July 30-31st
We caught the train in Paris heading northeast toward the battle ground beaches of Normandy. Our destination for the next two nights would be Bayeux - a small village about 10 km inland from the coast. The train ride was pleasant and uneventful until the conductor announced our stop was approaching and the train started to slow rather quickly. Patti leisurely put her pack on and headed toward the door. I fussed around for a bit putting things away as the train came to a stop at the station and finally got my back on before strolling up to join her at the door. As I approached I noticed that she was trying to figure out which lever to pull or which knob to push in order to open this strange tri-folding door to get out. Of course I being the man said - here let me do it - so I firmly pulled on the knob and then forcefully pushed on the lever but still with no luck and all at about the same time that we heard a whistle go off and the damn train started moving again. We both just looked at each other standing there with our packs on exasperated and confused and said - shiiit! - Oh well, I guess we’re not getting off in Bayuex. Luckily the next stop was close by where we let a young girl open the door for us. After several frustrating minutes trying to communicate with the ticket agent about what had happened and if there was another train going back to Bayuex that afternoon station worker that knew some English helped us out and got us on the next train back to our stop less that an hour later than our original arrival time -sheewww.
I grabbed a map at the train station and after a short walk along the riverside pedestrian path we made our way from the station on the edge of town to the older medieval portion of the village center with narrow cobble stone streets, mills with water wheels, flower boxes and towering cathedral spires. It was a beautiful cool sunny day fairly busy with tourist and locals but a much welcomed contrast to the hustle & bustle of the streets of Paris. We found our hotel on the corner the second story above a bar/restaurant on the main corner of the village with a view of the cathedral at the end of the block. We checked into the room right at the bar and walked up the narrow stone spiral staircase with heavily worn wooden steps. The room was small and nothing fancy but more private than a hostel with our on bath. The hostels are o.k., cheaper and more lively but we seem to be gravitating toward the discount hotels at about 40 to 50 euros a night or $50 to $70 american. After resting for a bit we headed out to see the town, take a few pictures, find a place to eat and hit the tourist information office to find out about getting to the Norrnandy beaches the next day. We did a quick self guided tour of the town with interpretive signage along the way explaining the local history. It truly was a medieval village established before the first century and became known as the lace making capital for French royalty. In the invasion it was the first village to be liberated by the allied troops that stormed the beaches and was spared from the destruction of aerial bombing because the German troops had receded to Caen - the next larger town inland from Bayuex. Caen was completely leveled. We originally wanted to rent bikes to ride to the coast but there were no paths or lanes and the roads were very narrow and fairly busy with tourist headed to the battle monuments. We ended up finding a bus that would drop us off right at the American memorial and cemetery above Omaha beach and returned that evening. The memorial monument was fascinating with a complete timeline of the events leading up to the day of the invasion and a collection of video footage and war artifacts that kept us there and speechless for more that two hours before heading over to visit the cemetery. Just a note for those of you that may visit this site in the future - don’t even think about walking through the almost 10,000 white cross headstone of the American soldiers that lost their lives in Normandy and read some of the inscriptions without a hand full of tissues. We could only handle it for so long before taking a walk on the path along the cliffs edge and finding the stairway that headed down to Omaha beach. We couldn’t have asked for a better day on what is really a beautiful beach. It almost reminded us of the many days we had on the beaches of Kauai with puffy white clouds, blue skies, warm sunshine and a cool breeze. It was surreal though - to be standing right there so peaceful but with these vivid images of what it must have been like on that day. It was sparsely populated so it didn’t take long for us to find a piece of sand to sit down or rather lay down. Within minutes Patti was fast asleep but I just laid there looking up at those puffy white elongated clouds slowly sailing in from offshore like the ghosts of the battle ships 65 years earlier. I rolled over with my face a few inches above the sand and looked up toward the bluff and could see the old German concrete gun batteries still there right above us and could almost hear the bullets hitting the sand all around us, grenades going off, fighter planes buzzing overhead all with the white noise of the surf in the background. What a retched day that must have been I thought for a moment as I rested my head and also fell off to sleep comfortably next to my wife.
After an hours nap we finally stirred to our feet and thought we should make our way to the bus stand. We climbed the trail up the slope to see the gun battery up close and actually walked through it and some of the remnant tunnels before walking back to the memorial and catching the bus. Back in town we had a beer at the bar downstairs from our room and then walked a few blocks down to a nice restaurant for a perfect French diner and a few glasses of wine to end our visit to Normandy.
