Oh Amsterdam....I am so glad we met up again. I left you many years ago unable to appreciate how special and unique you are. At 15, you seemed gray, dirty, dingy, corrupt, un-friendly, dangerous and blah. Today, you seem adult, un-pretentious, modern, alive, forward and underground.
I set off from Basel on Monday, August 8th - en route to Amsterdam and another couchsurfing experience. This train ride, I got to be in a private car...snort, me and my first class rip-off Eurail pass....and what happens when one is in a private car....they meet interesting people to pass the time with. I promised not to reveal his real name, but we will call him "Norbert" for now....Norbert was an entrepreneur, had just sold a company, was chilling on his way to Frankfurt and introduced me to my first American Express Black Card. "It's really a big money saver and very affordable" claimed Norbert. Uhhhhh, yeah. With a minimum spending requirement of $250,000 a year, a $5000 sign up fee and an annual fee of $2500....I don't think it's going to be my card of choice anytime soon....LOLOLOL!!! Regardless, he saw me eyeing his card and deftly tucked it back into safety!!
I arrived in Amsterdam later than planned b/c our train pulled away late...not 5 minutes late....35 minutes late...unheard of in Switzerland!! I offered to get a hotel so as not to drag my couchsurfing host out at 11pm, but he insisted that it was no problem. Meet Niels - one of the people who helped change my perception of Amsterdam. Niels is tall, blonde, good-looking, sensitive, smart, eco-conscious, runs an NGO aimed at grading companies on their sustainability claims, plays a mean Baritone and has a record collection the likes of which I've never seen!! He has music from our country - the 50's, 60's and 70's - songs I've never heard but loved immediately. We got back to his house, played the quick "get to know you" game over a beer, decided we were a good fit and hit the hay - me in a lovely back bedroom, him out on the couch. Not the normal couchsurfing experience....a bonus!! He said he had just bought a bed and hadn't made the transition back into it yet...how funny!!
Day 1 in Amsterdam. You know I found a coffee shop quickly. Had to have this Amsterdam experience, you know. Totally bumbled my way through that - felt like a fool, was a fool, still am a fool. Regardless - done that. Off to the Van Gogh museum. Uhhhhhh.....line wrapped around the building, out into the park....and it's raining. I don't think so...see you tomorrow! Maybe the Rijksmuseum?.....same deal. No museums for Bethy on Day 1 in Amsterdam. Squawk!!! What now?
In all honesty, I had a VERY difficult time with the tram system in Amsterdam. It just wasn't intuitive for me, the maps were confusing, forget the language....and it was cold and rainy. I managed to get myself down to the big flea market....but was cold and wet....so I only spent a little time there....instead, I ducked into a cafe, had some lunch and read my book - T.C. Boyle's "The Women"...excellent read. It's about Frank Lloyd Wright but told through the eyes of the women (many women) who made up his love life. T.C. Boyle is an amazing writer. I highly recommend him. It was approaching late afternoon at this point and I wanted to meet back up with my host for dinner. We had a lovely little dinner - prepared by Niels - of Tofu and sautéed "Dutch farmer's greens" and potatoes. Still don't know what these mysterious greens are....Kale? Chard? Dunno...but it was good!! Niels went to play soccer, I wandered the neighborhood for a bit and then called it a night. I had museums to attack the next day!!
Up early and over to the Van Gogh museum....again. Even though I was there early, I still had an HOUR wait outside. Hey, at least the Van Gogh museum got my previous "museum memo" that controlling the crowds outside will reduce the horde level inside....which it did. I almost considered leaving...again...but something kept me there (other than the book I read in line). Even though I had been to this museum when I was 16, I love Van Gogh, Mom loved Van Gogh, it is the premier Van Gogh collection in the world....and I needed to test myself after the debacle at the Musee d'Orsay.
If the Musee d'Orsay was Mom's favorite, this has to have been a close 2nd. I knew we had Van Gogh prints in the house growing up....but I didn't realize how many. After safely covering 2 floors, I then found myself in the Arles section (a village in France that Van Gogh lived and which I hope to visit later in the trip) - and was again assaulted by those same feelings in the Musee d'Orsay when confronted with not 1, not 2, but 3 paintings all in one gallery. As soon as I turned from one, there was another on the opposite wall....turned from that one and was facing another. I got that hot, breathless feeling again....tears started and I had to get out of there. After extricating myself from the crowd and getting some breathing space....I had a conversation in my head (yes, I really did this).....and told myself that "this was not going to happen again".
So....
1. I gritted my teeth
2. Clenched my stomach muscles
3. Blew my nose
4 Pursed my lips
5. Shook my head
6. Willed the tears away
and headed back to the Arles section realizing that I am going to have to learn how to view paintings differently than I have previously. I think for me, smells are definitely dangerous, but "art" has the power to be lethal.
I'm sure some of you have witnessed this look on my mug before...it's not a pretty one...and I'm sure I looked mad, displeased, pissed or upset....well, as long as I didn't fall apart and cry, I probably just had a very "French" look about me ;))
For the record - these are the paintings that either hung or are hanging in the house still....
1. Small Pear Tree in Blossom
2. Field of Flowers near Arles
3. Fishing Boat on the beach at Les Saintes-Maries de la Mer
4. The Sower
5. Almond Blossom
6. Irises
7. The Bridge in the Rain (a japanese homage to Hiroshige)
8. Self-Portrait
9. Courting Couple in a Garden Square - St. Pierre
Yes....9 of them. I thought I had already weathered the worst with 6.
To end the Van Gogh museum on a positive note....he is now - officially - my favorite artist. This title used to belong to Gustav Klimt...but not anymore.
Up next was the Rijksmuseum - this place (again, one I had already seen as a youngster) changed my view and opinion of Dutch art. I loved, loved, loved this place and I think is probably a key reason I felt so passionate about the colors of Amsterdam. They are not bright and in your face like Switzerland...they are a much more subtle, unified palette that is evident in its art....gray, deep purple, orange, cream, yellow, navy blue. If I ever have the opportunity to re-do anything in the house....I will call upon inspiration from Amsterdam. The gabled row houses lining the canals will live in my memory forever. I searched and searched for the right picure or watercolor to capture this memory for me, but failed. I just couldn't find something "good enough" or "perfect enough". I may have to do some online searching when I get home.
Mom had 3 paintings from the Rijksmuseum in our house as well - since I knew about these...it was easier to view them when I found them. Without going into too much detail, I think one of the reasons I liked the Rijksmuseum so much is because most of the art is devoid of all the religiosity and Bible motifs. Holland and the Low Countries reached their zenith in the 17th century, were Protestant rather than Catholic and had a very wealthy upper class - not royalty - but merchants. The art reflects this type of patronage rather than that of the Catholic Church or a monarchy. Most of the Rijksmuseum has been under renovation for 10 years, so I only got to see a little part of the collection. I feel lucky that I got to see so much and that I can now really look forward to more soon....I have traditionally found their art dark, depressing and a little boring....NOT ANYMORE!!!!
I headed back to the apartment to meet up with Niels b/c we were going for Thai food in the Red Light District. Uh Huh!! First, I stopped off at a coffee shop and had myself a little experience on the walk home....some of you received an email....suffice it to say.....I saw Giraffes in the middle of Amsterdam while walking down the street. I had to do a quadruple-take....Giraffes?? In the middle of Amsterdam?? Jeeeeezzzz..... I also saw a guy fish a huge eel out of the canal, grab it with a T-shirt, beat it on the ground, examine it closely, give a grunt of satisfaction and then stuff it in a plastic bag. I was so horrified I could barely speak....but I did....and asked him if that was dinner (knowing full well it was). He answered, "Yes, smoked". For the record, I would NEVER eat ANYTHING out of an Amsterdam canal. Period.
Niels entertained me with some music from the Baritone (the title from above by Bach that means "I have one foot in the grave" - sigh...again, couchsurfing at its best - and we headed off for dinner. Thai was tasty and the Red Light District even tastier. I totally would have had a Red Light District experience but Niels wasn't game....and no, I don't mean it like THAT!! I just mean I could have spent a little more time down there soaking in the vibe. And yes, I did see all the women and girls in the windows and doorways advertising their specific wares....we walked through sections that looked like the UN!! Enough was enough....and it had started raining. Amsterdam rain is also a lot like Portland rain....you can walk in it forever and not really get wet. It started out this way....but then started coming down....and we had a long way to walk. What do you do? You pick up a big box off the ground, test its sturdiness....and continue homeward bound....but holding a big box over your head. Niels wants to go live off the land one day in Suriname.....have to say....if things get really bad, I'm going to live with him. That man can make anything happen and get anything done. I say this b/c, like the idiot I am sometimes, I washed out some underwear and hung it on the balcony to dry. Wouldn't you know it...my favorite pair...really, you know the favorite pair....well, they blew off the balcony and into a plant on the neighbor's porch. I hated asking Niels for help, but he retrieved them in 5 seconds flat by unscrewing the handle of his mop. Problem solved. Like I said....I may be living in Suriname sometime soon!
My time in Amsterdam came to an end and I was genuinely sad to leave. I had only been there 2 days and it felt like I was just getting to know the city when my time expired. It is nice to know someone there and I hope to return again soon. It is a city that will always have something new even though it is old. No time to be sad, though....because it was time for Brussels and a reunion with my college buddy, Mr. Will McPhail - aka Mr. Wheel, who had just finished writing and turning in his Master's dissertation......
Torn pants, Belgian Beers, Creepy Art....welcome to Belgium!! Up next...
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Rouges, Rose et Blanc
I had to give Switzerland a couple days to digest - it was so wonderful and I needed to gather my thoughts. I should have posted this days ago - but Amsterdam and Brussels have made me lazy!! Unfortunately - it has now passed a week since I was in Switzerland....what has happened to me??!! I need a good smacking!!
Some of you remember how I went to Switzerland back in May 2009 with the illustrious plan of hiking in the Alps - thankfully, I was able to complete that part of the mission, but alas - later that SAME night, at a lovely picnic organized for me by my Swiss friend, Sylvain - I managed to make a complete fool out of myself and tore the ACL in my knee while playing beach volleyball. That effectively brought my trip to a halt, but not quite an end. Poor Sylvain was saddled with a crippled individual, hobbling around on European crutches and suffering through one the worst allergy attacks I can remember. I could have absolutely clawed my eyes out they itched so badly. Sylvain put up with me - always with a smile and has always invited me back to Switzerland.
The original Swiss plan in 2009 was to include trips to both Bern and the Lavaux vineyards in the Vevey area (this is between Geneva and Montreaux directly on Lake LeMan (aka Lake Geneva)..). Hostels were booked, cycles were rented for a trip through the vines, and the generous guidance of Sylvain's father was engaged....all for naught. Back to the US - dream unfulfilled :(
Skip forward now to August 2011 - having kept in touch with Sylvain through FB over the past couple of years - and thanks to couchsurfing originally - I was treated to a stupendous weekend of mostly sunny skies, stunning views of the lake and mountains, unparalleled generosity and "feasts" of both local knowledge, history and lore - as well as the truest of the TRUE Swiss fondue.
I left Lyon and arrived by train in Vevey a mere 2.5 hours later at 1:30pm. Sylvain and I weren't due to meet up until 5:30pm, so I had some time to kill. I didn't want to drag my bag around for hours, so I went in search of a nice place to hang out. I wound down a couple cobblestoned streets (which are not nice to drag a bag on...), admiring the windows sills and colors that are unique to Swiss towns - bright blues, yellows and reds adorn the windows and coordinate with the multitudes of flowers everywhere you look - hanging planters, window boxes, street vendor bouquets, and public planters burst with variety. The colors that I saw the most and that defined Switzerland for me were Red, Pink and White - or Rouges, Rose et Blanc. This combination is everywhere....which I find odd, b/c you don't often put red and pink together so much. But, the Swiss do and it is charming.
I came around a corner and stopped dead in my tracks - there was the lake shimmering just a couple blocks away. Bingo!!
This section of Lake LeMan is the essence of Switzerland - a shining blue lake surrounded by soaring mountains, clouds hanging lazily on the peaks - swans floating along the bank, a river walk covered with flowers, benches, statues and cafes....really, it was a postcard. I grabbed a kebab and plopped down under a tree - near a statue of Charlie Chaplin, a famous Vevey resident, and smiled at the wonderful "trip" moment I was having. I had NO idea this was going to be so picturesque. A nap was in order after my sandwich - the grass was soft, a light breeze was blowing and the air was clear. Ahhhhhh....
When I woke up, it was time to start heading back for the train station. Sylvain and I met up exactly on time - the Swiss and their time obsession - hugged it out for a couple minutes and then headed for the car. He explained again that we were heading for his childhood house and that his dad was waiting outside for us....and that he didn't speak English. Good thing Sylvain was there to translate....although, I think Jean-Louis and I were doing a pretty good job of making ourselves understood towards the end of my visit.
The Herminjard's live 5 minutes or so from the station in a town called Corseaux. We pulled up to the house - which has been in the family since the early 20th century - unloaded and trooped inside. SO CHARMING!! Four floors full of family memorabilia and views from 3 floors that are not to be believed!! The house commands a stunning view of Lake Leman, the mountains, the Rhine delta, the Nestle headquarters and the vineyards of Lavaux. Oh.....My......God. Oh.....My......God. I must have said that 3 or 4 times in a row when I stepped into my bedroom - Sylvain's room growing up - and saw - again - the French doors, leading out onto a balcony - with a totally unhindered view of "The Best of Switzerland". Oh.....My.....God. I needed a minute to collect myself - I may have danced up and down like a little leprechaun...squealing and laughing....there is no telling - I went into a state of giddy shock.
I think they appreciated my reaction b/c when you live with this view every day - you need a reminder every now and then - that you are incredibly lucky to call this place and this view "Home" - which they do. Jean- Louis, Sylvain's dad, has lived in that town his entire life....and loved every minute of it. He grew up surrounded by the vineyards of Lavaux, the joy of the Alps, the cheeses and products of that area, was friends with Charlie Chaplin for 20 years and knows every speck of history. He has a joy about him that can only come when you have "your place in the world" and you're happy with it.
My first night had me and Sylvain finally leaving the house on our way to a very special, private "club" called Le Caveaux. Yup....The Cave. All over this part of Switzerland, private bars and wine clubs exist only for the locals - you have to know somebody or you can't go in. Not in a fancy-schmancy New York club kind of way....just an understood, locals kind of way that this either "is" or "isn't" your place, thank you very much. Jean-Louis had called ahead and arranged for me and Sylvain to visit this special place in Corseaux.....and how cool it was!! There were a couple people inside, just throwing back beers and tasting the local vin....I met Jerome, Pierre, Dominique and Martine.....and guess what they were playing.....uh huh....Amy Winehouse. Picture a dark, sultry, rounded off room with dark plaster walls hung with the wackiest local sculptures - metal animals from re-used and re-cycled items....all backlit by candles. Local wine posters and advertisements for wine festivals....dark wooden floors... a small bar, a little upstairs area, barrels as tables and the back end of the room looks like the top of a wine barrel....20 ft. high. That was Le Caveaux.
We spent a couple hours there and then went off in search of food in Vevey. Stuffed with a Kebab meal (again) - we walked the 30 minutes home - past the gorgeous lake, past the Nestle HQ, up the winding streets of Corsiere, past the Funicular, up the mountain....back to Sylvain's house. Fell into bed and drifted off to silence and a breeze from the lake.
The next day was a big one....lots to see....and the promise of a fantastic night....Fondue in the Carnotzet. What is a Carnotzet? A Carnotzet is a traditional Swiss room - generally underground - that is used as a "party" room where fondue is served, spirits are imbibed, a good time is had and the troubles of the world are left outside the door. Bad juju is not welcome in the Carnotzet. But first.....a visit to Charlie Chaplin's grave, the festival/market that takes place every Saturday for some wine tasting, some walking around, some local history....and always...some views. Afterwards - the Vineyards.
