John in France

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Sunday 8/29 Paris

I gave Beth a kiss goodbye and left her sitting on the train station bench in Colmar and boarded my train. I was on the high speed TGV train with a reserved seat on car 18. Nearing my seat number, I could see they were occupied by an older couple. When I showed them my ticket they asked if they could stay where they were, because the lady had some sort of neck problem. I didn’t mind switching to a seat that faced backwards to the direction of travel, but I find these European seat reservation schemes don’t work very well for me. On our train from Frankfurt to Colmar (three connections) we were told by our ticket agent in Frankfurt that none of our trains required reservations. But on one of our connecting trains I had to get up when somebody came by and showed his ticket with a reservation. I suspect I was the only one on a very crowded train this happened to.

I arrived without incident to the Gare L’Est station in Paris after almost three hours, with one stop in Strasbourg. I bought a carnet of ten Metro tickets to get the discount and figured out how to get to my hostel near the Panthéon on the Rive Gauche. Riding the Paris Metro is very straightforward; one just has to know the end of the line stop to make sure it’s going in the right direction, and hop on.

Upon reaching my stop, I ascended the stairs exiting the subway and found myself walking through a Sunday market where all sorts of things from meat and vegetables to clothes and home furnishings were being sold. It started to sprinkle out, so I decided to find my hostel and store my pack before heading out again for a little walking tour of Paris’s city center.

After sitting all morning on the train I felt a walk to the starting point of Notre Dame would be nice. There were tons of tourists at the cathedral, sitting in front gazing at the structure, waiting in the slow moving line to get in, and looking at their maps and guidebooks. I noticed a couple sitting next to me with a picnic lunch say ‘chin chin’ and ‘clink’ their sandwiches together. Beth and I did the same thing the previous evening in Colmar with our baguette. So is it a ‘toast’ when you raise your bread to each other?

I entered Notre Dame and admired the rose windows as I made my way around, trying to eavesdrop on any English speaking tour guide I happened upon. I decided to skip walking up to the top of the south tower (€8, about $10). I did it once 20 years ago and even though I don’t remember the experience I don’t feel bad at all for skipping it. It dawned on me while in there, that although digital cameras have made us all good photographers because we no longer worry about wasting expensive film and film processing fees, it also means everybody is constantly taking pictures of loved ones standing in front of the most arcane things. I finally decided I could no longer stop and wait for the picture to get taken, or go around, as the crush of people were too great, so instead I started walking right in front of the camera. I suspect my profile will be ending up in a lot of people’s travelogues if they decide not to delete me.

After Notre Dame I visited the Deportation Memorial dedicated to the 200,000 French victims of the Nazis from 1940 - 1945. From there I crossed over to the small island of Ile St. Louis, and along the way stopped to watch a busker performing some comedy routine on the closed-to-traffic bridge. I didn’t find him too funny after a few minutes and continued on. I suspect it’s that same French humor that finds Jerry Lewis a comedic genius.

I enjoyed an ice cream cone (chocolate) and strolled through the Latin Quarter, and then on to Sainte-Chappell. Before going in, I went across the street to a Tabac shop and bought a two day museum pass for tomorrow and the next day. The church was built in only five years in a time when cathedrals took many generations to complete. It was the private church of royalty originally built for King Louis IX to house the crown of thorns relic. I got that info out of a guidebook. It has impressive stained glass windows but unfortunately for me and everyone else, the altar part of the structure is undergoing reconstruction and is therefore covered up and unviewable. I grumbled to myself that I’d been sold a bill of goods, but quickly got over it. There’s always something being restored in Europe.

After getting lost walking back to the hostel (there’s no better place than Paris to wander around), I finally found my way. If I could superimpose black dashes on a Parisian city map of the route I took it would probably look like one of those Family Circus cartoons. I got my room and bunk bed shared with five other people (the room), and met two guys from England and had a few beers with them. Woke up the next morning not feeling too good as I didn’t have anything more that a crêpe for supper.