We caught the train in Paris heading northeast toward the battle ground beaches of Normandy. Our destination for the next two nights would be Bayeux - a small village about 10 km inland from the coast. The train ride was pleasant and uneventful until the conductor announced our stop was approaching and the train started to slow rather quickly. Patti leisurely put her pack on and headed toward the door. I fussed around for a bit putting things away as the train came to a stop at the station and finally got my back on before strolling up to join her at the door. As I approached I noticed that she was trying to figure out which lever to pull or which knob to push in order to open this strange tri-folding door to get out. Of course I being the man said - here let me do it - so I firmly pulled on the knob and then forcefully pushed on the lever but still with no luck and all at about the same time that we heard a whistle go off and the damn train started moving again. We both just looked at each other standing there with our packs on exasperated and confused and said - shiiit! - Oh well, I guess we’re not getting off in Bayuex. Luckily the next stop was close by where we let a young girl open the door for us. After several frustrating minutes trying to communicate with the ticket agent about what had happened and if there was another train going back to Bayuex that afternoon station worker that knew some English helped us out and got us on the next train back to our stop less that an hour later than our original arrival time -sheewww.
I grabbed a map at the train station and after a short walk along the riverside pedestrian path we made our way from the station on the edge of town to the older medieval portion of the village center with narrow cobble stone streets, mills with water wheels, flower boxes and towering cathedral spires. It was a beautiful cool sunny day fairly busy with tourist and locals but a much welcomed contrast to the hustle & bustle of the streets of Paris. We found our hotel on the corner the second story above a bar/restaurant on the main corner of the village with a view of the cathedral at the end of the block. We checked into the room right at the bar and walked up the narrow stone spiral staircase with heavily worn wooden steps. The room was small and nothing fancy but more private than a hostel with our on bath. The hostels are o.k., cheaper and more lively but we seem to be gravitating toward the discount hotels at about 40 to 50 euros a night or $50 to $70 american. After resting for a bit we headed out to see the town, take a few pictures, find a place to eat and hit the tourist information office to find out about getting to the Norrnandy beaches the next day. We did a quick self guided tour of the town with interpretive signage along the way explaining the local history. It truly was a medieval village established before the first century and became known as the lace making capital for French royalty. In the invasion it was the first village to be liberated by the allied troops that stormed the beaches and was spared from the destruction of aerial bombing because the German troops had receded to Caen - the next larger town inland from Bayuex. Caen was completely leveled. We originally wanted to rent bikes to ride to the coast but there were no paths or lanes and the roads were very narrow and fairly busy with tourist headed to the battle monuments. We ended up finding a bus that would drop us off right at the American memorial and cemetery above Omaha beach and returned that evening. The memorial monument was fascinating with a complete timeline of the events leading up to the day of the invasion and a collection of video footage and war artifacts that kept us there and speechless for more that two hours before heading over to visit the cemetery. Just a note for those of you that may visit this site in the future - don’t even think about walking through the almost 10,000 white cross headstone of the American soldiers that lost their lives in Normandy and read some of the inscriptions without a hand full of tissues. We could only handle it for so long before taking a walk on the path along the cliffs edge and finding the stairway that headed down to Omaha beach. We couldn’t have asked for a better day on what is really a beautiful beach. It almost reminded us of the many days we had on the beaches of Kauai with puffy white clouds, blue skies, warm sunshine and a cool breeze. It was surreal though - to be standing right there so peaceful but with these vivid images of what it must have been like on that day. It was sparsely populated so it didn’t take long for us to find a piece of sand to sit down or rather lay down. Within minutes Patti was fast asleep but I just laid there looking up at those puffy white elongated clouds slowly sailing in from offshore like the ghosts of the battle ships 65 years earlier. I rolled over with my face a few inches above the sand and looked up toward the bluff and could see the old German concrete gun batteries still there right above us and could almost hear the bullets hitting the sand all around us, grenades going off, fighter planes buzzing overhead all with the white noise of the surf in the background. What a retched day that must have been I thought for a moment as I rested my head and also fell off to sleep comfortably next to my wife.
After an hours nap we finally stirred to our feet and thought we should make our way to the bus stand. We climbed the trail up the slope to see the gun battery up close and actually walked through it and some of the remnant tunnels before walking back to the memorial and catching the bus. Back in town we had a beer at the bar downstairs from our room and then walked a few blocks down to a nice restaurant for a perfect French diner and a few glasses of wine to end our visit to Normandy.
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