Aged to perfection

Another stressful day of driving almost behind us, we pulled into the outer suburbs of Besancon, a town in Eastern France close to the border. Michael went to uni here for a year, more time ago than he cares to remember, and fancied a little reckie to see if things had changed or were more or less the same as his student days, or should that be daze?
He did warn me that the suburb of Planoise where his lodgings were, left more than a little to be desired. However on arrival, and after a long and tiring day, things looked a bit worse than he remembered, and quite a lot worse than I had expected. We found his (gloomy) old street, funnily enough also named Rue de Champagne (no relation, I'm here to tell you), parked, and he walked me over to the shops where he used to buy groceries, get his haircut, things like that. The first thing I saw was the dodgy bar. No, actually the first thing I saw was all the cops hanging around on the streets, trying to break up gangs of youths. The second thing I saw was the dodgy bar. "Your local?" I asked, trying to look tough and brave, "No way", he replied, "we were way too scared to go in there". Least I wasn't the only one... After taking in the supermarket and the hair salon, which Mike was most disappointed to find was no longer called Monsieur Coiff, for what reason I know not with a fab name like that. Then someone threw an egg at us. No, I'm not lying or exaggerating, they really did. Then some people laughed at us, and then I told Mike in no uncertain terms that, darling, I am very glad to see the lovely place in which you spent your hopefully-not-formative year, but now can we please GO. FAST. RUN!
After scarpering back to the car, avoiding any more local produce, he insisted on showing me the actual town of Besancon, and his old haunts. With more than a little trepidation after the welcome we'd received at the last one, I rather bravely agreed. Which was a good thing as old Besancon is absolutely gorgeous and quintescentially French. Winding cobbled streets, beautiful fountains, elegant old buildings and churches and pedestrian streets packed with lush shops, bustling restaurants and chic bars. We spent a barmy evening wandering the streets, sampling Mike's favourite watering holes, and snacking on fresh French produce, including the area's famous runny cheese, Conquillotte. Maybe a year spent like this wouldn't be so bad after all.
We slept sound that night in an amazing old townhouse that had been converted into a chic French hotel - Charles Quint (www.charlesquint.com). The only thing that disturbed our repose was the chiming of churchbells from the cathedral outside our window. Just another pinch-me-I'm-not-dreaming moment.
Mike has since threatened that if I misbehave on the rest of the trip, he will put me straight on the bus to Planoise. Needless to say, I've been the perfect travelling companion ever since.

The other Rue de Champagne!

The beautiful Besancon square