Monday 8/30 Paris

After taking a stroll in the cool morning air to help clear my head and settle my stomach, I headed for the Louvre to get a jump on the Monday morning crowds. Alas, it was to no avail, for within an hour or so of opening, the three major attractions were inundated with camera toting tourists angling for a clear picture. I’m really beginning to notice how people from various parts of the world have a different view of personal space. While I was on a tour of the Louvre (mentioned below), our tour guide was interrupted by a lady who stepped in front of her to take a picture of a painting. Our guide tapped her on the shoulder to get her to move and said to us ‘How rude. Sometimes people push me out of the way’.

After I viewed Venus de Milo and Winged Victory of Samothrace, I wandered through the ancient Greek and Roman works until it was time for my 11:00 tour that I booked. They told me to meet at 10:30, and I thought to myself “that’s a crazy waste of time”, but now I know why they say that: I got lost trying to find my way back to the meeting point. I kept going in circles and time seemed to speed up every time I looked at my watch, as 11:00 was fast approaching. I was really starting to panic that I was going to waste my five Euros simply because I couldn’t find the right exit. After pausing for a deep breath and taking a serious look at my map, I found where I was going wrong and made the tour with a few minutes to spare. At least along the way I was able to appreciate seeing Winged Victory from all the different hallways that lead to it.

When my tour was over it was nearly 1:00pm and I felt as though I hadn’t even begun to see anything, but I wanted to get away from the crowds and go to the Orangerie Museum where Monet’s Water Lilies can be found, along with works by many of his contemporaries. After a few hours there, I needed to give my eyes a rest from all that fancy artwork, so I then made my way to Napoleon’s Tomb and the French Army Museum. Napoleon’s Tomb is as big as our house and very ornate. I only had about an hour before the Army Museum closed so quickly headed to the displays of the World Wars. I only made it through WWI before I had to leave, but I did catch a little bit of the Free-French contribution to WWII. It’s enlightening to get another country’s point of view of how they helped defeat the Nazis.

My day of sightseeing went by very quickly and I headed back to the hostel passing by countless numbers of sidewalk cafés with tables occupied by couples or friends enjoying wine or beer or coffee; discussing all sorts of things relevant to their world, and watching me go by. It’s when I see them that I wish Beth could be with me, so we could be like them. Maybe someday we’ll jet off for Paris in the off-season for a long romantic weekend.

I made a reservation for my Mont Saint Michel portion of the trip, wrote my journal, and went to bed. Ever since seeing a film strip (remember them?) of Mont Saint Michel in school, I’ve always wanted to see it. Back in school I never imagined traveling outside my own country to France, and now here I am. I can still remember my French teacher in middle school telling the class about a former student of hers bicycling around France and that seemed too exotic for me to even undertake, and here I am, all by myself, getting lost in the Louvre. And in a few months I expect to be walking across Spain. At least I know I can walk long distances, we’ll see if I can do it in another country.

Tuesday 8/31 Paris

Today I woke up after a good night sleep. I’m in the hostel sharing a room with five people, and luckily nobody snores. After a breakfast of bread, butter, and croissant with orange juice, I made my way to the Orsay Museum a little later than I wanted. While walking to the museum I headed in the wrong direction for a little ways before catching my mistake. I wasn’t lost as I knew where I was, I just didn’t know where the museum was.

The Orsay Museum has a large collection of painting, sculptures, and art nouveau. I spent most of my time in the Impressionist galleries while I was still ‘fresh’. It only takes a few hours before my feet start hurting from standing in place for so long. I was pleasantly surprised to find so much Impressionist art available as my guidebook intimated that the works would be off limits due to renovation. I would like to come back someday well off-season and post renovation with a good guide explaining the works in the museum. I noted the time around noon and quickly hurried through the art nouveau section before heading over to the Rodin Museum.

On the way I stopped to get a baguette and the International Herald Tribune, found a park bench beside the street and got caught up on the news of the world, brushing bread crumbs from my lap between each turn of the page.

