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Roseraie du val de marne
Everything about flowers not only you found in Holland or Dutch, but you could found it France as well. If you like rose, a flower that often use as representation of love, visit roserai du val de marne.
Roserai du val de marne is located in Rue Albert Watel, you could reach the place by using metro and jump down in Porte d’Italie then continue the journey by using bus no. 184 or 186 (or 286 on holiday).
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Nord Pas-de-Calais
Because the sun appears less often here than in the south, some people think of Nord-Pas de Calais as a gloomy region. They have clearly never paid it a visit: it’s probably one of the jolliest regions in France, and always ready to celebrate. Parades, carnivals, fairs and fanfares – good habits endure in this land of memory, bristling with belfries. To get the right feel for the region’s spirit, you need to join the crowd during the great collective celebrations, and share their meals based on seafood – the famous moules-frites, the traditional waterzoï (a court-bouillon of fish and chicken) – washed down with some of the local beer. It’s a lively region where tradition is part of daily life – a region open to the major capitals cities of Europe such a short distance away! Read the rest of this entry »
Eugenie-Les-Bains Aquitaine
The tiny spa village of Eugénie-les- Bains is seriously remote. Bordeaux is two hours’ drive north; Biarritz is 100 miles to the west. Yet this place is on the radar of most food lovers thanks to French super-chef Michel Guérard. His three-Michelin-starred restaurant gets booked up weeks ahead in summer, and menus start at €135. But just a few minutes’ walk away is La Ferme aux Grives, a sister restaurant where Guérard trials and refines his dishes before they appear on the menu of his main restaurant.
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Côte d’Azur
I used to think that the Côte d’Azur was one long private beach where you had to wrestle with naked Germans for the right to lay your towel out on three square inches of pebbles. The sea, I imagined, was warm fish soup topped with a layer of sun oil. The only places to eat were snooty restaurants, where you couldn’t get served anyway, and the pervading smells were Ferrari fumes and fake lavender essence. Of course I was absolutely right; in July and August, some of it is exactly like that. Read the rest of this entry »