We Made it to Normandy, Despite...
...the Long Beach taxi company that we planned to use to get to the airport, which seemed to have disappeared under a torrent of bad reviews;
...an enormous plane full of crying babies and people who enjoy staying up all night talking loudly (apparently to no one in particular);
...a complete lack of sleep on the plane;
...inordinate waits for luggage and a rental car;
...the risk of not having enough euros to pay the tolls to get to Normandy.
We were greeted at the farm B&B in Normandy with tea and ideas of fun places to go. We’ll spend the next few days there. Whew. Too tired to go out for dinner. So we had a pique-nique. Yes, we’re in France now. The wine is cheap and good. Time to relax.
Normandy, 1944
We saw the cliffs of Pointe du Hoc, tall and absolutely vertical, and tried to imagine the Army Rangers climbing them using grappling hooks and fire department ladders, while being fired on by the Germans above. They had to take out the long-range German guns that were trained on the landing beaches, Omaha and Utah. We saw the massive gun batteries, merely pockmarked by bombs that left massive holes in the ground elsewhere. We saw the thousands of graves of the Americans who landed on those beaches, and elsewhere, the somber graves of even more Germans. We saw the remainder of the artificial harbor that was brought in secret from England and appeared suddenly in Arromanche, opening France to Allied supplies.
It’s all peaceful now. The beaches are calm and nice for strolling. The German gun batteries have been made into viewing platforms. We enjoyed wine and mussels in a seaside village. How easily it all could have gone the other way.
Normandy on Foot and Horseback
After a day of visiting the war sites, we were ready for some peaceful countryside. Kristen explored the rural area near our B&B on horseback, riding along the prickly hedgerows, sometimes too close. Ouch! Jerry and I went off in search of the history of the nearby area.
We found the 17th century chateau of Balleroy, the name from Bois le Roi, King’s woods. Mansard (of roof fame) designed the chateau and the neighboring town for the King’s Chancellor. The backyard is a lovely forest with ancient trees and walking paths. The place is now owned and being restored by capitalist near-royalty, the family of Malcolm Forbes.
Going back in time even more, we explored the 11th-century abbey at Cerisy-le-Foret. Parts of it were in picturesque ruins, but the church was intact and was, in fact, being used for a wedding. We enjoyed hearing the church bells as we walked the exterior and marveled at the intricacy and variety of the stonework.
There are many beautiful walking paths here that we did not have the time to take. We’ll have to come back.
Medieval Ramparts
Today we headed out toward the coast and the border between Normandy and Brittany. The middle ages beckoned. We started in the ancient town of Dinan, where half-timbered houses, built centuries ago of wood and mud, still stand. We explored the castle, thick-walled and somber, built into the city walls.
Avast, ye lubbers! Pirates once ruled these lands. The island city of St. Malo was once their domain. We walked the massive ramparts that protected these corsairs and their great wealth from the English and Spanish from whom they stole. The French king didn’t know anything about it, but somehow got a piece of the action.
Finally, Mont St. Michel, made famous by myriad posters--an ancient abbey perched somehow atop a massive rock outcropping in the ocean. It looks like something out of a fantasy, but it’s real. Kristen and Mike braved the 400 steps to reach the top and explore the abbey, while Jerry and I marveled at the rock and the building from below. Us and a gazillion other tourists.
Our Little Place in the Marais
Goodbye pastures and forests, goodbye farmhouse life in Normandy. Hello crowds and tiny apartment of Paris. Unlike the gentle sleep-inducing ride of the sleek fast trains we’d taken before, the train from Caen to Paris rattled and shook you for two hours of minimal comfort.
We were used to the orderly roundabouts of the countryside that kept the traffic smooth. Our Paris taxi took us on a hair-raising ride through roundabouts full of cars going random directions, left turns from the right lane, and crazy motor scooters everywhere. We were glad we had left the rental car in the countryside.
We got settled in our typically tiny apartment and then explored the neighborhood, a mix of narrow alleys, funky shops, and 17th-century mansions. We walked by the Place des Vosges, a lovely park surrounded by 17th-century houses and found the local market and bakery. We’re settled in for the rest of the trip.
