Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Happy Birtday Aunt Aly
Happy Birthday and Happy Thanksgiving. I sure do miss those dual birthday/thanksgiving parties.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
An eventful weekend
Where to start. I knew we had a full weekend plan, but I had no idea it would turn out as fun and as eventful as it did.
Thursday
Yes, I know that, unless you're in college, Thursday is not part of the weekend. But I had to include it for a few reasons. First and foremost was because Thursday was my birthday. But it was also something very big in France. It was also the release date of the Beaujolais Nouveau. This is, without a doubt, one of the most successful marketing campaigns that I have ever witnessed. Forget Christmas, forget "Sweetest Day". This is pure genius. On the third Thursday of every November. The first wine made from the grapes of 2008 is released. You've heard expressions about "aging like fine wine". Well what does that say about wine that they let sit in the bottle for about 3 weeks before they pop the cork? Take the not so good stuff, ferment it long enough to make it alcoholic and then make a huge deal about being the first to taste this years vintage. This is the genius of this plan. If they didn't sell it in this manner they probably wouldn't sell it at all; because, after the good stuff is ready, which is just as cheap, no one would buy the other.
The good side for me was one huge birthday party. It felt good to know that virtually all of France was having a glass in my honor. (my version anyway)
It was also a good day because Dana took the afternoon off. We had an excellent lunch featuring some local standards similar to eating fondue. Good stuff for the colder weather. Then we hung out a little at the mall, which reminds me..... French people are tiny. Not necessarily short, but thin and tiny. The clothes, obviously, are made to fit these people. Had you asked me, I would have assumed this to be true, but I hadn't given it much thought. Then I tried to buy a shirt. The tag said, among other things, EU - XXL USA -XXL. Great, I thought. XXL here is the same as XXL at home. Negative on that. The sleeves fit fine and the length was acceptable. It was the "saran wrap" effect on the torso that I doubted would be considered fashionable. I'll be shopping for shirts online or when I return home. Nobody wants the other. Trust me.
Friday
The forecast for the evening was snow. Not a lot, not a big deal, except that I didn't have the tires for it. You see, they handle things differently over here. It doesn't snow enough in France for everyone to have all season tires all the time. If you want to drive in the snow you have to buy "special" tires and have them put on in the late fall. Not a huge deal except that they don't give these away. Quite expensive actually.
Luckily, my "car" guy called me at noon and said our tires were in if I wanted to get them put on before the snow tonight. Great, except that we, the kids and I, weren't free until 4:30 and had a party to go to in the evening (more later). But better than a fiery crash of the side of the mountain, so we said we'd be there for the "15 minute" job.
I was glad to find out that French mechanics keep time the same as American mechanics. 2 hours is a long time to occupy two small children in a tiny mechanic's office. Luckily for us French parties, even those with kids, don't start until 8:00. We made it home just in time to change and head to school, the location of our party, our Beaujolais Nouveau party.
Wait for it. That's right. A party, at the school, to try out the new aforementioned wine. It was also a fundraiser for their equivalent of the PTA, and it was great. But now matter how simple and benign it was, Dana and couldn't get past the wine at a school function part. Just a different culture. You'll be happy to know that even the French don't let the kids drink the wine, at least not at school.
While at the party Dana and I sat in the "anglophone" section; however, I actually spent almost as much time conversing in French. One conversation in particular was quite humorous. I met a gentleman that had recently moved his family to the Grenoble area from Paris. After it came out that I stayed with the kids while Dana worked he gave a very big "Ah-ha". Seems his wife had been giving him quite a hard time about him working too much lately. She had cited me as the "great" father that was always there to drop off the kids and pick them. I guess that it had never occurred to her that she had never seen my wife. He couldn't wait to set the record straight. He even asked me twice if he could go tell her right away. Although I was enjoying practing my French, I hated to disappoint him.
Saturday
A very normal day on the inside. Outside, it started snowing. Snow here is a different concept than back home. Apparently, we live very near the "snow line". When it snows, it most often snows above us and not below us. This was the exact case today. Most of our view is at our level and up, so we were a bit concerned about driving into town. Later that morning when we finally bundled up and headed out, we only had to drive a 1/4 mile down hill before we were almost completely out of it. It'll take some getting used to,but I think I like the idea. Snow that you can see and enjoy without having to drive through. In fact, I'm liking the weather more and more every day. Whithin the last week, temperatures back home have started to be colder than what they are here. Then sometime in late spring, it'll switch back.
Then in the evening Dana and I headed ot our favorite restaurant while a sitter came to stay at the house with the kids. I'm not sure who was more excited, Dana and I or the kids.
The name of the place is L'Auguste. Here's why we like it. It's classic French. It's not too expensive. It's delicious. It's unpretentious. And if you ever visit us and want to have a nice meal. The owner will speak English if you like.
Sunday
Started like every other Sunday. We headed to church and then to the market. It's great to be able to head to the market and pick up a great Sunday dinner. Really gotten used to the rotisserie chicken or duck along with some potatoes. We usually also pick up some fruit, cheese, and bread. I'm already putting markets first on the list of "things we will miss" when we head back to the States.
Then the afternoon. Ever seen one of those funny movies where someone goes to a tiny burg in Europe? Specifically the ones where they have a shot of the hero in his car unable to move because they are surrounded by sheep? It looks exactly like that and just as funny in real life. Remember the sheep living across the valley? Well the farmers had them on the move Sunday eveing. A couple hundred sheep moving down the middle of the road flanked by sheep dogs is quite a site, as is the condition of the road afterwards.
Thursday
Yes, I know that, unless you're in college, Thursday is not part of the weekend. But I had to include it for a few reasons. First and foremost was because Thursday was my birthday. But it was also something very big in France. It was also the release date of the Beaujolais Nouveau. This is, without a doubt, one of the most successful marketing campaigns that I have ever witnessed. Forget Christmas, forget "Sweetest Day". This is pure genius. On the third Thursday of every November. The first wine made from the grapes of 2008 is released. You've heard expressions about "aging like fine wine". Well what does that say about wine that they let sit in the bottle for about 3 weeks before they pop the cork? Take the not so good stuff, ferment it long enough to make it alcoholic and then make a huge deal about being the first to taste this years vintage. This is the genius of this plan. If they didn't sell it in this manner they probably wouldn't sell it at all; because, after the good stuff is ready, which is just as cheap, no one would buy the other.
The good side for me was one huge birthday party. It felt good to know that virtually all of France was having a glass in my honor. (my version anyway)
It was also a good day because Dana took the afternoon off. We had an excellent lunch featuring some local standards similar to eating fondue. Good stuff for the colder weather. Then we hung out a little at the mall, which reminds me..... French people are tiny. Not necessarily short, but thin and tiny. The clothes, obviously, are made to fit these people. Had you asked me, I would have assumed this to be true, but I hadn't given it much thought. Then I tried to buy a shirt. The tag said, among other things, EU - XXL USA -XXL. Great, I thought. XXL here is the same as XXL at home. Negative on that. The sleeves fit fine and the length was acceptable. It was the "saran wrap" effect on the torso that I doubted would be considered fashionable. I'll be shopping for shirts online or when I return home. Nobody wants the other. Trust me.