First - we popped a couple streets over to a local cemetery that receives more visitors than normal due to one illustrious resident (or two) - Monsieur Charlie Chaplin, his lovely wife, Oona, and Sylvain's grandmother.. The graves are well-marked and there are coins from different countries covering the tops of the graves. There is a story that when Charlie first died in the 70's, his body was stolen from the grave. After much haggling - and some money changing hands - the body was returned and re-buried (this time under an enormous pile of rocks). eventually things settled down and the graves now look like "normal" ones. Mr. Chaplin and his wife made Vevey their home for 18 years or so - and apparently Charlie was quite shy.....and didn't speak much French. He is everywhere in this little town....on the sides of buildings, statues by the lake, a road named for him, a park bearing his name, etc. Forget the Nestle headquarters....Charlie Chaplin lived here!!!
Parked up at St. Martin...a lovely church you could see from my bedroom and walked down a secret back alley way to the Marche. The Marche was great - got to see those long Swiss horns (like in the Riccola commercial) played and an old guy - dressed in a traditional Swiss costume - do a little number with a big flag that he swung and tossed to the music from the Riccola horns. Took lots of pictures of this little piece of entertainment and then off we went again....this time, to the Vevey History Museum...also the site of the Confrerie des Vignerons to learn about the Fete des Vignerons....a SUPER huge celebration that only takes place every 22-25 years (once in a generation) for the wine people of the region. It has traditionally been the winemakers' way of saying "thank you" to the workers and the people who make this industry to viable in the region. The first one was held in 1797 after the founding of the Confrerie in 1791. I got to watch excerpts from the last Fete held in 1999 while touring the museum- it is like the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics. A pavilion is constructed to hold 16,000 people who will gather for 3 weeks during the summer to party and celebrate that great drink, which is wine!! Preparation begins 3 years in advance - there are over 5,000 actors and dancers who perform.....and clearly I need to be in attendance next time this 'do is done. Jean-Louis, Sylvain's dad, has attended each one since the 1955 celebration!!
What is this Confrerie des Vignerons?? It is the Winegrower's Brotherhood and they are in "The Search for Perfection". Hmmmm....perhaps they should think about a loftier catch-phrase?
Over 300 hectares are graded 3x/year....looking for those who simply "stand out". The first grade is given in early April - they are looking at the size of the vine and the health of the stalk at this point. The vines are just beginning to re-awaken from the Winter. The second grade occurs in mid-summer. Here, they are checking for dead stalks, how the clusters and bunches look, the soil and the "horizontal lines" of the vineyard itself. I particularly liked the term "fondle the clusters"...and this is exactly what they did! The 3rd grade - and most important - is conducted at the beginning of September as the grapes quietly matured in late August. They are checking once more to make sure there are no diseases or parasites present, how the grapes and clusters have matured and the overall aspects of the vineyard are considered in matters of production. The winner is honored by his peers and the industry.
A unique fact about the vineyards of Lavaux is that they are said to benefit from "Trois Soleils" - 3 suns....
1. The direct sun above
2. The residual warmth from the walls at night
3. The reflection of the sun off the lake
We trekked back up to the car and set off for Lavaux - me, in search of the perfect photo and the "moment". It had started to get a little cloudy but everything still looked beautiful. We drove up into the heart of Lavaux, cresting hills, winding around hairpin turns, creeping through the towns - all the while, I kept wanting to shout, "STOP!! Let me out to look at this....I want to take a picture!!" I kept being told that we were heading to a "perfect" place and that there was more to come. Alas, we never really stopped at that one perfect view....I saw lots of them, but we didn't stop so that I could really soak it in. We decided to go up to Mt. Pellerin for a view and a glass of wine - it was getting towards the end of the day and we had a date with the Carnotzet at 6pm.
The wine was wonderful, the view fantastic and the company even better. Sylvain and I rode the Funicular down the mountain and hoofed it back to the house and our promised fondue. The Fondue did not disappoint.....
If I have not stressed it enough yet, let me reiterate what a wonderful host Monsieur Jean-Louis Herminjard was (as well as his son...not to be forgotten!). He was always cooking something, buying something for me, pointing out a landmark or just smiling a huge, content smile. The Fondue night was entirely his doing - and one that will go down on my list of "best life experiences". As I said earlier, the day had started off with grim news of the market. This has never before really affected me....now, it does. I knew there was nothing I could do about it, but I was still down. Good thing the Carnotzet has a "rule" that you check your troubles at the door....because that is exactly what I did!!
After being served Swiss beers outside under the covered "porch" (that Jean-Louis built himself), we were told "It was ready". We trooped inside - me, Sylvain and Sylvain's brother Vincent. We were greeted with a big, bubbling pot of heavenly smelling cheese....being stirred with a handmade wooden spoon that had the Swiss Cross cut out of the spoon. Apparently Sylvain made this spoon many years ago and it is still being used to stir the cheese ;) Wine was poured...copious amounts of it....and all from the vineyards we had just driven through - much fondue was eaten - and laughter shook the walls constantly. I have figured out this Swiss fondue thing....it is just a way to fill your stomach up so that you can then indulge in tasting every kind of eau de vie, whisky, wine, brandy, absinthe, schnapps, rum, etc. that can be found in a Swiss liquor cabinet....or at least the cabinet of a man who loves the variety of alcohol and enjoys it not to get drunk but for the taste and the craftsmanship that goes into each bottle. The drinking commenced and I'm happy to say I stood toe to toe with Jean-Louis....sipping, tasting, laughing and enjoying his collection. He and I both like the smoky whiskys from Western Scotland. Sylvain took a picture of this spectacle - you can view it on Facebook....yes, I tried all the bottles in the picture except the big bottle I'm hanging onto for dear life (no, I did not get drunk in this man's house....that would have been inappropriate...but I did sample it ALL).
Kirsch, Mandarin Grappa, normal Grappa, Eau de Vies - Apricot, Mirabelle, Apple, Pear, Chestnut, Absinthe, Lagavulin, Dahlwhinnie, Glenfiddich, Abelour.....mmmmmmm.....
After another restful night and an incomparable view to wake up to...I knew it was time to leave - off for Amsterdam. But first.....fresh croissants from the local bakery. Then, Jean-Louis asked me to please stay for lunch because he wanted to make me his specialty.....Saffron Risotto with Mushrooms.....ummmm, YES PLEASE!! That is the great thing about traveling with no set timeline....it didn't matter what time I got to Basel, b/c I was just hanging out there for a night before the jaunt to Amsterdam.
To kill some time before the risotto AND because the sun had decided to really come out....Sylvain and I dashed back downtown in search of postcards (none were found) and then back up into the vineyards for "The Picture". We got back there and started to wind our way down but I kept howling that we needed to be going "up" not "down" for "The Picture". Sylvain agreed and we headed off in the opposite direction...suddenly, he saw a turn-off that looked good and zipped the car around. My jaw dropped...."The Picture" was spread out before me.....shining sun, sparkling lake, green, green, green vineyards as far as the eye could see.....Oh My God....it was gorgeous. And Sylvain just stood there smiling as I scrambled up onto a wall and squealed. We were totally alone up there, no other tourist, no other cars....just the Lavaux vineyards that I have wanted to see for years. And now I had them....literally, Picture Perfect....capital "P", capital "P". He knew I had finally gotten what I wanted and what I had been unable to find the day before. My expectations were officially met and exceeded!! Me seeing this view is also on FB, courtesy of Sylvain who snapped many, many pictures of me and my bad haircut. Anyways, Risotto time!!!
Of course the Risotto was perfect - along with a delicious Pinot Noir from the area...and then Jean-Louis went back in after we got to talking about cheese and brought out 2 cheeses he had purchased recently that had just been made by a friend of his up in the mountains....and would I please try them.....Hmmmmmm, don't mind if I do! Finished the meal with Swiss chocolate...of which Jean-Louis pressed 4 bars into my hands as I was leaving and wouldn't hear of it being "too much". I think he knew how much I loved his country, his town, his home and his life. I can only hope to return the favor in Nashville some day.....
I know this posting has been more of a "re-counting" hour by hour of my time in Switzerland...and maybe not as caustic, dry, etc....but it was one of the best experiences of my life and I will forever be grateful for the welcome I experienced and the way I felt when leaving....a feeling that I could go back anytime I wanted to. It felt like a "rejuvenation facility" after the hustle and bustle of France.
However, Switzerland is SOOOO EXPENSIVE!!! I cannot afford to spend any real time there....seriously....6 Swiss Francs for a little tube of toothpaste....that is like $8 or $9. Seriously. Our large pizza, 2 salads and 3 beers was 78 Swiss Francs....that is over $110....for LUNCH!!!! I was relieved to reach Amsterdam and recede out of sticker shock....
And so we find ourselves in Amsterdam.....come back for more!!
Some of you remember how I went to Switzerland back in May 2009 with the illustrious plan of hiking in the Alps - thankfully, I was able to complete that part of the mission, but alas - later that SAME night, at a lovely picnic organized for me by my Swiss friend, Sylvain - I managed to make a complete fool out of myself and tore the ACL in my knee while playing beach volleyball. That effectively brought my trip to a halt, but not quite an end. Poor Sylvain was saddled with a crippled individual, hobbling around on European crutches and suffering through one the worst allergy attacks I can remember. I could have absolutely clawed my eyes out they itched so badly. Sylvain put up with me - always with a smile and has always invited me back to Switzerland.
The original Swiss plan in 2009 was to include trips to both Bern and the Lavaux vineyards in the Vevey area (this is between Geneva and Montreaux directly on Lake LeMan (aka Lake Geneva)..). Hostels were booked, cycles were rented for a trip through the vines, and the generous guidance of Sylvain's father was engaged....all for naught. Back to the US - dream unfulfilled :(
Skip forward now to August 2011 - having kept in touch with Sylvain through FB over the past couple of years - and thanks to couchsurfing originally - I was treated to a stupendous weekend of mostly sunny skies, stunning views of the lake and mountains, unparalleled generosity and "feasts" of both local knowledge, history and lore - as well as the truest of the TRUE Swiss fondue.
I left Lyon and arrived by train in Vevey a mere 2.5 hours later at 1:30pm. Sylvain and I weren't due to meet up until 5:30pm, so I had some time to kill. I didn't want to drag my bag around for hours, so I went in search of a nice place to hang out. I wound down a couple cobblestoned streets (which are not nice to drag a bag on...), admiring the windows sills and colors that are unique to Swiss towns - bright blues, yellows and reds adorn the windows and coordinate with the multitudes of flowers everywhere you look - hanging planters, window boxes, street vendor bouquets, and public planters burst with variety. The colors that I saw the most and that defined Switzerland for me were Red, Pink and White - or Rouges, Rose et Blanc. This combination is everywhere....which I find odd, b/c you don't often put red and pink together so much. But, the Swiss do and it is charming.
I came around a corner and stopped dead in my tracks - there was the lake shimmering just a couple blocks away. Bingo!!
This section of Lake LeMan is the essence of Switzerland - a shining blue lake surrounded by soaring mountains, clouds hanging lazily on the peaks - swans floating along the bank, a river walk covered with flowers, benches, statues and cafes....really, it was a postcard. I grabbed a kebab and plopped down under a tree - near a statue of Charlie Chaplin, a famous Vevey resident, and smiled at the wonderful "trip" moment I was having. I had NO idea this was going to be so picturesque. A nap was in order after my sandwich - the grass was soft, a light breeze was blowing and the air was clear. Ahhhhhh....
When I woke up, it was time to start heading back for the train station. Sylvain and I met up exactly on time - the Swiss and their time obsession - hugged it out for a couple minutes and then headed for the car. He explained again that we were heading for his childhood house and that his dad was waiting outside for us....and that he didn't speak English. Good thing Sylvain was there to translate....although, I think Jean-Louis and I were doing a pretty good job of making ourselves understood towards the end of my visit.
The Herminjard's live 5 minutes or so from the station in a town called Corseaux. We pulled up to the house - which has been in the family since the early 20th century - unloaded and trooped inside. SO CHARMING!! Four floors full of family memorabilia and views from 3 floors that are not to be believed!! The house commands a stunning view of Lake Leman, the mountains, the Rhine delta, the Nestle headquarters and the vineyards of Lavaux. Oh.....My......God. Oh.....My......God. I must have said that 3 or 4 times in a row when I stepped into my bedroom - Sylvain's room growing up - and saw - again - the French doors, leading out onto a balcony - with a totally unhindered view of "The Best of Switzerland". Oh.....My.....God. I needed a minute to collect myself - I may have danced up and down like a little leprechaun...squealing and laughing....there is no telling - I went into a state of giddy shock.
I think they appreciated my reaction b/c when you live with this view every day - you need a reminder every now and then - that you are incredibly lucky to call this place and this view "Home" - which they do. Jean- Louis, Sylvain's dad, has lived in that town his entire life....and loved every minute of it. He grew up surrounded by the vineyards of Lavaux, the joy of the Alps, the cheeses and products of that area, was friends with Charlie Chaplin for 20 years and knows every speck of history. He has a joy about him that can only come when you have "your place in the world" and you're happy with it.
My first night had me and Sylvain finally leaving the house on our way to a very special, private "club" called Le Caveaux. Yup....The Cave. All over this part of Switzerland, private bars and wine clubs exist only for the locals - you have to know somebody or you can't go in. Not in a fancy-schmancy New York club kind of way....just an understood, locals kind of way that this either "is" or "isn't" your place, thank you very much. Jean-Louis had called ahead and arranged for me and Sylvain to visit this special place in Corseaux.....and how cool it was!! There were a couple people inside, just throwing back beers and tasting the local vin....I met Jerome, Pierre, Dominique and Martine.....and guess what they were playing.....uh huh....Amy Winehouse. Picture a dark, sultry, rounded off room with dark plaster walls hung with the wackiest local sculptures - metal animals from re-used and re-cycled items....all backlit by candles. Local wine posters and advertisements for wine festivals....dark wooden floors... a small bar, a little upstairs area, barrels as tables and the back end of the room looks like the top of a wine barrel....20 ft. high. That was Le Caveaux.
We spent a couple hours there and then went off in search of food in Vevey. Stuffed with a Kebab meal (again) - we walked the 30 minutes home - past the gorgeous lake, past the Nestle HQ, up the winding streets of Corsiere, past the Funicular, up the mountain....back to Sylvain's house. Fell into bed and drifted off to silence and a breeze from the lake.
The next day was a big one....lots to see....and the promise of a fantastic night....Fondue in the Carnotzet. What is a Carnotzet? A Carnotzet is a traditional Swiss room - generally underground - that is used as a "party" room where fondue is served, spirits are imbibed, a good time is had and the troubles of the world are left outside the door. Bad juju is not welcome in the Carnotzet. But first.....a visit to Charlie Chaplin's grave, the festival/market that takes place every Saturday for some wine tasting, some walking around, some local history....and always...some views. Afterwards - the Vineyards.
First - we popped a couple streets over to a local cemetery that receives more visitors than normal due to one illustrious resident (or two) - Monsieur Charlie Chaplin, his lovely wife, Oona, and Sylvain's grandmother.. The graves are well-marked and there are coins from different countries covering the tops of the graves. There is a story that when Charlie first died in the 70's, his body was stolen from the grave. After much haggling - and some money changing hands - the body was returned and re-buried (this time under an enormous pile of rocks). eventually things settled down and the graves now look like "normal" ones. Mr. Chaplin and his wife made Vevey their home for 18 years or so - and apparently Charlie was quite shy.....and didn't speak much French. He is everywhere in this little town....on the sides of buildings, statues by the lake, a road named for him, a park bearing his name, etc. Forget the Nestle headquarters....Charlie Chaplin lived here!!!