At the Rodin Museum I opted to get the audioguide and really enjoyed viewing his various sculptures. It’s at this point where I want to vent (again) about some tourists. While I don’t have an appreciation of art from a trained art historian perspective, I don’t understand what people are thinking when they flit from sculpture to sculpture with their digital cameras, taking picture after picture without even looking at the subject in front of them. What are they going to do? Go home and look at a two-dimensional image of a three dimensional Rodin sculpture that’s just inches away from their camera lens? I shouldn’t care what other people do to get their money’s worth in a museum, but I hate having to wait, or step out of the way for something that doesn’t make sense to me.

I walked out to the garden of the museum, which my guidebook suggests may be the best deal in Paris. For one Euro (if you don’t tour the museum) you can visit the garden full of Rodin sculptures. While perusing the sculpture garden I couldn’t resist getting a picture of a lady sitting on a bench, bringing her hand to her mouth eating some fruit. The famous sculpture, The Thinker, was in the background and her position was an almost perfect resemblance. I discreetly took a picture at just the right moment.

On the way back to the hotel this evening, I stopped and got a panini sandwich for my supper. It was €3.80, but I discovered I only had a €50 note in my pocket. When I showed it to the man heating my sandwich, he rolled his eyes and let the breath escape noisily from his pursed lips. He went to the shop next door with the bill to make change and then handed me the panini with a nice ‘merci, au revoir’.

I finalized my lodging arrangements for two nights in Bayeux and then two more nights back here in Paris before going on to Belgium to meet Beth. Tomorrow I catch the train to Rouen where I’ll pick up the rental car and drive to Mont Saint Michel.

Wednesday 9/1 Mont Saint Michel

One month ago today I woke up in a Besotho hut in a remote valley of Lesotho to the sound of roosters crowing, and this morning I opened my eyes to the cacophonous fury of a Parisian delivery truck’s diesel engine echoing up between the tall buildings along the narrow Rue Mouffetard. It’s a world of many cultures we live in, and I’m very certain the dwellers of both locales are happiest there they are and would never trade places.

I got dressed and packed up as quietly as I could so as not to disturb my hostel mates and scarfed down my free breakfast of croissant, bread and butter, and orange juice. I was on my way to Gare St. Lazare by 8:10 to catch my 8:54 train to Rouen. I planned my route to the station on the vast Parisian Metro network, but I didn’t factor in any time for getting lost. Luckily for me, I paid attention to the signage and got to a very crowded train station with less than ten minutes to spare. I validated my ticket at one of the yellow ticket ‘composters’, and boarded my train. There was someone in my seat so I politely showed him my ticket and he found a new seat. I still can’t seem to get my reserved seat free and clear, without having to first wonder to myself if I’m doing something wrong.

Arriving in Rouen around 10 am I found the car rental agency with a sign saying they would be back @ 10:30. Rats. Now I have to lug my backpack around town to the SNCF Boutique to book my return train to Paris and then another ticket to Brussels for next Monday. After a few wrong turns, I found the ticket office, but there were four people in front of me so I decided to head back to the train station to pick up my car. The guy behind the counter didn’t speak any English so I did my best to understand him after asking if he could speak slowly. The rental cars are parked in the bowels of one of two adjacent parking garages, and I’m going to have an adventure returning it on Saturday, I can tell. The streets of Rouen have no logical layout, like any old European city.

I tossed my backpack in the trunk and left the car there (free parking), and went on a walking tour of the old part of Rouen. My first stop was to see where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, and a nice modern church that contains 16th century stained glass windows salvaged from a church destroyed during WWII. I continued on the walking tour down to the Notre Dame cathedral. I also got my train tickets along the way. If anybody’s been paying attention, that marks the third Notre Dame cathedral I’ve visited in France. My Notre Dame hat trick consists of the ones in Strasbourg, Paris, and Rouen. The Rouen Cathedral was damaged by bombing in the war and has since been reconstructed. I liked this visit the best, mostly due to the lack of crowds. It’s difficult to get any kind of enjoyment in a place like Paris’s Notre Dame in the midst of a crush of humanity, most it would seem are simply adding a check mark to their bucket list. I also swung by the somewhat macabre plague cemetery, but time was pressing and I felt I needed to get going to Mont Saint Michel.

