Monday, June 9, 2014 Cherbourg, FR

There was no breakfast at the hotel this morning, on Monday’s they do not open until 9 am and we had to catch the 8:43 bus. We were not informed about this when we paid in advance, but we were able to get reimbursed. After leaving 12 frantic messages at the bike shop yesterday, we were glad when the proprietor met us there around 8:00 AM to exchange the helmets and bike for our deposit.

We waited an hour at the bus stop, but the bus never showed up. Thinking we missed it, we went to the Post Office to mail a package home, but that was closed. Back at the hotel we found out that it was Pentecost Day and that everything was closed.

To take a cab to Cherbourg FR (port city in Normandy, above) where we were to take the 5 PM ferry would cost 120€ (about $170) so we decided to hitch. As Dennis was writing a sign a British couple arrived and they offered to take us to Carentan FR, but Dennis would have to sit in the back of a box truck with no light or windows and with a stuffed fox, deer head, and cow skins, along with other items they were purchasing to take back to England. We jumped at their offer. They even offered to mail our box for us—such angels!

In Carentan, we took the train (running on holiday schedule) to Cherbourg. Last year this town was buzzing with activity…this time, the streets were deserted (picture left). We found an open café and sat there munching on a Croque Monsieur and talking to patrons. We spoke with Air Force captains who flew over Normandy yesterday dropping the parachutists. One, Capt. Jake Fuchs, flew the third C-130 troop transport plane in the group. He was enjoying this event very much. The other Captain is the doctor that was in the drop zone on the ground. He was on hand to deal with any medical emergencies or injuries, but he was pleased to report it was an uneventful day, thank goodness. They were both thrilled that the day went so well.

From town, we walked about a mile to the port. On the way there while watching a man outrun bicyclists, I jammed my foot into a post and re-injured my foot. I hope my blackened toe will not prevent me from hiking.

We are now on British time, now only 5 hours difference from the US.

Sunday, June 8, 2014 Utah Beach

The little Peugeot. struggled up the hills as we made our way to Utah Beach. At one point the sparrows were flying faster than we were moving. Our top speed going down hill was 35 mph. But the little engine took us about 55 miles round trip, in about 2 hours. It looked so tiny compared to the “big boys” though we were never the envy of the other riders.

We were lucky to see a herd of about 40 horses running through the fields, enjoying the cool weather and early morning. We also saw 900 parachutists jump with the old-style chutes using a static line. They came, wave after wave, in groups of 5 to 20 jumpers.

For miles around the jump site, people lined the streets and it was difficult to get around, even with the small scooter. In Sainte-Marie-du-Mont, depicted in the television series Band of Brothers, was the first village to be liberated during the D-Day disembarkment at Utah Beach. There, the re-enactors erected a bivouac. There were a variety of army vehicles and people clad in the old-style uniforms. We even saw a parade of locals dressed in 40s garb and pushing baby buggies and riding old bikes. Lots of polka-dotted dresses. All the stores and cafés were full. We managed to buy a drink in the grocery store, and then sit on the commons to watch the people.

From there we proceeded to Utah Beach. The beach is lovely and at low tides revealed the long approach.

Unlike 70 years ago, there is aquaculture on the beaches. We could see the large tables, but could not tell what was being farmed.

There are a few monuments and statues and a museum. As we walked around the beach, there was a flyover and Dennis managed to capture one of the planes. Later during the day, he also captured the C47 in full battle paint for D-Day. It wore these colors so it wouldn’t be attacked by the allies.

We returned to Sainte-Mère-Église to identify a few buildings that were mentioned in a book we bought that captures eye-witness statements about that night. Though written in French, I hope to translate it for Dennis and help him better understand what his father experienced.

Again today we saw a biking club–all wearing the same red, blue, white shirts. A police motorcycle preceded the 1000 or more riders. This was not a race, but folks out for a pleasure ride.

We arrived back in La Haye-du-Puits in the late afternoon and everything in town is quite…all the stores and restaurants, except for a kebab/pizzeria are closed. Luckily I overheard heard someone mention it in the hotel, and we grabbed fair food in Sainte-Mère-Église,

June 7, 2014 Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte

Searching for dad

We put-puttered north for about 6 miles (10 km) to Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte to see if we could determine the location of the above photos. Dennis’s dad is the upper right man in the top photo and the one standing third from the left and near the blur of the flash in the lower picture.

After visiting the château (below) we went to the museum. It was a literary one, not one about the town, and was of no help. They did suggest we visit the florist who had interest in WWII and a display in her shop’s window. She suggested we talk with Mde. Paulette Marie (right), who was fifteen at the time of liberation and who might be able to pinpoint where the pictures were taken.

