france - day 11

Feeling better on Day 11, I was ready to visit Giverny, the long-time home of Impressionist Claude Monet. But first we went to the city of Rouen, situated on the banks of the Seine River. We saw lots and lots of people walking with determination toward a common destination. There was going to be a large demonstration against the increased retirement age and it seemed that all the citizens of Rouen were enroute.

We, however, were enroute to the Cathedrale Notre-Dame. This Gothic masterpiece is dominated by the famous west facade, painted over 30 times, in different lights, by Claude Monet. We were shown where Monet had 3 different studios, each overlooking the cathedral from different aspects. Monet would move from one to the other, depending on which light he was painting.

We visited the interior of the church, known for its stained glass windows and cast iron steeple, and then exited through another portal which was also highly carved in the Flamboyant Gothic style:

We walked down the rue du Gros-Horloge (Big Clock Street), passing by this delicious tea and cakes shop:

Medieval and more modern buildings lined the street. We were told how to recognize the older buildings - in medieval times the building owners were taxed on the footprint of the building, so in order to get more space, they would build second and third stories that projected out from the footprint, thus avoiding increased taxes. The building on the right, below, is from medieval times; the one on the left is more modern.

The 16th century Gros-Horloge has a single hand, to tell the hour, and indicators for the day of the week and the phases of the moon. The street below is now only for pedestrians.

We walked down to the Place du Vieux Marche, the Old Market Square, where we saw the very modern (1979), dragon-like Church of Joan of Arc. In a sheltered courtyard was the spot where Joan of Arc was burned alive in 1431, having been tried and sentenced to death for heresy. She was 19 years old.

Then we were on our way to Giverny, the home of Claude Monet. A protege of Eugene Boudin of Honfleur, Monet was one of the most prolific painters of the Impressionist school, producing over 2000 paintings in his lifetime. As an art history major in college, I studied all the great masters. I liked some of them and disliked others. I LOVED Monet and the opportunity to see the spot where he painted so many masterpieces was truly thrilling for me.

Monet lived and painted at Giverny for over 40 years. Today, the gardens and his house are beautifully maintained by a charitable foundation, with admission fees helping to cover the enormous expense of taking care of the property. His lily pond was featured in many of his paintings...

as was his green Japanese bridge. Monet was highly influenced by Japanese woodblock prints, many of which are displayed in his nearby house. The photo below looks just like one of his paintings, but I actually took the picture. :)

We were there!

We left the lily ponds and wandered through the gardens on our way to Monet's house.

I couldn't believe I was seeing in real life what I had so often admired in museums or in art text books. I was in heaven!

Then our visit was over and we were on our way to our last stop, Paris.

france - my day 10

My Day 10 was spent in our room on the 6th floor of the Royal Barriere Hotel in Deauville, on the Normandy coast. Larry was heavily involved with past history at the D-Day beaches; I was heavily involved with current day history.


We had been told on our first day of the trip that when we were in Deauville, a meeting of world leaders was scheduled to take place at our hotel. The French President, German Chancellor and Russian President were meeting for 2 days to discuss the delivery of oil through the pipeline from Russia to western Europe. All the trip participants would need to be vetted by the French Secret Service and we would be required to wear special security passes and carry our passports at all times while within 2 blocks of the hotel.


We arrived at our hotel in darkness, the night before the conference. We entered through portable metal detectors and were met by a member of the Secret Service, who checked our passports and gave us our passes, labeled with each of our names and strung on a lanyard to wear around our necks. Then we checked in with the hotel and got our room keys. Security was tight and there were soldiers and police everywhere in the hotel. We found our room, unpacked a bit and I went to bed. I really felt lousy and just wanted to curl up and sleep.


In the morning I made the decision to stay at the hotel, said goodbye to Larry and went back to sleep. The curtains were closed tight and I managed to sleep til about 10:30. When I got up and opened the curtains, I realized I was going to have a bird's eye view of history in the making.


Our room was above and to the right of the main entrance of the hotel. There was a small parking lot in front of the entrance and then across the driveway, there was a large parking area and the beach. A light tower and small grandstand were already set up, facing the entrance. The show was about to begin...