Walking towards the train station I was quickly brought back into the 21st century when I saw one of those Google cars with the camera mounted on the roof, taking pictures for one of their applications. I should have noted what street I was on, because even though they blur people’s faces, I might be able to pick myself out standing along the street.

When I reached the train station I walked out to the ground level of the parking garage, and couldn’t find the elevator to get me to the car. This didn’t bode well for me. I wasn’t paying attention when I was following the rental car agent out to the car a few hours earlier. Eventually, I found it, and hopped in. It’s a tiny little Ford, with six kilometers on the odometer and that new car smell. Upon leaving the parking garage I was thrust into the crazy streets of Rouen. I knew from experience in Europe not to follow route numbers, but follow signs for place names. However, that didn’t stop me from thinking I was lost going to a town I didn’t recognize after escaping from Rouen and turning back into the city. I realized my mistake (I thought I was wrong, but I wasn’t) and followed the same signs out of the city a second time. I was headed west to Caen, where I would then head south to Mont St. Michel. I missed the turnoff due to being in the wrong lane and I couldn’t get over in time, so I turned around at the next exit, hoping I could get back on in the other direction. Somehow I missed the Mont St. Michel exit again, and found myself with the afternoon sun at my back, heading in the direction of Rouen. It was at this point I though to myself, ‘If I was below the equator, I’d really be confused’. I could never get oriented in South Africa because the sun is always in the wrong part of the sky. I know I’m getting lost a lot here in France, but at least I know in what
direction I’m heading.

I finally made it to my hotel very near the Mont St. Michel causeway around 5:30. I relaxed for a few hours and then walked the mile or so to the thousand year old abbey. I can’t give a rich enough description of the setting sun to the west as I walked nearer to the abbey. I took many photos, but I’m sure they won’t compare to actually being there. While the abbey on the summit was closed for the day, I was able to wander out on the mudflats at low tide and walk around the island. I also wandered into the small village below the abbey and had it almost all to myself. I think if I was a little kid I would have had a blast running up and down the maze of ramps and stairs surrounding the town and abbey. After an hour or two of walking around I headed back to my hotel in the dark.

Thursday 9/2 Bayeux

I was filled with anticipation this morning to see the Abbey of Mont Saint Michel when it opened, and to keep to a schedule I set for myself, I opted to drive and pay to park, rather than walk. If I walked it would have taken at least 40 minutes away from touring Bayeux later today.

Touring the abbey, I was in awe of the engineering involved. I found myself asking the same question - ‘How did they do that’? I suppose it’s easy to underestimate the capability of people 1000 years ago, when we think in terms of how ‘advanced’ we are in comparison. I finished the tour and walked around the ramparts before heading back to my car. Along the way I passed two 500 year old English cannons from the 100 Years War. If I read the French sign correctly they were of 380 and 420 caliber. I stopped at a market on the way out of town and bought a baguette and a small bottle of Calvados, an apple brandy that supplants wine in popularity in the Normandy region of France.

Arriving in Bayeux, I parked near to where my hotel should have been, according to my map. I must have been tired, because I walked by the small red awning with the hotel’s name printed across it at least twice. The narrow entrance is sandwiched between a restaurant and a patisserie and I wasn’t expecting to see the hotel among the storefronts. The hotel manager was very nice and when I told him I drove in to town he responded with an enthusiastic ‘Good!’, and showed me where the free parking is.

After checking in, I immediately headed out by foot to view the Bayeux Tapestry. On the front of the building is a plaque commemorating Charles and Diana’s visit once upon a time, where they presented a copy of the Domesday Book to the French officials.