She most graciously accepted us in her home and talked with us for about an hour. She took out a collection of pre-WWII postcards of the town to see if we could identify the location from these. We could not. She suggested that the photos could have been taken in a courtyard.

After leaving her, we stopped at an old café. Though the owner was young, he recognized the upper photo from a promo leaflet; he did not know where it was taken. We left the town no wiser than before we arrived.

Friday, June 6, Sainte-Mère-Église, FR

D-Day +70 years

We replaced the bicycles with a motor scooter. We buzzed (like a hive of bees) to Sainte-Mère-Église, travelling only about twice as fast as we did peddling. The highest speed was around 30 mph (50 km). Dennis commented that the motorbike was giving it its all to climb the hills, but so was I the day before.

The weather was perfect with clear skies and temps in the mid 70s, though it was a bit windy. The locales were all dressed in summer outfits and getting sun-burned. 20140606_164156 D-day celebrations

In town, about 20, 000 people (perhaps more) filled the streets. All ages and nationalities. There was a sense of expectancy and excitement. Around the square there were perhaps twenty each beer and sausage pavilions, as well as ice cream and crepes vendors, souvenirs stands, and recruiters for the French military.

From the band stand the politicians droned on and the men’s choir sang an occasional song, either nationalistic or from the 40s. The acoustics were terrible. We stood in line for about an hour to buy a sausage sandwich for Dennis, and then sat in the shade for him to eat it. Sitting near us was a family from Normandy dressed in military garb. The little girl was darling. Many people photographed that family, and the boy was very willing to pose.

At 5 PM there was a fly-over with the C47s and the parade started. There were 1200 Americans marching in the band, mostly ROTC and high school bands, some carrying photos of relatives. Several returning vets paraded in military vehicles or were pushed in wheel chairs. You can see how happy he was. This morning the paper reported that a British veteran was found and returned to his nursing home; he was bound for Normandy and the celebrations–many were here in spirit if not in body.

Later that evening there were more celebrations and fireworks, but we left after the parade.

Thursday, June 5, 2014 Ravenoville, FR

We rented mountain bikes today to bicycle to Ravenoville, FR about 24 miles (40 km) from La Haye-du-Puits. By the time we got there, I almost in tears because the bike was not fitted for me and caused me pain. We did not know the area and made a few wrong turns, but managed to get there prior to the invitations-only commemoration honoring the American Airborne soldiers who liberated the town on D-Day +1.

Several veterans now in their 90s where honored personally. Other family members represented those who could not make it or were deceased.

To open the ceremony, a woman sang the American, French, and German national anthems. Of course, there was recognition all the dignitaries and introduction of each veteran that was present. (Jim “Peewee” Martin was missing, having gone to jump from a plane). William Sullivan, who was in the 82nd 505th Headquarters as was Dennis’s father, was also present, but he left before Dennis could speak with him. Hopefully they will meet up before we leave.

Dennis planted an olive tree, the symbol of peace, near the plaque for his father. At the end of the ceremony 18 trees surrounded the monument.

There was a presentation of the colors, a fly over by the C47s, and then each honoree (or family representative) was given a bronze statue representing an Airborne paratrooper. The figurines are cast of bronze and finished one at a time. The unique figurines are numbered. The one Dennis received is number 50, while the person next to him received number 1–the gift of the draw. These statues were a surprise and very moving occasion.

The ceremony ended with the theme song from Band of Brothers. I had never heard the song and both Dennis and I were moved to tears by it.

Since I was too sore to ride back, I hitched a ride to Sainte-Mère-Église on a Belgian 1.5 ton, WW II US military fire truck. It was a nice ride back, and I enjoyed talking the real-life firemen who were re-enacting the WWII fire brigade.

Dennis, stayed to see if he could talk to the veterans and have a glass of champagne. I was surprised to see him so quickly and we skedaddled to the bus stop to catch the bus, which was late as we expected. This was good because we were able to put the bikes in the baggage storage under the bus, and make it back to La Haye-du-Puits in time to return the bikes. We then made plans to return in the morning to rent a scooter.

Since the sun does not set until after 10 pm, our eating habits are screwed up. We had a late supper and then turned in, tired by the days adventures.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014 La Haye-du-Puits

We arrived in La Haye-du-Puits around 5:30 P.M and said goodbye to our friends who had a two-hour ride back to Brittany. Hopefully they will visit us in Sarasota some day so we can treat them as royally as they have done us.

