Unbelievable Logis Le Franco Belge: Montherme's Hidden Gem Revealed!
Unbelievable Logis Le Franco Belge: Montherme’s Hidden Gem Revealed! (Or, My Attempt at Finding Calm in a French Village)
Okay, buckle up buttercups, because I’m about to spill the beans (well, attempt to) on the Logis Le Franco Belge in Montherme, France. It’s been a whirlwind, a rollercoaster, a… well, let’s just say it’s been an experience. And you know what? I loved it. Mostly. (Don’t judge me, I’m a work in progress.)
First Impressions (and the Initial Panic):
Montherme. Population: Probably less than my shoe size. Finding it was an adventure in itself. My GPS tried to send me down a goat path. Seriously. Thankfully, the hotel, nestled in the Ardens, is pretty clearly signposted.. Arriving, I was immediately hit with that quintessential French charm, you know? The kind that simultaneously makes you feel relaxed and like you're about to be scrutinized for your pronunciation of "croissant." The exterior? Classic. Stone walls, flower boxes overflowing with color, a promise of something… authentic.
Accessibility & The Paperweight-Sized Elevator:
Alright, let's talk accessibility. This is important! For wheelchair users: the website touts "Facilities for disabled guests." I poked around. The lobby and the main restaurant seem fine, but I'd strongly recommend reaching out directly and asking specific questions about room accessibility. The elevator… let's just say you're probably better off hauling your luggage up the (thankfully short) flight of stairs. It's… cozy. Like, maybe-holds-two-people-if-one-is-a-small-child cozy.
Internet (Or, The Great Wi-Fi Quest):
Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! They promise. And, mostly, they deliver. Except when they don't. My signal was… sporadic, shall we say. But honestly? In Montherme, I quickly embraced the digital detox. I actually enjoyed the lack of constant connectivity. There’s also Internet [LAN] advertised. I didn't test it. Why bother? I didn't come to Montherme to work. I came to… escape.
Rooms: My Little Château of Serenity… Eventually:
Okay, the room. The air conditioning worked! Hallelujah! Free Wi-Fi (when it deigned to cooperate). Blackout curtains (essential for proper lazing). The bed? HUGE. Extra long, in fact. I'm talking "drown-in-thread-count" comfortable. Seriously, I almost didn't get out of it for three days. The bathroom was… charmingly French. The bathtub provided a much-needed soak after a long day of… well, of nothing. Pure bliss. It had a hairdryer, bathrobes, slippers, complimentary tea was a thing. Even the toiletries were decent!
Cleanliness & Safety: A Hugely Reassuring Hug:
Post-pandemic travel is strange, isn’t it? I was thrilled to see their dedication to Cleanliness and safety. Anti-viral cleaning products, daily disinfection in common areas, and rooms sanitized between stays are, frankly, crucial. Also, hand sanitizer was everywhere. Thank goodness. I'm a germaphobe. My comfort level was boosted by the fact that they used professional-grade sanitizing services. They even had Individually-wrapped food options, which made me really happy. Rooms sanitized between stays was really reassuring. They had a Safe dining setup. A big thumbs up! This hotel also offered Room sanitization opt-out available, just in case you're a clean freak.
The Food (Oh, Glorious Food!):
Now, let's talk about the reason you go to France. The food. The restaurants were amazing. The a la carte in restaurant was delicious. I loved the buffet in restaurant breakfast, which included Asian breakfast. They had a Vegetarian restaurant. The coffee. The coffee/tea in restaurant, was perfect. Every single morning was a gift. The Western Breakfast was good too. One morning, I ordered Breakfast in room, to enjoy the view of the Ardennes. You could also order Coffee shop, if that's your jam. Desserts in restaurant, of course, were sinful. The Poolside bar was a godsend on a hot day.
Anecdote time: One evening, I wandered into the restaurant, completely frazzled from the day. I’d gotten lost trying to find a viewpoint (more on that later), and my French was… well, let's just say it was aspirational. The waiter, bless his heart, saw my distress. He immediately brought me a bottle of water and a smile, patiently explaining the menu while somehow deciphering my pidgin French. I ended up having the most incredible steak au poivre, and I swear, that moment single-handedly restored my faith in humanity. (Or, at least, my faith in the French.)
Amenities: Pools, Spas, and… Time To Do Absolutely Nothing:
Okay, let's get real. The swimming pool [outdoor] was gorgeous. And the Pool with a view chef's kiss. Hours spent just floating, staring at the Ardennes. The Spa was… well, again, charmingly French. I had a Massage. And it was divine. They also offered a Sauna and a Steamroom - all the ingredients for a complete chill session. The Fitness center? I peeked in. It existed. I did not. I'm on vacation, okay? Time meant for ways to relax like reading books, or taking long naps.
