19 - Does Dijon cut the mustard?

Melissa and I have 2 very different accounts of our 3 nights spent in Dijon and the surrounding region of Burgundy. This stop of the trip would be the first time in over 2 months that we’d be separated as I left Melissa to her own devices (and some well earned peace and quiet) in Dijon before joining the stag do of my good friend Paul close by in the Burgundy countryside. As fate would have it, writing this entry of the blog has fallen to me rather than to Melissa which will result in a curtailed and censored entry, rather than the usual cultured travel writing you could come to expect from my better half.

We left Annecy early having recovered from our colds and, after a stop-off at the peaceful reservoir Lac de Vouglans in the Franche-Comte region for a picnic lunch, found Melissa’s accommodation in the heart of Dijon. We enjoyed a coffee in the main square before I headed on to my accommodation in a house in the countryside with 7 other guys and more beer than any bogan Bintang singlet wearing Aussie tourist in Bali could ever dream of.

To be perfectly honest, the next few days in the classic French wine country of Burgundy are a little bit of a blur and I’m not sure I could share all of the details even if I wanted to. Still, what goes on in Burgundy, stays in Burgundy. Although I’m sure I could hold Paul to ransom for a tidy sum to not disclose all the details so maybe I should be rethinking this…

The weekend wasn’t entirely filled with drunken debauchery on my part, we did go on a bike ride and play golf. The bike ride may have been between wineries and wine tastings and the golf may actually have been “pub golf” but it all counts.

After 2 months of being joined at the hip, spending more than 24 hours apart from Melissa did take it’s toll and I was able to convince the stag group that a day trip to Dijon would be a great way to watch the football and, completely coincidentally, also allow me to slip off and spend some time with Melissa. So, very much against every rule of any stag do ever, I did invite my girlfriend on part of the activity and paid the fines associated with it, a shot of disgusting Melon tasting spirit and a pint. Worth it.

Unfortunately that is the limit of the details that I able to disclose, according to the comprehensive NDA that I was made to sign by Paul that his Dad, a former lawyer, had no doubt drafted for him.

Meanwhile, besides being interrupted by a bunch of rowdy brits on a stag do, Melissa had a much more civilised and healthy weekend. She went for her first solo run without me as her pacemaker; I was very proud. She also went to a bar and ordered an alcoholic drink by herself, something that previously she has said is reserved for alcoholics; again, I was very proud. I picked her up on the Sunday morning, but only after she got on the train from Dijon to Beaune as it was more en-route on the long drive ahead of us to Bordeaux and I had not necessarily had the most restful weekend. She’s a keeper, this one.

J & M