Up until this visit I didn’t know the history and background of the Battle of Hastings in England, other than as a short answer to a Jeopardy question for 1066, or the Roman numerals in a NY Times crossword puzzle answer, perhaps. Ironically, the tapestry, a pictorial piece of propaganda created at a time when the poor populace was illiterate (how’s that for alliteration?), helped me learn the history of how the Battle of Hastings came about and its consequences. The museum that houses the Tapestry provides an audioguide that steps the visitor through all the panels on it. Unfortunately for me, I pressed the ‘Play’ button a little too soon before I got to the first scene, and with a bunch of people in front of me, I tried to press the ‘Pause’ button until I could catch up. However, the museum is very shrewd about this in order to keep people moving smoothly along, and once started, the audioguide doesn’t stop, or at least mine didn’t. I didn’t realize this until panel nine when Edward the Confessor sent his brother-in-law Harold to Normandy, and so I missed the events leading up to that point.

Once my enjoyable history lesson was over, I ambled along the quaint center of Bayeux to the cathedral. Luckily for tourists, and its own denizens, Bayeux didn’t suffer much destruction from bombing attacks during WWII. While at this point visiting France I’ve seen a bunch of cathedrals and churches, and they’re starting to run together as far as remembering which is which, I don’t tire of them. There weren’t many people at this one when I visited, and when I went down alone into the crypt underneath the altar, I felt a chill run up my spine. It probably was the way the columns were lit from the ground, the way someone would shine a flashlight from under their chin when telling a scary story.

I intended to go back to the cathedral this evening to see what the exterior looks like lit up at night, but it’s hard to get off my comfortable bed with the TV on showing ‘The A-Team’ dubbed in French. It was such a terrible show and I can’t seem to change the channel; I keep watching to see if it can get any worse. Maybe I have no reason to think the people who built the Abbey at Mont Saint Michel 1000 years ago were less advanced than we are.

Friday 9/3 Bayeux

I visited the D-Day sites around Omaha Beach today, and while I set aside an entire day, I wasn’t able to see all that I wanted to. I started the day traveling to Longues-sur-Mer gun battery high up the cliffs and set back 300 yards out of view of the ocean and beaches. All that’s left of the area are four cement casemates with three that still have the original guns in them. I was expecting to see guns the size of what you’d see on a battleship, but these were much smaller. There was also a cement observation post in front of them looking out to sea, along with various ‘Tobruks’, or machine gun nests. It was just a small section of the whole Normandy area, but I can tell there must have been a lot of metal flying through the air that day. I think what struck me on my visit today was the length of the landing area - nearly 75 miles long.

My next stop after the gun batteries was the town of Arromanches, where the artificial harbor was built. This is the one that survived the big storm that blew in a few weeks after the landings. I saw a 20 minute 360 degree film that was created for the 50th anniversary of D-Day, and then headed down to the beach to see some of the remains of the harbor, built out of old sunken ships, huge cement blocks, and concrete pontoons. It was quite a feat of engineering.

Next stop was the American Cemetery and Memorial, sitting on a bluff overlooking Omaha Beach. The visitor’s center is very informative, with displays and movies that let the visitor know the planning and logistics involved to make the landing happen; along with hearing actual soldiers’ stories letting us know what they faced when they landed. Afterward, I walked out to the cemetery to see the nearly 10,000 American graves. It was a long walk from one end to the other. I didn’t know what to expect as far as the number of people who would be visiting there, but I was surprised at how many there were. I saw a French tour group being led around, and some of the older men had on black berets. I believe they were members of the French Resistance.

I made my way down to Omaha Beach and walked along the shoreline looking at the peaceful, verdant bluffs and finding it hard to imagine the fighting that went on in that very place.

I didn’t reach my final site of the day because I ran out of time. It means I’ll have to come back to visit the Pointe du Hoc Ranger Monument someday.

