August 2013 - Woman on Her Way

August 30: Bastogne

This morning we spent more than three hours viewing the J’avais 20 ans en Bastogne exhibit at the Musée en Piconrue. Senior citizens were interviewed by teens about their experience as children during WWII. Their taped recollections were the basis for the three floors of exhibit rooms. Off all the museums we visited in Bastogne, this was my favorite—not only about the military but the effects of the war on the citizens; it made the hellishness more real.

After lunch we visited the 101^st Airborne Museum. Dennis’ father was in the 101^st during the Battle of the Bulge. It was amazing to see the size of the 81mm mortar that he transported. We found nothing personal but did get a feel for the snow and cold during that winter battle.

We tried to find the bus stop to go the shopping center to buy clothes for Dennis’ interview tomorrow. We asked several people about the stop’s location. At least, someone told us that we were actually at the stop—it was just unidentified. Would you have known it was here? (photo right)

The cost of living is very high in Belgium. Clothing, food, restaurants, hotels are all very expensive. Bastogne is a tourist town, so I can understand the elevated prices. Even though we went to a “mall” in a neighboring town 10 km (6 mi) away, the prices were less but still much dearer than in the U.S. I don’t know how the average person can afford living here.

Tomorrow, Michel de Trez will pick us up at 9:15 to take us to La Gleize where Dennis will be filmed for the Belgium TV. It should be an exciting day for him.

August 28: Bastogne

It took us approximately two hours and twenty minutes to get from Luxembourg to Bastogne, Belgium, about 44.5 km (27.6 miles). The itinerary included taking a 20-minute train ride to Mersch where we took a 5-minute bus ride to Ettelbruck. The last section took us the longest; we salute the bus driver for her skill and bravery.

As is our custom, we use seat belts in buses, when available. Shortly after starting off from Ettelbruck we begin descending the Ardennes, a very steep and forested mountain range in Belgium. After a near collision in one of the hairpin turns, we heard the other passengers clicking in their seat belts–the scare frightening them into safety.

We alighted at the McAuliffe square, so called because General McAuliffe reputedly responded “Nuts!” from this location to the German’s request for surrender. We ate lunch at the Jack Friteria (right) located in the square; Dennis recalled eating here with his military buddies back in the 60s when they came by motorcycles to visit the war museums and monuments.

We went to the Gare de Sud, the south bus station, to make plans for traveling to La Gleize on Saturday. We had to wait for a bus to arrive to find out how to do this. Turns out Michel de Trez will be picking us up at the B & B and driving us to the museum where he has arranged for an interview with Dennis that will be aired on Belgium National TV. How cool is that? We are off to buy Dennis non-hiking clothes; it will be strange to see him dressed up again.

There are 44 museums, monuments and historical things to do in Bastogne. One of them is the Musée en Piconrue (left), which displays some WWII artifacts and sells books about the 101st Airborne in Bastogne. The museum that Dennis is most interested in seeing is the Bastogne Historical Center. He also wants to visit the Mardasson Monument, a short walk out of town.

Bastogne is a city under construction. There are many cranes and remodeling projects. Tourism is a major factor, but there are more eateries than places to stay. We were lucky to find a room, especially since there is a circus in town this weekend.

With all the WWII Battle of the Bulge monuments in town, I loved the simplicity and innocence of the babies climbing statue.

August 28: Luxembourg

We arrived in Carentan at 9 A.M. and went straight to the post office to mail the camping gear home. Too bad there wasn’t a UPS or FedEx in town; it would have been cheaper.

We took a local train to Paris. As we approached the interior, the architecture changed from stone buildings to fairytale-like structures. We went through long stretches of agriculture, mostly plowed fields. Around the small station of Mantes de Jolie, there was a mixture of old and new, and lots of graffito. The Paris St. Lazare station was similar, only with taller blocked-stone buildings contrasting with tall glass ones. In Paris, the sky was cloudy and the massive building hid what sunlight there was. Not very welcoming. Nor were the French officials.

Disembarking the train, I went to the information office to find out how to the to the Gare Est (the east station). It was as if I were asking the most stupid question—you could feel the disdain—but I walked away with a metro map. Getting around the metro was not easy…the map and the signage did not correspond. I went to a different info center. This time the attendant just pointed to a sign in French, not even bothering to reply to my question. I could not be sure what the sign said, so I asked which direction I should take the lines stated on the sign. Whichever I wanted was his reply. That was helpful.

In frustration, I asked a fellow passenger to help us. Though she was uncertain, she did take the time to try to help us out. Her attitude was much more accommodating than that of the paid officials whose job it was to inform and help. Luckily, Dennis is good at reading maps, and we found our way to Gare Est with time to spare.

They patrol the station with men carrying automatic weapons and other arms. You can see them behind me in the photo above. I was glad when our express train to Luxembourg left. Paris is not a welcoming town.