Friday
The forecast for the evening was snow. Not a lot, not a big deal, except that I didn't have the tires for it. You see, they handle things differently over here. It doesn't snow enough in France for everyone to have all season tires all the time. If you want to drive in the snow you have to buy "special" tires and have them put on in the late fall. Not a huge deal except that they don't give these away. Quite expensive actually.
Luckily, my "car" guy called me at noon and said our tires were in if I wanted to get them put on before the snow tonight. Great, except that we, the kids and I, weren't free until 4:30 and had a party to go to in the evening (more later). But better than a fiery crash of the side of the mountain, so we said we'd be there for the "15 minute" job.
I was glad to find out that French mechanics keep time the same as American mechanics. 2 hours is a long time to occupy two small children in a tiny mechanic's office. Luckily for us French parties, even those with kids, don't start until 8:00. We made it home just in time to change and head to school, the location of our party, our Beaujolais Nouveau party.
Wait for it. That's right. A party, at the school, to try out the new aforementioned wine. It was also a fundraiser for their equivalent of the PTA, and it was great. But now matter how simple and benign it was, Dana and couldn't get past the wine at a school function part. Just a different culture. You'll be happy to know that even the French don't let the kids drink the wine, at least not at school.
While at the party Dana and I sat in the "anglophone" section; however, I actually spent almost as much time conversing in French. One conversation in particular was quite humorous. I met a gentleman that had recently moved his family to the Grenoble area from Paris. After it came out that I stayed with the kids while Dana worked he gave a very big "Ah-ha". Seems his wife had been giving him quite a hard time about him working too much lately. She had cited me as the "great" father that was always there to drop off the kids and pick them. I guess that it had never occurred to her that she had never seen my wife. He couldn't wait to set the record straight. He even asked me twice if he could go tell her right away. Although I was enjoying practing my French, I hated to disappoint him.
Saturday
A very normal day on the inside. Outside, it started snowing. Snow here is a different concept than back home. Apparently, we live very near the "snow line". When it snows, it most often snows above us and not below us. This was the exact case today. Most of our view is at our level and up, so we were a bit concerned about driving into town. Later that morning when we finally bundled up and headed out, we only had to drive a 1/4 mile down hill before we were almost completely out of it. It'll take some getting used to,but I think I like the idea. Snow that you can see and enjoy without having to drive through. In fact, I'm liking the weather more and more every day. Whithin the last week, temperatures back home have started to be colder than what they are here. Then sometime in late spring, it'll switch back.
Then in the evening Dana and I headed ot our favorite restaurant while a sitter came to stay at the house with the kids. I'm not sure who was more excited, Dana and I or the kids.
The name of the place is L'Auguste. Here's why we like it. It's classic French. It's not too expensive. It's delicious. It's unpretentious. And if you ever visit us and want to have a nice meal. The owner will speak English if you like.
Sunday
Started like every other Sunday. We headed to church and then to the market. It's great to be able to head to the market and pick up a great Sunday dinner. Really gotten used to the rotisserie chicken or duck along with some potatoes. We usually also pick up some fruit, cheese, and bread. I'm already putting markets first on the list of "things we will miss" when we head back to the States.
Then the afternoon. Ever seen one of those funny movies where someone goes to a tiny burg in Europe? Specifically the ones where they have a shot of the hero in his car unable to move because they are surrounded by sheep? It looks exactly like that and just as funny in real life. Remember the sheep living across the valley? Well the farmers had them on the move Sunday eveing. A couple hundred sheep moving down the middle of the road flanked by sheep dogs is quite a site, as is the condition of the road afterwards.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Order up. (Caution: therapy blog)
When I go to Krekel's I order a double cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard, and onions and a buttersotch shake. I even say it just like that, "Give me a double cheeseburger with ketchup, mustard, and onions and a butterscotch shake". See I told you. Even if my arteries don't, I forget how many times I've been to Krekel's. And like any customer with a regular order at their favorite grease pit, I've been unfaithful; however, it is those instances that I can count and remember. I once ordered a triple cheeseburger, succumbing to the truly American "bigger is better" mantra, and I once ordered a pork tenderloin based on a recommendation. Those who know Krekel's know that I did not walk away dissapointed from these two cholesterol laden changes-of-pace; however, had my double cheeseburger later confronted me about the deviation I could have truthfully claimed, "but I was thinking about you the whole time". You see, anytime we bore of the norm and stray from it, we will eventually miss that comfort even if what we strayed for is just as good. Happens every time.
I mention Krekel's not because I would right now,trade a kidney for my aforementioned "usual", but because this popped into my mind as the best way to describe how I am feeling about our current situation. France tastes like that giant pork tenderloin on a tiny bun slathered with miracle whip or that overly meaty triple cheeseburger. With one bite I'm doing my best Rachel Ray tasting moan and with the next I'm mad at myself for not sticking with the tried and true double. It's the same here. One minute I'm in absolute shock as I drink coffee and watch the sunrise over the Alps, then I step outside and the cool crisp air reminds me of fall and all the things I love about this season.
The hardest question we are asked by friends and family is also the simplest and most common, "So, how do you like France?". This question is difficult because it intended to be answered in one short sentence or possible even a paragrh, and theoretically, it could be. The problem is that there is more too it than a person can realize at first glance. "Yes", we love France, but "Yes" we miss home. It seems that for every positive about the move, there is an equal and opposite negative.
For instance. The Good: Our kids are learing a second language and culture which could in turn have a very positive impact on them and their future. The Bad: They had to leave friends and family to gain this experience and we know that in a few years they will have to leave another group of new friends. Long term, will the pros outweigh the cons? One can only guess
Another one: The Good: Dana and I get to experience a new culture in a way that only those who live in it can. A truly unique experience. The Bad: We get to wake up every morning and know that something as simple as driving to the store and buying a gallon of milk will conclude in a stressful, day-altering ordeal.
And one more just for me: The Good: I get to hike in the mountains, I will learn to ski, and I may take up serious mountain biking (not just riding a "mountain" bike around Illinois). The Bad: As I sit here in bed awake on what just became my birthday, I know exactly what I would be doing if I were home. I'd have my backpack meticulously prepared for the last day of bowhunting before shotgun season, one of my favorite days of the year. And on my birthday to boot.