Parked up at St. Martin...a lovely church you could see from my bedroom and walked down a secret back alley way to the Marche. The Marche was great - got to see those long Swiss horns (like in the Riccola commercial) played and an old guy - dressed in a traditional Swiss costume - do a little number with a big flag that he swung and tossed to the music from the Riccola horns. Took lots of pictures of this little piece of entertainment and then off we went again....this time, to the Vevey History Museum...also the site of the Confrerie des Vignerons to learn about the Fete des Vignerons....a SUPER huge celebration that only takes place every 22-25 years (once in a generation) for the wine people of the region. It has traditionally been the winemakers' way of saying "thank you" to the workers and the people who make this industry to viable in the region. The first one was held in 1797 after the founding of the Confrerie in 1791. I got to watch excerpts from the last Fete held in 1999 while touring the museum- it is like the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics. A pavilion is constructed to hold 16,000 people who will gather for 3 weeks during the summer to party and celebrate that great drink, which is wine!! Preparation begins 3 years in advance - there are over 5,000 actors and dancers who perform.....and clearly I need to be in attendance next time this 'do is done. Jean-Louis, Sylvain's dad, has attended each one since the 1955 celebration!!
What is this Confrerie des Vignerons?? It is the Winegrower's Brotherhood and they are in "The Search for Perfection". Hmmmm....perhaps they should think about a loftier catch-phrase?
Over 300 hectares are graded 3x/year....looking for those who simply "stand out". The first grade is given in early April - they are looking at the size of the vine and the health of the stalk at this point. The vines are just beginning to re-awaken from the Winter. The second grade occurs in mid-summer. Here, they are checking for dead stalks, how the clusters and bunches look, the soil and the "horizontal lines" of the vineyard itself. I particularly liked the term "fondle the clusters"...and this is exactly what they did! The 3rd grade - and most important - is conducted at the beginning of September as the grapes quietly matured in late August. They are checking once more to make sure there are no diseases or parasites present, how the grapes and clusters have matured and the overall aspects of the vineyard are considered in matters of production. The winner is honored by his peers and the industry.
A unique fact about the vineyards of Lavaux is that they are said to benefit from "Trois Soleils" - 3 suns....
1. The direct sun above
2. The residual warmth from the walls at night
3. The reflection of the sun off the lake
We trekked back up to the car and set off for Lavaux - me, in search of the perfect photo and the "moment". It had started to get a little cloudy but everything still looked beautiful. We drove up into the heart of Lavaux, cresting hills, winding around hairpin turns, creeping through the towns - all the while, I kept wanting to shout, "STOP!! Let me out to look at this....I want to take a picture!!" I kept being told that we were heading to a "perfect" place and that there was more to come. Alas, we never really stopped at that one perfect view....I saw lots of them, but we didn't stop so that I could really soak it in. We decided to go up to Mt. Pellerin for a view and a glass of wine - it was getting towards the end of the day and we had a date with the Carnotzet at 6pm.
The wine was wonderful, the view fantastic and the company even better. Sylvain and I rode the Funicular down the mountain and hoofed it back to the house and our promised fondue. The Fondue did not disappoint.....
If I have not stressed it enough yet, let me reiterate what a wonderful host Monsieur Jean-Louis Herminjard was (as well as his son...not to be forgotten!). He was always cooking something, buying something for me, pointing out a landmark or just smiling a huge, content smile. The Fondue night was entirely his doing - and one that will go down on my list of "best life experiences". As I said earlier, the day had started off with grim news of the market. This has never before really affected me....now, it does. I knew there was nothing I could do about it, but I was still down. Good thing the Carnotzet has a "rule" that you check your troubles at the door....because that is exactly what I did!!
After being served Swiss beers outside under the covered "porch" (that Jean-Louis built himself), we were told "It was ready". We trooped inside - me, Sylvain and Sylvain's brother Vincent. We were greeted with a big, bubbling pot of heavenly smelling cheese....being stirred with a handmade wooden spoon that had the Swiss Cross cut out of the spoon. Apparently Sylvain made this spoon many years ago and it is still being used to stir the cheese ;) Wine was poured...copious amounts of it....and all from the vineyards we had just driven through - much fondue was eaten - and laughter shook the walls constantly. I have figured out this Swiss fondue thing....it is just a way to fill your stomach up so that you can then indulge in tasting every kind of eau de vie, whisky, wine, brandy, absinthe, schnapps, rum, etc. that can be found in a Swiss liquor cabinet....or at least the cabinet of a man who loves the variety of alcohol and enjoys it not to get drunk but for the taste and the craftsmanship that goes into each bottle. The drinking commenced and I'm happy to say I stood toe to toe with Jean-Louis....sipping, tasting, laughing and enjoying his collection. He and I both like the smoky whiskys from Western Scotland. Sylvain took a picture of this spectacle - you can view it on Facebook....yes, I tried all the bottles in the picture except the big bottle I'm hanging onto for dear life (no, I did not get drunk in this man's house....that would have been inappropriate...but I did sample it ALL).
Kirsch, Mandarin Grappa, normal Grappa, Eau de Vies - Apricot, Mirabelle, Apple, Pear, Chestnut, Absinthe, Lagavulin, Dahlwhinnie, Glenfiddich, Abelour.....mmmmmmm.....
After another restful night and an incomparable view to wake up to...I knew it was time to leave - off for Amsterdam. But first.....fresh croissants from the local bakery. Then, Jean-Louis asked me to please stay for lunch because he wanted to make me his specialty.....Saffron Risotto with Mushrooms.....ummmm, YES PLEASE!! That is the great thing about traveling with no set timeline....it didn't matter what time I got to Basel, b/c I was just hanging out there for a night before the jaunt to Amsterdam.
To kill some time before the risotto AND because the sun had decided to really come out....Sylvain and I dashed back downtown in search of postcards (none were found) and then back up into the vineyards for "The Picture". We got back there and started to wind our way down but I kept howling that we needed to be going "up" not "down" for "The Picture". Sylvain agreed and we headed off in the opposite direction...suddenly, he saw a turn-off that looked good and zipped the car around. My jaw dropped...."The Picture" was spread out before me.....shining sun, sparkling lake, green, green, green vineyards as far as the eye could see.....Oh My God....it was gorgeous. And Sylvain just stood there smiling as I scrambled up onto a wall and squealed. We were totally alone up there, no other tourist, no other cars....just the Lavaux vineyards that I have wanted to see for years. And now I had them....literally, Picture Perfect....capital "P", capital "P". He knew I had finally gotten what I wanted and what I had been unable to find the day before. My expectations were officially met and exceeded!! Me seeing this view is also on FB, courtesy of Sylvain who snapped many, many pictures of me and my bad haircut. Anyways, Risotto time!!!
Of course the Risotto was perfect - along with a delicious Pinot Noir from the area...and then Jean-Louis went back in after we got to talking about cheese and brought out 2 cheeses he had purchased recently that had just been made by a friend of his up in the mountains....and would I please try them.....Hmmmmmm, don't mind if I do! Finished the meal with Swiss chocolate...of which Jean-Louis pressed 4 bars into my hands as I was leaving and wouldn't hear of it being "too much". I think he knew how much I loved his country, his town, his home and his life. I can only hope to return the favor in Nashville some day.....
I know this posting has been more of a "re-counting" hour by hour of my time in Switzerland...and maybe not as caustic, dry, etc....but it was one of the best experiences of my life and I will forever be grateful for the welcome I experienced and the way I felt when leaving....a feeling that I could go back anytime I wanted to. It felt like a "rejuvenation facility" after the hustle and bustle of France.
However, Switzerland is SOOOO EXPENSIVE!!! I cannot afford to spend any real time there....seriously....6 Swiss Francs for a little tube of toothpaste....that is like $8 or $9. Seriously. Our large pizza, 2 salads and 3 beers was 78 Swiss Francs....that is over $110....for LUNCH!!!! I was relieved to reach Amsterdam and recede out of sticker shock....
And so we find ourselves in Amsterdam.....come back for more!!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Boutique, Schmoo-tique
Well, Paris left me totally wiped out. Mentally, Emotionally, Physically and Financially. When I left, I have to say, I wasn't sorry to go. I know it's one of the most fabulous cities in the world, but I can comfortably own....it's just not really for me. Too much of everything....too many people, too much attitude, too many tourists (yes, I know I am one) and everything costs too much!
My hostel, Oops, billed itself as Paris's first "Boutique" hostel. In Paris, this means that they have slapped some "funky" bright green Ikea wallpaper up on the walls, contrasted it with a geometrical black and white design of sorts, hung a wavy mirror in the room and put up a "colored" light fixture. The rooms are still small, they are still populated by bunk-beds (yes, I was unfortunate enough to finally be stuck on the top bunk....with no ladder), the bathrooms - which are en suite - still smell of mold and mildew and the keys frequently do not work (which happened to me at least 4 or 5 different times). AND - you are NOT ALLOWED to enter the room you are paying precious money for during the hours of 1100 - 1600....yep, 5 hours. Ridiculous in my opinion. I totally realize I'm in Paris....and shouldn't be in the room during that time, I should be out exploring the city.....but, it's the principle. I'm paying for the room...I should be able to enter it to change clothes, grab a quick cat-nap, use the bathroom or do any of the other multitudes of things one can do within a 5 hour period of time in the middle of the day on vacation!! And, since it's Paris - the front desk people can be as rude as they like....which they were to both me and my roommate - whose reservation they screwed up and then tried to blame on him. So, despite some of the good times I had while there - champagne on the Champ du Mars and meeting some nice people....I was happy to arrive at the Gare de Lyon en route to Lyon.
Lyon was not originally on my "list". I had given it no attention, knew nothing about it and probably could not have immediately pointed it out on a map. However, I was not really due to go to Switzerland until the weekend b/c my Swiss buddy, Sylvain, like most other people right now....has a jobbie-job. Hmmmm....stay in Paris another 2 days or find another place to perch until it was Switzerland time. Yeah, not a hard decision there. Found a hostel (the only one in Lyon), booked it and handled the train there. Look out, Lyon!!
Turns out - Lyon is quite the place and could not have been more diametrically opposed to Paris!! My cab driver to the hostel - instead of being silent and sullen - was chatty, friendly and an un-official tour guide of sorts. He gave me a quick run-down on the layout of the city, suggested some nice things to do, gave me some $$-saving tips, pointed out places of interest along the way and provided some history of the city. Where was I?? Surely not France!!
I arrived at the hostel....up on top of a freaking mountain....said "au revoir" to the cab driver and entered the domicile to check-in. Once again...totally different from Paris - I got a genuine welcome, a friendly and informative check-in (in Paris, I had a piece of paper slapped in front of me and was told to "Read"), was showed where I could fill up my water bottle with FREE chilled water, was directed to the kitchen which "I should feel free to use...and here is some complimentary rice and pasta if you would like" - then.....the room. Still small, still bunk-beds (I took the lower one)....but French doors that opened out onto a deck with a view that genuinely stunned me. The entire city of Lyon was spread out beneath me for miles and miles!! Orange rooftops, 2 rivers - the Rhine and the Soame, Bridges, Church towers, Domed Monuments....I almost had to pinch myself that this was actually a HOSTEL. Views like this don't come cheap....or maybe they do in Lyon!! Mom must have "radioed" ahead and let Lyon know how shabbily Paris had treated me....and that France had some making up to do for its capital city. Message received!!
It was "too late" to really go see anything...and who needed to with the view?? Instead, I trudged up the rest of the mountain until I found a market - grabbed some bread, cheese, meat and fruit and made my way back to the hostel for an al fresco dinner. I got a cheap carafe of wine from the hostel and wrote the Paris blog that night. A good night's sleep set me to rights for the next day of exploring Lyon.
Coffee and baguette on the patio the next morning....Lyon just doesn't quit!
The highest compliment I can pay Lyon is that it gave me the same feeling Portland does....smaller than its neighbors of Seattle and San Francisco, but more accessible, comfortable with its status of "2nd tier", clean, walkable, rife with little hidden gems around each corner and filled with flowers. Before I could really get down to enjoying Lyon, though...I had some business to take care of first. Business that should NOT have eaten into my wonderful day.
Ahem, readers.....Should any of you decide to go to Europe for an extended amount of time....DO NOT be taken in by Rail Europe and their clever marketing of the Eurail Pass. I know some of you have already come over here and successfully navigated the trains with the Pass...BUT, it is no longer as easy as that. There are supplements to pay, restrictions to be aware of, reservations that have to be made well in advance, a website that constantly won't give you the information you need and misinformation out there designed to strip you of your hard-earned $$. I could go on and on about the nonsense that is this company, website and service; but, I know you would much prefer to hear about Lyon - in just a second. Thankfully, seeking out humans and asking them for help is still the best way to go about fixing issues. Instead of being forced to pay an additional 96Euro for supplemental reservations through Rail Europe, I found a human who used her "magic box" - i.e. a computer - to find me an alternate route to Amsterdam for only 6Euro which would get me into Amsterdam only 2 hours later. Hmmmmm....which one should I go with?? Backtrack to Paris, have to change STATIONS...not platforms, mind you....STATIONS, and pay 96Euro. OR, take an alternate route (and more scenic) through Basel and Frankfurt for 6? Considering this is being written from Basel, I think you can figure out which option I selected. This route did not exist on their website. Rail Europe is bullshit. I will do everything I can to keep people from wasting $$ with them like I did.
And back to Lyon we go....
I meandered around Lyon for an hour or so - grabbing some fruit, salami and cheese from a market I passed and having a little picnic by the river. Then set out to find the art museum...which I did with no difficulty whatsoever (a miracle for me considering how directionally challenged I am!). Nice museum - had some good paintings and sculptures - along with a small but quality Egyptian and Greek/Roman section. I saw what I wanted and then headed across the plaza to a gelato shop I had been given a coupon for. Had to use the coupon, right?? Well - as some of you know from Facebook, I was handed the sobering news that one of my favorite singers had died in the past week. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. Madame Amy Winehouse just found life to difficult to live. She was a genius and a train-wreck all at the same time. I discovered her in Portland before she blew up....loved, loved, loved her....and feel quite sad that the world has lost such a talent at the young age of 27...just like Jimi, Janis, Jim and Kurt. Yes - I do put her in the same league as those revered individuals...she had a voice set apart from most today. I pulled out my iPod, put her on and continued to walk the streets eating my Rose and Violet gelato....also in search of a place to get my French haircut. This turned out to be a big mistake.
My hair had gotten "long" for me, but I had wanted to wait until I got to France to get it cut. Knowing Paris would just turn out to be a disaster, I decided Lyon was the place to make this happen. A haircut is an important thing - it affects how you feel each day about yourself. I am sorry to say....I am officially sporting the WORST haircut in recent memory. Some of you have seen pictures of me at my house - as a kid with a haircut my dad gave me....horrific, yes. But one can get away with such travesties as a child - one cannot as an adult b/c it looks as though this is the look you were going for. I have never had my hair attacked with clippers - I have now. Despite asking the guy to "Stop!"....and having an American hairdresser overseeing him....I now have a "freshly shorn" look and I HATE IT!! It sticks out in the wrong places, is too blunt in others, shows the "lines" instead of them blending and being texturized....It just all around looks bad. I'm not afraid to go short...I'm afraid to go "bad"....and this is B-A-D. Still - it's just hair and it will grow (not fast enough, though!!)
It had gotten into the early evening at this point and I was feeling ambitious to climb the mountain my hostel was located upon. Up I went...and up....and up....and up. When I finally got there - I must have downed 4 or 5 liters of water. I still had some leftovers from lunch, so I garnered myself a prime position out on the patio and started to "plan" the next week. Fortunately, a lovely English couple settled down next to me and we proceeded to spend the rest of the evening swapping stories, laughing at the website "Texts from Last Night.com", talking about the difficulties of being a teacher (both of them are) and putting away several carafes of wine. Pink Wine, if you can believe it. I figured that Mom had ordered up this view and this experience for me...might as well do her the honors of getting soused on Pink Wine. Soused may be a strong word...you have to drink a lot of Pink Wine to feel its effects...and I can't stomach that much of it ;)) The evening brought itself to a close and I happily took myself off to my room - eager to get to Vevey, Switzerland the next day.
