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.

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.

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.

Friday, May 30, 2014 Vannes Fr

The B 20140530_165145 Tour du Montparnasse 300 & B owner’s dad, Paul, took us to the train station in Trois Ponts where we boarded towards Liège Belgium. This historical city on the river Meuse is the birthplace of the Emperor Charlemagne. Once we arrived, we recognized having been at this depot before. Since we had not made reservations for the Thalys express train to Paris, there was only room in first class, for an additional fee.

We boarded and sat in roomy, plush, plum and burgundy upholstered seats. The steward passed out cleansing cloths and served us coffee and choice of snack. We both choose macaroons. We felt first-rate.

In Paris we took the metro from the north train station to the Montparnasse one. On the train was a woman with sores all over her face, which she kept picking and then holding onto the handrail. We both washed our hands after leaving the train. Waiting for the train, we walked around the area. We declined going up to the observation deck of the Tour du Montparnasse. There is even a restaurant on the 54th floor of the tower.

We sat and enjoyed a beer in a café as we people-watched. Thinking that we would be served dinner on the train, we opted not to snack. As it turned out, the dinning compartment was not open and there was nothing to eat or drink on the three-hour train ride to Vannes.

We arrived at dusk, around 10 PM. Dennis found our way to the hotel, and then had a sandwich in a doner-kabob. With the rich eating we’ve done in the past month, perhaps we should have skipped this late meal, but we didn’t. Tomorrow we will explore the city and then meet up with friends we met on the Camino, Daniel and Marie-Noëlle.

Thursday, May 22, 2014 Strasbourg, FR

The birds and dawn woke me at 04:00. I rolled over and dozed until the alarm sounded two hours later. We arrived at the train station, activated our Senior Global Rail Pass (now good for 10 trips in 20 days), bought snacks for the 12-hour ride with the last of the krone, and then boarded our train.

To cross into Germany, the train with 6 cars boarded a ferry for the 45 minute ride across. All passengers were required to leave the train, which was then locked. On the ferry, there were shops, restaurants, and lounge chairs. I felt as if I were on board the NCL Star, once again. In the gift shop, I bought our hosts a box of Anthon Berg Danish chocolates. This was suggested to me as a nice gift to buy as a souvenir from Denmark.

Dennis is using his German. He can read some of the signs and understands a few words. It’s strange for me to rely on him to get around, but we will be in France today and I will again be the guide.

Once in Germany, we rode by beaches, sails boats, and golden rapeseed and dark green alfalfa, timothy and rye fields. Windmills lined up along the coast, their large blades spinning. The architecture consisted of A-frame style brick houses with dark slate or red-tiled roofs. This area of Germany is very flat, great for farming.

This part of the train ride is commuter, and we stopped at many small-town train stations. The more modern towns feature three-story brick buildings. Some train stations are older and not imposing like in the larger cities.

We had 8 minutes to OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA transfer in Hamburg, a large port city from where Dennis’s father shipped home following the war. We got on the train and found someone sitting in our seats, having confused which car she was in. As we found out in our first train ride in 2011, the seats are numbered and most often reserved. Only the local trains have free-seating.

After Hamburg, the terrain became more rolling and we started to go through tunnels. We crossed several narrow rivers, one with kayaks. The fields changed to forests. As we gained altitude, my ears popped. In the valleys I could see small towns with their church steeples.

The express trains have stewards who pass out candy, coffee, and sell ice cream. There are dining cars, but we bought sandwiches at the 7-11 at the station in Copenhagen, wanting to use up our Danish currency. By the time we reach Strasbourg, we will had travelled for more than eleven hours.

Our Camino friends Henri and Lydie greeted us at the depot. They escorted us around Strasbourg, Henri’s home town. We visited the cathedral, Little Paris, and other plazas in the city. We had traditional regional pizza with its flaky cracker-like crust, sweet onions, and cheese. We tried a soft white cheese, a goat cheese, and a blue cheese pizza–all yummy with red wine.

Afterwards we went to their beautifully decorated home in Kertzfeld, about 25 Km north of Strasbourg. The garden in the back has a pool and the frogs serenaded us with at least three different songs: the ribbit-ribbit, the deep-throated grump-garump, and the comical he-he-he-he-he, which made me laugh. Henri has red fish and one black one which swim to the surface when he feeds them. When the black one matures, it turns red.

The terrain in this area of France reminds me of New England with is soil and foliage. The towns however show the Bavarian influence with the Tudor-style buildings, town and street names, and local cuisine.