So, as I write this, I just took the bite of tenderloin that made me question why I didn't order the double. I'm really doing some questioning. Stick with what you know and you'll always be happy even if you are ignorant. That's what the voices are saying right now; however, rest assured that I have no doubts that I'll soon flip flop back. It could be something big, like my upcoming weekend trip to Barcelona or even something small, like finding a new delicious and only slightly stinky cheese on my next trip to the market. As soon as tomorrow, I'll have reason to be thrilled again. The problem is that I know I'll swing back the other way eventually. I guess what I'm trying to articulate, albeit poorly, is that it's tough. It's tough to keep being the same somewhat sane person you've always been while enduring this fun yet difficult experience. It's tough feeling like your emotions are attached to a yo-yo that just crossed paths with one of the Smothers Brothers on crack. So, if you happen to chat with one of us and we seem down, just call back the next day and it'll all be better.
Footnote:
Sorry for the somewhat serious blog, but as I mentioned before, this is my therapy. Don't read if you don't want to, but it's now 1:33 am and I feel much better than I did an hour ago. Good night.
I mention Krekel's not because I would right now,trade a kidney for my aforementioned "usual", but because this popped into my mind as the best way to describe how I am feeling about our current situation. France tastes like that giant pork tenderloin on a tiny bun slathered with miracle whip or that overly meaty triple cheeseburger. With one bite I'm doing my best Rachel Ray tasting moan and with the next I'm mad at myself for not sticking with the tried and true double. It's the same here. One minute I'm in absolute shock as I drink coffee and watch the sunrise over the Alps, then I step outside and the cool crisp air reminds me of fall and all the things I love about this season.
The hardest question we are asked by friends and family is also the simplest and most common, "So, how do you like France?". This question is difficult because it intended to be answered in one short sentence or possible even a paragrh, and theoretically, it could be. The problem is that there is more too it than a person can realize at first glance. "Yes", we love France, but "Yes" we miss home. It seems that for every positive about the move, there is an equal and opposite negative.
For instance. The Good: Our kids are learing a second language and culture which could in turn have a very positive impact on them and their future. The Bad: They had to leave friends and family to gain this experience and we know that in a few years they will have to leave another group of new friends. Long term, will the pros outweigh the cons? One can only guess
Another one: The Good: Dana and I get to experience a new culture in a way that only those who live in it can. A truly unique experience. The Bad: We get to wake up every morning and know that something as simple as driving to the store and buying a gallon of milk will conclude in a stressful, day-altering ordeal.
And one more just for me: The Good: I get to hike in the mountains, I will learn to ski, and I may take up serious mountain biking (not just riding a "mountain" bike around Illinois). The Bad: As I sit here in bed awake on what just became my birthday, I know exactly what I would be doing if I were home. I'd have my backpack meticulously prepared for the last day of bowhunting before shotgun season, one of my favorite days of the year. And on my birthday to boot.
So, as I write this, I just took the bite of tenderloin that made me question why I didn't order the double. I'm really doing some questioning. Stick with what you know and you'll always be happy even if you are ignorant. That's what the voices are saying right now; however, rest assured that I have no doubts that I'll soon flip flop back. It could be something big, like my upcoming weekend trip to Barcelona or even something small, like finding a new delicious and only slightly stinky cheese on my next trip to the market. As soon as tomorrow, I'll have reason to be thrilled again. The problem is that I know I'll swing back the other way eventually. I guess what I'm trying to articulate, albeit poorly, is that it's tough. It's tough to keep being the same somewhat sane person you've always been while enduring this fun yet difficult experience. It's tough feeling like your emotions are attached to a yo-yo that just crossed paths with one of the Smothers Brothers on crack. So, if you happen to chat with one of us and we seem down, just call back the next day and it'll all be better.
Footnote:
Sorry for the somewhat serious blog, but as I mentioned before, this is my therapy. Don't read if you don't want to, but it's now 1:33 am and I feel much better than I did an hour ago. Good night.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Are you a follower?
Please notice that I added a gadget on the right tool bar. If you like to read our blog, become a "follower". You can leave your name or be anonymous, doesn't matter, but I like knowing that someone is reading this stuff.
Also, I updated the website w/ some new pics, so give it a look.
Peace, out!
Also, I updated the website w/ some new pics, so give it a look.
Peace, out!
Nothing better to do
You know that feeling you have after you've been sick and you're starting to get a little better. You don't feel good enough to get up and do anything, but are tired of sitting around doing nothing. That's me right now. So, I decided I'd write a blog about some stories that I'd forgotten to tell.
The Chaperone
Since, I don't have a job. (That still sounds weird) I try to help out when and where I can. This included accompanying Audrey's class to their weekly swimming trip during the first quarter. On Tuesday afternoons, the first and second grade classes would go to the pool at a nearby University. They actually separate the kids into four proficiency levels where the kids work to reach the next level. It's actually refreshing to see physical education taken a little more seriously. This interest shows in the adults, almost every adult I've met is regularly involved in some sort of physical activity.
Back to me being the chaperone. My understanding was that my job was to simply usher the boys through the dressing room as quickly as possible. Trying to get 6 and 7 year olds to do anything quickly is never easy, but it's even more difficult when you can't speak their language. I knew "Allez" and "Vite". Go and quick. It worked for a while until they realize that I couldn't really speak the language. I'm pretty sure one of them was a real smart @&& and I don't think I want to know what he was saying.
Then there was the little boy who looked at it as a chance to try out his English. He would try random words that didn't make much sense, but it was cute, so I'd try to talk to him some. Then as we were getting off the bus on a Tuesday afternoon, he looked at me, grinned, and said, "Yesterday is Thursday". I tried not to laugh too hard.
The Halloween Party
This actually occured several weeks back. The schools are on a two week break over Halloween which means that most of the Americans take the opportunity to travel. From what I understand it's probably the biggest shindig of the year. At close to 100 people, I'm sure that it is.
It is of course a costume party for kids and adults alike, if you like. Originally, I planned to throw on my Urlacher jersey and call it a night. Then, about a week before the party the woman hosting, who to say the least is meticulous in her planning, asked if I'd be willing to help out. She wanted me to dress up as some sort of monster and create a game where I "scare" the kids. I agreed, since, again I don't have a job, I try to help out when and wherever. One thing led to another and I decided to dress as the Incredible Hulk. I figured it was easy enough and all the kids would like it.
Unfortunately, this meant I had to locate body paint. I asked around and was pointed to a party store. I looked around for a few minutes, hoping to locate it on my own. No such luck, I was going to have to ask. I'd looked up the words for body paint earlier, but that was only part of it. Determining that I wanted green body paint was easy enough, but then she asked me how much I needed. Having never covered my body in green paint, I didn't know the answer. So, I asked for help. She asked me what I wanted it for or what I wanted to be. When I replied "Le Hulk Incroyable" her amusement was clear. Apparently she had never advised a 6'4 man on covering his body with paint either, so she had to enlist the help of her manager. Before suggesting two full containers he also expressed his amusement. So two tubes of green paint, some black face paint, a wig, and several Euros later I headed out.