We walked to a nearby square with several restaurants and enjoyed a three-course meal sitting on rickety chairs on the square. Kristen had her first taste of escargot.
Happy Anniversary
It’s our anniversary. A very Parisian way to celebrate is to write your names on a lock, attach it to a bridge and throw the key into the Seine. The only problem is that so many people have been doing this that the Museum Bridge is suffering under several tons of locks. Yes, really. The city is now in the process of removing the locks and renovating the bridge. So much for a timeless declaration of love. We found another likely bridge near Notre Dame and attached a lock there (the turquoise one bottom center). (Just to be sure, we attached another lock to a fence at our house so we know that one, at least, will be there a long time.) Then we threw all of the keys into the Seine.
The rest of the day was pure tourism. We were awed by the scale and complexity of Notre Dame cathedral. Soaring to impossible heights, it makes people seem small. The statuary and stained glass told stories of the Bible, the Popes, and the saints to the illiterate masses. We tried to figure out who each one represented. Notre Dame was built over centuries and designed for the ages.
The Eiffel Tower is even taller. From a distance it’s a filagreed ornament. Up close, it’s an enormous feat of engineering with minimal materials, working out every stress so that the materials used weigh less than the air enclosed. Kristen braved over 700 steps to get a view of the city from above, while Jerry and I got a view of the Tower from below, and marveled at its construction. It was built in a little more than two years for the World’s Fair and originally intended to be taken down at the end of the fair.
Next, we went really touristy and took a boat tour. Actually, it was just a nice boat ride since the audio system wasn’t working.
One problem with being here this time of year is that sunset is about 10 pm. It’s hard to see the City of Light with its lights on. Kristen went out very late to see the Eiffel Tower lit up.
Museum Day
High on our to-do list is the Louvre. The object of the game is to avoid the two-hour wait to get into what must be the most crowded museum in the world. The secret is the Paris Museum Pass, which gets you in free, and, even better, into a shorter “preferred” line. We managed to find a place we could buy the pass without a huge line, then headed to the Louvre, destination Mona Lisa. We found this painting in the back of a large room full of people saying,”But it’s so small,” in a variety of languages.
More satisfying was seeing the Venus of Milo and Winged Victory, being able to walk around them and see them from all sides. We wandered through various other rooms. OK, we were lost. The Louvre is impressive as a palace alone. In many rooms the art work was overwhelmed by the ornate ceilings and floor designs made of exotic marbles. There was room after room of Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiquities. We cannot imagine anyone even walking all of this enormous building, let alone seeing all the artwork.
We were exhausted, so we headed to a more manageable museum. (Well, first, lunch at a shady cafe.) The main exhibit at the Orangerie museum are two enormous late works of water lilies by Monet. These were done when he was losing his sight and had retired to Giverny, where he had a garden and lily pond as subjects. Each of these paintings hangs all the way around its own specially designed oval room. It envelops you and gives the feel of being in the lily pond.
Tomorrow Versailles.
Pastoral Playground for a Queen
We took the train out of town to Versailles, to see what started out as the king’s hunting lodge. The king later decided Paris was too crowded, so moved the entire government from the Louvre palace to this new palace out in the countryside, sort of like moving all of Washington D.C. to some little town in Montana.
The place is enormous, since each successive king added to it, to make it his own. You can’t get away from the ornateness. The walls are covered with portraits, the ceilings tell tales from mythology, and everything else seems to be covered in gold, elaborate carvings, exotic marble, or all three. It’s overwhelming after just a few rooms.
That may be why Marie Antoinette chose to build a rural village for herself where she could play shepherdess. We enjoyed strolling through the quaint buildings and lush vegetable gardens. We can’t blame her for wanting to get away from all the pomp of royalty, but then the French Revolution brought the whole thing to an end.
Another long train ride, and we got back exhausted. This was remedied somewhat by a glass of wine and a leisurely dinner at an outdoor cafe.