I positioned a comfortable chair in front of the window and proceeded to watch all the preparations for the arrival of the three presidents. I had no idea what time that was to happen, but people were already scurrying around. A group of 8 mounted soldiers, on perfectly matched chestnut horses, walked out in formation to the beach and then galloped as a group along the water's edge, returning at a slow walk. Hotel staff came out in their red uniforms to sweep up the parking lot. Contractors adjusted the red carpet under the see-through canopy and then recovered it with an additional layer of plastic, which was removed about 15 minutes before the first dignitary arrived. Town cars arrived over a period of several hours, delivering staff members of the various delegations. It was easy to figure out who was who: the French men were thin and all wore snappy looking scarves (it was a cold and blustery day); the Germans were older, greyer, heavier versions of the French and carried themselves very stiffly. The Russians were not as old as the Germans but were much more disheveled looking, paunchy and didn't look very happy. No women were seen exiting any of the town cars.


Around 3:30pm, the final prep was done on the red carpet and the cover was removed. In marched a large contingent of soldiers, who I later determined to be the Republican Guard in their dress uniforms. There was also a band, in the same uniforms. Here is what they looked like:


Several groups of citizens were brought in to stand behind police barricades. The press was in place on the grandstand, cameras at the ready, facing the hotel (and me). I noticed 2 sharpshooters on a building across the street, near the beach.

The first motorcade arrived with the president's car flying the French flag. Out came Nicolas Sarkozy, who handed his coat to an assistant and then walked across the drive to greet and shake hands with the citizens who had been brought in to witness the arrivals.

About 30 minutes later, the motorcycles zoomed in again, announcing the arrival of the German Chancellor, Angela Merkel:

Sarkozy was waiting for her at the end of the red carpet, surrounded by a special group of Republican Guards in ceremonial uniforms. She exited her car, the two kissed on both cheeks, and Sarkozy led her over to the citizens to meet and shake their hands. This time he stood back and let her interact with the crowd. They then went inside the hotel to wait for the arrival of the Russian President. All the citizens were led away.
About 6pm the motorcycles arrived for the third time. No town car for this president - he was arriving by armored limo. Sarkozy and Merkel were at the end of the red carpet, awaiting his arrival together. Dmitry Medvedev exited his car, shook hands with both presidents and the band played the three national anthems. No visiting with the citizens, who had been brought back out for this final arrival, and the three presidents went back inside the hotel.

The show was over, I had witnessed modern day history and Larry had returned from the beaches. Feeling better, I decided I'd try to eat some dinner, so we walked into town to an Italian place that had been recommended by Richard. I managed to eat a little and we walked back, meeting soldiers and/or the national police at every corner. When it was time to go through the perimeter, the soldier looked at our passes and politely asked to see our passports. He carefully matched the names on the passes to our passports and looked carefully at the photos. We were allowed back inside the secure 2-block perimeter and headed home to the hotel.
Both Larry and I will remember Day 10 for a long, long time.

france - larry's day 10

My Day 9 was not a good one - I had a nasty intestinal bug that got me in the morning and then again in the evening. I decided that it would be best to stay close to the hotel on Day 10. I was really disappointed to miss going to the D-Day beaches, one of the main reasons we took this trip, but I really had no other choice. I handed Larry the camera and told him to bring back a full report of his day. He did.

Starting on the eastern edge of the 45-mile stretch of landing beaches, this is Juno beach, where the Canadians landed on June 6, 1944. Even today, the beaches are still referred to by their code names.

This stone marker identifies the departure ports and landing sites of the various troops:

This memorial plaque recognizes the 2nd Rangers, who scaled 100 foot cliffs, expecting to find a battery of German artillery. The Germans were there, but the artillery had been delayed and was still a mile away. In the ensuing battle, 90 Rangers were not killed or wounded; 225 had gone in.

Giant craters, 20 feet wide and 8 feet deep, caused by the artillery, are still evident:

This is a position made ready for German guns that never arrived:

A German pill box:

Omaha Beach, as it looks today:

The American cemetery is maintained in pristine condition by the French, in gratitude for the sacrifices of the American soldiers to liberate France:

Larry left a rose at the grave of Pvt. Taylor. My mother's maiden name was Taylor, and while Pvt. Taylor was not a relative, we will be forever grateful for his service.

france - day 9

Today was going to be a long one and became even longer than anticipated, when Richard decided we needed to see the port city of Honfleur, even tho it wasn't on the official itinerary. It was a Sunday and the tourists were out in droves.

