The Inaccurate Tourist

29. Normandy

My parents arrived in France on August 28th, missing Glenn's departure by mere hours. The first few days were straight out of the Guest Arrival three-ring binder -- I showed them the métro, we went past the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, went grocery shopping and I kept them awake until a decent bedtime. The first few days were just adapting to the new time zone, and the general Frenchness.

Antonio had lent me his car for a couple of weeks (in exchange for a simple airport drop-off and pick-up while he was on vacation). Paris driving is intimidating, especially for a driver from traffic-circle-less countries like Canada (the few rarities in Edmonton excepted, of course). I had been driving the 30 kilometres back and forth from work, and it was pretty simple: get out of Paris on the Peripherique and take the highway to Marcoussis. In the city is a bit more frightening, since the Parisians are horrible, inconsiderate drivers. Hey, it's undeniable that I adore France and the French -- but I'm still going to be suspicious of any car with a license plate that ends with the Parisian '75'.

We decided to profit from Antonio's generosity to get out of Paris for their first weekend and visit Normandy, land of apples, Calvados, D-Day and tapestry. We took one of the non-toll national highways out of Paris, and I demonstrated my mastery of the French speed limits.

The countryside of France is beautiful, and the highways are beautifully maintained and signed. The non-toll roads typically have a lot of traffic circles, but they're pretty calm outside of the major cities. We were fortunate to have perfect weather with bright blue skies, bright green fields and (occasionally) oddly red roads.

We passed through many smaller towns on the highway, and marvelled at the beautiful town churches with their spires and cemeteries. We took a small detour to visit one of the local chateaux about halfway to Caen. This was my first authentic chateau in France (outside of Versailles, of course). It was pretty small and under restoration, but it was a pleasant walk through the gardens.

It's very important to remember -- Cannes is in the southeast of France, and we weren't going there this trip. Caen is in the northwest and you don't pronounce the 'n' explicitly (you do it through your nose). We stopped at the office de tourisme to get our hotel reservation for the night, and looked around the city for lunch. There are lots of things to see in Caen, including a beautiful cathedral (St. Pierre), the Abbaye-aux-Hommes and the Abbaye-aux-Dames (his and her abbeys from William the Conqueror) and many of the characteristic half-timber houses. We visited most of the exteriors, but our goal was to get to some of the WWII landing beaches.

Our hotel was in the north of Caen, which is an extremely convenient base to visit the beaches. It was a short drive to Arromanches, which was where the British build the artificial harbour that made D-Day possible. We visited the Musée du Debarquement, which was small but intense and explained the construction of the critical artificial port -- sixty ships were scuttled to create a breakwater, and then reinforced with huge concrete blocks assembled and towed from England. The finished harbour was three and a half kilometres long, extending a kilometre and a half out to sea, and provided the Allies with the ability to move tons of equipment and troops, and it was assembled in two weeks.

The museum had a six metre model of the artificial harbour, demonstrating the elaborate and efficient wharf that was built on top of it. It also had other items from the time, organized by country, and an interesting film explaining the D-Day landing (English narration at specific hours). It felt very odd to go down to walk on the beach afterwards -- there were kids playing in the sand and swimming in the water, and families picnicking. You could still see pieces of the artificial harbour in the background.

We went to Gold Beach and Juno Beach next, the landing sites for the British and Canadian forces, respectively. Again, the beaches were well populated by families, kites, children and tourists -- and I appreciated the sun and enjoyed the walk, all the more so given what the beaches must have looked like a half-century ago. There was a Canadian tank and a giant mirrored cross in an amphitheatre at the Canadian landing beach.

We ate in Caen that night -- mom and dad's first French restaurant experience. Unfortunately, mom had to send her rice back because it was rock hard (I couldn't cut through it with my steak knife). Fortunately, the waiter was absolutely horrified once he understood what we were complaining about (the first time he thought we wanted extra butter) and replaced the entire meal.

The next day, we went to the American landing sites at Omaha beach and Pointe du Hoc. Looking at the terrain, it is absolutely incredible what they had to do -- the beach is incredibly long and the climb is unrealistically high.

Along the way, we visited the American Cemetery. Eleven thousand graves, and many more names on a memorial wall. It was brilliantly maintained with beautiful green grass, many reflecting pools, a large marble monument explaining the American contribution to the war and a chapel with a mosaic ceiling. The graves were stark white and engraved only with names and dates. Each grave is associated with a volunteer French family, who place flowers on the site once a year to show their appreciation.

It was solemn and thought-provoking, of course, but interesting on another level as well -- the American Cemetery was obviously American. From the statuary to the welcoming building, it had a very solid American feel to it. (When Canadians say that, its usually because they're segueing into the topic of how Canadians differ from Americans. I'm going to refrain.)

We stopped for lunch in one of the small medieval towns (once again a solid European feel) to visit a famous, non-World War Two related site. The town of Bayeux has a famous tapestry showing the events that led up to the Battle of Hastings, the betrayal and the victory of William the Conqueror. The museum is phenomenal -- the history of the tapestry and the era is well explained in several rooms before the real tapestry, using a fake tapestry, models and mannequins, and a short film.

You know the story and the characters by the time you get to the actual tapestry. All 70 metres are behind glass in a darkened corridor. We chose to use the audio guide to view it. I was too busy appreciating the museum to take any good pictures, but the entire tapestry can be found online and well explained (at The Battle of 1066 site for example).

The city of Bayeux would be sufficiently interesting to see even if it didn't have a 900 piece of fabric telling an fascinating (and true) story. Once again, there was a cathedral (I have developed a fascination with churches) and quite a few attractive pedestrian streets. I also saw outdoor urinals in the parking lot -- quite a logical concept, really.

On the way back to Paris, we stopped at the Canadian cemetery. There were 2100 graves here, and each had the maple leaf and an epitaph.

Later in the trip, I figured out a satisfactory explanation for the criminal negligence the Parisians show in their cars. There's two ways for thirty people to board a bus -- either they wait in a straight line exactly one person wide, or they mill about the pole while waiting, crowd the bus door when it arrives and board the bus as soon as they can. In neither case are the passengers pushing or bumping into each other, so the end result is equivalent. When Parisian drivers invent new lanes to pass you or cut you off, it's because they believe in the fierce and proud independence of the driver, unbeholden to lines and rules.

Nine hundred years of war from Hastings, 1066 to Normandy, 1944. Something to think about.

Posted by The Inaccurate Tourist at September 6, 2002 12:00 PM