The store fronts are decorated for the commemorations and there is a festive air in town, and a lot of foreigners in the cafés and eateries. People do not want to forget.

The bike shop was closed by the time we got there, but the Tourist Office was open and they gave us the bus schedules. It takes two buses to get to Sainte-Mère-Église from here and the schedules do not coincide. We missed the 7:33 bus that connected with the one we wanted. Instead we took the early afternoon bus and hitched to Sainte-Mère-Église.

The town was filled with people reenacting the liberation. There were Jeeps, trucks, uniforms, and women dressed in the 40s style, even wearing pancake makeup. There are a lot of American GIs. We spoke with Airborne men who will be jumping on Sunday using the old chutes and jumping from C47s. They were thrilled to have the opportunity to use the traditional chutes.

Some of the veteran’s of D-Day have returned. Ninety-three year old Jim “Peewee” Martin from the 101st Airborne, parachuted into the same area as he did 70 years ago from a C47, the same kind of plane used back then,. He said, “It didn’t compare because there wasn’t anybody shooting at me today.”

We spoke with the 91 year-old H. Daniels from the 82nd 507th. He seemed to be enjoying returning to Normandy, especially in these happier times.

In town, I inquired at the Tourist Office if the buses were operating on time and from the usual place–there was only one bus that would make the connection back to La Haye-du-Puits. Yes, as usual was the reply. We stood at the bus stop for about 45 minutes when a local told us the bus had been rerouted. Fortunately the bus was running late and we were able to catch the one at the transfer.

Back at La Haye-du-Puits, we contacted the bike rental place and made arrangements for the next three days. Hopefully the rain and wind and cold will dissipate.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014 Mont St-Michel

Josette and Jean-François took us to Mont St-Michel before taking us to La Haye-du-Puits in Normandy. Ever since we were children, we have wanted to visit this. Dennis first became aware of Mont-Saint-Michel from a View-Master slide and I from a monthly grammar school magazine.

Mont St-Michel is an island between Brittany and Normandy. The island is small, only about 247 acres and has a population of 44, mostly religious.

Over the years, the sand had filled in the distance between the island and the mainland and people were able to drive on the mud flats to the base of a the mount. Excavations are in progress to restore the ocean and to build an access road for walkers and shuttles from the parking lot.

Shifting sands, intense fog, and the ocean were natural fortresses for the monks who originally lived here. Even now, you need a guide to walk on the sand during low tide. 20140603_120224 making omelets 300

After the revolution, Mont St-Michel was turned into a jail until 1863 when it was returned to the abbey. The abbey was again returned to Christian worship in 1922. It is now a World Heritage Site. It is also a pilgrimage site and one of the stops along one of the Caminos de Santiago.

As we passed restaurant Le Mere Poulard on the main drag, we heard a fun rhythmic beat created by cooks dressed in traditional garb as they whipped the egg whites for the famous omelets. They then fold in the egg yolks and cook the mixture over an open hearth using long-handled pans. The omelets puff up like a soufflé and are served slightly runny. Of course, we all tried one for lunch. I could not believe that this omelet was made with only two eggs–it was that filling.

The abbey is in restoration. Recently, the statue of Saint-Michel, the archangel, which decorates the top of the abbey, was removed for gilding. After flying around the region, a helicopter repositioned to its place atop the abbey.

We explored the abbeys many rooms and floors, but our friends tell us that prior to the restoration, more was available for viewing.

From the windows, you can see the bay stretching from Normandy to Brittany with the river marking the border between the two provinces. Josette explains that Brittany and Normandy would both like to claim Mont St-Michel.When the river passed Mont St-Michel on the other side, the abbey was part of Brittany. Today, the river’s route has changed and the abbey is on Normand soil.

It is said, the higher up you go in the abbey, the closer you are to God. The monks cloister and refectory are at the top. Below them are the guests halls designed for kings and royalty. Below this is the knight’s hall. Finally on the first floor, is the hall where the monks received the poor and the pilgrims.

An intriguing huge wheel installed in 1830 is a replica of one used during the middle ages. Like hamsters, six men, usually prisoners, would power a winch to haul a giant sledge loaded with two-ton loads of stones and supplies from the landing below almost vertically up the wall. This was used until the 19th century.

Off to one side is a cloister, a rectangular open space surrounded by an open gallery with arcades. There are signs not to touch the marble columns, which look delicate. The columns, arranged in quincunx, a geometry pattern resembling the pips on the number five side of a dice. The columns were originally made of limestone from England but were later restored using puddingstone from Lucerne. This is a rock conglomerate of rounded pebbles that sharply contrast in color with the sandy medium and giving the appearance of raisins in Christmas pudding.