Things to do: The Great Outdoors (and My Attempts at Avoiding it):
Montherme is all about the outdoors. Hiking, kayaking, cycling… all that active-person stuff that I'm generally terrible at. They had a Bicycle parking. They had a Car park [free of charge]. They had Car park [on-site]. They had Airport transfer… in case you need to leave Montherme (never leave Montherme) Anecdote time: I made a heroic effort to hike to the "Rocher de la Vierge" viewpoint. I got gloriously lost. I scrambled up a hill, convinced I was about to be attacked by badgers. I ended up… well, I ended up back at the hotel, with a mild case of panic and a burning desire for a glass of wine. (The terrace was perfect for recovery.)
Services & Conveniences: The Little Things That Matter:
They have Daily housekeeping. The Concierge. They have a Convenience store. They have Dry cleaning, Facilities for disabled guests. They even had a Gift/souvenir shop. I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Cashless payment service. The Doorman. Air conditioning in public area which was much need. The Front desk [24-hour] was incredibly helpful. Luggage storage. The Elevator. Invoice provided, in case you're into that sort of thing.
For the Kids (If You Must):
They have a Babysitting service. Family/child friendly. But if I’m honest, I was thrilled I didn’t have to deal with anyone else's offspring. Especially with all the amazing food.
The Verdict: Go, But Set Your Expectations (and Maybe Pack Some Patience):
Unbelievable Logis Le Franco Belge: It's not perfect. It's not a five-star resort. It's… real. It’s got quirks. It’s got character. It’s got a certain French je ne sais quoi that's impossible to resist. Cleanliness and safety was very reassuring. The food is divine. The views are breathtaking. The staff is genuinely kind and helpful. And, most importantly, it’s a place where you can actually unplug and relax. Just be prepared for the occasional Wi-Fi hiccup and embrace the slow pace.
My Recommendation? Book it. NOW. (And tell them I sent you – maybe I can get a discount on my next stay.)
SEO Keywords (Because, you know, the Internet):
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Alright, buckle up buttercups, 'cause we're about to dive headfirst into the chaotic, glorious, and probably slightly disastrous world of my trip to Logis Le Franco Belge in Monthermé, France. This ain't your sterile travel brochure – consider this more of a drunk, half-written postcard scrawled on a napkin at 3 AM.
Day 1: The Arrival (or, "Why Did I Think Driving Through France Alone Was a Good Idea?")
- 9:00 AM: Departed from the airport. I was optimistic. Naive, even. My GPS is a liar. It kept shouting, "Recalculating!" which basically translated to "You're lost again, idiot." This, by the way, is a trend.
- 12:00 PM: Somewhere deep in the French countryside. Stopped at a boulangerie because even a lost idiot needs a baguette and a pain au chocolat. The lady behind the counter gave me the stink eye when I butchered my French. Honestly, I deserved it. The pastry was amazing, though. Redemption!
- 2:00 PM: Actually arrived at Franco Belge… or so I thought. Turns out Google Maps and I have a fundamental disagreement about what constitutes a "road." Ended up on a gravel track that could double as a lunar surface. The car, bless its soul, survived. Me? Less sure.
- 2:30 PM: Checked in. The receptionist, Madame Dubois, was surprisingly charming, despite the road-weary, baguette-crumb-covered creature that stumbled through her doors. My room? Tiny. Charming. Overlooking what I think is the Meuse River. (Is it? Who knows! I haven't even unpacked yet.) My emotional state? Relief. And slight terror that I might never find my way back to civilization.
- 3:00 PM - 5:00 PM: Unpacking. Realized I packed way too many shoes. Again. Contemplated throwing them all in the river. Decided against it (the shoes, not the river).
- 6:00 PM: Evening stroll. Found the river! It's gorgeous. Seriously, postcard material stuff. I wandered along the bank, feeling… well, actually, quite peaceful. Maybe this solo trip wasn't such a terrible idea after all? The air smelled like wet earth and something vaguely floral. Possibly cow patties. It's complicated.
- 7:30 PM: Dinner at the hotel restaurant. Ordered the coq au vin because, France. Also, wine. A lot of wine. Started chatting to a British couple at the next table. They seem nice. We're already trading travel horror stories. Solidarity!
- 9:00 PM: Back in the room. Journaling. Feeling surprisingly content. Also, tipsy. This could get interesting.
Day 2: The Meuse River & The Unexpected Love of Kayaking (or, "My Arms Are Killing Me, But I'm Alive!")