Using an old shirt and pants and Dana's help. Here was the end result.
The Chaperone
Since, I don't have a job. (That still sounds weird) I try to help out when and where I can. This included accompanying Audrey's class to their weekly swimming trip during the first quarter. On Tuesday afternoons, the first and second grade classes would go to the pool at a nearby University. They actually separate the kids into four proficiency levels where the kids work to reach the next level. It's actually refreshing to see physical education taken a little more seriously. This interest shows in the adults, almost every adult I've met is regularly involved in some sort of physical activity.
Back to me being the chaperone. My understanding was that my job was to simply usher the boys through the dressing room as quickly as possible. Trying to get 6 and 7 year olds to do anything quickly is never easy, but it's even more difficult when you can't speak their language. I knew "Allez" and "Vite". Go and quick. It worked for a while until they realize that I couldn't really speak the language. I'm pretty sure one of them was a real smart @&& and I don't think I want to know what he was saying.
Then there was the little boy who looked at it as a chance to try out his English. He would try random words that didn't make much sense, but it was cute, so I'd try to talk to him some. Then as we were getting off the bus on a Tuesday afternoon, he looked at me, grinned, and said, "Yesterday is Thursday". I tried not to laugh too hard.
The Halloween Party
This actually occured several weeks back. The schools are on a two week break over Halloween which means that most of the Americans take the opportunity to travel. From what I understand it's probably the biggest shindig of the year. At close to 100 people, I'm sure that it is.
It is of course a costume party for kids and adults alike, if you like. Originally, I planned to throw on my Urlacher jersey and call it a night. Then, about a week before the party the woman hosting, who to say the least is meticulous in her planning, asked if I'd be willing to help out. She wanted me to dress up as some sort of monster and create a game where I "scare" the kids. I agreed, since, again I don't have a job, I try to help out when and wherever. One thing led to another and I decided to dress as the Incredible Hulk. I figured it was easy enough and all the kids would like it.
Unfortunately, this meant I had to locate body paint. I asked around and was pointed to a party store. I looked around for a few minutes, hoping to locate it on my own. No such luck, I was going to have to ask. I'd looked up the words for body paint earlier, but that was only part of it. Determining that I wanted green body paint was easy enough, but then she asked me how much I needed. Having never covered my body in green paint, I didn't know the answer. So, I asked for help. She asked me what I wanted it for or what I wanted to be. When I replied "Le Hulk Incroyable" her amusement was clear. Apparently she had never advised a 6'4 man on covering his body with paint either, so she had to enlist the help of her manager. Before suggesting two full containers he also expressed his amusement. So two tubes of green paint, some black face paint, a wig, and several Euros later I headed out.
Using an old shirt and pants and Dana's help. Here was the end result.
Now I'd forgotten that the plan was to park at the local parking lot and walk a couple hundred yards through town to the party house. At first, I was a little embarassed, then I thought, "Who could I possibly run into that I know?". The answer: Madame Mirabelle, Audrey's teacher. To her credit, she didn't seem too shocked and simply asked if we were going to a Halloween party. I sure hope so.
Now, as it turned out the hostess had enough planned that my "game" and costume weren't needed at all. Which means that I was simply the guy who takes Halloween way too seriously. What you must also remember is that this was my first time meeting roughly 50% of the guests. I have met several of these folks since and needed to re-introduce myself. Just a great first impression, don't you think?
The hills are alive.....
Upon returning from Normandy we could hear strange and constant bell ringing when we stepped outside. The next morning we finally saw the source of the mysterious noise. Sheep and goats covered the opposite slope. Probably a couple hundred of them. Apparently it is their winter pasture.
Actually they make for some good entertainment. Sometimes we watch the guard dogs that stay with and protect the sheep at all times. They did not appreciate the kids, myself, and Kensie getting close enough for some good pictures. All six of the large dogs quickly oreintated to our position and barked convincingly. It's also quite funny when it rains. The bell ringing becomes less often but is broken intermittently by more erratic bell ringing as the sheep shake off the rain.
But my favorite is to watch in the morning when the shepherd arrives. The guard dogs immediately "take five" and hed for a sunny spot and a nap. The border collies take over and immediately start to cram all the animals into a spot much smaller than you would think possible. I don't know what the shepherds do every day, but I've grown fond of watching them every morning over coffee.
Lyon
We finally made it to Lyon yesterday. It's only about an hour away but we just hadn't yet managed to make it there yet. Lyon is considered the "gastronomic capital" of France, making it either extremely delicious or pretentious, or both. Our first stop was a market along the river. Now we've been to several French markets and all of them together might equal everything we saw at this one. I simply cannot describe it. It had to be a quarter of a mile long filled with nothing but food, fresh oysters, veggies, jams, fruits, meats, nuts, mushrooms of every kind.
Unfortunately, we weren't there to shop for groceries, but we did buy some things to snack on. Our next destination was a bouchon. Buchons are a type of cafe specific to Lyon. They serve the cuisine that has made famous (or infamous, depending on your taste). Some of the local delicacies are tripe (cow stomach), andouillette (sausage of pig intestines), and pike quennelles (basically puffy fish meatloaf). Foolishly, I thought we would have to search to find a bouchon. In reality, we discovered why Lyon is the gastrnomic capital. The sheer number of these bouchons in old Lyon is amazing, and they all serve the three aforementioned dishes along with, to Dana's relief, some other less offensive dishes.
We finally closed our eyes and picked a bouchon. It was like I imagined it would be; a small cafe with red and white tiled floors, one waitress and a chef. As I have written before, it has been my goal to try local delicacies whenever possible, meaning that I basically was going to choose between the three cow stomach, pig intestines or puffy fish meatloaf. Being my first time in Lyon, I went with the safest of the three, the quenelle. Actually it was very good, next time I think I'll try the tripe.
I'm sure it goes without saying that Dana did not partake in any of these. She enjoys french cuisine quite a lot, as long as its made with relatively familiar ingredients.
The only problem is that this was yesterday, and it was upon return that I started feeling sick. So, that means it may be a while before I feel like returning to Lyon for some traditional bouchon fare.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Our Normandy Invasion
UPDATED
New pictures posted under the "Vacation" tab on our website.
No school on Wednesdays and frequent breaks in the school calendar takes some getting used to, but it's easy to do so when it means you can take off for a week long family vacation in the middle of the fall. So, that's exactly what we did last week. I have a list of places that I want to go while we are in Europe. Paris was at the top of the list, but Normandy wasn't far behind. So we packed up the car and headed out last Monday.