Some of you may remember the fateful trip to Switzerland 2 years ago where I managed to tear my ACL in a failed attempt to re-live the glory days of high school volleyball. My destination was not Neuchatel this time, but Vevey - the hometown of my Swiss friend, Sylvain, and his lovely father, Jean-Louis. I was determined to see the famous vineyards of Lavaux - a UNESCO site - this time around.....and boy did I!!!
Vevey deserves its due...never has the intervention of good friends, good food, good wine and good times been so welcome - after the news of the market...
Well, that is for the next post.....
My hostel, Oops, billed itself as Paris's first "Boutique" hostel. In Paris, this means that they have slapped some "funky" bright green Ikea wallpaper up on the walls, contrasted it with a geometrical black and white design of sorts, hung a wavy mirror in the room and put up a "colored" light fixture. The rooms are still small, they are still populated by bunk-beds (yes, I was unfortunate enough to finally be stuck on the top bunk....with no ladder), the bathrooms - which are en suite - still smell of mold and mildew and the keys frequently do not work (which happened to me at least 4 or 5 different times). AND - you are NOT ALLOWED to enter the room you are paying precious money for during the hours of 1100 - 1600....yep, 5 hours. Ridiculous in my opinion. I totally realize I'm in Paris....and shouldn't be in the room during that time, I should be out exploring the city.....but, it's the principle. I'm paying for the room...I should be able to enter it to change clothes, grab a quick cat-nap, use the bathroom or do any of the other multitudes of things one can do within a 5 hour period of time in the middle of the day on vacation!! And, since it's Paris - the front desk people can be as rude as they like....which they were to both me and my roommate - whose reservation they screwed up and then tried to blame on him. So, despite some of the good times I had while there - champagne on the Champ du Mars and meeting some nice people....I was happy to arrive at the Gare de Lyon en route to Lyon.
Lyon was not originally on my "list". I had given it no attention, knew nothing about it and probably could not have immediately pointed it out on a map. However, I was not really due to go to Switzerland until the weekend b/c my Swiss buddy, Sylvain, like most other people right now....has a jobbie-job. Hmmmm....stay in Paris another 2 days or find another place to perch until it was Switzerland time. Yeah, not a hard decision there. Found a hostel (the only one in Lyon), booked it and handled the train there. Look out, Lyon!!
Turns out - Lyon is quite the place and could not have been more diametrically opposed to Paris!! My cab driver to the hostel - instead of being silent and sullen - was chatty, friendly and an un-official tour guide of sorts. He gave me a quick run-down on the layout of the city, suggested some nice things to do, gave me some $$-saving tips, pointed out places of interest along the way and provided some history of the city. Where was I?? Surely not France!!
I arrived at the hostel....up on top of a freaking mountain....said "au revoir" to the cab driver and entered the domicile to check-in. Once again...totally different from Paris - I got a genuine welcome, a friendly and informative check-in (in Paris, I had a piece of paper slapped in front of me and was told to "Read"), was showed where I could fill up my water bottle with FREE chilled water, was directed to the kitchen which "I should feel free to use...and here is some complimentary rice and pasta if you would like" - then.....the room. Still small, still bunk-beds (I took the lower one)....but French doors that opened out onto a deck with a view that genuinely stunned me. The entire city of Lyon was spread out beneath me for miles and miles!! Orange rooftops, 2 rivers - the Rhine and the Soame, Bridges, Church towers, Domed Monuments....I almost had to pinch myself that this was actually a HOSTEL. Views like this don't come cheap....or maybe they do in Lyon!! Mom must have "radioed" ahead and let Lyon know how shabbily Paris had treated me....and that France had some making up to do for its capital city. Message received!!
It was "too late" to really go see anything...and who needed to with the view?? Instead, I trudged up the rest of the mountain until I found a market - grabbed some bread, cheese, meat and fruit and made my way back to the hostel for an al fresco dinner. I got a cheap carafe of wine from the hostel and wrote the Paris blog that night. A good night's sleep set me to rights for the next day of exploring Lyon.
Coffee and baguette on the patio the next morning....Lyon just doesn't quit!
The highest compliment I can pay Lyon is that it gave me the same feeling Portland does....smaller than its neighbors of Seattle and San Francisco, but more accessible, comfortable with its status of "2nd tier", clean, walkable, rife with little hidden gems around each corner and filled with flowers. Before I could really get down to enjoying Lyon, though...I had some business to take care of first. Business that should NOT have eaten into my wonderful day.
Ahem, readers.....Should any of you decide to go to Europe for an extended amount of time....DO NOT be taken in by Rail Europe and their clever marketing of the Eurail Pass. I know some of you have already come over here and successfully navigated the trains with the Pass...BUT, it is no longer as easy as that. There are supplements to pay, restrictions to be aware of, reservations that have to be made well in advance, a website that constantly won't give you the information you need and misinformation out there designed to strip you of your hard-earned $$. I could go on and on about the nonsense that is this company, website and service; but, I know you would much prefer to hear about Lyon - in just a second. Thankfully, seeking out humans and asking them for help is still the best way to go about fixing issues. Instead of being forced to pay an additional 96Euro for supplemental reservations through Rail Europe, I found a human who used her "magic box" - i.e. a computer - to find me an alternate route to Amsterdam for only 6Euro which would get me into Amsterdam only 2 hours later. Hmmmmm....which one should I go with?? Backtrack to Paris, have to change STATIONS...not platforms, mind you....STATIONS, and pay 96Euro. OR, take an alternate route (and more scenic) through Basel and Frankfurt for 6? Considering this is being written from Basel, I think you can figure out which option I selected. This route did not exist on their website. Rail Europe is bullshit. I will do everything I can to keep people from wasting $$ with them like I did.
And back to Lyon we go....
I meandered around Lyon for an hour or so - grabbing some fruit, salami and cheese from a market I passed and having a little picnic by the river. Then set out to find the art museum...which I did with no difficulty whatsoever (a miracle for me considering how directionally challenged I am!). Nice museum - had some good paintings and sculptures - along with a small but quality Egyptian and Greek/Roman section. I saw what I wanted and then headed across the plaza to a gelato shop I had been given a coupon for. Had to use the coupon, right?? Well - as some of you know from Facebook, I was handed the sobering news that one of my favorite singers had died in the past week. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. Madame Amy Winehouse just found life to difficult to live. She was a genius and a train-wreck all at the same time. I discovered her in Portland before she blew up....loved, loved, loved her....and feel quite sad that the world has lost such a talent at the young age of 27...just like Jimi, Janis, Jim and Kurt. Yes - I do put her in the same league as those revered individuals...she had a voice set apart from most today. I pulled out my iPod, put her on and continued to walk the streets eating my Rose and Violet gelato....also in search of a place to get my French haircut. This turned out to be a big mistake.
My hair had gotten "long" for me, but I had wanted to wait until I got to France to get it cut. Knowing Paris would just turn out to be a disaster, I decided Lyon was the place to make this happen. A haircut is an important thing - it affects how you feel each day about yourself. I am sorry to say....I am officially sporting the WORST haircut in recent memory. Some of you have seen pictures of me at my house - as a kid with a haircut my dad gave me....horrific, yes. But one can get away with such travesties as a child - one cannot as an adult b/c it looks as though this is the look you were going for. I have never had my hair attacked with clippers - I have now. Despite asking the guy to "Stop!"....and having an American hairdresser overseeing him....I now have a "freshly shorn" look and I HATE IT!! It sticks out in the wrong places, is too blunt in others, shows the "lines" instead of them blending and being texturized....It just all around looks bad. I'm not afraid to go short...I'm afraid to go "bad"....and this is B-A-D. Still - it's just hair and it will grow (not fast enough, though!!)
It had gotten into the early evening at this point and I was feeling ambitious to climb the mountain my hostel was located upon. Up I went...and up....and up....and up. When I finally got there - I must have downed 4 or 5 liters of water. I still had some leftovers from lunch, so I garnered myself a prime position out on the patio and started to "plan" the next week. Fortunately, a lovely English couple settled down next to me and we proceeded to spend the rest of the evening swapping stories, laughing at the website "Texts from Last Night.com", talking about the difficulties of being a teacher (both of them are) and putting away several carafes of wine. Pink Wine, if you can believe it. I figured that Mom had ordered up this view and this experience for me...might as well do her the honors of getting soused on Pink Wine. Soused may be a strong word...you have to drink a lot of Pink Wine to feel its effects...and I can't stomach that much of it ;)) The evening brought itself to a close and I happily took myself off to my room - eager to get to Vevey, Switzerland the next day.
Some of you may remember the fateful trip to Switzerland 2 years ago where I managed to tear my ACL in a failed attempt to re-live the glory days of high school volleyball. My destination was not Neuchatel this time, but Vevey - the hometown of my Swiss friend, Sylvain, and his lovely father, Jean-Louis. I was determined to see the famous vineyards of Lavaux - a UNESCO site - this time around.....and boy did I!!!
Vevey deserves its due...never has the intervention of good friends, good food, good wine and good times been so welcome - after the news of the market...
Well, that is for the next post.....
Thursday, August 4, 2011
"Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own"
Paris -
After an uneventful first evening in Paris that saw me checking into my hostel - Oops - and having dinner at an Indian restaurant, I awoke on Monday ready to tackle the city. As I mentioned on Facebook, I strangely was sharing the hostel room with 3 guys from Brazil. None of them knew each other but I was definitely in the minority - language and gender-wise!
I left my hostel located on the Avenue des Gobelins- yes, this means what you think it does. Avenue of the Goblins. Don't know why, I never saw any goblins while I was there ;) I was on a mission to The Louvre and after consulting the map, decided I could easily walk there. This was my first mistake. Paris is MUCH larger than London and what I thought would take me around 25 minutes, actually took me closer to an hour. It was a pretty walk though - along the Seine, over the Pont Neuf and finally to my destination. When I finally got there, I knew I couldn't enter the place without first grabbing a sandwich and some coffee. My breakfast of a piece of bread and some juice wasn't going to last me for the several hours The Louvre requires.
After fortifying myself properly, I entered the quad that houses the huge pyramid. The outside of The Louvre takes your breath away and is jaw-droopingly huge. Museums of its stature are - of course - large...but this place is mammoth. I had been here when I was 16, but my recollection of the place was an In-n-Out experience. Being herded through it to see a few choice items - Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, Jaques Louis David's Napoleon picture, etc. As I rode the escalator down from the Pyramid to the below ground ticket area, I can't help but describe the buzzing activity below as belonging more to a busy train station like Paddington in London than a museum. Zoo is the other world that comes to mind, but I visited another zoo the next day complete with animal sculptures outside...The Musee d'Orsay.
But first...The Louvre. I'm sure many of you reading this have visited The Louvre, so my thoughts and descriptions won't be anything new to you...but perhaps you will keep reading...
1. If you think you are going to see everything The Louvre had to offer, think again.
2. I was in the place less than 10 minutes when my survival instincts kicked in and screamed, "RUN"...."FLEE"..."Get out of here"!!!! And I almost did - but 10E is 10E and I wasn't wasting it. I mean, I'd seen this place already and the enormous mass of people moving in every direction along with the deafening din was pushing me to my "Horde" limit. But Beth, you love art museums. How could you possibly consider leaving the most famous one in the world??!! I'll tell you why....This wasn't a museum, it was a battle zone - the art lovers vs. the sightsee-ers. I am going to consider my battle a Pyrrhic victory. I may have emerged several hours later with a "win" on my hands...but it came at a high price. I was bleary-eyed, battle sore, mentally numb and thinking "not so nice" thoughts about our Far East friends. I have not had the pleasure of visiting that part of the world yet like my brother has - and I very much want to - but it is going to require months of mental preparation to adequately deal with the "personal space" issues - or rather -the lack of respect when it comes to personal space - that seems to afflict our Asian friends (in case you can't tell, I'm desperately trying not to come across as racist).
3. The Louvre suffers from Koi or Goldfish syndrome....the larger the environment, the larger the crowd swells to completely occupy every square foot possible.
4. Lest you think I only have negative thoughts to express - fear not - somehow in this overwhelming mass of humanity, I managed to run into one of the guys sharing my room in the hostel - Leonardo from Brazil. Not to be confused with the other Brazilian who dropped the gem - "Are you from Tennessee? B/C you are the only Ten I See" Bahahahahaha. Leonardo was the other, other one. As mentioned, I was sharing a room with 3 Brazilian guys. Before your eyes widen when considering the "safety" issue - just don't go there. It is a hostel, full of lovely people and every one of these guys was wonderful. No cause for concern - and when it comes right down to it (I could have taken them all - maybe not all at once - but I could do some damage). So, out of thousands of people - possibly TENS of thousands - this place definitely holds a football stadiums worth of people - I found the ONE person I knew in Paris. How does that happen?
5. Moving around with someone who felt the same way was comforting - you can exchange knowing looks at the same bizarre behavior, and this guy was big...so he was a good offensive lineman - and a defensive blocker when needed....PLUS, this may have been the funniest thing said all day (prepare yourselves for a "racist" statement of sorts...not made by me....only faithfully relayed...). After attempting to take several pictures throughout the museum of both statues and paintings, and then finding them "ruined" by people from a certain area of the world already mentioned, Leonardo loudly exclaimed, "Damn!! There's one in EVERY freaking picture....ALWAYS ONE!!!" I don't know why that was so funny to me, but at that particular moment, I could only let out a loud guffaw, bend over and continue to belly-laugh for a full 2-3 minutes. That laughing allowed me to purge all the anxiety that had been eating away at me because of the crowds.
6. Somehow Leonardo and I ran into Ali, the other Brazilian from the room - so now, Oops Hostel rm 106 had become an effective triumvirate to go conquer the streets of Paris. A hasty exit from The Louvre deposited us back on the Rue de Rivoli - in need of refreshment...again. Lenoardo wanted McDonald's. I did not. But, we agreed to accompany him there - buying a lemon sorbet along the way - just what the medic ordered for me. After some consultation about where to go next - many sights/museums are alternately closed on Mondays and Tuesdays in Paris - and, we were all tired. As I've said, The Louvre is huge and you actually do walk miles to see the different features. We all settled on "The Pompidou" - which suited me just fine - moving from true Classical art to the modern of the Modern. Let's do it!!
7. The Pompidou - aka Centre Georges Pompidou - a former French President. This place could NOT be more different from The Louvre - which is housed in a former palace. The Pompidou is more like an Industrial building - at the heart of the funky Marais district - and resembles a large "mouse maze" - full of colored tubes, rooms that dead end and escalators shuttling people up and down in a zig-zag...all of which is exposed and visible to the people on the plaza down below. Interestingly - a James Bond movie had a few scenes filmed here....It was Holly Goodhead's office in the film "Moonraker" and used as the villain - Hugo Drax's - space station...YAY...James Bond!!! The Pompidou is also huge - it covers 5 acres!!
8. I may not be the biggest modern art fan, but "Modern" encompasses the very late 19th century through today...and there were some damn good artists working during the first 50 or so years of the 20th century....Braque, Rothko, Kandinsky, Matisse, Picasso, - The Cubists, The Fauve movement..... This museum is wonderful. It houses the largest modern art collection in Europe - i.e. huge. It has a monster collection that just seems to go on forever. As soon as you think you have finished an area, you see a little hallway that leads to a whole new wing.
9. The cool thing about visiting The Pompidou is that I was just at the Tate Modern in London, less than a month ago - and they have many similar pieces - Matisse's sculptures of "Backs", the same photo by Diane Arbus - a child holding a grenade in a park (creepy) and a piece by Cy Twombley (who just died...sigh) - At Tatianna....remember the exhibit we saw in Philly?? About the Iliad - you took a pic of me viewing it....well, they had one of those pieces in The Pompidou - "Achilles mourning the death of Patroclus"!!! Anyways - I genuinely enjoyed this museum, but towards the end of my visit - my dogs weren't just barking...they were baying at the moon!! Things look close to each other on the map in Paris, but they aren't!!