In the summer, when it sizzles
The Orsay Museum is not as famous as the crowded Louvre, but much more enjoyable. It’s in a beautiful former train station and holds a wonderful collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist works. We focused on Monet, Degas, and Van Gogh. There was much more to see. We’ll have to come back.
The weather is hot. Sitting outside at a cafe is too hot, with the sun beating down. Sitting inside is stifling, as the heat comes in the open doors. The worst is being in a laundromat, but then we couldn’t figure out how to use the combination washer/dryer in the apartment and we’re running out of clean clothes. So that’s where we were. Luckily, there was a great gelato place nearby.
I see dead people
We’d seen pictures of the Paris catacombs, but never really understood what they are. This was on Kristen’s to-see list, and we’d never seen it, so we waited in the sun with hundreds of other curiosity-seekers to be let in, a few at a time, to ancient underground quarries and “the domain of the dead.” The quarries date back to Roman times, snaking around under all of Paris, providing the stone from which it is built. Starting in 1786, the French government, for reasons of sanitation, moved ancient bones from churchyards into the now-abandoned tunnels. They are now arranged in patterns, in long, twisting corridors. The amount is staggering, even though you see only a small portion of the 6 million buried here. OK, now we’ve seen it and won’t have to wait in the nearly 3-hour line again.
In the afternoon, Jerry and I went off in search of hidden covered passages. The oldest one we saw dated from 1800, each a narrow pedestrian street covered with a lovely glass roof and ornately decorated, lined with used book stores and other shops and cafes.
Sunday in the Marais
Most of Paris sleeps in on Sunday, but not the Marais district. This is market day, and a one-mile stretch from the Bastille fills with vendors selling fish, meat, sausage, bread, cheese, clothing, cooking utensils and beautiful vegetables. We bought three sausages, two cheeses, a bottle of wine, some raspberries, and, with a baguette left from breakfast, headed to Place des Vosges, the oldest park in Paris, surrounded by 17th century royal residences. We had a lovely picnic while we watched children playing in the fountain. All this is within a few blocks of our apartment.
Jerry and I headed out later for some ice cream. Many of the streets were closed to traffic and they were full of people. We heard drums and followed the sound. We were surprised to find a parade. We found out later that this is Carnaval Tropical de Paris, full of exotic costumes and pounding rhythms. This is the wrong time of year for Mardi Gras, so we don’t know what they are celebrating, but we enjoyed it. Yesterday there had been a big gay pride parade. Will there be a parade tomorrow?
Sleepy Monday
We got up early today with lots of plans--visit the daily marketplace that’s been operating for hundreds of years, search out some artisan workshops, do some museums. We found the marketplace...closed on Monday. We found the workshops...closed on Monday. The museums...closed on Monday. So we strolled among the neighborhoods, through little urban parks (including one above the city on a former elevated train route) and along the Seine. On a bridge over the Seine we heard an accordionist playing the kind of song that would be used in a movie soundtrack to say, “We are now in Paris.” Yes, this is so trite, I love it.
Kristen and Mike had better luck. They climbed to the top of the Arc de Triomphe for a great view and saw the Moulin Rouge and surrounding area, which was even sleazier than we had warned them it would be.
Last day in Paris
Kristen and Mike went off the enjoy the view from the top of Montmartre and then tour the original opera house (of Phantom fame). Jerry and I wanted to make sure we’d hit as many cafes as we could. We stopped at a convenient sidewalk cafe for breakfast, and then realized that we had stumbled upon an Art Nouveau marvel. The doors were of sinuous wood and curvy beveled glass. The ceiling was elaborately painted in a pastel scene. We slowed down after that and noticed rich enamel panels, quaint signs, intricate tiles, and detailed mosaics in otherwise unassuming businesses. We stopped various places for sandwiches, tarts, coffee, and ice cream.
We also visited the colorful marketplace we had sought yesterday. Then we went to the Picasso Museum. I was impressed with the variety of styles and media he used. Jerry made a valiant effort to get into it, but really would rather have gone back to the Impressionists at the Orsay.
It’s been a fun trip. We hate to go, but the weather is about to get even hotter (ugh!) and the air traffic controllers are going on strike on Thursday. Au revoir, Paris.