The purpose of the cloister is to provide a place for the monks to meditate without disturbance by those who were not religious. In the middle is a medieval garden recreated in 1966 by brother Bruno de Senneville, a Benedict monk. The center is made of box tree surrounded by 13 Damascus roses. Medicinal plants, aromatic herbs and flowers symbolize the daily needs of Middle-age monks. In the middle of the box trees were monsters to remind that in the middle of any marvel evil could still be there

I would have like to 20140603_134318 descending from abbey have seen the abbey after dark when the island is magically floodlit. But Josette and Jean-François drove us to La Haye-en-Puits, and then returned to their home in Brittany. Dennis and I are both so thankful for the hospitality and for making us feel like part of the family. It was sad for us to say goodbye.

Monday, June 2, 2014, St. Malo, France

Our Camino friends Jean-François and Josette showed us highlights of St. Malo and the surrounding area. We stopped to see the statue of Jacques Cartier, the St. Malo sailor who, in 1534, claimed Canada for France. His statue points towards the Atlantic towards Quebec.

Afterwards, we toured the St. Malo, the walled port city of Brittany notorious for its pirates. The weather was overcast, but the occasional sunshine brought the temperatures into the mid 60s F. which made it comfortable for us to walk the 1.2-mile circuit (1.754 km) on the ramparts around the city. The original medieval walls were extended in the 17th century to accommodate the expanding city. From the top of the 12-foot wide walkway, we could see the bay and the islets at the mouth of the Rance estuary.

Tall granite edifices with enormous windows provide the homes on the west side of town with a great view of the sea. 20140602_105248 ramparts of St. Malo The western exposure and tall buildings prevent sunlight from entering the rooms; this might be ideal in summer, but I imagine the rooms are damp and chilly in the cooler months. Many of the apartments are rented for the tourists, mostly from the UK.

Dennis was amazed by the hugeness of this well-preserved medieval city. Everything is big and heavy. We later learned that the city was destroyed in WWII, and then reconstructed from the rubble, following the original plan and spirit of the ancient city.

Descending from the wall, we strolled along the narrow and cobbled intramural streets. There are still a few timber-framed buildings that add color and contrast to the Renaissance-style structures.

Since the port receives many ferries from Portsmouth, Poole, and Weymouth, there are many shops that cater to the tourists and the town has one of the highest concentration of restaurants in Europe. In spite of the tourism, the prices for eating and clothing were reasonable. During the summer, the town’s population increases to 200,000.Other parts of the city have small and colorful buildings.

Next, we visited the promontory fort of Cite d’Alet, an ancient Celtic city. During WWII, the Germans built concrete bunkers and defenses here. We did not visit the memorial museum, but walked around the site, seeing signs of the struggle here. I imagine how frightening the bombardment must have been for the soldiers in the tunnels and underground bunkers.

It felt good to walk on the grounds and along the bay. There we saw jellyfish and various shells strewed on the pebbly beach. There are also remains of an ancient stone church, dating to pre-Roman times.

The Tour Solidor (Solidor Tower) was built between 1369 and 1382 to control access to the Rance Over the centuries the tower lost its military importance and became a jail. It is now a museum celebrating Breton sailors exploring Cape Horn.

We returned to our friends’ home to enjoy a traditional regional meal: Galette au Blé Noir. These are thin buckwheat pancakes, fried egg, ham, and grated Swiss cheese sandwiches served with a salad and sparkling apple cider. I can’t wait to make this recipe for my parents, I am sure they would enjoy it.

After lunch, we visited San Suliac, a typical fishing village. Nets still hang on the front of the homes as in the olden days. Flowers seem to grow from every crack in the slate making the town very inviting.

In the harbor stands a statue, La Vierge de Grainfollet. Ships leaving the harbor would pray for a safe return as they passed by.

A stain-glass window in the church reflects the fisherman’s life with a boat, a lighthouse, and a pilgrimage to the neighboring town.

On the way to Cancale, we stopped to admire the coastline with the emerald waters. At low tide, the water almost disappears on the horizon.

Due to its location, The “Bay of Saint-Malo” has the biggest tides in Europe. The tidal range – the difference between high tide and low tide – is on average, more than 40 feet (12m) at the full moon, the greatest for all Europe.

When we got to Cancale, the largest oyster farm in France, the tide was out. As we had supper in a restaurant overlooking the bay (yummy oysters and fruits de mer), we watched how quickly the waters returned. oyster farm Cancale In no time, boats that were grounded were able to leave, and the oyster beds disappeared.

