Beaune is in the heart of the famous Burgundy wine region. We found a nice little hotel and rested up for our last official day in Europe. We wandered around this great little town, checking out the hundreds of shops selling wine, cheese, meats, and the like. Rick Steves...remember Rick Steves? He told us, personally, from the pages of his travel guide, to participate in a French Wine Tasting Class given by any one of the many shops offering such a service. BUT, Rick specifically told us to go to Sensation Vin...and we do WHATEVER Rick says. www.sensation-vin.com Anyway, Sensation Vin happened to be about 10 steps from our hotel and 3 steps from another incredible Catholic Church. There's a surprise. We dropped in to see Celine (you know, like Celine Dion, but lots prettier and knows lots more about wine) She gave us a one hour private seminar on Burgundy Wine, how to READ a French Wine Label (trust me folks, there is a lot to it) and of course, how to use our sense of sight, smell and taste to choose just the right wine for...ok...our tastes. She was really really good, professional, knowledgable, and did I say pretty? We bought a bunch of wine from her. Another surprise.
From Beaune, we went to Dijon for lunch and to see some of Jackie's old haunts. While we were there, I remembered that my good friend Mark used to play professional hockey in Dijon in the early 80s. At least Mark "TOLD ME" he played pro hockey there. (He also told me he was the captain of the Dartmouth hockey team during HIS formative college years. hmmm. A trend developing?) So as we sat at lunch, I sent a text message to my pal Mark to ask the location of the hockey rink, stadium, ice, pond, etc he played upon. He replied and we were off to find the infamous location of some of the most exciting hockey games ever played in the history of mankind. We found the rink and it was occupied by many players in brightly colored jerseys. As we got closer, we realized that the players were all about 8 years old. THESE did not seem to be professional players, as far as I know. So I approached a man who was standing on near the edge of the pond (the "Rink" turned out to be a frozen pond) who appeared to be about 12 years my junior. Jackie, who speaks French, translated for me. I, through her, asked this man if he had ever heard of Mark Ardagna, the great professional hockey player from the hockey capital of the world...Dunwoody. His eyes lit up and said, in French of course, "Oui, oui, I remember him. He was our greatest player. And he was the coach too! I was on the team back then!" I was astounded by my good fortune having happened upon one of the very players from that formidable team. He went on to regail us with stories of Mark's exploits on the ice, scoring here, defending there, pounding opponents into the ice in the true NHL fashion. Then, I started to do the math. And, I was told there WOULD BE NO MATH! I, through Jackie, asked him his age. His reply was that he was 36. My lightening quick mathmatical mind and fingers quickly deduced the truth. This man was 10 years old when Mark was playing in Dijon. Jackie inquired about this apparent anomoly but his reply was quick. "Oui, oui! I was only 10. So were all the other players except for Captain/Player/Coach Mark! Coach Mark was the best! He scored many goals! He won many, not all, but many fights! He drove the bus and carpool!"
So now, ladies and gentlemen, you know the real story of Mark Ardagna, former professional hockey player in Dijon France. Apparently the Dijon Duc Hockey Club is a recreational league attempting to keep the gang oriented French yoots out of the streets. Mark had apparently been spotted by a sharp eyed scout, who was blind in one eye and unable to see out of the other one, while playing for the illustrious Dartmouth team. He was recruited heavily and joined the Dijon Duc club. The rest, my friends, is apparently slightly altered history.
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