Now, France is something like 17 times smaller than the U.S., but driving from one side of the country to the other is still no small thing. My GPS told me it would be 7.5 hours; however, my GPS doesn't have to stop to pee or eat or have any children. Also, it doesn't account for traffic, which was certainly encountered around Paris. Because of this, I thought that I could surely find a better way around the City of Lights. Forget the fact that I had never driven a car within 300 miles of Paris. Needless to say, it didn't work out to well. The bright side is I doubled my experience of driving around Paris, just on the way out. Long story short. It took 11 hours to reach the tiny town of Villers-Bocage, just outside of Caen. This left us enough time to quickly explore the ancient town of Bayeux before supper, which in Normandy, the land of cream and apples, is not to be taken lightly. We would eat well over the next week.
Our room at the Bed aand Breakfast really nice. Imagine a Bed and Breakfast in France built in 1787 , that's what it looked like. At least it looked exactly like I thought it would. For the most part this was good, but there were a couple of problems, mostly for me. When I layed down that first night I quickly noticed that I was going to have to get creative with my sleeping style because my 6'4 frame just didn't quite fit into the 6'2 bed. This would certainly have been more manageable if not for the foot board, which is probably loose now after the numerous times I tried to stretch out in the middle of the night. Other features of the room more fitting to vertically challenged folks were the light fixtures and the bathroom entrance. Both had clearance of about 6 foot or less. Everyone tells me that people just weren't as tall back then. I guess that could be true, but even if there were the occassional tall fellow, I'm sure he knocked himself brainless before he was able to reproduce, thus ensuring that short folks live on. Now that we tall people have made a breakthrough and moved to more suitable habitat we only need to suffer such concusisoning type blows at the rate of 10 times per day while on vacation to old Bed and Breakfasts. Actually the entrance the bathroom was so low that I hit my neck once. Not kidding. This not withstanding, I really liked our accomodations.
The next morning we were treated to a bit of an oxymoron- Petit dejeuner a La Ferme du Pressoir. La Ferme du Pressoir was the name of our Bed and Breakfast and petit dejeuner is the french word for breakfast. Literally it means "little lunch" but here, it was anything but. It certainly wasn't American fare but the sheer quantity of food meant that it wasn't typical French either. Pastries, breads, butter, cheeses, cereals, fruit, omeletes, cure meats, yogurt, fresh coffee and juice. It was more than enough to keep you going for the day. What made it even better was the presence of our host, Odile. With her sparkling personality and genuine concern for your comfort, you hardly noticed that she didn't speak a word of English. I quickly realized that I've made great strides in the language as I was able to talk to her with very few problems. (And don't let Dana lie to you, she's progressing as well. She may not speak much yet, but she can understand conversations which is no small feat).
For our first full day, it was raining. So, we decided to hit the Caen War Museum and memorial. It featured a great video, a nice museum and a great gift shop. It was a good sign as the kids seemed to enjoy the museum. Obviously I could have spent all day here, but I was happy that the kids showed interest at all. Actually they ask some very insightful questions. Unfortunately some of them are very difficult to answer. What do you tell a kid when they ask you, "Well, why was Hitler so mean?" Sometimes it made me sad to have to even try to answer their questions.
It cleared up a little after a quick lunch at a bistro (not a common occurrence) so we decided to tour the apple country a.k.a Pays d'Auge. In this "county" their is a scenic route labeled the "Route de cidre" . It featured probably 5 different apple farms that produced a variety of apple drinks: Apple juice, Pommeau (basically apple wine), Apple cider (not like ours, not many spices but sparkling with a small alcohol content), and Calvados (Apple Brandy with the same name of the overall area). The odd thing is that they don't sell apple butter, apple sauce, apple preserves or anything that can't be drunk. Speaking of drunk, it would be easy to do on this tour, if you so chose. I did some quick math. 5 apple farms x 4 or 5 samples at each farm (1 of apple cider, no big deal; 1 of pommeau, still relatively mild stuff; 2 or 3 of their different types of Calvados each at around 40% alcohol)= an irresponsible chamber of commerce for advertising this as a "driving" tour. Needless to say, we didnt' follow this formula, but I'm sure there are those that do.
After we'd seen enough of the apples we decided to drive to the port town of Honfleur. Just before our exit we noticed ahead of us the beautiful new bridge connecting two port towns previously seperated by the harbor. The first being Honfleur and the second being Le Harve. It is so big and interesting that you can't help but want to drive across it. So we did. Apparently, big and interesting also means expensive; either that or they know you'd rather pay to cross the bridge than drive all the way around the harbor. 15 minutes and 10 Euros in tolls later and we were back exactly where we started from. This would have been more of a shock if we hadn't driven across France the day before. The French like to brag about their superior highway system. It may be but it doesn't cost me 50 Euros to drive from Chicago to Kansas City.
So, after our detour, we reached Honfleur. Probably the most quaint little town I have ever seen. It's a bit touristy, but no one cares. It reminded me of Sweet Haven from the 80's Popeye movie. Not much to do but walk around and shop, but it was fun. It was also nearing sundown, near the ocean, on a rainy day. Like we did, you might think that a coastal area wouldn't be colder than a mountain town, from which we came. You'd be wrong. It was cold. Real cold. Most evenings got down into the 30's with wind and rain. For some reason I threw in a moderately heavy jacket just before we left, but Dana did not. Since the town was good for nothing other than looking at and shopping in, I bought a nice winter coat (which I needed anyway). Dana looked but couldnt' find one she "really liked". As she shivered the rest of the evening it was easy where each of us stood in the "Form vs. Function" debate. 24 hours later she finally found a garment worthy of keeping her warm. Trust me, it's funnier now, than it was at the time.
While in Honfleur we ate at a seafood restaurant, actually I think all restaurants in Honfleur serve seafood. The French have a way of food sounding appetizing no matter what it is. Escargot? snails. Tripe de la Maison? Beef stomach It goes on an on. Consequently, I'd always wanted to try an Assiette de la fruit de mer. A plate of fruts of the sea. I knew it was dicey, but I wanted to try it. I'm not a huge fan of raw oysters, but they're ok. These were easily my favorite thing on this plate and not because they were so much better than any other oyster that I've ever had (even though they were). Welks, conkels, and other various shellfish and tiny crustaceans adorned my plate. It looked like the resutls of my kids having a scavenger hunt on the beach. Next to it were two condiments that I had no idea how to use and on what. One tasted like pure vinegar and the other like sour butter. I tried everything but finally decided to punt and left half my plate uneaten. You know how crab legs are really good, but you have to put in a lot of effort. Imagine all that work with a payoff of cold chewy sea flavored snot. Exactly.