One funny experience in The Pompidou....there is currently a special exhibition of Indian artists and one particular section is hyper-sexual. Nothing too gratuitous - but one small gallery, in particular - had a series of photographs depicting a male couple - throughout the course of their relationship. Well, some of the photos don't leave much to the imagination - and despite a posted "Warning" - that some of the galleries contain material of a sexual nature that some - particularly families - may find offensive, a mother entered the one I was in with her small daughter - couldn't have been more than 3 or 4. The mother didn't get more than 5 steps into the room - and I was watching her closely - when her eyes widened, she let out an honest to God shriek, almost jerked her daughter's arm out of its poor socket, and clapped her hand over the girl's eyes as she dragged this child "out of the line of fire"!! I could only chuckle - and more loudly after I caught the eye of another person in the gallery. We just shook our heads and laughed together for a minute...too funny.
10. We left The Pompidou around 7:45pm - thoroughly shredded. All 3 of us were hungry and tired. But we didn't want to head for the hostel just yet. Leonardo wanted to pop some champagne at the Eiffel Tower as it lit up for the evening and that sounded like as good a plan as any. We grabbed some snacks and found some champagne. I had thought a bottle of sparkling wine would do just fine, but Leonard was determined to have champagne - so Veuve Clicquot it was!! I wasn't going to complain...no sir, not one bit. Veuve means no nasty champagne hangover!! We got off the Metro at The Trocadero - probably the best view of the Tower in the city. Made our way down to the Champ du Mars - amongst the herd of guys selling ugly Eiffel Tower trinkets as well as Wine and "Cham-Pay-An". We spread our picnic out on the grass, removed our shoes to rub our feet on the cool grass and let out a collective sigh that we were there...and didn't have to move again for a couple hours. The Tower lit up around 9:30pm and started its sparkly show at about 10pm. We popped our champagne, toasted to the fact that we were in Paris, drank the bottle and around midnight - hit a little creperie for a true midnight snack - found the Metro, headed for the Hostel and fell into our beds.
Day 1 in Paris complete....and satisfactorily so!!
Before beginning Day 2 - this is my humble suggestions to the museums of Paris....You are world-class museums. Everybody knows who you are and checks your websites frequently. You could move to a timed entry/reservation system so that people could truly enjoy what is housed inside, instead of feeling like cattle being herded through the stockyards. People would still come to visit. Just have Rick Steves or Samantha Brown mention that you have moved to a new system and you will be set for publicity!!
Day 2 will be brief. It's difficult for me to describe what I went through at the Musee d'Orsay. I had a bad "Mom" day - where everything just seems to remind me of the loss. I think this must have been her favorite museum - I know it was in the Top 3 if not her favorite. It houses some of the most famous Impressionist paintings - and the gut-wrenching moments came when I kept seeing paintings that Mom had hung in our house....6 in total. Seeing the first was a small clench of the stomach (Monet's "Field of Poppies")....seeing the next one 5 minutes later (Renoir's "La Balancoire") wiped the smile off my face...and finding myself in front of Renoir's "La Lileuse" did me in. The tears gathered in my eyes and my sniffling nose could not be silenced. I was in another huge horde of people - and couldn't find anywhere to escape....and there was still a lot to be seen. This was just the first gallery. I decided to come back to that gallery after I had collected myself - and decided to head upstairs to the restaurant, which I had heard wonderful things about. My lunch was superb - expensive, but superb. Beef Carpaccio with parmesan shavings, a watercress salad, an olive vinaigrette and delicious caper berries. Finished off with a chocolate gateau and espresso. I did some writing in my journal (what you read above about The Louvre) and decided I was now strong enough to continue.
I headed down the opposite side of the main floor - but managed to find myself feeling exactly like I had an hour ago when I was confronted with Van Gogh's "L'eglise d'Auvers" - Mom had this hanging above the Plantation Ledger in the Living Room for years. The sadness engulfed me again and I just stood there staring at it - noticing how the accents of orange really set the church off against the brilliant blue sky.... trying to think about anything other than the fact I wouldn't be able to tell her that I had seen this painting. I stumbled around for another few hours - loving the museum - but unable to separate myself from the feeling that I constantly wanted to go somewhere and simply fall apart. I have never wanted someone to put their arms around me so badly and tell me "it will be ok, just go ahead and cry." Instead, I was surrounded by soaring walls, cold marble, strangers and beautiful works of art. Unfortunately, they could not give me what I needed that day. All I could think of was a particular U2 song that my brother and I listened to in the car right after I picked him up from the Raleigh airport in November. We had reached the Goat Farm - hadn't managed to say too much to each other on the drive - we were both too numb. But I had my U2 mix on - and the song "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" came on. Even though we had arrived at our destination, we sat in the car holding hands while listening to the words....
And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
Can you hear me when I sing
You're the reason I sing
You're the reason, why the Opera is in me
Well hey now, still gotta let you know
A house doesn't make a home
Don't leave me here alone
My mom is the reason why art "is in me", I just hate that I can no longer share this love with her. I have felt this way before when visiting a museum - in Chicago and in London...but it is the first time so many of the paintings she loved were in one place...it felt like blow, after blow, after blow....and it didn't ever let up.....Degas, Renoir, Sisley, Pisarro, Monet, Van Gogh, Gaugin.....
When I finally left the Musee d'Orsay - I think it is one of the best museums I have ever visited, but I felt such sadness. I headed for the Musee Rodin b/c I didn't want to be around hordes anymore and I wanted to be in an open space to just think. Mission accomplished - but crying and feeling so sad will just drain the life out of you. I had a low key evening - spent drinking a bottle of wine in a park with a lovely Canadian I met at the Hostel. Sometimes the simple company of a stranger is enough to make you forget your problems and re-focus on the good things in your life - i.e. this trip and my friends and family.
Happiness is not about getting what we want, it is about appreciating what we have.
And right now, I have a great trip to enjoy. It's ok to feel sad, I just have to concentrate on learning how to accept and feel the sadness without letting it overrun me and hold me hostage. Hopefully a good lesson learned...we'll see. Many more art museums to visit...
Today - Lyon. Going to their art museum and need to sort out a few train tickets - this Rail Europe website is bull----!! I have to go waste time in Lyon going back to the train station to deal with something that should be able to be arranged online....oh well. It's never really about the individual traveler is it - only about the corporation and making money??
More soon......
After an uneventful first evening in Paris that saw me checking into my hostel - Oops - and having dinner at an Indian restaurant, I awoke on Monday ready to tackle the city. As I mentioned on Facebook, I strangely was sharing the hostel room with 3 guys from Brazil. None of them knew each other but I was definitely in the minority - language and gender-wise!
I left my hostel located on the Avenue des Gobelins- yes, this means what you think it does. Avenue of the Goblins. Don't know why, I never saw any goblins while I was there ;) I was on a mission to The Louvre and after consulting the map, decided I could easily walk there. This was my first mistake. Paris is MUCH larger than London and what I thought would take me around 25 minutes, actually took me closer to an hour. It was a pretty walk though - along the Seine, over the Pont Neuf and finally to my destination. When I finally got there, I knew I couldn't enter the place without first grabbing a sandwich and some coffee. My breakfast of a piece of bread and some juice wasn't going to last me for the several hours The Louvre requires.
After fortifying myself properly, I entered the quad that houses the huge pyramid. The outside of The Louvre takes your breath away and is jaw-droopingly huge. Museums of its stature are - of course - large...but this place is mammoth. I had been here when I was 16, but my recollection of the place was an In-n-Out experience. Being herded through it to see a few choice items - Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, Jaques Louis David's Napoleon picture, etc. As I rode the escalator down from the Pyramid to the below ground ticket area, I can't help but describe the buzzing activity below as belonging more to a busy train station like Paddington in London than a museum. Zoo is the other world that comes to mind, but I visited another zoo the next day complete with animal sculptures outside...The Musee d'Orsay.
But first...The Louvre. I'm sure many of you reading this have visited The Louvre, so my thoughts and descriptions won't be anything new to you...but perhaps you will keep reading...
1. If you think you are going to see everything The Louvre had to offer, think again.
2. I was in the place less than 10 minutes when my survival instincts kicked in and screamed, "RUN"...."FLEE"..."Get out of here"!!!! And I almost did - but 10E is 10E and I wasn't wasting it. I mean, I'd seen this place already and the enormous mass of people moving in every direction along with the deafening din was pushing me to my "Horde" limit. But Beth, you love art museums. How could you possibly consider leaving the most famous one in the world??!! I'll tell you why....This wasn't a museum, it was a battle zone - the art lovers vs. the sightsee-ers. I am going to consider my battle a Pyrrhic victory. I may have emerged several hours later with a "win" on my hands...but it came at a high price. I was bleary-eyed, battle sore, mentally numb and thinking "not so nice" thoughts about our Far East friends. I have not had the pleasure of visiting that part of the world yet like my brother has - and I very much want to - but it is going to require months of mental preparation to adequately deal with the "personal space" issues - or rather -the lack of respect when it comes to personal space - that seems to afflict our Asian friends (in case you can't tell, I'm desperately trying not to come across as racist).
3. The Louvre suffers from Koi or Goldfish syndrome....the larger the environment, the larger the crowd swells to completely occupy every square foot possible.
4. Lest you think I only have negative thoughts to express - fear not - somehow in this overwhelming mass of humanity, I managed to run into one of the guys sharing my room in the hostel - Leonardo from Brazil. Not to be confused with the other Brazilian who dropped the gem - "Are you from Tennessee? B/C you are the only Ten I See" Bahahahahaha. Leonardo was the other, other one. As mentioned, I was sharing a room with 3 Brazilian guys. Before your eyes widen when considering the "safety" issue - just don't go there. It is a hostel, full of lovely people and every one of these guys was wonderful. No cause for concern - and when it comes right down to it (I could have taken them all - maybe not all at once - but I could do some damage). So, out of thousands of people - possibly TENS of thousands - this place definitely holds a football stadiums worth of people - I found the ONE person I knew in Paris. How does that happen?
5. Moving around with someone who felt the same way was comforting - you can exchange knowing looks at the same bizarre behavior, and this guy was big...so he was a good offensive lineman - and a defensive blocker when needed....PLUS, this may have been the funniest thing said all day (prepare yourselves for a "racist" statement of sorts...not made by me....only faithfully relayed...). After attempting to take several pictures throughout the museum of both statues and paintings, and then finding them "ruined" by people from a certain area of the world already mentioned, Leonardo loudly exclaimed, "Damn!! There's one in EVERY freaking picture....ALWAYS ONE!!!" I don't know why that was so funny to me, but at that particular moment, I could only let out a loud guffaw, bend over and continue to belly-laugh for a full 2-3 minutes. That laughing allowed me to purge all the anxiety that had been eating away at me because of the crowds.
6. Somehow Leonardo and I ran into Ali, the other Brazilian from the room - so now, Oops Hostel rm 106 had become an effective triumvirate to go conquer the streets of Paris. A hasty exit from The Louvre deposited us back on the Rue de Rivoli - in need of refreshment...again. Lenoardo wanted McDonald's. I did not. But, we agreed to accompany him there - buying a lemon sorbet along the way - just what the medic ordered for me. After some consultation about where to go next - many sights/museums are alternately closed on Mondays and Tuesdays in Paris - and, we were all tired. As I've said, The Louvre is huge and you actually do walk miles to see the different features. We all settled on "The Pompidou" - which suited me just fine - moving from true Classical art to the modern of the Modern. Let's do it!!
7. The Pompidou - aka Centre Georges Pompidou - a former French President. This place could NOT be more different from The Louvre - which is housed in a former palace. The Pompidou is more like an Industrial building - at the heart of the funky Marais district - and resembles a large "mouse maze" - full of colored tubes, rooms that dead end and escalators shuttling people up and down in a zig-zag...all of which is exposed and visible to the people on the plaza down below. Interestingly - a James Bond movie had a few scenes filmed here....It was Holly Goodhead's office in the film "Moonraker" and used as the villain - Hugo Drax's - space station...YAY...James Bond!!! The Pompidou is also huge - it covers 5 acres!!
8. I may not be the biggest modern art fan, but "Modern" encompasses the very late 19th century through today...and there were some damn good artists working during the first 50 or so years of the 20th century....Braque, Rothko, Kandinsky, Matisse, Picasso, - The Cubists, The Fauve movement..... This museum is wonderful. It houses the largest modern art collection in Europe - i.e. huge. It has a monster collection that just seems to go on forever. As soon as you think you have finished an area, you see a little hallway that leads to a whole new wing.
9. The cool thing about visiting The Pompidou is that I was just at the Tate Modern in London, less than a month ago - and they have many similar pieces - Matisse's sculptures of "Backs", the same photo by Diane Arbus - a child holding a grenade in a park (creepy) and a piece by Cy Twombley (who just died...sigh) - At Tatianna....remember the exhibit we saw in Philly?? About the Iliad - you took a pic of me viewing it....well, they had one of those pieces in The Pompidou - "Achilles mourning the death of Patroclus"!!! Anyways - I genuinely enjoyed this museum, but towards the end of my visit - my dogs weren't just barking...they were baying at the moon!! Things look close to each other on the map in Paris, but they aren't!!
One funny experience in The Pompidou....there is currently a special exhibition of Indian artists and one particular section is hyper-sexual. Nothing too gratuitous - but one small gallery, in particular - had a series of photographs depicting a male couple - throughout the course of their relationship. Well, some of the photos don't leave much to the imagination - and despite a posted "Warning" - that some of the galleries contain material of a sexual nature that some - particularly families - may find offensive, a mother entered the one I was in with her small daughter - couldn't have been more than 3 or 4. The mother didn't get more than 5 steps into the room - and I was watching her closely - when her eyes widened, she let out an honest to God shriek, almost jerked her daughter's arm out of its poor socket, and clapped her hand over the girl's eyes as she dragged this child "out of the line of fire"!! I could only chuckle - and more loudly after I caught the eye of another person in the gallery. We just shook our heads and laughed together for a minute...too funny.
10. We left The Pompidou around 7:45pm - thoroughly shredded. All 3 of us were hungry and tired. But we didn't want to head for the hostel just yet. Leonardo wanted to pop some champagne at the Eiffel Tower as it lit up for the evening and that sounded like as good a plan as any. We grabbed some snacks and found some champagne. I had thought a bottle of sparkling wine would do just fine, but Leonard was determined to have champagne - so Veuve Clicquot it was!! I wasn't going to complain...no sir, not one bit. Veuve means no nasty champagne hangover!! We got off the Metro at The Trocadero - probably the best view of the Tower in the city. Made our way down to the Champ du Mars - amongst the herd of guys selling ugly Eiffel Tower trinkets as well as Wine and "Cham-Pay-An". We spread our picnic out on the grass, removed our shoes to rub our feet on the cool grass and let out a collective sigh that we were there...and didn't have to move again for a couple hours. The Tower lit up around 9:30pm and started its sparkly show at about 10pm. We popped our champagne, toasted to the fact that we were in Paris, drank the bottle and around midnight - hit a little creperie for a true midnight snack - found the Metro, headed for the Hostel and fell into our beds.
Day 1 in Paris complete....and satisfactorily so!!
Before beginning Day 2 - this is my humble suggestions to the museums of Paris....You are world-class museums. Everybody knows who you are and checks your websites frequently. You could move to a timed entry/reservation system so that people could truly enjoy what is housed inside, instead of feeling like cattle being herded through the stockyards. People would still come to visit. Just have Rick Steves or Samantha Brown mention that you have moved to a new system and you will be set for publicity!!
