Stormin' the beaches

Just as we said goodbye to Adam & Ashley, we were welcoming my parents to Paris. They arrived on Thursday and just after one full day in Paris, we were in a flurry Friday afternoon on the way out of town for our next weekend adventure. This time we put together an ambitious schedule of Normandy and Brittany in one weekend. Since Normandy is spread out and we wanted to do some exploring of the smaller towns, taking a train didn't make sense. Instead we rented a car in Paris and joined the mass exodus of traffic on Friday. We were guided by our less than trusty Tom Tom who had a knack for interrupting conversations by confidently announcing some inane instruction like "ahead, stay straight" on a completely straight road.

We opted for a stopover in Honfleur that night which is directly north of Paris facing the English channel. It made sense to break up the full drive to the D-day beaches in Normandy so that we could at least enjoy a late dinner on Friday night. Honfleur is a great little town with a nice harbor in the middle. It's definitely been discovered, but still felt small enough for us to feel that we had left the Parisian crowds behind. We only had time for a sunset and dinner in Honfleur before it got too late that night. The next morning my dad and I managed to sneak in a short hike to a viewpoint above town before breakfast. It was nice to be able to stretch the legs a bit before we jumped back in the car and headed towards the beaches at Normandy. Tom Tom managed to get us there without much trouble and by noon we were at the memorial museum in Caen. I'd been there 10 years ago and it was every bit as impressive as I remember. You begin with the uncertain peace of WWI and descend downwards into the early years of WWII. The spaces are dark and cramped to create a mood of oppression reflecting those years in which the Nazis had control of France. As you turn the corner, in 1942 the museum opens into a large, bright room with American GI clothing, packs, jeeps and posters to signal the sense of hope that the U.S. finally committing to the war brought. The visit finishes in a movie theater with a split screen. The left showing the preparation of the Allies leading up to and during D-Day. The right shows the Germans digging in along the Normandy coastline. As the two videos meet during the invasion, two screens become one and the story finishes with the first wave of Allies overunning the Germans high up on the hill. I'm not sure who was filming before and during this battle, but it's remarkable that someone did and the footage still exists.

With the history of D-Day fresh in our mind, we drove from the museum in Caen down to the American cemetary and with the beaches below. On the way there we passed the town of Arromanches where the allies created a massive man-made harbor just days after the invasion. You can still see many of the large cement barriers a couple hundred yards off the beach. We drove onwards and finally arrived at the American Cemetary that sits high above Omaha Beach. As you walk through the gates into the cemetary, you look out across the green hillside at the nearly 10,000 brilliantly white and perfectly aligned headstones. The endless rows that lead all the way down the hill is an overwhelming sight as you realize that each really did represent a young American life lost in a very short period of days 65 years ago. The violence of those few days is long gone and now the American cemetary there is one of the most serene places I've been. It was a sunny day with a light breeze blowing, quiet except for the sound of birds and the ocean far below and the grounds were perfectly maintained. It's deserving that the government of France long ago gave this piece of land that was fought so hard for to the U.S. government. We followed the path from the cemetary down to Omaha beach to get a better perspective on what it looked if you were landing in one of those Higgins boats back in 1944. We were amazed at how far it really was to make it all the way up the hill where the Germans were dug into bunkers. By the time we made it back up to the cemetary and into the parking lot, we were the last car to leave for the day. It was a long drive from there west towards St Malo and with Tom Tom in the navigator seat we were hoping for the best. As it turns out, Tom Tom wasn't on her game that night and we ended up on the scenic drive to St Malo. I might have been better just relying on the direction of the setting sun to lead me west to our destination. As we were pulling into St Malo later that evening, we all knew that the drive had been worth it. St Malo is a walled city that sits on a small peninsula in Brittany. It's a lively place and at 10pm that night the streets were full of people dining, strolling and playing music. The interior town was quite large considering there was a 50 ft wall all the way around it and had cobblestone streets throughout. It definitely took a lot of people a really long time to put all of it together. St Malo was only supposed to be a stopping place for the night, but the next morning we decided to stay a few hours longer and explore some of the town just after breakfast. We walk around the city on top of the wall that was perfectly suited for strolling and picture-taking. It's shame we didn't have more time there because St Malo certainly deserved at least a full day, but we had one last destination for the weekend that we just couldn't miss. Mont St Michel rises high above the flat sandy beaches at the border of Normandy and Brittany. We could see it from 15 miles away as everything in that part of the country is completely flat. Mont St Michel almost doesn't seem real until you are walking up the steep steps inside of the little village that is at its base. It appears even higher because a large church with a tall spire sits atop the highest point. The land itself is an island - at least before a modern road was built to it - and experiences dramatic tidal shifts twice daily.

(Mont St Michel is the dark triangle shape near the center of the photo)

During mid-day, the tide is out and it leaves behind literally miles of sand extending to the horizon. During the evening, the tide rolls back in and completely surrounds the island. The tides, the steepness of the mountain and heavily fortified walls meant that no invader had been able to forcibly take Mont St Michel for it's 1000 year history - until the advent of the modern tour bus. Every year millions of tourists of all shapes and sizes trudge up the steep steps of Mont St Michel to the abbey and vistas at the top. Along the way they are greeted by non-locals hawking every type of souvenir imaginable. The streets and steps are narrow, so during the mid-day crush, the streets are all one way pedestrian traffic leading up to the high point and then back down the other side.

We took our time exploring Mont St Michel but I couldn't convince anyone to join me on the sandy/muddy flats below. In the end, it was enough for one weekend and we still had a ways to go before we were back in Paris that evening. While it was only 3 hours away, I added another 2 for Tom Tom mishaps and weekend return traffic to Paris. Five hours later we were back in Paris and had just enough energy to meet up with our Italian friends (Chiara, her mother and sister) and grab some creamy gelato for an evening Eiffel Tower stroll!

Normandy

St Malo

Mont Saint Michel