Day 2: Wednesday. We woke up to the same breakfast and the same weather. Seeing the weather here turned out to be as big a history lesson as seeing the beaches. It makes it easy to understand how rain could hold up an invasion. For our week it was either raining or going to rain at almost every moment. So, we headed to the Battle of Nomandy museum in Bayeux. I didn't see a number but I would put the over/under on WW II related museums in Normandy at 400. They are everywhere. Some are obvious dives others are outstanding. We stuck the the highly recommended ones, like this one. It had some very cool pieces left from the war and the kids really enjoyed it. It also featured another video, after which I began to worry about Lane. I think it's good he learns this history, but the way he now says "Germans" is a little disturbing. I've got some work to do before we visit the Motherland.
It cleared up after the museum so we decided it was time to see the beaches. We started with Omaha. My brother asked me if I got choked up. Honestly I didn't. The beach is so peaceful and tranquil that it is almost impossible to comprehend what happened there. The beaches are functional. There are restaurants up and down, people take their dogs for a walk, etc. It doesn't seem possible that they are the same place.
Utah was even more that way. There is an oyster farm off the beach. We visited at low tide and tractors were out harvesting their shellfish. It isn't until you move inland several yards that there is some realism. Plenty of German bunkers still exist. When you look down on the beaches from a bunker it becomes easier to understand.
The Airborne Museum in St. Mere Eglise was next. This one was great. Being a big fan of Band of Brothers and the history of the 101st. We all enjoyed this one. As a reward for behaving at the museums we often let the kids pick out a small souvenier. Never wanting to miss an opportunity, I try to make it be something educational. Lane picked out a dog tag, which we talked about. Audrey bought a cricket like the noisemakers used by the 101st. I really enjoyed these souveniers.
Dinner on Day 2 was back in Bayeux at a restaurant recommended by our host. Dinner in France is always an experience. It doesn't start till 7:00. It doesn't matter that you've been out all day and it gets dark before 6:00. Too far to go back to the B&B and no other choices we were forced to kill time on several occasions. It's not always as bad as it was on this night. We were waiting when the door opened at 7:00. At 9:15 I asked for the bill before they even asked about dessert, which we paid for (you have to understand how ordering works in France). We're used to dinners being longer, but this was terrible. Even the French people were getting ticked off. The only party that didn't care was a group of drunk and boisterous men from some part of Eastern Europre (I couldn't pinpoint the language). The already frazzled waitress did not appreciate the large drunk man kissing her cheek 3 times. 4 months ago, I would have found this funny. It's odd how quickly you can adjust to and understand a culture.
Day 3. Finally a break in the weather. It didn't rain this morning. It snowed. We headed south for an hour towards Mount St. Michael and I drove through snow the whole way. I can't describe this abbey on top of a mountain. You simply must check out the picutes on my website. It rises up out of nowhere. Now, all the tour books warn you that it is an extremely touristy area. The only consellation is that it has been a site of pilgrimage for hundreds and hundreds of years. Meaning that it has been a "tourist" trap for hundreds and hundreds of years. This is small consellation when you are walking up a street lined with souvenir shops barely 10 feet wide. Luckily for me and the crowd around me October is much less crowded than the summer. Had it been crowded I'm sure a bout of claustrophobia would have been possible. The abbey itself is still functional and worth the run through the gauntlet.
As it was a long walk to the Abbey, through the abbey and back down, we again promised a souvenir for good behavior. Unfortunately, my idea of educational purchases was lost. Lane decided on a midieval plastic axe that made, what turned out to be, very loud noises. Audrey chose a large rubber plastic pencil. It's nice to know that some things traverse international boundaries. Another of these international consistencies is price gouging for "regional" cuisine. Apparently there is a special fluffy omelette that has been made at Mount St. Micheal for years. At 30 Euros for some eggs and cheese, we took their word for it.
We moseyed our way back to Bayeux to take in some more history from another era. The Bayeux Tapestery tells the story of William the Conqueror from something like 1066. It's basically a 200 foot long storybook made out of stitches. I was worried about the kids in this one, but as it turns out it was one of their favorites. They had audioguides specifically for the kids. Audrey loved it and hung on every word. Lane did better than expected. As soon as it seemed he was about to lose interest the story would mention men with their heads chopped off or a man with an arrow in his eye. Great.
Afterwards, we headed back to our tiny village for some quick and easy pizza. Unfortuantely the sign out front informed me that the pizza place was closed for a week for a one day holiday, Tousson. Had I been new to France, I would have found that odd. Luckily, one of those really rude Frenhmen you hear about happened to see me checking out the sign. He came up to my window and explained to me that there was a second pizza place around the corner. What a jerk!
For the start of Day 4, our final day, we were greeted to an absence of rain. So, we took the opportunity to look around the farm on which we were staying. Odile took the kids around to see the horses, cows, goats, and chickens. We also picked apples of their trees and ate them. The kids loved it. Audrey even collected an egg for breakfast the next day.
For the final day we decided to drive around and hit a few more D-day sites. We visited Pegasus Bridge and the final 3 beaches: Sword, Juno, and Gold. Then we drove to see the remains of the artifical harbour created by the Allies at Arromanches-les-Bains. We also toured some still intact German batteries. It's amazing to think that these werre constructed up and down the coast of France. They are massive. Almost as amazing was that they were open to the public and free of charge. We just walked around and played in them.
We also visited the American War Cemetary overlooking Omaha beach. All those emotions that were absent while visiting the beach came forward when I saw all those crosses overlooking the beach. This was another site where I was worried about the kids, but they did well. It worked well that we visited the cemetary last. After seeing all the war related videos, museums, and artifacts it was easier to explain the cost of freedom. I may be crazy, but I really think they started to get it. I know I was humbled to be there. Dana described it as both the best and the worst place she'd ever been. I had to agree.
We headed out the next morning after a quick breakfast. It was raining again. Not just in Normandy, but in France. It rained all the way home. The French are very practical and logical The speed limit on the autoroute is 130 km/h unless it's raining then it drops down to 110 km/h. In theory it just makes sense. In practice it works as well as it would in the U.S. Numbers are objective, but rain is subjective. It could always be raining harder, so surely the 110 is for that situation and not this. The result is high speeds, wet roads, and poor visibility. It was a real nail-biter on the way home. The good news is that the kids slept and I trusted the GPS. We made it home in 9.5 hours. Just in time to get a take out pizza and hit the couch. All told we put roughly 2700 km (that's 1700 miles) on our VW Touran.
The only odd part of the trip home was our spotting of a red 1973 Grande Mustang. I rarely see American cars over here and I had never seen anything older than a 1980. To see a car identical to the one I had in high school and college was surreal. Just to see that car driven by a Parisian was hard to comprehend.
New pictures posted under the "Vacation" tab on our website.
No school on Wednesdays and frequent breaks in the school calendar takes some getting used to, but it's easy to do so when it means you can take off for a week long family vacation in the middle of the fall. So, that's exactly what we did last week. I have a list of places that I want to go while we are in Europe. Paris was at the top of the list, but Normandy wasn't far behind. So we packed up the car and headed out last Monday.