Day 2 will be brief. It's difficult for me to describe what I went through at the Musee d'Orsay. I had a bad "Mom" day - where everything just seems to remind me of the loss. I think this must have been her favorite museum - I know it was in the Top 3 if not her favorite. It houses some of the most famous Impressionist paintings - and the gut-wrenching moments came when I kept seeing paintings that Mom had hung in our house....6 in total. Seeing the first was a small clench of the stomach (Monet's "Field of Poppies")....seeing the next one 5 minutes later (Renoir's "La Balancoire") wiped the smile off my face...and finding myself in front of Renoir's "La Lileuse" did me in. The tears gathered in my eyes and my sniffling nose could not be silenced. I was in another huge horde of people - and couldn't find anywhere to escape....and there was still a lot to be seen. This was just the first gallery. I decided to come back to that gallery after I had collected myself - and decided to head upstairs to the restaurant, which I had heard wonderful things about. My lunch was superb - expensive, but superb. Beef Carpaccio with parmesan shavings, a watercress salad, an olive vinaigrette and delicious caper berries. Finished off with a chocolate gateau and espresso. I did some writing in my journal (what you read above about The Louvre) and decided I was now strong enough to continue.
I headed down the opposite side of the main floor - but managed to find myself feeling exactly like I had an hour ago when I was confronted with Van Gogh's "L'eglise d'Auvers" - Mom had this hanging above the Plantation Ledger in the Living Room for years. The sadness engulfed me again and I just stood there staring at it - noticing how the accents of orange really set the church off against the brilliant blue sky.... trying to think about anything other than the fact I wouldn't be able to tell her that I had seen this painting. I stumbled around for another few hours - loving the museum - but unable to separate myself from the feeling that I constantly wanted to go somewhere and simply fall apart. I have never wanted someone to put their arms around me so badly and tell me "it will be ok, just go ahead and cry." Instead, I was surrounded by soaring walls, cold marble, strangers and beautiful works of art. Unfortunately, they could not give me what I needed that day. All I could think of was a particular U2 song that my brother and I listened to in the car right after I picked him up from the Raleigh airport in November. We had reached the Goat Farm - hadn't managed to say too much to each other on the drive - we were both too numb. But I had my U2 mix on - and the song "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" came on. Even though we had arrived at our destination, we sat in the car holding hands while listening to the words....
And it's you when I look in the mirror
And it's you when I don't pick up the phone
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
Can you hear me when I sing
You're the reason I sing
You're the reason, why the Opera is in me
Well hey now, still gotta let you know
A house doesn't make a home
Don't leave me here alone
My mom is the reason why art "is in me", I just hate that I can no longer share this love with her. I have felt this way before when visiting a museum - in Chicago and in London...but it is the first time so many of the paintings she loved were in one place...it felt like blow, after blow, after blow....and it didn't ever let up.....Degas, Renoir, Sisley, Pisarro, Monet, Van Gogh, Gaugin.....
When I finally left the Musee d'Orsay - I think it is one of the best museums I have ever visited, but I felt such sadness. I headed for the Musee Rodin b/c I didn't want to be around hordes anymore and I wanted to be in an open space to just think. Mission accomplished - but crying and feeling so sad will just drain the life out of you. I had a low key evening - spent drinking a bottle of wine in a park with a lovely Canadian I met at the Hostel. Sometimes the simple company of a stranger is enough to make you forget your problems and re-focus on the good things in your life - i.e. this trip and my friends and family.
Happiness is not about getting what we want, it is about appreciating what we have.
And right now, I have a great trip to enjoy. It's ok to feel sad, I just have to concentrate on learning how to accept and feel the sadness without letting it overrun me and hold me hostage. Hopefully a good lesson learned...we'll see. Many more art museums to visit...
Today - Lyon. Going to their art museum and need to sort out a few train tickets - this Rail Europe website is bull----!! I have to go waste time in Lyon going back to the train station to deal with something that should be able to be arranged online....oh well. It's never really about the individual traveler is it - only about the corporation and making money??
More soon......
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Viva Jean d'Arc!!
I realize I said I was going to talk about the "Tapisserie" in a subsequent post, and it seems I have been lazy about truly staying updated. I should go into more detail regarding the last couple of "driving" days, but will do my best to summarize most of it and move us along to the past day and a half in Paris in post deux.
The Bayeux Tapestry - way cooler than expected. After seeing tapestries in the chateaux, the Victoria and Albert museum and Mont St-Michel, I figured i was just going to be looking at another floor to ceiling, wall to wall monster that - while neat - doesn't make much of an impression. There is usually so much going on in the scenes, that your eye can't pick up the nuances. Wrong, wrong, wrong I was. The tapestry is only about a foot and a half in height but it's the length that is impressive...224.3 feet long!! It is encased in glass and wraps around a HUGE room. It is also not technically a "tapestry" as it is not woven; rather, it is an embroidered cloth.
It tells the tale of how upon nearing death, England's King, Edward the Confessor - decided that William, the illegitimate son of the Duke of Normandy, should succeed him on the throne of England since Edward had no heirs. He dispatches a dude named Harold who manages to get captured immediately upon landing in France (the tapestry shows him as not even having shoes on when he gets off the boat and is captured). William saves Harold, they fight together in another battle, Harold delivers his message and William makes Harold swear his loyalty to him on "saintly relics" that he will support William when the time comes. Harold returns, the King dies and the devilish Harold finds it too tempting not to take the throne for himself - which he does. William hears of this and prepares his army. Meanwhile, a comet appears close to the time that Harold had been "crowned" - this was Hailey's Comet and the first record of its appearance. Comets were thought to be a bad omen back in these times. Turns out....it was. William sails, the Normans fight the Saxons, Harold dies from an arrow to the eye and William is crowned King.
The tapestry is incredibly detailed and the museum does a good job of moving you by it with an audio guide that talks about each numbered panel. It points out the little details you might normally miss - like Harold missing his shoes upon landing in Normandy, the detail of William's preparations...the guns, the animals, the chains of mail, etc., Harold dying from the arrow....The guy's voice narrating it is the best - kind of tongue in cheek as he points out the various details. He uses one tone, rarely takes a breath, makes you laugh out loud at times, and gets you through the exhibit with a good understanding of the entire story.
The tapestry was amazing. I absolutely classify it as "worthy" and at only 7E, it's a bargain to get the audio guide included!!
Onwards to Rouen - I arrived around 6:30 for my first couchsurfing experience on this trip. I reaffirm that I love this method of traveling. My host, Greg, first took me up to a famous lookout in Rouen so I could get a perspective of the city. We then grabbed a friend of his and headed to the "Right Side" of the river - which is the old section - and hit a sushi place that Greg likes for dinner. Before finding the sushi place, Greg and Sebastian were so thoughtful to take me by the Rouen Cathedral - the reason I decided to visit Rouen in the first place! They brought me around the corner, knowing the Cathedral would be smack dab in my line of vision - and quite a sight it was. The sun was setting so it was a gorgeous, shining vision that totally dominated the end of the street. Unfortunately, like most things in Europe - due to its age, it is undergoing a restoration and is covered in scaffolding. I'll just have to go back in a couple of years to see it in all its splendor. Rouen is charming but looks like more of a Swiss town than a French town. The buildings in the old section have this interesting detail about them - they look as though they have painted strips on them in blue, coral, brown and yellow. These are not, in fact, painted lines - but painted wood set into the plaster. Apparently this is unique to this particular section of Normandy and nowhere else. Cool. Dinner was great, the company better and the evening ended at a hip, French bar where another friend of Greg's - Johan - joined us. Mojitos are mojitos, though - I can't say the French ones were any better than any place else in the US. They still cram the glasses full of lime and mint so they don't have to give you as much alcohol! ;)) A fun guy stopped by our table - who just happened to be a magician. You would never have guessed this - he looked like a hipster from Portland - but, he definitely made me laugh and even more so when I discovered that the coin he was using for his tricks was a Kennedy 1/2 dollar....who has those anymore??!! We popped by the site where Joan of Arc was burned and called it a night! A great first evening in Rouen.
The next day, Greg and I had a lovely lunch at a typical French bistro called Le Socrate where I had a delicious salad (Gawd, I had been craving something lighter!) followed by time at Rouen's Musee des Beaux Artes. Great museum with a really nice collection - I liked how they had some of their rooms arranged. Painters in the 15th, 16th and early 17th century often didn't vary their themes much - many biblical depictions or mythological themes - the Musee des Beaux Artes in Rouen grouped many of these together so you could see how different painters interpreted the same scene. I like this. A little more walking around, back to Greg's for a nap and then a great dinner that night at a traditional creperie. I had a whole wheat crepe with smoked sausage, cheese and potatoes - delicious - and finished off with a sweet crepe covered in salted caramel...mmmmmmm.
After waking up the next day, getting packed and saying goodbye to my great French host - I set off for Giverny. Mecca for Monet lovers...of which both my Mom and I are. I had no idea so many people would be there but perhaps should have expected it since it was a Sunday. I had to wait in a long queue for about 30 minutes to get into the gardens and house area. I entered the gardens finally and walked amongst them for about an hour - also visiting the famous Japanese Bridge and the Water Lily pond. Monet turned out some of his most famous works while living here at Giverny - obviously, he did his Water Lilies, also the Japanese Bridge, Mornings on the Seine and he painted Rouen's cathedral over 30 times. This area of France was a huge inspiration to him and I can see why.
His gardens are filled with a proliferation of roses, hydrangeas, black-eyed susans, hollyhocks, gladiolas and every wildflower imaginable. It is set up in rows but you can only walk up and down some of them. It isn't a large garden like you might expect, but it would require quite a bit of tending if it belonged to you personally...lots and lots of flowers. The Japanese Bridge and the Lily Pond are a little bit away from the main house and garden. You go under the road and emerge on the other side to view these 2 famous areas. Of course, they were packed with people so you are unable to just sit in silence and reflect on the genius who lived and worked here. I did take lots of pictures and managed to get most of them sans people. Mom would have loved this place and sadly, I'm not sure if she ever visited it. I'll have to ask her friends and read back through her trip diaries. She would have been in heaven.
The house is sweet - it is painted in very bright colors and wasn't at all what I expected. However, it IS filled with light - which I would expect. The 3 best rooms are Monet's studio, the dining room and the kitchen. The studiod is filled floor to ceiling with replicas of 64 of his paintings. Through intense study, it is believed this is how it looked and these are the exact works contained at Giverny in 1920. The dining room is a bright yellow, covered floor to ceiling with Japanese prints and is set with his Limoges china. The kitchen is one I would have been at home cooking in. It is a gorgeous blue and covered with blue and white tiles. These set off the copper pots and cookware beautifully - with a large stone sink, a huge stove/oven and sweet little blue gingham curtains - I could definitely whip up some goodies there. The kitchen opens right out into the gardens and is the exit point from the house.
Leaving Giverny marked the end of the "driving" part of my French adventures. It was time to return to Beauvais, drop off the car and grab the bus to Paris. Done, done and done....
Next posting....PARIS!!!
The Bayeux Tapestry - way cooler than expected. After seeing tapestries in the chateaux, the Victoria and Albert museum and Mont St-Michel, I figured i was just going to be looking at another floor to ceiling, wall to wall monster that - while neat - doesn't make much of an impression. There is usually so much going on in the scenes, that your eye can't pick up the nuances. Wrong, wrong, wrong I was. The tapestry is only about a foot and a half in height but it's the length that is impressive...224.3 feet long!! It is encased in glass and wraps around a HUGE room. It is also not technically a "tapestry" as it is not woven; rather, it is an embroidered cloth.
It tells the tale of how upon nearing death, England's King, Edward the Confessor - decided that William, the illegitimate son of the Duke of Normandy, should succeed him on the throne of England since Edward had no heirs. He dispatches a dude named Harold who manages to get captured immediately upon landing in France (the tapestry shows him as not even having shoes on when he gets off the boat and is captured). William saves Harold, they fight together in another battle, Harold delivers his message and William makes Harold swear his loyalty to him on "saintly relics" that he will support William when the time comes. Harold returns, the King dies and the devilish Harold finds it too tempting not to take the throne for himself - which he does. William hears of this and prepares his army. Meanwhile, a comet appears close to the time that Harold had been "crowned" - this was Hailey's Comet and the first record of its appearance. Comets were thought to be a bad omen back in these times. Turns out....it was. William sails, the Normans fight the Saxons, Harold dies from an arrow to the eye and William is crowned King.
The tapestry is incredibly detailed and the museum does a good job of moving you by it with an audio guide that talks about each numbered panel. It points out the little details you might normally miss - like Harold missing his shoes upon landing in Normandy, the detail of William's preparations...the guns, the animals, the chains of mail, etc., Harold dying from the arrow....The guy's voice narrating it is the best - kind of tongue in cheek as he points out the various details. He uses one tone, rarely takes a breath, makes you laugh out loud at times, and gets you through the exhibit with a good understanding of the entire story.
The tapestry was amazing. I absolutely classify it as "worthy" and at only 7E, it's a bargain to get the audio guide included!!
Onwards to Rouen - I arrived around 6:30 for my first couchsurfing experience on this trip. I reaffirm that I love this method of traveling. My host, Greg, first took me up to a famous lookout in Rouen so I could get a perspective of the city. We then grabbed a friend of his and headed to the "Right Side" of the river - which is the old section - and hit a sushi place that Greg likes for dinner. Before finding the sushi place, Greg and Sebastian were so thoughtful to take me by the Rouen Cathedral - the reason I decided to visit Rouen in the first place! They brought me around the corner, knowing the Cathedral would be smack dab in my line of vision - and quite a sight it was. The sun was setting so it was a gorgeous, shining vision that totally dominated the end of the street. Unfortunately, like most things in Europe - due to its age, it is undergoing a restoration and is covered in scaffolding. I'll just have to go back in a couple of years to see it in all its splendor. Rouen is charming but looks like more of a Swiss town than a French town. The buildings in the old section have this interesting detail about them - they look as though they have painted strips on them in blue, coral, brown and yellow. These are not, in fact, painted lines - but painted wood set into the plaster. Apparently this is unique to this particular section of Normandy and nowhere else. Cool. Dinner was great, the company better and the evening ended at a hip, French bar where another friend of Greg's - Johan - joined us. Mojitos are mojitos, though - I can't say the French ones were any better than any place else in the US. They still cram the glasses full of lime and mint so they don't have to give you as much alcohol! ;)) A fun guy stopped by our table - who just happened to be a magician. You would never have guessed this - he looked like a hipster from Portland - but, he definitely made me laugh and even more so when I discovered that the coin he was using for his tricks was a Kennedy 1/2 dollar....who has those anymore??!! We popped by the site where Joan of Arc was burned and called it a night! A great first evening in Rouen.
The next day, Greg and I had a lovely lunch at a typical French bistro called Le Socrate where I had a delicious salad (Gawd, I had been craving something lighter!) followed by time at Rouen's Musee des Beaux Artes. Great museum with a really nice collection - I liked how they had some of their rooms arranged. Painters in the 15th, 16th and early 17th century often didn't vary their themes much - many biblical depictions or mythological themes - the Musee des Beaux Artes in Rouen grouped many of these together so you could see how different painters interpreted the same scene. I like this. A little more walking around, back to Greg's for a nap and then a great dinner that night at a traditional creperie. I had a whole wheat crepe with smoked sausage, cheese and potatoes - delicious - and finished off with a sweet crepe covered in salted caramel...mmmmmmm.
After waking up the next day, getting packed and saying goodbye to my great French host - I set off for Giverny. Mecca for Monet lovers...of which both my Mom and I are. I had no idea so many people would be there but perhaps should have expected it since it was a Sunday. I had to wait in a long queue for about 30 minutes to get into the gardens and house area. I entered the gardens finally and walked amongst them for about an hour - also visiting the famous Japanese Bridge and the Water Lily pond. Monet turned out some of his most famous works while living here at Giverny - obviously, he did his Water Lilies, also the Japanese Bridge, Mornings on the Seine and he painted Rouen's cathedral over 30 times. This area of France was a huge inspiration to him and I can see why.