Luxembourg, on the other hand, was very friendly. People speak many languages and seem to pride themselves in greeting foreigners. After dinner, we walked over the Adolphe Bridge (left) which joins to hills; the valley is a park. Entering the old city we saw a church with three steeples.

The city is having a fund-raiser for the Asian Elephants and there are brightly painted fiberglass elephants for sale all over the city.

August 27: Carentan

We went to the Dead Man’s Corner Museum in Carentan, because Dennis found a photo of his dad’s helmet in a book which stated the helmet was in this museum. The museum had many artifacts about the 82^nd and 101 Airborne, but not his helmet. We purchased a book depicting Pvt. Ernest R. Blanchard in England where he trained for the invasion. The author of both books was historian Michel de Trez,

Dennis asked the proprietor about the whereabouts of the helmet. He told us that his partner was the historian Michel de Trez and that he had the helmet in Belgium; he then called his friend to introduce us and to see if he was willing to speak with Dennis. We will go to Belgium after Luxemburg for that very purpose. Imagine the odds of finding that helmet!

Carentan is a small village with a train station. There, we bought our tickets for Luxembourg and will arrive in Luxembourg City tomorrow evening. At first we thought of catching the train to Bastogne, but decide to stay and explore the city, since I have not been there.

When I was studying French so many years ago, I read about the flying buttresses, an architectural technique that made it possible for churches to have light and height. Notre Dame in Carentan, (picture above left) I believe, is such an example.

The town hall is massive with a frontal rose and flower garden and huge window boxes full of petunias. These flowers seem to be a favored flowered in the district; they decorate many buildings. I wonder if Dennis’ father’s love for this flower developed while he was in France.–it was his favorite. Another popular flower is the hollyhock. These seem to attract the largest bumblebees I have ever seen.

Carentan has a canal to the harbor; consequently if has a marina (below, left). It was very relaxing siting under an cafe umbrella, sipping a Perrier, and watching the boats.

We returned to Sainte-Mere-Eglise, about 15 km (10 miles) away, to prepare for a day of travel. We boxed up our camping gear—no use hauling that 7 kg (almost 16 lbs) around if we are not using it. Dennis’ back pack is much lighter, and mine is smaller; both now fit in the overhead racks on trains and buses. Life is getting easier and we wind down our trip.

August 25: Sainte-Mère-Église

Except for the church bells tolling most of the day, there isn’t much going on in Sainte-Mère-Église on Sundays. Of course, there are the walking tour, restaurants, and trinket and bead shops, but no places of interest within walking distance that we had not already seen, and no buses to get to the sites that are further away.

At the tourist shop, we were surprised to find books not sold at the bookstore. More amazingly, we found photos of Dennis’ father and leads to more information. Dennis was as thrilled as a kid at Christmas and bubbled with excitement.

We visited the church where there are two stain-glass windows honoring the parachutists of the 82nd Airborne. The picture on the right depicts Saint Michael and the insignia of various Allied military units that fought in or near the village.

It is remarkable how the people of Sainte-Mère-Église continue to commemorate those that liberated them that night of June 5, 1944 and the days following. It also honors the civilians who died at that time. Next year will be the 70th anniversary.

Below is the tree where Dennis’ father’s parachute was hung up. As bullets whizzed by, he cut the ropes to the chute–and part of his thumb in haste–fell about 30 feet, and then ran off to join other members of his team. Once gathered together, some came back to liberate the town and others went to capture a Bridge at La Fiere, a marsh three kilometers away.

August 24: Sainte-Mère-Église

We went to the Sainte-Mère-Église town hall and were lucky enough to have an interview with the mayor, Marc LeFevre. Dennis thanked him for what his predecessor did to honor Ernest R. Blanchard’s 70 birthday–sending a letter thanking him for his heroic actions on June 5, 1944, a medallion of the city, and telephoning him on the actual birth date. Unfortunately, his dad never saw the accolades or received the phone call: he died three days too soon.

The mayor was very receptive and promised to contact an acquaintance of his who might be able to help Dennis with more information about his father’s “longest day.”

His office gave Dennis six commemorative photos, though not of his father.

As we were heading to the Parachutists Memorial, we passed the house pictured above. It commemorates a parachutist, but one not on the walking tour list. As were we trying to determine who it might represent, a gentleman stopped to give us information. It turns out that Philipe R. Nekrassoff (right with Dennis left) is an historian, writer, and owner of the house we were admiring. He immediately knew Dennis’ dad’s story and might have a photo of him, though from 1960. He will search his records and forward the info to Dennis. What a coincidence. As we were departing, he gifted us with a signed copy of his book: Magneville: Ce Jour Là …6 Juin 1944.

We walked five miles round trip to the memorial. On the way, I noticed that the architecture here is not very different from England’s–stone buildings, tile ceilings, similar chimneys. If it were not for the different crops in the fields, corn rather than oats, I would think I were still in England.

Unlike England, the French drive on the right, have a smaller breakfast, and seem a little more relaxed, not so much in a hurry, except when they are driving.