- 9:00 AM: Breakfast. More baguette. More coffee. The Brits I met yesterday are already having the wine. They’re definitely my kind of people.
- 10:00 AM: Decided to be adventurous and go kayaking on the Meuse. This seemed like a good idea at the time. It involved a short, treacherous walk along the river bank to get to the launch point. My shoes were already muddy and it wasn’t even noon.
- 11:00 AM: Actually on the river. Paddling. It's harder than it looks. My arms were screaming after 10 minutes. The scenery? Breathtaking. The current? Stronger than it looked. I almost capsized at one point, which resulted in me screaming in a way that I’m sure disturbed the local wildlife.
- 12:00 PM - 2:00 PM: Kayaking. Kept kayaking. It was a battle of wills between me and the river. I got soaked. Saw some stunning views. Yelled at a swan (he deserved it).
- 3:00 PM: Back at the hotel. Showered. Changed. Currently, I'm walking around my room like a zombie. Worth it.
- 4:00 PM: Stumbled across the little town's main street. I saw a lovely little patisserie and got several delectable pastries. I then sat on a bench and ate them all while watching the town life.
- 6:00 PM: Trying to decide whether to nap or go out. The siren song of the bed is strong but I promised myself I'd get out and explore more.
- 7:30 PM: Dinner. The Brits again! They've got a whole new level of tales. More wine. Considering ordering a cheese plate. Or maybe just the entire cheese shop.
- 9:00 PM: Back in the room. Journaling. Arms still aching. Feeling ridiculously satisfied. My calves are screaming too. France, you are exhausting and wonderful.
Day 3: "The Hike That Nearly Killed Me" and The Unexpected Delights (or, "Did I Actually See A Ghost?")
- 9:00 AM: Breakfast. Baguette addiction is real. And the Brits? They’re on their third bottle of wine. I like these people.
- 10:00 AM: Decided I was a hiker. So, I decided to hike a mountain.
- 12:00 PM - 2:00 PM: The Hike From Hell. Steep, rocky, and with a trail that seemed to disappear into a haze of sweat and existential dread. I swear I saw a sign that read "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." Maybe it was just the sunstroke.
- 2:00 PM: Finally reached the top! The view was spectacular. Worth it? Maybe. My legs still feel like jelly.
- 3:00 PM: Back at the hotel. Face-planted in bed, fully clothed.
- 4:00 PM: Wandered into the local church. Quiet and peaceful. I felt a little emotional.
- 5:00 PM: Found a quirky little antique shop and bought a chipped teacup that I’m convinced is haunted. Still, I felt compelled.
- 6:00 PM: Walked around the town in a trance, which ended up being a good time. In fact, because of it, I found a great crepe place. With chocolate AND salted caramel.
- 7:30 PM: Dinner. Back with the Brits. More wine. Got to a bit of a state. I may have told them about the haunted teacup. They were very amused.
- 9:00 PM: Back in the room. Journaling… and now I can't find my pen. The teacup is staring at me. Pretty sure it's judging me. This solo trip is getting weird.
Day 4: "Goodbye, Sweet France… and the Brits!" (Or, "Will I Ever Unpack?")
- 9:00 AM: Breakfast. Said goodbye to the Brits. Tears were shed. It was like a movie.
- 10:00 AM-12:00 PM: Pack. Still failing. Shoe Mountain remains untouched.
- 12:00 PM: Final lunch. Last baguette with the hotel. I will miss this place.
- 1:00 PM: Drive away. Still lost.
- 2:00 PM onwards: The journey home. This is a blur.
Final Thoughts:
France was beautiful. France was hard. France was chaotic. France was the best kind of mess. I'm exhausted, slightly sunburned, and possibly traumatized by a swan. But I loved it. I'll definitely be back. And next time, I'm packing fewer shoes. Maybe.
Logis Le Franco Belge? Charming. Recommended. Just… bring a map (or a GPS that doesn't lie) and a very, very large supply of wine. And maybe a therapist. You'll need it.
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Unbelievable Logis Le Franco Belge: Monthermé, You Had Me at…well, Let’s Just Say It's a Journey!
So, what IS this "Franco Belge" everyone's raving (and ranting) about?
Okay, the official line is a charming hotel nestled in the Ardennes, somewhere between France and Belgium, offering stunning views of the Semoy River. Sounds idyllic, right? Well... it is. Sometimes. Think of it as your eccentric aunt's house - a little dusty, a little chaotic, but ultimately, you love her. It's a Logis hotel, so you're expecting a certain level of comfort...though the definition in Monthermé might be slightly…flexible. I've seen cleaner toilets, I've seen better breakfasts... BUT. But there's a vibe. You know? That indescribable "je ne sais quoi" that keeps you coming back, even after you've sworn you'd never return.
