain that recalls the Matterhorn of old Toblerone packets, Gruyères is as delectable as its food. The red-roofed hilltop town is complete with a medieval château. It's also home to a bar and museum celebrating sci-fi artist H.R. Giger (best known for his work on the 1979 film Alien) – visiting this during our free time, I enjoy it almost as much as the cheese. Almost. Alas, all good things come to an end. Our last stop, around a one-hour train ride from Bulle and back into German-speaking Switzerland, is Bern. Home to a UNESCO-listed old town, complete with unusual underground shops, the Swiss capital is also celebrated for its 13th-century clock tower: a landmark whose secrets we learn on an included behind-the-scenes tour. Saying goodbye to the group over a rösti dinner, I reflect on my first-ever guided rail journey. Granted, it had been 'lazier' than my usual Europe trips, which I navigate with friends or family, but I'd saved several days of planning and met some lovely companions from across the world. Getting from A to B without worry, thanks to guide Silvia, was also a novelty; after all, mistakes are possible even in Switzerland, especially during tight train changes. I appreciated the mix of included activities and free time too. Want a multi-stop rail tour without hassle? I believe tours like Intrepid's are just the ticket. The writer was a guest of Intrepid.
LeMonde
a day ago
- LeMonde
French museums plan to raise admission fees for non-European visitors
It was to be expected. The announcement that the Louvre would introduce a special €30 admission price for non-European visitors as of January 1, 2026, has had a domino effect. According to Le Monde 's sources, this distinction between Europeans and non-Europeans will also be tested at the Château de Versailles (Paris region), at a monument managed by the National Monuments Center (CMN) – either the Arc de Triomphe or the Conciergerie, both in Paris – at the Château de Chambord, a castle in the Loire Valley (central France), as well as at Paris' Opéra Garnier. A source at the Culture Ministry said they were convinced that tourists who have come from afar would not hesitate to pay any price to step back in time with Marie-Antoinette, take a selfie with the Mona Lisa, or enjoy panoramic views of Paris from the Arc de Triomphe. This measure is expected to be extended to other sites in 2027. The goal is clear: to raise money, at a time when budget cuts threaten public subsidies, sponsorship has been drying up, and construction costs are soaring. At the Château de Versailles, which is always seeking funds to repair a cracked pool, restore a neglected grove, or fix a leaking roof, non-European visitors represent 42% of the monument's 8 million annual visitors.
LeMonde
a day ago
- LeMonde
Roquefort cheese's 100-year anniversary curdled by industrial monopoly and declining sales
It's a vast plateau, and nestled just below, a legendary cheese. In the natural cavities of the Larzac's karstic landscape, straddling the Aveyron, Lozère, and Hérault regions in southern France, Roquefort has been aged for centuries, crafted exclusively from raw sheep's milk collected within a 100-kilometer radius. Legend has it that a shepherd forgot his bread and cheese in a cave, and returned some days later to discover that this blue-green mold from the bread had colonized the curds. Although Roquefort's existence actually dates back to Antiquity, the cheese celebrates this year the 100 th anniversary of its appellation d'origine: a French label designating an agricultural product as being produced and processed in a particular region. It was the the first for a cheese in France. The law establishing the designation was enacted on July 26, 1925, but the official celebration is set for the weekend of June 7 and 8, when the village of Roquefort-sur-Soulzon in southern France will host events including a sheep parade, culinary creations by Michelin-starred chefs and a drone show.