August 23: Sainte-Mère-Église

Cherbourg is a seaside resort town, replete with eateries, cafes, shops, and high prices. I am learning French names for shops (bakery, pastry, meat store, etc) as well a menu items. Too bad we are not staying longer in France; I would to love sample all the deliciously presented food. Or perhaps its a good idea we are not here too long–I’ve already put on too much weight. I went to the pharmacy to weigh myself, but it did not have a scale; I guess I don’t have to worry about it this way.

On our one-hour bus trip from Cherboug to Sainte-Mère-Église, we had a discussion with Nisar Mohmand. He is 24-year-old gentleman from Afghanistan who has has been living in France for three years, working as a welder. He was very interesting and kind, offering us lodging if we should need it. Many thanks, Nisar.

The tourist office in Sainte-Mère-Église helped us locate a B & B, and gave us a walking-tour map of the city. We visited the Airborne Museum (where I learned that Sainte-Mère-Église was the first liberated village in France), looked at the monuments and memorials around the city, and found Dennis’ father ‘s name on one, though the name is incorrect. Pvt. Ernest R. Blanchard is commemorated as Pvt. R. Blanchard.

Dennis is moved by being here, so close to the events faced by his dad on June 5, 1944. He regrets not having come here with his father, who would have had comments on everything.

Tomorrow we will visit more sites, select a guided tour of all the D-Day beaches for Sunday, and try to see the mayor who can perhaps direct us to more information about his dad and the tree he landed in.

August 22: Cherbourg

We had the morning to explore Portsmouth before taking the ferry to Cherbourg, France. I love the varied colors of the row houses, the open space by the sea, and the relatively warmer and sunnier weather. For the first time in about six weeks, I am comfortable, at least when not in the wind.

Portsmouth is an island city with a population density greater than London. Even though there are more than a million inhabitants, Portsmouth does not appear as crowded as London.

We visited the Portsmouth D-Day Museum, which features large embroidered panels of Operation Overlord, the code name for the Battle of Normandy. These were extremely well done, with recognizable faces and realistic scenes depicting battles and injuries. There are more 50 different materials used in the making of the panels, including materials taken from uniforms of the armed forces involved in the battles.

We had a light lunch on a restaurant’s veranda next to the ocean, and then we scrambled to meet the Ferry. It is a three-hour crossing on the “fast ferry” and we arrived there around 8 P.M. French time (GMT +1). Left, first sighting of French soil. We had no trouble finding the B & B, had a late supper, tasted French beer, and went to bed. Traveling can be very tiring.

August 21: Portsmouth

We took the train to London from Newcastle, and then another to Plymouth. Since we missed today’s ferry to Cherbourg, France, we had to find lodging for the evening. All the hotels near the ferry port were filled. We took a bus to Portsmouth South Sea, an old district of the city. On the bus, several women discussed where we should go to find the best rated B and B. Everyone was so friendly and willing to help! Upon their advice, we stopped at Kings Road Circle. As I was putting on my backpack, someone recognized the Camino patch on the pack, and we started talking. David Johnson completed the Camino by bicycle in 2011. After a lively chat, he informed us that he owned the Victoria Court B & B, and, yes, he had an available room. Once again, the Camino provides.

We ate Moroccan cuisine at Tourareg; something different for both of us. Of course, we had previously eaten Couscous, but not as deliciously prepared as the meal we had this evening. I will have to learn how to cook this traditional food.

Tomorrow morning we will visit Portsmouth, and then take the 4 P.M. ferry to France; at last.

August 20: Newcastle and Wallsend

Yesterday we waited at the B & B for FedEx to deliver our credit cards. They arrived around 3 PM and we almost ran a mile with our backpacks to the bus stop to catch a ride to Hexham. We got there with just a minute to spare. From Hexham, we took the train to Newcastle. The Visitor’s Bureau helped us find lodging–a hotel chain called Jury’s…at last, I was warm in a building and had reliable, but slow, WiFi.

This morning, we took a city bus to Heddon-on-the-Wall to complete our hike to Wallsend. According to the guidebook, it should have been an easy eight-mile walk; it turned out to be twice that.

We stopped for lunch, and I tried two things that I have seen since I arrived England: Coronation Chicken (a cold chicken and curry sauce sandwich), and Ginger Beer. I don’t usually drink soda, but I liked this strong fermented ginger ale.

The walk today was mostly on a rail trail, like the Legacy Trail in Sarasota, Fl. It followed the Tyne and was quite lovely through Newcastle with all its bridges. The weather was agreeable, high 60’s, and I even rolled up my sleeves.

From Newcastle to Wallsend, the trip was unbearable long. I don’t know if it was because I was anticipating the end, but that last five miles felt much longer. At last, at 4:50 P.M., we arrived at Segedunum fort and museum, which was closing. Glad to get off our feet, Dennis and I and two walking companions we met when we stopped for lunch took the train back to Newcastle for a celebratory beer.

Tomorrow we head for France.