Now, France is something like 17 times smaller than the U.S., but driving from one side of the country to the other is still no small thing. My GPS told me it would be 7.5 hours; however, my GPS doesn't have to stop to pee or eat or have any children. Also, it doesn't account for traffic, which was certainly encountered around Paris. Because of this, I thought that I could surely find a better way around the City of Lights. Forget the fact that I had never driven a car within 300 miles of Paris. Needless to say, it didn't work out to well. The bright side is I doubled my experience of driving around Paris, just on the way out. Long story short. It took 11 hours to reach the tiny town of Villers-Bocage, just outside of Caen. This left us enough time to quickly explore the ancient town of Bayeux before supper, which in Normandy, the land of cream and apples, is not to be taken lightly. We would eat well over the next week.
Our room at the Bed aand Breakfast really nice. Imagine a Bed and Breakfast in France built in 1787 , that's what it looked like. At least it looked exactly like I thought it would. For the most part this was good, but there were a couple of problems, mostly for me. When I layed down that first night I quickly noticed that I was going to have to get creative with my sleeping style because my 6'4 frame just didn't quite fit into the 6'2 bed. This would certainly have been more manageable if not for the foot board, which is probably loose now after the numerous times I tried to stretch out in the middle of the night. Other features of the room more fitting to vertically challenged folks were the light fixtures and the bathroom entrance. Both had clearance of about 6 foot or less. Everyone tells me that people just weren't as tall back then. I guess that could be true, but even if there were the occassional tall fellow, I'm sure he knocked himself brainless before he was able to reproduce, thus ensuring that short folks live on. Now that we tall people have made a breakthrough and moved to more suitable habitat we only need to suffer such concusisoning type blows at the rate of 10 times per day while on vacation to old Bed and Breakfasts. Actually the entrance the bathroom was so low that I hit my neck once. Not kidding. This not withstanding, I really liked our accomodations.
The next morning we were treated to a bit of an oxymoron- Petit dejeuner a La Ferme du Pressoir. La Ferme du Pressoir was the name of our Bed and Breakfast and petit dejeuner is the french word for breakfast. Literally it means "little lunch" but here, it was anything but. It certainly wasn't American fare but the sheer quantity of food meant that it wasn't typical French either. Pastries, breads, butter, cheeses, cereals, fruit, omeletes, cure meats, yogurt, fresh coffee and juice. It was more than enough to keep you going for the day. What made it even better was the presence of our host, Odile. With her sparkling personality and genuine concern for your comfort, you hardly noticed that she didn't speak a word of English. I quickly realized that I've made great strides in the language as I was able to talk to her with very few problems. (And don't let Dana lie to you, she's progressing as well. She may not speak much yet, but she can understand conversations which is no small feat).
For our first full day, it was raining. So, we decided to hit the Caen War Museum and memorial. It featured a great video, a nice museum and a great gift shop. It was a good sign as the kids seemed to enjoy the museum. Obviously I could have spent all day here, but I was happy that the kids showed interest at all. Actually they ask some very insightful questions. Unfortunately some of them are very difficult to answer. What do you tell a kid when they ask you, "Well, why was Hitler so mean?" Sometimes it made me sad to have to even try to answer their questions.
It cleared up a little after a quick lunch at a bistro (not a common occurrence) so we decided to tour the apple country a.k.a Pays d'Auge. In this "county" their is a scenic route labeled the "Route de cidre" . It featured probably 5 different apple farms that produced a variety of apple drinks: Apple juice, Pommeau (basically apple wine), Apple cider (not like ours, not many spices but sparkling with a small alcohol content), and Calvados (Apple Brandy with the same name of the overall area). The odd thing is that they don't sell apple butter, apple sauce, apple preserves or anything that can't be drunk. Speaking of drunk, it would be easy to do on this tour, if you so chose. I did some quick math. 5 apple farms x 4 or 5 samples at each farm (1 of apple cider, no big deal; 1 of pommeau, still relatively mild stuff; 2 or 3 of their different types of Calvados each at around 40% alcohol)= an irresponsible chamber of commerce for advertising this as a "driving" tour. Needless to say, we didnt' follow this formula, but I'm sure there are those that do.
After we'd seen enough of the apples we decided to drive to the port town of Honfleur. Just before our exit we noticed ahead of us the beautiful new bridge connecting two port towns previously seperated by the harbor. The first being Honfleur and the second being Le Harve. It is so big and interesting that you can't help but want to drive across it. So we did. Apparently, big and interesting also means expensive; either that or they know you'd rather pay to cross the bridge than drive all the way around the harbor. 15 minutes and 10 Euros in tolls later and we were back exactly where we started from. This would have been more of a shock if we hadn't driven across France the day before. The French like to brag about their superior highway system. It may be but it doesn't cost me 50 Euros to drive from Chicago to Kansas City.
So, after our detour, we reached Honfleur. Probably the most quaint little town I have ever seen. It's a bit touristy, but no one cares. It reminded me of Sweet Haven from the 80's Popeye movie. Not much to do but walk around and shop, but it was fun. It was also nearing sundown, near the ocean, on a rainy day. Like we did, you might think that a coastal area wouldn't be colder than a mountain town, from which we came. You'd be wrong. It was cold. Real cold. Most evenings got down into the 30's with wind and rain. For some reason I threw in a moderately heavy jacket just before we left, but Dana did not. Since the town was good for nothing other than looking at and shopping in, I bought a nice winter coat (which I needed anyway). Dana looked but couldnt' find one she "really liked". As she shivered the rest of the evening it was easy where each of us stood in the "Form vs. Function" debate. 24 hours later she finally found a garment worthy of keeping her warm. Trust me, it's funnier now, than it was at the time.
While in Honfleur we ate at a seafood restaurant, actually I think all restaurants in Honfleur serve seafood. The French have a way of food sounding appetizing no matter what it is. Escargot? snails. Tripe de la Maison? Beef stomach It goes on an on. Consequently, I'd always wanted to try an Assiette de la fruit de mer. A plate of fruts of the sea. I knew it was dicey, but I wanted to try it. I'm not a huge fan of raw oysters, but they're ok. These were easily my favorite thing on this plate and not because they were so much better than any other oyster that I've ever had (even though they were). Welks, conkels, and other various shellfish and tiny crustaceans adorned my plate. It looked like the resutls of my kids having a scavenger hunt on the beach. Next to it were two condiments that I had no idea how to use and on what. One tasted like pure vinegar and the other like sour butter. I tried everything but finally decided to punt and left half my plate uneaten. You know how crab legs are really good, but you have to put in a lot of effort. Imagine all that work with a payoff of cold chewy sea flavored snot. Exactly.