Our first stop was the marvelous abbey of Mont-St-Michel, one of the most enchanting sights in France. Surrounded by the seas at high tide, the island of Mont-Tombe (Tomb on the Hill) is connected to the mainland by a causeway. Lying strategically on the frontier between Brittany and Normandy, Mont-St-Michel grew from a humble 8th century oratory to become a Benedictine monastery that had its greatest influence in the 12th and 13th centuries.

Major engineering works are now in place to begin reversing the silting up of the sea around the island.

We began our climb up the pathway to the top, where the abbey occupies an impregnable position on the island. At this point, Larry and I went our separate ways. He went up (300+ stairsteps, which my knees couldn't take) and I went down, onto the Grande Rue, which was the pilgrims' route to the abbey gates.

The steeple can be seen for miles and miles:

Four bays of the Romanesque nave survive; three were pulled down in 1776, creating the West Terrace:

The cloisters, with their elegant columns in staggered rows, are a beautiful example of early 13th century Anglo-Norman style. The Fraternite of Jerusalem, a small monastic community, lives in the abbey and welcomes visitors.

Living atop a precipice long ago was not without its difficulties. Here is the "elevator" that brought supplies up to the top of the island:

Next up was a stop in Bayeux, famous for its 11th century tapestry justifying William the Conqueror's invasion of England in 1066. Bayeux was the first town to be liberated by the Allies in 1944 and was fortunate to escape war damage. 15th - 19th century buildings remain, including this charming mill:

230 feet long, the embroidered hanging was commissioned by Bishop Odo of Bayeux and offers insights into 11th-century life. The battle scenes are from the defeat of Harold, King of England, at the Battle of Hastings. The tapestry is valued as a work of art, a historical document and an entertaining read. This art history major remembers well seeing slides of the tapestry in a darkened classroom. Much more interesting to see the bright colors of the embroidery up close and personal:

Then it was on to Honfleur, a picturesque town at the mouth of the Seine River. A major defensive port in the 15th century, Honfleur became a center of artistic activity in the 19th century. Eugene Boudin, mentor of the Impressionist Claude Monet, was born in Honfleur, as were several other important figures in the arts community. Today Honfleur continues to be an arts colony, with many studios and shops lining the streets near the harbour.

Our final stop, before heading to our Deauville hotel, was Le Manoir d'Apreval in Pennedepie, just west of Honfleur. A family-owned estate surrounded by a magnificent apple orchard, the manoir is famous for its hard cider and Calvados, a potent (70% alcohol) apple brandy.

Seventeen different varieties of apples are assembled together on the estate, all completely different varieties of apples than are grown in New York State.

In an old restored press, the musts are gathered together to become cider, during which time the Pommeau (a less potent brandy) and Calvados are aged for up to 10 years in oak barrels.

Following a tasting of the Pommeau and Calvados, dinner was served before we headed off to our hotel, the famous Royal Barriere in Deauville. History awaits!

france - day 8

This morning we drove over to the town of Dinard, with Placido's fill-in, Patrice, at the wheel. We didn't realize what a superb driver Placido was until we had someone else driving us through the very small streets of these Breton towns. With Placido at the wheel there were no sudden stops, no close calls, no surprises. We hoped he was having a nice day off and looked forward to having him back in charge of the bus.

After visiting the open air market in Dinard, and looking back east along the coast to see St. Malo, we returned to St. Malo for a walking tour of the city. The St. Malo municipal flag was flying in the stiff breeze:



An important port in the past and still very active today, St. Malo is home to several restored sailing vessels:

Jacques Cartier (1491-1557), a native of St. Malo, sailed from here to the west and in 1534, took possession of Canada in the name of Francois I, king of France. Richard, our Canadian tour director, holds a special regard for St. Malo and thinks of himself as French first, Canadian second.