Returning to Bayeux, I walked to the cathedral after the sun had set to see it lit up in the evening. I took some pictures, but I doubt they’ll look as good as in person. While sitting in a little square in front of the cathedral, I saw a man in a second floor apartment lean out his window and smoke a cigarette while gazing up at the cathedral. Was he sharing a quiet moment with the object of his affection? Perhaps. In the background I could hear his wife talking to him nonstop, with an occasional noncommittal sounding response, indicating to her he was still listening.

Saturday 9/4 Paris

With a full gas tank, I left Bayeux and headed back to Rouen to drop off the rental car. Having got lost on the way to Mont St. Michel just the other day, I knew where all the critical exits were around Caen, and nailed every one of them until I got to Rouen. I topped off the tank while still 20 kms away at a rest stop, figuring that’s close enough where the needle will stay on the full mark. As I drew nearer to Rouen I took a wrong exit and found myself in stop and go traffic on the outskirts of the city, slowly making my way toward the center, using the very tall Gothic cathedral spire as a landmark. When I finally reached the city center I saw the sign for the train station and headed in that direction. After driving by the station twice I finally got into the correct turn lane and made my way into the rental car return. It was easier than I thought it would be.

I now had about three hours before my train to Paris so I decided to visit the Rouen Museum of Fine Arts. Just my luck, they were having an exposition of Impressionist painters who set up shop in Rouen to paint an industrialized city in the late 1800’s. One of the notable displays was eleven paintings of Claude Monet’s study of the changing light of Rouen’s Notre Dame Cathedral. Many of these paintings are from other collections and were brought here for the expo. I was happy to see the Orsay Museum in Paris provided a few, as that’s the museum I went to that’s under some reconstruction and not all paintings were available to see. I also noticed one on loan from the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Even though I’ve never visited there, and used to go by it all the time when I was in college, I can now say I’ve seen one of its paintings. It was a very enjoyable visit, as while it was busy with people, it seemed to me the visitors were local and behaved a lot differently than the usual busload of tourists constantly getting in my way.

It was nearing the time for me to get back to the station after I’d seen everything in the special exhibit, and I started walking back. Along the way I saw the Joan of Arc tower where she was imprisoned before her untimely death, so I took a picture.

Boarding the train on the way back to Paris was uneventful as my ticket didn’t require a reservation and the train was very empty. The only difficulty I ran into on this particular train was the seat I chose had a broken armrest. It was completely missing, but it was a minor inconvenience if at all. I was too lazy to pick up my backpack and move to another seat.

I made my way back to the same hostel in Paris, and I don’t even have to look at the map anymore to see where I’m going. I noticed they’re setting up the small square near the Metro stop for market day tomorrow.

Every day that I’ve been in Paris I’ve halfheartedly planned to see the city at night, notably the Trocadero area and the Champs Élysées, but it’s easy to convince myself to stay in and relax after being out all day. I must be showing my age, as I opted this evening to visit the Laundromat instead. I convinced myself that watching clothes get tossed around in soapy water was just as exciting as the Parisian nightlife.

Sunday 9/5 Paris

My last full day in Paris, I decided to visit the Musée Jacquemart-André, and the Musée Marmottan. Early Sunday morning is a very tranquil time to wander the streets and subway of Paris. The city gets off to a late start and all is subdued. Even the market near the subway at my hostel was just getting in full swing around 9:00.

The first museum I went to, Musée Jacquemart-André, was once a private collection by a very wealthy couple in the late 19th century. Their residence, now the museum, was built with the art collection and entertaining society in mind. I was impressed by how they designed some of the walls in their mansion to slide down into the floor to create a large ballroom for their society galas. They also had a beautiful marble and glass enclosed winter garden too. It seemed like the kind of place that should have marble floors throughout, so I was a little surprised that it had creaky wooden floors. We may not have any Rembrandts like they do, but at least the wood floors in our home don’t creak.