His gardens are filled with a proliferation of roses, hydrangeas, black-eyed susans, hollyhocks, gladiolas and every wildflower imaginable. It is set up in rows but you can only walk up and down some of them. It isn't a large garden like you might expect, but it would require quite a bit of tending if it belonged to you personally...lots and lots of flowers. The Japanese Bridge and the Lily Pond are a little bit away from the main house and garden. You go under the road and emerge on the other side to view these 2 famous areas. Of course, they were packed with people so you are unable to just sit in silence and reflect on the genius who lived and worked here. I did take lots of pictures and managed to get most of them sans people. Mom would have loved this place and sadly, I'm not sure if she ever visited it. I'll have to ask her friends and read back through her trip diaries. She would have been in heaven.
The house is sweet - it is painted in very bright colors and wasn't at all what I expected. However, it IS filled with light - which I would expect. The 3 best rooms are Monet's studio, the dining room and the kitchen. The studiod is filled floor to ceiling with replicas of 64 of his paintings. Through intense study, it is believed this is how it looked and these are the exact works contained at Giverny in 1920. The dining room is a bright yellow, covered floor to ceiling with Japanese prints and is set with his Limoges china. The kitchen is one I would have been at home cooking in. It is a gorgeous blue and covered with blue and white tiles. These set off the copper pots and cookware beautifully - with a large stone sink, a huge stove/oven and sweet little blue gingham curtains - I could definitely whip up some goodies there. The kitchen opens right out into the gardens and is the exit point from the house.
Leaving Giverny marked the end of the "driving" part of my French adventures. It was time to return to Beauvais, drop off the car and grab the bus to Paris. Done, done and done....
Next posting....PARIS!!!
Sunday, July 31, 2011
June 6th, 1944....D-Day
"The battle belonged that morning to the thin, wet line of khaki that dragged itself ashore on the channel coast of France" - General Omar N. Bradley
So you may think that being the daughter of a History Teacher is the reason I decided to visit Normandy - and more specifically, Omaha Beach. The sight of the American D-Day invasion. You would be partially right in that assumption. The full reason; however, is that my grandfather and both great uncles all fought in WWII. It is difficult to imagine today, how mothers and families felt - sending all 3 sons off to a war of that magnitude. Having Bill in Iraq almost killed my Mom (I don't use that term lightly) - she genuinely aged at least 10 years in the months that he was away. She gained an entirely new perspective on what her grandmother and mother experienced during the early 1940's. Thankfully, all 3 returned home with only "minor" injuries. My grandfather had a building fall on him in China which shattered his ankle - but they all came home unlike so many others.
When I trekked down to Austin in 2008 to visit my friend Keith, and to squeeze in a family visit with my "Uncle" (this is actually Great-Uncle), I was genuinely surprised to hear that my Uncle Mike stormed the beaches of Normandy. How had I never heard this from Mom?! I had only ever heard about Paw-Paw and Iran and China! He didn't talk much about it at our lunch - but this seems to be typical of that generation. They are not about bragging - they just did what needed to be done. They fought for a "cause" not a "conquest". When I decided to go on this trip - I knew I wanted to go to the Brittany and Normandy coasts - they are the lesser visited parts of France (and definitely less crowded...which suits me perfectly!). A place where history was made and where America took its place as the world's Leader.
After spending the night in Caen - "Can"- I set out the next morning planning to meander along the coastline. I knew my various destinations, but I was determined to stay off the motorways and stick to the back-roads. This was a good decision (as it usually is...). I was treated to the early morning sight of wheat fields, suffused in golden light with a gentle mist hovering over them. In other words - picture perfect French countryside. I decided to roll my windows down to smell the cool, early morning air....but immediately rolled them right back up again after being assaulted with "cow smell". It doesn't matter that they were French cows....cows smell like cows and there is nothing romantic about it!
I continued along, passing through the town that "houses" Juno Beach - the sight of the Canadian landing. I was on a mission for St. Laurent sur Mer - or more famously....Omaha Beach. Regardless if you choose to hate the French, one has to give them credit for clearly marking all their historic sites with big brown signs that have a picture of what you will see on them. This was true for Omaha Beach - it receives a lot of attention there and is given its due.
I started to get teary in the car just thinking about what had happened on this Beach - and I wasn't even there yet!! I hadn't seen a thing. I did think about a program I like to watch on Sundays called "Fareed Zakaria - GPS" - check it out on CNN if you've never seen it. Fareed is the Global editor of Newsweek, has some of the world's leading statesmen and individuals on his show, has written a book that both Bill and I have read called "The Post-American World" - and is just an overall, smarty-pants badass. Anyways - he likes to ask a question at the end of each of his shows and I've always remembered this one...."What is the greatest strategic blunder in Modern History?" I know you could go in many different directions with this question - and that is probably the idea. Mom and I got on the phone after watching this episode and came up with the answer (which I submitted on his website) - "The US's failure to make provisions for the Palestinians upon the recognition of Israel in 1948". We thought that one was pretty good. We tuned in the following week to see what the "answer" would be - would our names be read out?? No, our "blunder" was not selected as the "greatest" This was....."The Japanese's underestimation of the US's ability to mobilize and enter WWII". Huh - we hadn't even thought of that.
So here I am at St. Laurent sur Mer - approaching the beach....knowing I'm about to view a piece of history meaningful only to a small portion of the world's population. I couldn't decide what order to make my visits that day - the beach, the museum, the cemetery....or - the cemetery, the museum, the beach....or....the museum, the beach, the cemetery?? I decided to let the car do what it wanted to do....I'd just follow along and trust it.
The answer turned out to be 1. The Beach 2. The Museum 3. The Cemetery and 4. Point du Hoc (a surprise visit). I think I did the right thing - I ended up going to the beach twice - once before the museum and once after the cemetery on the way to Point du Hoc.
The Beach is fairly ordinary - save for the fact that there are 2 large monuments there. One leading up to the water of a reddish gold material and a modern statue right on the sand that is silver/aluminum and Modern looking.
The first leading to the beach says...."1st US Infantry Division....No Mission Too Difficult, No Sacrifice Too Great...Duty First. Forced Omaha Beach at Dawn 6 June 1944"
The second statue is called "Les Braves" and was made by Anilore Banon. I heard some people around me say that they didn't like this thing. And I'll admit...It's not wonderful - it's definitely modern, but it does have a certain beauty to it, especially with the gold of the sand, the blue reflection of the sky and the water and the sun sparking upon it. There are 3 elements to it....
1. The Wings of Hope - So that the spirit which carried these men on June 6,1944 continues to inspire us, reminding us that together it is always possible to change the future.
2. Rise Freedom! - So that the example of those who rose against barbarity, help us remain standing strong against all forms of inhumanity.
3. The Wings of Fraternity - So that this surge of brotherhood always reminds us of our responsibility towards others as well as ourselves. On June 6, 1944, these men were more than soldiers, they were brothers.
I stayed here for a little bit, marveling that the beach today shows no signs of what took place there in 1944. I don't know if I expected it to - perhaps....
I then went to the museum, which is just up the road from the beach. It's a small museum, but well done. Along one wall, you have a diorama set up with men in uniform, various battle situations and sound effects - the sound of planes flying overhead, bombs exploding and machine-gun fire. Wrapping around the center of the room are glass cases with memorabilia - 20 different kinds of cigarettes, matches, pistols, hats and helmets, guns and knives, sports equipment, writing instruments, eating utensils, etc. As you wrap around, you come to the photographs - my favorite part. I just love looking at these old pictures. They are arranged in chronological order - the days leading up to the invasion, the invasion and the aftermath. So many of these men were incredibly good-looking, smiling for the camera - laying in their bunks with their shirts off, playing cards and just hanging out. Anyone who knows me, knows how viscerally I feel the images of war....I have only really watched Platoon once, Saving Private Ryan (about this invasion) once, Apacolypse Now once...and so forth and so on. The first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan were torture for me. I had my hands on either side of my head in horror, just wanting the mayhem on the screen to stop. And that was just a movie made 50+ years later. Anyways - I hate war movies. Strangely, while I was looking at these pictures of boys who had been blown apart, and pictures of medics evacuating the wounded....."Somewhere Over the Rainbow" started playing in the diorama behind me. Talk about an out of body experience.....
"Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops...That's where you'll find me....."
So - for those of you who don't know much about D-Day....here you go...
It was at the Quebec Conference in 1943 that the decision was taken to launch a major landing on continental Europe during the Spring 1944, codenamed "Operation Overlord". The actual assault was codenamed "Operation Neptune". The mass of ships, men, assault vehicles, etc. was the "Largest Armada" the world had ever seen....and it was on its way to liberate Europe.
Contrary to what the German command had been expecting, the site for the attack was not to be the north coast of France, closest to Great Britain, but the beaches along the Seine Estuary. A series of criteria were necessary to determine the precise day and time of the assault.
1. Rommel's defenses had been placed on the beach in such a way to anticipate an attack at high tide. The assault would have to happen midway through the rising tide so that the landing craft would not become snagged on the defensive spikes set up by the Germans - i.e. Mid-Rising Tide
2. For the airborne troops, the mission would require a full moon - i.e. a Dawn preceded by a Full Moon
3. A naval bombardment of the German defenses 45 minutes prior to the landings had to take place in the first light of dawn to be able to pinpoint the targets.
These 3 conditions only occurred on a few days each month. Eisenhower settled on the 5th of June with the option of delaying operations to th 6th or 7th. As it happened, bad weather in the Channel in early June forced Eisenhower to delay the landing from the 5th of June until the 6th by which time the conditions were due to improve....Just prior to the invasion, General Eisenhower transmitted a now-historic message to all members of the Allied Expeditionary Force. It read, in part, "You are about to embark upon the great crusade, toward which we have striven these many months." In his pocket was a statement, never used, to be read in case the invasion failed.
Between 6:30am and 7:30am on June 6th, 1944 - under Lieutenant General Frederick Morgan, the largest amphibious invasion in world history was executed by land, sea and air elements under direct British command with over 160,000 troops landing on beaches codenamed - Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha and Utah. The British landed at Sword and Gold, the Canadians at Juno and the Americans at Utah and Omaha. "Saving Private Ryan" depicts the landing at Omaha- where the fiercest fighting took place and where Omaha became known as "Bloody Omaha".
At this point in the museum, I was able to watch a video in English...this is what I gleaned from it...
1. These brave men considered themselves lucky to be taking part in this operation - "How lucky we were to be the ones to go on this mission."
2. As the ships approached Omaha, it was dead quiet onboard as the "sun rose over Omaha".
3. At 6:30am, things began to go wrong as the bombs launched from far off Naval destroyers had missed their targets and left the German defenses intact.
4. As the men rushed off the boats, they discovered they were "let off" farther out than anticipated, and loaded down with their heavy gear....many drowned immediately.
5. By 7am, the troops were pinned down on the beaches, with German machine guns raking the shoreline. The next wave was coming ashore but had nowhere to go - they were totally exposed.
5. Of the 16 tanks that landed upon the shores of Omaha Beach only 2 survived the landing. The official record stated that "within 10 minutes of the ramps being lowered, [the leading] company had become inert, leaderless and almost incapable of action. Every officer and sergeant had been killed or wounded.
6. It was only by the sheer determination of these men and the overwhelming numbers that allowed this mission to be successful. The Germans were eventually overrun, the beaches taken and at that point - the Americans could look back at the beach - littered with the carnage of war - and truly appreciate the scale of the mission they had accomplished.
7. The evacuation of the wounded began to take place - again, the largest operation of its kind ever undertaken with evacuation by air used en masse for the first time. Over the next 3 months, 20,000 wounded were air lifted back to England...9,000 in August alone.
8. Immediately, the Allied forces cleared a landing strip and built 2 makeshift harbors....all within ONE WEEK!!!
9. The Battle of Normandy lasted another 3 months, much longer than originally planned by the Allied strategists with July being the blackest month. The British and Canadians were held up outside of Caen (this is where I stayed....it was completely destroyed in WWII) and the Americans were bogged down on the Cotentin- encountering more fierce fighting in what was called "The Battle of the Hedgerows".
10. The success of "Operation Cobra" allowed the Americans to definitively break throughout the enemy defenses and strike out towards Brittany and the Loire - both places I had just come from.
11. At the beginning of August, the failure of the counter-attack ordered by Hitler led to the retreat of the German forces, threatened with encirclement and almost wiped out in the Falaise-Pocket at the end of the month.
During the video - I also learned about another successful mission by American Rangers at La Pointe du Hoc. This was a strategic point held by the Germans that looked out over Utah Beach to the West and Omaha Beach to the East - it was thought critical to take out the heavy artillery held here. A group of 225 specially trained Rangers, commanded by Colonel J.E. Rudder were tasked with scaling these huge, 100 ft. slippery cliffs with specifically designed climbing gear - fitted ladders and grabs. The Rangers were supposed to begin scaling the cliffs at 5:30am - before the D-Day assault- but they were dropped far off course and had to trek 3 miles to reach their destination. By this time, they had lost the element of surprise and had to scale the cliffs with not only Germans firing machine guns down at them, but the Germans cutting their ropes. Still, the Rangers kept climbing and kept climbing. Failure was just not an option. When they breached the cliff, they discovered that there were no cannons - only wooden logs - the Germans had moved them. The fighting continued as the Germans were hidden deep within bombed-out crater holes (still there...but with a sign advising you NOT to venture down into these holes....I did anyways). Over the ensuing hours, the Rangers were victorious, found the heavy artillery, took it out with grenades, pushed onwards for a mile (still under heavy fire) and secured the roads so that the Germans could not set up a roadblock in the future. They were in desperate need of reinforcements and support but none could get to them for over 48 hours....of the 225 men who started the mission, only 90 remained at the end of it. I am so glad I visited La Pointe du Hoc - it should not be missed for anybody seeking to see and understand this historic place - and these men deserve for their efforts to be recognized all these years later.
On my way back to the car, I scolded a German couple for letting their dog "foul" around the craters. They pretended like they didn't understand me for a minute....but they did...and I knew they did. Totally unacceptable to let their dog defecate in such a place. I gave them a piece of paper out of my notebook and stood there watching them until they picked up the poop. Definitely NOT letting Germans shit on that place....literally
That, in a nutshell, was the Battle of Normandy - and the D-Day invasion.
"You can manufacture weapons, and you can purchase ammunition, but you cannot buy valor and you can't pull heroes off an assembly line" - Sergeant John B. Ellery
Onwards to the cemetery.
The Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial - if ever there was a place to bring tears to your eyes....this is it. I knew this place was going to be powerful - but it is more than that. You feel small and insignificant within that hallowed place. You feel grateful, proud, sad and inspired. Many say that Arlington is the most beautiful cemetery in the world, but I think The Normandy American Cemetery rivals it.
You walk towards it from the parking lot, past blooming white hydrangeas and first encounter a modern looking gray building. This is the Visitor's Center. I decided to go here on the way out because I wanted to get to the main area as soon as possible....
Picture a beautiful day...the sun shining and a light breeze...an immaculate expanse of lawn - perfectly manicured - the sound of the ocean around you and the call of seagulls echoing. It smelled faintly of freshly cut grass.
As I was getting closer, I rounded a corner where a sign stood saying, "Silence and Respect, please." This sign was in English. I had to read it twice because my brain had become so accustomed to "translating" everything...and then just smiled. Ahhhhhh, English.
This cemetery is not the biggest in the world, but its scale still takes your breath away - 172.5 acres. You round the final bend and spread out before you are 9,387 headstones - all pristine, gleaming white marble. Of those, 9,238 are Latin Crosses and 149 are Stars of David. They are lined up on a razor's edge (and as one guy loudly said..."This was before lasers"....Thanks, guy). I walked among them and noticed that every single stone has a number on the bottom of its back base. The fronts are stark, uniform and somewhat chilling.... 3 lines....
1. Name
2. Rank
3. State of Origin and Date of Death
There is minimal ornamentation throughout the cemetery- a few conically trimmed trees like you would find in a formal garden and some shrubs separating the different quadrants, marked with the "Letters" - A through J. Beds of polyantha roses trim The Garden of the Missing where engraved tablets honor the missing in action who gave their lives in this region - 1,557. A bronze rosette beside a name shows that the remains were later recovered, identified and buried.