Another famous son of St. Malo was the writer and politican, Francois-Rene Chateaubriand (1768-1848). The birthplace of Chateaubriand is noted on this plaque:


and he is buried on the island at the left of this image. He directed that he be buried in a vertical position and facing the sea, forever looking outward across the waves:

While we were on this trip there was a great deal of civil unrest in France. Demonstrations were held on a daily basis, throughout the country, as displeasure with the government's proposal to raise the retirement age was voiced. Fuel depots were closed down by demonstrators and gas stations ran out of gasoline. Those stations that still had gas were beseiged by long lines of cars. Many airline flights were canceled and on at least one occasion, our flight from Canada stopped in Manchester, England on its way to Paris to refuel, so that it would have enough fuel to be able to leave on time and fly back to Toronto. We saw and heard many demonstrations, including this one in St. Malo:

After the walking tour we enjoyed a nice lunch on the town square and did a little shopping. One fabulous shop was a chocoholic's delight (and I am a proud, card-carrying chocoholic). Look at these amazing chocolate designs:


and at these bins of handmade chocolate. Doesn't get much better that this!!

france - day 7

We were back on the road again this morning, headed to St. Malo on the English Channel. But first we went back to Vannes, an important port on the Golfe de Morbihan. There we learned more about Brittany and the Breton people and language. Originally Celts, the Bretons share the roots of their native language with the Irish and the Scots. Today, parents can choose to have their children learn both French and Breton in school. Brittany was strongly independent for many years, but in 1532, signed a treaty to become part of France. The Bretons still honor their past with many festivals during the year where they wear their native dress, including the tall, lace headdresses of the women. Each headdress is specific to a certain parish, so Bretons can tell where someone is from just by looking at their attire. Here is the sign (in Breton and French) commemorating the signing of the treaty:

Again, we saw impressive gardens; these are near the old medieval walls of the city:

We approached the Cathedrale St-Pierre through a side street:

Begun in the 13th century, the cathedral has been remodeled and restored. I believe this window is original, however:

After a stop in the city square for possibly the best hot chocolate I have ever had in my entire life, we were back on the bus for the drive to the small town of Josselin. But along the way we were stopped by the cops. A gendarme (military police) was standing in the middle of the road and signaled Placido to pull the bus over to the shoulder. He wanted to see all of Placido's paperwork, including the activity log from the bus' computer. Off he went to his vehicle, returning 5 minutes later. He returned the paperwork to Placido and sent us on his way.

Placido told us that the gendarme ran his computer disk, showing when the bus engine is turned on and off and the top speed of the bus, and only because Placido made sure to take his 45 minute break the other day, was he allowed to go and was not fined. The gendarme also asked Placido when his next day off was scheduled. Bus drivers are only allowed to drive 6 straight days and Placido was scheduled to have a full day off the next day in St. Malo. We were all glad to be headed to the hotel and not to jail!

But first was a stop in Josselin, a charming village which is dominated by a medieval chateau owned by the de Rohan family since the end of the 15th century. We approached and were let in the small red door:

We had a tour of the inside of the chateau, but were asked to refrain from taking photographs, as this was a private home:

The gardens are beautifully maintained and although they look as if nature designed them, they were in fact designed by a famous landscape artist, who determined the placement of each plant:



We were then delighted to be introduced to the Duke and Duchess de Rohan, who were at the chateau that day. Both English-speaking and very charming, they welcomed us to their home. While not in Paris, this is where they live and have raised their children. The Duchess has an extensive doll collection and when Larry asked if she had ever seen the Margaret Woodbury Strong collection of dolls, she said she had not, but that she was very familiar with the collection. They were on their way to New York City in a couple of days, and she asked how long it was to get to Rochester. When told it was a six hour drive, she said that it would have to be another time.

The 72 year old Duke, Josselin de Rohan, was mayor of Josselin and has been a member of the French Senate since 1983. He served as regional president of the Brittany region until 2004 and is currently president of the foreign affairs, defense and armed forces commission. Here is his official Senate portrait:

We were very impressed that they both took the time to speak to our group. After they left us, we saw them sitting for an outdoor portrait with a professional photographer.

After looking at the Duchess' doll collection, we were off to our next stop, St. Malo. Located on the windy English Channel, this was the view from our hotel room window:

We made a joint decision that we were NOT going to go windsurfing, but did take a nice walk down the boardwalk.