While the first part of the tour was nice, I was really impressed when my audioguide told me to go upstairs to visit the Italian collection. My guidebook even said the amount and quality of artwork is the envy of many museums. In fact, in the years the owners were amassing their collection, they were able to outbid France’s best museums due to limited budgets.

Leaving the museum, I wandered to the Champs Elysées and sat on a bench to watch the tourists come and go. While sitting there three or four guys sat nearby and started eating a roast chicken. It smelled really good and made me hungry for lunch. One of them even offered to let me dig in but I didn’t want to get my hands greasy. My mother also told me to never share a roast chicken with strangers without silverware. So instead I went to the McDonalds at the Champs Elysées where I bought a hamburger and small fries for €2.

Having had enough of the hustle and bustle of the Champs Elysées, I walked toward a beautiful public park called Parc Monceau, where I took up residence on a bench under the broad shade of a chestnut tree and read my book while looking up occasionally to people-watch. After a time, I got up to stroll around the park, and very soon came to admire how the Parisians spent a beautiful weekend day by picnicking with their friends and family. All throughout the park people inhabited grassy areas sitting on blankets and enjoying the sunshine. I even passed a small group just as they uncorked a bottle of rosé with a welcoming ‘pop’. Perhaps it’s my Luddite tendencies, but I perceived a lack of dependence on electronic gadgetry on my walk through the park, as most people were either reading, talking, playing some kind of sport, or maintaining their tan. Aside from the odd texter, it’s a scene that would be ripe for a Renoir painting, allowing for the more casual atmosphere and clothing.

I had one more museum to get to and on my way I passed another park with virtually the same cast performing in the same roles. I almost got a picture of a guy holding a book in one hand and emoting with exaggerated gestures with the other while his girlfriend sat listening with rapt attention in front of him. His display reminded me of the

Photos

Street Musicians
Performiing on the bridge to Ile St. Louis.

Book Sellers on the Left Bank
Selling not only books, but trinkets and reproductions of old rock and roll posters. Who knew the Rolling Stones' first U.S. concert for their 1966 tour was in Lynn, MA?

Big Pointy Tower
Proof of passage.

Mona Lisa Groupies
People taking pictures of the DaVinci masterpiece.

Parc Monceau
A very popular locale among the locals.

The Nosher
Drawing inspiration from the sculpture to her left?

Joan of Arc Tower
Joan of Arc was held here before her execution.

Mont St. Michel at Sunset
Taken under a constantly changing backdrop as the sun sank below the horizon.

Mudflats Surrounding Mont St. Michel
Looking west towards the ocean. The tidal changes here are second only to The Bay of Fundy in Nova Scotia.

Cloisters
The cloisters at Mont St. Michel where the monks would have tended their garden in the center.

And on 2 September 2010...
I did the same.

Bayeux Tourist Train
Many small towns and cities in France employ this sightseeing mode of transport.

German Battery
Overlooking the D-Day beaches.

German Observation Post
Overlooking the D-Day beaches.

American Cemetery
Above Omaha Beach lie nearly 10,000 crosses and Stars of David.

Comments

[Betty Blakneyr]

Dear John, What a great blog. It was great to get to know you better through your comments about the art you saw and the places you visited. What a treasure of memories you have. Love, Betty

[Chris Boe]

Howdy
Hi John, A couple of questions/thoughts: 1) Maybe you are the one that snores? 2) Did you eat pizza in France? 3) Wow, you saw a LOT of museums!!! Sounds like you are having a great time! Ling returns from South Africa on Thursday, Sept. 16. Take care, Chris

[Susan Craig]

John, I loved reading about your adventures! It was like I was there, and found myself laughing at your humor throughout the entire reading. Glad you are having a good time, and keep up the good blogging so I can travel vicariously! Love ya!

[Doris]

Good on you!
I am on of your Y aerobics buddies. I finally looked at your blog even though I think of the 2 of you often. Great stuff!!! So happy for the two of you! Don't forget to keep your abs tight and your back straight!