Saturday, July 14, 2012

Happy Bastille Day!

Google has an image for Bastille Day, but I cannot get screen captures on an iPad. Pas mal.

This morning, we headed to Dieppe, which this year marks 70 years since the battle which was such a defeat for the Allies. On the way up the coast to Calais, we stopped in the town of Wissant, which is on the coast of the English Channel. For lunch, we had moules frites; in this restaurant, they serve either moules frites or jambon frites. It's a simple menu.



It's really windy today, and we can see whitecaps in the Channel. The wind turbines have been going wild.

We are off to Calais and then on to Bruges. We will say au revoir to France with great resistance.


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Friday, July 13, 2012

Rouen > St. Malo


Okay, that's not really true; Rouen is not better than St. Malo. However, this morning we decided that getting to Rouen was more important than returning to St. Malo, so we headed east.
Our first really cool sight of the day was Mont St. Michel, which probably everyone in the universe knows about. The traffic was heavy but not horrible, and we didn't really care that much because we didn't actually want to go onto the island; we just wanted a look at it.






Our next stop was Pont l'Eveque, a little town that has a cheese named after it. We walked around a little until we decided that we needed to eat... again. We stopped at a cute little cafe; I had a galette with the Pont l'Eveque cheese, and Dan had a croque du pays with the same cheese. We shared a delicious pear cidre. Next door was a store that carried local liquors, including Dan's beloved calvados, which is an apple brandy. To me, it's fire water, but he has a much higher tolerance for strong alcohol than I do. I have to say, however, that I have probably drunk more on this trip that during the last twenty years all totaled, just because we've had alcohol for lunch, aperitif, dinner, and sometimes a nightcap.

Here's a photo of our cute little lunch cafe:

So then, it was on to Rouen which is where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake at the ripe ole age of 19. One of the charges against her was that she wore men's clothes, and the people who had her on trial wouldn't allow her to wear women's clothes. There was no way that poor woman could win.

We started roaming around, looking every bit like tourists: Dan had his camera stuff, I had on white tennis shoes, and we were constantly looking at a map. As we were walking, an older gentleman stopped us to say that we should go into the Hotel de Bourgtheroulde, past which we were walking. He said that it was very beautiful. So in we went, followed by the guy. I thought, "oh, great; this dude is going to tell us some information and then ask for money." I was partially correct; he gave us some interesting information, but didn't ask for or seem to expect a cent. The Hotel was the town home of a Rouen family, and its courtyard has a magnificent sculpture of the meeting of Francis I and Henry VIII in 1515.







So after learning about the Hotel de Bourgtheroulde as well as a 2nd-century well that was discovered in the square (now housed in a bank building), Dan and I were off to find Joan of Arc stuff. Most unfortunately, we found the Musee Jeanne d'Arc, which is a cheesy tourist trap. For 5 euro (I think), you can go tour a wax museum. GEEZ.

Across from the cheesy wax museum is the Saint Joan of Arc church. Built in 1979 on the site where she was burned, this church is a beautiful monument to a brave woman who is said to have saved France from the vile English. Here is a photo of the beautiful stained glass in the church.< p>



The Cathedral Notre Dame is one humongous building, boasting the highest spire in France. It contains the tombs of the Dukes of Normandy as well as the heart of Richard the Lionheart, King of England and Duke of Normandy.












Dan loves museums of weird stuff, so off we went to Le Secq des Tournelles or the Wrought Ironwork Museum. They had some cool and incredibly intricate stuff.










These are women's corsets, made of iron:




And here is Dan, doing his thing in the museum:

NEXT (and, I am proud to say, without having stopped for anything to eat or drink, which makes it several hours since we last ate or drank), we walked to the Donjon where Joan of Arc was imprisoned and where her trial was held. This tower is all that remains of the chateau that once stood here,







Finally, we stopped for a cafe, and in talking to the owner was told to try l'Espiguette for aperitif and dinner. We got there at 6:45, which is ok for aperitif but waaaayyyy too early for dinner, so we sat and sipped our drinks until the kitchen opened at 7:30.




We finished dinner around 9:30, and the place was just beginning to fill with diners. I don't know how these people stay up until all hours and then go to work the next morning, but they seem to thrive on it.
On the walk back from dinner, we again passed the Cathedral Notre Dame. It is massive and impressive.




A footnote about Mont St. Michel that I (Vicki) forgot to write: While beautiful, the two memories I have of the place makes it fine to see at a distance rather than up close. The first happened in 1975, when I was 14 and traveling with my parents, my two brothers (11 and 17), and a family friend who was 16. The six of us were driving around Europe in a 5-seat car. (More on that later.) We stayed at Mont St. Michel to see sunset, and as was my parents' preference, we were going to find a B&B in which to spend the night afterwards. I'm going to assume that they didn't know that everyone and their mother goes to the northern coast of France in the summer. As we drive along the coast, there is no room at any inn, and we (two adults, three teenagers, and one tween) end up sleeping in a parking lot in Caen in the car which, as you recall, had only five seats. In the middle of the night, the gendarmes knock on the car window and start rattling something off in French. Neither of my parents speak French, but in what I guess must have been a middle-of-the-night attempt to parlez, Daddy said "No speakee French." Classic.
The second event was during a trip in 1986 during which we chaperoned 24 students from Christian Brothers High School, where Dan taught French. While in Caen (again with Caen!), one of our students, Pat Green, lit up some weed, the smell of which he thought would be contained in the room because he stuffed a towel at the bottom of the door. We, of course, smelled it and since he did not have enough to share (kidding), we were going to send him home. However, because it was a holiday weekend, we couldn't get the stupid sonuvabitch on a flight. For some reason (I guess because I'm the mean witch), I got stuck being Pat's one-on-one chaperone. The next day, in Mont St. Michel, Pat enjoyed saying "mangez-moi" ("eat me") and "voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir" ("do you want to sleep with me tonight") to everyone we passed while we were walking through the village.
And fun was had by all.
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From La Giro to the north coast

Having been kicked out of La Giro yesterday (Reginald said that another school group was coming, but I think he was just tired of us), we drove north through Rennes (where we, of course, stopped to eat and it started to rain). Rennes has a long and interesting history and was a "village of wood" (I guess because of the availability of wood from surrounding forests) until fires in the 18th century burned a great deal of the town. Louis XIV dictated that it be rebuilt out of stone rather than wood. Some of the wooden buildings still stand - or, rather, lean:




From Rennes, it was on to our B&B about 30 km from St. Malo, where it continued to rain. Our friend from La Giro, Anne-Marie, found it for us. The place is called Licorne Pourpre or the Purple Unicorn. Here is the view:





We unloaded our stuff and headed for St. Malo via the coastline of the Bay of Mont St. Michele... in the rain. Still, it was a lovely drive. We stopped on the bay north of Cancale to scarf some fresh seafood (most of which Dan ate because there were many slug-like creatures and he loves those) and, of course, to have a drink. It was local cidre for me and pastis for Dan.



We drove on to St. Malo (did I mention the rain?) and went into the walled city.






St. Malo dates from around the 6th century AD and is famous for its corsairs, which is a fancy name for pirates. It's also the birthplace of Jacques Cartiers, the explorer, and the burial place of the writer, Chateaubriand. We had a delicious meal of modules frites and cidre followed by a walk of the ramparts. We were pretty damp by the time that was all over, so we headed back to the B&B and were in by 10 pm. Of course, it was still light.

We are heading back to St. Malo this morning and then will head to Rouen.