Then away we go, Westward Ho The Wagons, heading somewhere near the Normandy beaches. Our first stop was Caen, where we exited the highway more or less on a whim to see what the place looked like and to see if we could find a tourist bureau and get some maps and info. One other reason was I desperately needed to use a washroom, a condition brought on the the fresh fruit from breakfast. I barely made it to the WC of a small bar on the main street of Caen, leaving Jan in the hallway to order a coffee or something to justify our presence there. Relieved by the experience, I eventually exited the dingy facilities to find a somewhat cowed and embarassed Jan standing there with an irate proprietoress, hands on hips, accusing Jan and I of something or another in French and demanding payment for the use of her bathroom. Hell, at that point I would have paid 50 Euro for the relief but I held out a handful of change and said to take what she wanted. She chose two 2 Euro pieces and went away smiling, and Jan and I left. That experience left us with a somewhat shaken sense of French hospitality.
Then on to a visit to the tourist bureau where we found two very friendly women who tried their best to be helpful, giving us masses of maps and printed material. Our lack of mutual language was a barrier to spoken communication, however. Maybe they only get French tourists in Caen. Or the multilingual ones are only on duty in the summer.
Then out into a huge open-air market, filling the walking-only streets of the downtown core. Lots and lots of women's undergarments on sale, all sold by the seediest and most disgusting looking eastern european men, really grubby looking thugs. Even I wouldn't wear undergarments that were pawed by that bunch of knuckle-dragging mouth-breathing goons with their 5 days of stubble and clothes that had never seen a washing machine and foul-smelling cigarettes hanging from their mouths. And eyes that stared through every woman passing by, as though they were walking by on a personal parade for them. If I was a woman, knowing they were feasting on my image, there wouldn't be enough soap in France to make me feel clean again. Ugh!
Everything, even the less-prosperous looking booths, seemed to be very high priced. Logo'd T-shirts were at least double in C$ what we would pay in Canada. They must make a lot of money here. Weren't really hungry but stopped at a Subway (Le Subway, like Le McDonalds?) to get a coffee. A good deal, one euro for a double-shot espresso. I wanted milk, but couldn't get the right words out and eventually gave up. I thought 'Quit being a pussy, drink it black like a Real Man would'. And I did. I could get used to it.
On a more serious note, Caen was the site of some bitter battles in the days following the Normandy landings as the German resistance stiffened. The allies, unable to enter without unacceptable losses, used air-power instead to flatten it about the German defenders and, unfortunately, some remaining French citizens. Then the soldiers entered and eventually overcame the Germans in house-to-house fighting. The old buildings that remain are testimony to the fighting, with craters and bulletholes still evident.
Some of the tourist info we got at Caen reminded Jan of the Bayeux Tapestry that she had read about in high school. If I ever read that then it bounced off me and went rolling away, out of sight and out of mind. But Jan remembered, and off we went to Bayeux and to see the tapestry. It was a real joy and a delight, telling the story on embroidered canvas of William the Conqueror's triumph over Harold the Inept at the Plains of Hastings in 1066. Google it, you'll get the story clearer than from me in these notes. But it was fun to see, and there was a museum and a movie about the tapestry and the battle and the Norman invasion and its triumph over the Saxons, who were a pretty nasty bit of work in their own right. A great way to spend a couple of hours.
It was late by this time, nearly dark, so we found a hotel to stay at for the night (aided by the tourist bureau in Bayeux) and close enough to the Normandy Beaches for us to get there easily tomorrow. Got to the room, delightful casement windows on the second floor of a building that must date to the middle ages, one of many buildings all in a row overlooking the town square where our car is parked for the night. Turned up the heat in the chilly room, then down to the 'Brasserie' next door for a dinner of Omelettes and baguette, wine and beer, with football on the telly. Jan liked the football, she's a fan now having been converted by David. She calls the North American stuff 'American Football' now, she is that converted.