Day 2: Wednesday. We woke up to the same breakfast and the same weather. Seeing the weather here turned out to be as big a history lesson as seeing the beaches. It makes it easy to understand how rain could hold up an invasion. For our week it was either raining or going to rain at almost every moment. So, we headed to the Battle of Nomandy museum in Bayeux. I didn't see a number but I would put the over/under on WW II related museums in Normandy at 400. They are everywhere. Some are obvious dives others are outstanding. We stuck the the highly recommended ones, like this one. It had some very cool pieces left from the war and the kids really enjoyed it. It also featured another video, after which I began to worry about Lane. I think it's good he learns this history, but the way he now says "Germans" is a little disturbing. I've got some work to do before we visit the Motherland.
It cleared up after the museum so we decided it was time to see the beaches. We started with Omaha. My brother asked me if I got choked up. Honestly I didn't. The beach is so peaceful and tranquil that it is almost impossible to comprehend what happened there. The beaches are functional. There are restaurants up and down, people take their dogs for a walk, etc. It doesn't seem possible that they are the same place.
Utah was even more that way. There is an oyster farm off the beach. We visited at low tide and tractors were out harvesting their shellfish. It isn't until you move inland several yards that there is some realism. Plenty of German bunkers still exist. When you look down on the beaches from a bunker it becomes easier to understand.
The Airborne Museum in St. Mere Eglise was next. This one was great. Being a big fan of Band of Brothers and the history of the 101st. We all enjoyed this one. As a reward for behaving at the museums we often let the kids pick out a small souvenier. Never wanting to miss an opportunity, I try to make it be something educational. Lane picked out a dog tag, which we talked about. Audrey bought a cricket like the noisemakers used by the 101st. I really enjoyed these souveniers.
Dinner on Day 2 was back in Bayeux at a restaurant recommended by our host. Dinner in France is always an experience. It doesn't start till 7:00. It doesn't matter that you've been out all day and it gets dark before 6:00. Too far to go back to the B&B and no other choices we were forced to kill time on several occasions. It's not always as bad as it was on this night. We were waiting when the door opened at 7:00. At 9:15 I asked for the bill before they even asked about dessert, which we paid for (you have to understand how ordering works in France). We're used to dinners being longer, but this was terrible. Even the French people were getting ticked off. The only party that didn't care was a group of drunk and boisterous men from some part of Eastern Europre (I couldn't pinpoint the language). The already frazzled waitress did not appreciate the large drunk man kissing her cheek 3 times. 4 months ago, I would have found this funny. It's odd how quickly you can adjust to and understand a culture.
Day 3. Finally a break in the weather. It didn't rain this morning. It snowed. We headed south for an hour towards Mount St. Michael and I drove through snow the whole way. I can't describe this abbey on top of a mountain. You simply must check out the picutes on my website. It rises up out of nowhere. Now, all the tour books warn you that it is an extremely touristy area. The only consellation is that it has been a site of pilgrimage for hundreds and hundreds of years. Meaning that it has been a "tourist" trap for hundreds and hundreds of years. This is small consellation when you are walking up a street lined with souvenir shops barely 10 feet wide. Luckily for me and the crowd around me October is much less crowded than the summer. Had it been crowded I'm sure a bout of claustrophobia would have been possible. The abbey itself is still functional and worth the run through the gauntlet.
As it was a long walk to the Abbey, through the abbey and back down, we again promised a souvenir for good behavior. Unfortunately, my idea of educational purchases was lost. Lane decided on a midieval plastic axe that made, what turned out to be, very loud noises. Audrey chose a large rubber plastic pencil. It's nice to know that some things traverse international boundaries. Another of these international consistencies is price gouging for "regional" cuisine. Apparently there is a special fluffy omelette that has been made at Mount St. Micheal for years. At 30 Euros for some eggs and cheese, we took their word for it.
We moseyed our way back to Bayeux to take in some more history from another era. The Bayeux Tapestery tells the story of William the Conqueror from something like 1066. It's basically a 200 foot long storybook made out of stitches. I was worried about the kids in this one, but as it turns out it was one of their favorites. They had audioguides specifically for the kids. Audrey loved it and hung on every word. Lane did better than expected. As soon as it seemed he was about to lose interest the story would mention men with their heads chopped off or a man with an arrow in his eye. Great.
Afterwards, we headed back to our tiny village for some quick and easy pizza. Unfortuantely the sign out front informed me that the pizza place was closed for a week for a one day holiday, Tousson. Had I been new to France, I would have found that odd. Luckily, one of those really rude Frenhmen you hear about happened to see me checking out the sign. He came up to my window and explained to me that there was a second pizza place around the corner. What a jerk!
For the start of Day 4, our final day, we were greeted to an absence of rain. So, we took the opportunity to look around the farm on which we were staying. Odile took the kids around to see the horses, cows, goats, and chickens. We also picked apples of their trees and ate them. The kids loved it. Audrey even collected an egg for breakfast the next day.
For the final day we decided to drive around and hit a few more D-day sites. We visited Pegasus Bridge and the final 3 beaches: Sword, Juno, and Gold. Then we drove to see the remains of the artifical harbour created by the Allies at Arromanches-les-Bains. We also toured some still intact German batteries. It's amazing to think that these werre constructed up and down the coast of France. They are massive. Almost as amazing was that they were open to the public and free of charge. We just walked around and played in them.
We also visited the American War Cemetary overlooking Omaha beach. All those emotions that were absent while visiting the beach came forward when I saw all those crosses overlooking the beach. This was another site where I was worried about the kids, but they did well. It worked well that we visited the cemetary last. After seeing all the war related videos, museums, and artifacts it was easier to explain the cost of freedom. I may be crazy, but I really think they started to get it. I know I was humbled to be there. Dana described it as both the best and the worst place she'd ever been. I had to agree.
We headed out the next morning after a quick breakfast. It was raining again. Not just in Normandy, but in France. It rained all the way home. The French are very practical and logical The speed limit on the autoroute is 130 km/h unless it's raining then it drops down to 110 km/h. In theory it just makes sense. In practice it works as well as it would in the U.S. Numbers are objective, but rain is subjective. It could always be raining harder, so surely the 110 is for that situation and not this. The result is high speeds, wet roads, and poor visibility. It was a real nail-biter on the way home. The good news is that the kids slept and I trusted the GPS. We made it home in 9.5 hours. Just in time to get a take out pizza and hit the couch. All told we put roughly 2700 km (that's 1700 miles) on our VW Touran.
The only odd part of the trip home was our spotting of a red 1973 Grande Mustang. I rarely see American cars over here and I had never seen anything older than a 1980. To see a car identical to the one I had in high school and college was surreal. Just to see that car driven by a Parisian was hard to comprehend.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Still here
No, we haven't dissappeared. It's just that Dana was gone for a week to the U.S. (leaving me very busy) and then we were on vacation to Normandy for the following week. I have more stories to tell than you can believe. I will work on it the next couple days and get some posted along with some great pics. A bientot.
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