It takes three years for the oysters to mature and they must be turned daily.When the tides recede, trucks and farm implements drive out to tend to the oyster beds.

In the past when the men were at sea, it was the women who harvested and sold the oysters. Based on this tradition, only women are permitted to sell the oysters.

Sunday, Jun 1, 2014 St. Malo

This morning we planned to be at the train station early, thinking the train left at 10:51 A.M. I had mistaken our departure time with the arrival time at the transfer station. Having missed the train by only a few minutes,we hopped on what we thought was the next train to Rennes, but was actually the train from Rennes, and heading in the wrong direction. The conductor studied the tickets and then looked at us askance, but said nothing. I thought he was concerned that the tickets we had were for the earlier train, not that we were on the wrong one. By the time we discovered our error, it was too late to change trains, so we rode it to the terminus in Quimper, about a hundred miles away.

At the ticket office, the attendant changed our tickets and even reimbursed us money since we were not going first class and then let us call our friends to tell them we would be arriving four hours late.

Basically we rode the train two hours to have a croque monsieur (a grilled ham and cheese sandwich) and then returned.

Our friends greeted us at the airport. At their home, we shared a class of champagne with Josette’s brother and family. There was much laughter and merrymaking. After the relatives left, Jean-François prepared a lamb stew prepared with limes and peas. I never had the combination and really enjoyed it.

Saturday, May 31, 2014 Vannes, Fr

Sunshine and fresh ocean air welcomed us to Vannes. I slipped on a jacket to ward off the upper 50’s temperature, knowing that by noon it would be at least ten degrees warmer. As long as I stayed on the sunny side of the street and protected from the stiff breeze, I was comfortable. Dennis tolerates the cold better than I and remained in short sleeves.

We first walked to the marina. The waters were calm and we saw a school of large carp. The Gulf of Morbihan is a virtual inland sea leading to the Atlantic ocean. There are 365 islands in the gulf; we could visit one each day for a year. We tried to book a boat excursion, but being a holiday weekend, there were no convenient openings.

Vannes is a fortified city with 2000 years of history. We tried to discover this history as we walked around the marina and under the ramparts of the medieval walled town, which we entered through the Gate of St. Vincent Ferrier. Built in the beginning of the 17th century, it is the most central of Vannes’s town gates and named after the town’s patron saint.

The cathedral St. Pierre was build in the 12^th century over the ruins of the previous church. As a result of renovations throughout the centuries, the building displays many architectural styles: a Romanesque belfry, a neo-Gothic facade, a Renaissance chapel where lie the remains of the patron saint. Today, the left belfry is under repair, hidden by scaffolding.

The interior is dark and somber, not very inviting. What surprised me were the two-foot diameter wooden columns that supported the vaulted ceilings. I had expected marble. There were no pews. Instead, wooden chairs with caned seats were linked together by wooden board.

In the city, people are everywhere, giving us a lot to look at. Some women are dressed to the hilt in coordinating skirts, tops, jackets, and scarves, and walking expertly on the cobbled-stoned streets in high heels. Others sport more casual fare and bright-colored sneakers. Tourists with cameras are everywhere. Old people hobble on canes. Dogs on leashes follow their owners or sit quietly in a café; a trio of them sleep on a corner undisturbed by people walking around them. There is a bowl of water for the dogs and one for donations. I wonder if they do better than the beggars and buskers.

Today the ancient town is a mixture of old and new. Place des Lices was originally a venue for tournaments but is now the open-air market square on Saturday and Wednesdays. Since today is Saturday, the plaza is filled with vendors hocking clothing, leather, jewelry, vegetables, breads, meats, sausages, books, large wheels of cheese, soap, and more. The scene is about three times the size of the Sarasota Farmer’s market.

Dennis and I were amazed by the variety of tempting fruits and vegetables (especially the indecent looking white asparagus) and prices were very reasonable. Both of us agreed that we would like to live in this town and shop for groceries here.

On the comer of a half-timbered house sits the figures of Vannes and his wife. This figure head may originally been a company label, but it is now a popular photo spot.

We also visited the oldest house in the city on 13 Rue St. Salomon, decorated with wooden lion statues. These Middle Age houses are colorful and constructed of a variety of building materials.

Outside of the Gallo-Roman wall are the meticulously kept Garrens Gardens, a lovely place to stroll.

Following our tour of the city, we met up with our Camino friends Daniel and Marie-Noel. After champagne and hors d’oeuvres, we went to Conleau, the town’s beach, for dinner. It was wonderful chatting with them and getting reacquainted. Hopefully, they will visit us in Sarasota in two years.