The location – is it REALLY as beautiful as the photos suggest?
Oh. My. God. Yes. The photos are not exaggerating. The Semoy River carving its way through the cliffs? Spectacular. The hotel practically clinging to the edge? Terrifyingly beautiful. I spent one afternoon just staring out the window of my room (Room 21, if you’re asking – more on that later), completely mesmerized. The light changes, the river whispers… it's genuinely breathtaking. I'm not exaggerating. Actually, scratch that, maybe I am exaggerating a little. It’s ridiculously beautiful. You'll forgive the wonky Wi-Fi, the slightly stained carpet, the questionable selection of art adorning the walls, because you’re basically living in a postcard. Except the postcard is a bit aged, and might smell faintly of damp.
Let's talk about the rooms. Should I pack hazmat gear?
Okay, deep breaths. No hazmat gear is *strictly* necessary. But…expect character. And by "character," I mean a certain…distinction. Some rooms are better than others. I heard a *whisper* that Room 21 (*again!*) has the best view, a fact that *also* makes it the hottest room in the summer. I'm not kidding. Like, you could fry an egg on the radiator. (Don't try it. I didn't. I swear). The bathrooms? Let's just say they’re “functional.” Don't expect a spa experience. Do, however, expect a view of the river, even from the loo. Silver linings, eh? Tip: Ask for extra towels. You'll need them.
Okay, but the food? Please tell me the food is decent. I'm a hungry person.
Ah, the food. Here's where things get… interesting. The restaurant has its moments. The regional specialties (think game meats, hearty stews) can be absolutely divine. One night, I had a venison stew that was so good, I almost wept. Almost. (My inner critic, she's a tough lady.) BUT. BUT. Service? Let's just say it operates on "Ardennes time." Be prepared to wait. And wait. And perhaps flag down whomever you can find. Breakfast is… well, it's there. Bread, croissants (sometimes), coffee, and a selection of…things. Don’t expect a Michelin-star experience, but it'll keep you going. Honestly, bring snacks. Always bring snacks. And maybe a small bottle of your favourite digestif for after dinner. You'll thank me later.
What about the service? Are the staff friendly?
The staff are… a mixed bag. Some are genuinely lovely, helpful, and try their absolute best to compensate for the… quirks of the establishment. Others…well, let's just say they have a certain "Ardennes charm," which can sometimes be interpreted as "slightly aloof." I once tried to check in early and was met with a look that could curdle milk. But then, a different staff member, later the same evening, went above and beyond to help me with a (very) minor problem. It's a rollercoaster, folks. Be patient. Be polite. And maybe brush up on your French – or Belgian-French! (It helps).
The "Quirks" - What's the big deal? What should I REALLY know before I go?
Okay, here's the *real* dirt. Let’s just say the "quirks" are baked into the experience. The Wi-Fi is… unreliable. Like, dial-up unreliable. Bring a book. or five. The elevator is, to put it kindly, "cosmetically challenged" – and often out of order. Be prepared to climb stairs. Lots of them. The heating/air conditioning is… well, it exists, in theory. Room 21, as I said, gets *scorching* in the summer. In winter? Expect layers. The phone in the room? Forget it. Just use your mobile. The hotel is also apparently a favorite of older couples and people who seem to only speak French. Don't expect a lively nightlife, either. It's all about the views, the river, and finding inner peace or at least, *some* kind of peace. Basically, embrace the chaos. It's part of the charm.
You mentioned Room 21 a few times... What's the deal!?!
Okay, okay, fine, I'll confess. I've… developed a complicated relationship with Room 21. It's the room with the view. THE VIEW. Stunning. Absolutely, unbelievably, stunning. Facing the Semoy, the cliffs… You get the picture? You’ll be spending a lot of time at the window, doing *nothing*. It is perfect for it. And I’m the kind of person who *never* does nothing.
But the heat! Oh, the heat! It was a sweltering July, and that room… it felt like being inside a convection oven. I’d open the window, and while the view was great, the incessant sound of traffic, or the occasional loud tourist, made it far from a relaxing experience. It was a constant battle: glorious view vs. unbearable heat. The radiator was like a sleeping dragon, it would wake up, and then *roar*. I did a lot of sweating and fan-waving.
And yet… and yet… I *miss* it. I miss the almost-too-close proximity to the river. I miss the way the morning sun would paint the room in gold. I miss the slightly musty smell (okay, maybe a little less of that). Room 21 is, in a nutshell, the Franco Belge experience distilled. Flawed, frustrating, and utterly, completely captivating. WouldEasy Hotel Hunt