There is a set of symbolic statues at the west end - where I and J are located- two statues of Italian Baveno granite representing the United States and France. A chapel sits in the middle of the cemetery where E,F,G & H quadrants are- its mosaic ceiling depicts America blessing her sons as they depart by sea and air, and a grateful France (a woman) bestowing a laurel wreath upon the American dead. Finally the memorial at the east end features a 22ft. statue - The Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves - facing west toward the headstones. Around the small circle at the statue's feet are the words..."Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Coming of the Lord". There is a semi-circular structure around the statue and along the soffit are the words..."This embattled shore, portal of freedom, is forever hallowed by the ideals, the valor and the sacrifices of our fellow countrymen".
Everybody buried here is an American - only 4 civilians merited this honor - one of them a woman...a Red Cross nurse. There are 41 sets of brothers, several fathers and sons, 3 Medal of Honor recipients - 1 of whom was Theodore Roosevelt's son.
"If ever proof were needed that we fought for a cause and not a conquest, it could be found in these cemeteries. Here was our only conquest: All we asked...was enough soil in which to bury our gallant dead." - General Mark W. Clark
France is a place that sometimes makes you want to conceal the fact that you are an American. However, in Normandy - you can hold your head high, stick your chest out, speak your native tongue freely and feel proud that you are an American (cue Lee Greenwood...).
Off I went to Bayeux, to see the famous "Tapisserie" but that is for another posting...
So you may think that being the daughter of a History Teacher is the reason I decided to visit Normandy - and more specifically, Omaha Beach. The sight of the American D-Day invasion. You would be partially right in that assumption. The full reason; however, is that my grandfather and both great uncles all fought in WWII. It is difficult to imagine today, how mothers and families felt - sending all 3 sons off to a war of that magnitude. Having Bill in Iraq almost killed my Mom (I don't use that term lightly) - she genuinely aged at least 10 years in the months that he was away. She gained an entirely new perspective on what her grandmother and mother experienced during the early 1940's. Thankfully, all 3 returned home with only "minor" injuries. My grandfather had a building fall on him in China which shattered his ankle - but they all came home unlike so many others.
When I trekked down to Austin in 2008 to visit my friend Keith, and to squeeze in a family visit with my "Uncle" (this is actually Great-Uncle), I was genuinely surprised to hear that my Uncle Mike stormed the beaches of Normandy. How had I never heard this from Mom?! I had only ever heard about Paw-Paw and Iran and China! He didn't talk much about it at our lunch - but this seems to be typical of that generation. They are not about bragging - they just did what needed to be done. They fought for a "cause" not a "conquest". When I decided to go on this trip - I knew I wanted to go to the Brittany and Normandy coasts - they are the lesser visited parts of France (and definitely less crowded...which suits me perfectly!). A place where history was made and where America took its place as the world's Leader.
After spending the night in Caen - "Can"- I set out the next morning planning to meander along the coastline. I knew my various destinations, but I was determined to stay off the motorways and stick to the back-roads. This was a good decision (as it usually is...). I was treated to the early morning sight of wheat fields, suffused in golden light with a gentle mist hovering over them. In other words - picture perfect French countryside. I decided to roll my windows down to smell the cool, early morning air....but immediately rolled them right back up again after being assaulted with "cow smell". It doesn't matter that they were French cows....cows smell like cows and there is nothing romantic about it!
I continued along, passing through the town that "houses" Juno Beach - the sight of the Canadian landing. I was on a mission for St. Laurent sur Mer - or more famously....Omaha Beach. Regardless if you choose to hate the French, one has to give them credit for clearly marking all their historic sites with big brown signs that have a picture of what you will see on them. This was true for Omaha Beach - it receives a lot of attention there and is given its due.
I started to get teary in the car just thinking about what had happened on this Beach - and I wasn't even there yet!! I hadn't seen a thing. I did think about a program I like to watch on Sundays called "Fareed Zakaria - GPS" - check it out on CNN if you've never seen it. Fareed is the Global editor of Newsweek, has some of the world's leading statesmen and individuals on his show, has written a book that both Bill and I have read called "The Post-American World" - and is just an overall, smarty-pants badass. Anyways - he likes to ask a question at the end of each of his shows and I've always remembered this one...."What is the greatest strategic blunder in Modern History?" I know you could go in many different directions with this question - and that is probably the idea. Mom and I got on the phone after watching this episode and came up with the answer (which I submitted on his website) - "The US's failure to make provisions for the Palestinians upon the recognition of Israel in 1948". We thought that one was pretty good. We tuned in the following week to see what the "answer" would be - would our names be read out?? No, our "blunder" was not selected as the "greatest" This was....."The Japanese's underestimation of the US's ability to mobilize and enter WWII". Huh - we hadn't even thought of that.
So here I am at St. Laurent sur Mer - approaching the beach....knowing I'm about to view a piece of history meaningful only to a small portion of the world's population. I couldn't decide what order to make my visits that day - the beach, the museum, the cemetery....or - the cemetery, the museum, the beach....or....the museum, the beach, the cemetery?? I decided to let the car do what it wanted to do....I'd just follow along and trust it.
The answer turned out to be 1. The Beach 2. The Museum 3. The Cemetery and 4. Point du Hoc (a surprise visit). I think I did the right thing - I ended up going to the beach twice - once before the museum and once after the cemetery on the way to Point du Hoc.
The Beach is fairly ordinary - save for the fact that there are 2 large monuments there. One leading up to the water of a reddish gold material and a modern statue right on the sand that is silver/aluminum and Modern looking.
The first leading to the beach says...."1st US Infantry Division....No Mission Too Difficult, No Sacrifice Too Great...Duty First. Forced Omaha Beach at Dawn 6 June 1944"
The second statue is called "Les Braves" and was made by Anilore Banon. I heard some people around me say that they didn't like this thing. And I'll admit...It's not wonderful - it's definitely modern, but it does have a certain beauty to it, especially with the gold of the sand, the blue reflection of the sky and the water and the sun sparking upon it. There are 3 elements to it....
1. The Wings of Hope - So that the spirit which carried these men on June 6,1944 continues to inspire us, reminding us that together it is always possible to change the future.
2. Rise Freedom! - So that the example of those who rose against barbarity, help us remain standing strong against all forms of inhumanity.
3. The Wings of Fraternity - So that this surge of brotherhood always reminds us of our responsibility towards others as well as ourselves. On June 6, 1944, these men were more than soldiers, they were brothers.
I stayed here for a little bit, marveling that the beach today shows no signs of what took place there in 1944. I don't know if I expected it to - perhaps....
I then went to the museum, which is just up the road from the beach. It's a small museum, but well done. Along one wall, you have a diorama set up with men in uniform, various battle situations and sound effects - the sound of planes flying overhead, bombs exploding and machine-gun fire. Wrapping around the center of the room are glass cases with memorabilia - 20 different kinds of cigarettes, matches, pistols, hats and helmets, guns and knives, sports equipment, writing instruments, eating utensils, etc. As you wrap around, you come to the photographs - my favorite part. I just love looking at these old pictures. They are arranged in chronological order - the days leading up to the invasion, the invasion and the aftermath. So many of these men were incredibly good-looking, smiling for the camera - laying in their bunks with their shirts off, playing cards and just hanging out. Anyone who knows me, knows how viscerally I feel the images of war....I have only really watched Platoon once, Saving Private Ryan (about this invasion) once, Apacolypse Now once...and so forth and so on. The first 20 minutes of Saving Private Ryan were torture for me. I had my hands on either side of my head in horror, just wanting the mayhem on the screen to stop. And that was just a movie made 50+ years later. Anyways - I hate war movies. Strangely, while I was looking at these pictures of boys who had been blown apart, and pictures of medics evacuating the wounded....."Somewhere Over the Rainbow" started playing in the diorama behind me. Talk about an out of body experience.....
"Someday I'll wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops...That's where you'll find me....."
So - for those of you who don't know much about D-Day....here you go...
It was at the Quebec Conference in 1943 that the decision was taken to launch a major landing on continental Europe during the Spring 1944, codenamed "Operation Overlord". The actual assault was codenamed "Operation Neptune". The mass of ships, men, assault vehicles, etc. was the "Largest Armada" the world had ever seen....and it was on its way to liberate Europe.
Contrary to what the German command had been expecting, the site for the attack was not to be the north coast of France, closest to Great Britain, but the beaches along the Seine Estuary. A series of criteria were necessary to determine the precise day and time of the assault.
1. Rommel's defenses had been placed on the beach in such a way to anticipate an attack at high tide. The assault would have to happen midway through the rising tide so that the landing craft would not become snagged on the defensive spikes set up by the Germans - i.e. Mid-Rising Tide
2. For the airborne troops, the mission would require a full moon - i.e. a Dawn preceded by a Full Moon
3. A naval bombardment of the German defenses 45 minutes prior to the landings had to take place in the first light of dawn to be able to pinpoint the targets.
These 3 conditions only occurred on a few days each month. Eisenhower settled on the 5th of June with the option of delaying operations to th 6th or 7th. As it happened, bad weather in the Channel in early June forced Eisenhower to delay the landing from the 5th of June until the 6th by which time the conditions were due to improve....Just prior to the invasion, General Eisenhower transmitted a now-historic message to all members of the Allied Expeditionary Force. It read, in part, "You are about to embark upon the great crusade, toward which we have striven these many months." In his pocket was a statement, never used, to be read in case the invasion failed.
Between 6:30am and 7:30am on June 6th, 1944 - under Lieutenant General Frederick Morgan, the largest amphibious invasion in world history was executed by land, sea and air elements under direct British command with over 160,000 troops landing on beaches codenamed - Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha and Utah. The British landed at Sword and Gold, the Canadians at Juno and the Americans at Utah and Omaha. "Saving Private Ryan" depicts the landing at Omaha- where the fiercest fighting took place and where Omaha became known as "Bloody Omaha".
At this point in the museum, I was able to watch a video in English...this is what I gleaned from it...
1. These brave men considered themselves lucky to be taking part in this operation - "How lucky we were to be the ones to go on this mission."
2. As the ships approached Omaha, it was dead quiet onboard as the "sun rose over Omaha".
3. At 6:30am, things began to go wrong as the bombs launched from far off Naval destroyers had missed their targets and left the German defenses intact.
4. As the men rushed off the boats, they discovered they were "let off" farther out than anticipated, and loaded down with their heavy gear....many drowned immediately.
5. By 7am, the troops were pinned down on the beaches, with German machine guns raking the shoreline. The next wave was coming ashore but had nowhere to go - they were totally exposed.
5. Of the 16 tanks that landed upon the shores of Omaha Beach only 2 survived the landing. The official record stated that "within 10 minutes of the ramps being lowered, [the leading] company had become inert, leaderless and almost incapable of action. Every officer and sergeant had been killed or wounded.
6. It was only by the sheer determination of these men and the overwhelming numbers that allowed this mission to be successful. The Germans were eventually overrun, the beaches taken and at that point - the Americans could look back at the beach - littered with the carnage of war - and truly appreciate the scale of the mission they had accomplished.
7. The evacuation of the wounded began to take place - again, the largest operation of its kind ever undertaken with evacuation by air used en masse for the first time. Over the next 3 months, 20,000 wounded were air lifted back to England...9,000 in August alone.
8. Immediately, the Allied forces cleared a landing strip and built 2 makeshift harbors....all within ONE WEEK!!!
9. The Battle of Normandy lasted another 3 months, much longer than originally planned by the Allied strategists with July being the blackest month. The British and Canadians were held up outside of Caen (this is where I stayed....it was completely destroyed in WWII) and the Americans were bogged down on the Cotentin- encountering more fierce fighting in what was called "The Battle of the Hedgerows".
10. The success of "Operation Cobra" allowed the Americans to definitively break throughout the enemy defenses and strike out towards Brittany and the Loire - both places I had just come from.
11. At the beginning of August, the failure of the counter-attack ordered by Hitler led to the retreat of the German forces, threatened with encirclement and almost wiped out in the Falaise-Pocket at the end of the month.
During the video - I also learned about another successful mission by American Rangers at La Pointe du Hoc. This was a strategic point held by the Germans that looked out over Utah Beach to the West and Omaha Beach to the East - it was thought critical to take out the heavy artillery held here. A group of 225 specially trained Rangers, commanded by Colonel J.E. Rudder were tasked with scaling these huge, 100 ft. slippery cliffs with specifically designed climbing gear - fitted ladders and grabs. The Rangers were supposed to begin scaling the cliffs at 5:30am - before the D-Day assault- but they were dropped far off course and had to trek 3 miles to reach their destination. By this time, they had lost the element of surprise and had to scale the cliffs with not only Germans firing machine guns down at them, but the Germans cutting their ropes. Still, the Rangers kept climbing and kept climbing. Failure was just not an option. When they breached the cliff, they discovered that there were no cannons - only wooden logs - the Germans had moved them. The fighting continued as the Germans were hidden deep within bombed-out crater holes (still there...but with a sign advising you NOT to venture down into these holes....I did anyways). Over the ensuing hours, the Rangers were victorious, found the heavy artillery, took it out with grenades, pushed onwards for a mile (still under heavy fire) and secured the roads so that the Germans could not set up a roadblock in the future. They were in desperate need of reinforcements and support but none could get to them for over 48 hours....of the 225 men who started the mission, only 90 remained at the end of it. I am so glad I visited La Pointe du Hoc - it should not be missed for anybody seeking to see and understand this historic place - and these men deserve for their efforts to be recognized all these years later.
On my way back to the car, I scolded a German couple for letting their dog "foul" around the craters. They pretended like they didn't understand me for a minute....but they did...and I knew they did. Totally unacceptable to let their dog defecate in such a place. I gave them a piece of paper out of my notebook and stood there watching them until they picked up the poop. Definitely NOT letting Germans shit on that place....literally
That, in a nutshell, was the Battle of Normandy - and the D-Day invasion.
"You can manufacture weapons, and you can purchase ammunition, but you cannot buy valor and you can't pull heroes off an assembly line" - Sergeant John B. Ellery
Onwards to the cemetery.
The Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial - if ever there was a place to bring tears to your eyes....this is it. I knew this place was going to be powerful - but it is more than that. You feel small and insignificant within that hallowed place. You feel grateful, proud, sad and inspired. Many say that Arlington is the most beautiful cemetery in the world, but I think The Normandy American Cemetery rivals it.
You walk towards it from the parking lot, past blooming white hydrangeas and first encounter a modern looking gray building. This is the Visitor's Center. I decided to go here on the way out because I wanted to get to the main area as soon as possible....
Picture a beautiful day...the sun shining and a light breeze...an immaculate expanse of lawn - perfectly manicured - the sound of the ocean around you and the call of seagulls echoing. It smelled faintly of freshly cut grass.
As I was getting closer, I rounded a corner where a sign stood saying, "Silence and Respect, please." This sign was in English. I had to read it twice because my brain had become so accustomed to "translating" everything...and then just smiled. Ahhhhhh, English.
This cemetery is not the biggest in the world, but its scale still takes your breath away - 172.5 acres. You round the final bend and spread out before you are 9,387 headstones - all pristine, gleaming white marble. Of those, 9,238 are Latin Crosses and 149 are Stars of David. They are lined up on a razor's edge (and as one guy loudly said..."This was before lasers"....Thanks, guy). I walked among them and noticed that every single stone has a number on the bottom of its back base. The fronts are stark, uniform and somewhat chilling.... 3 lines....
1. Name
2. Rank
3. State of Origin and Date of Death
There is minimal ornamentation throughout the cemetery- a few conically trimmed trees like you would find in a formal garden and some shrubs separating the different quadrants, marked with the "Letters" - A through J. Beds of polyantha roses trim The Garden of the Missing where engraved tablets honor the missing in action who gave their lives in this region - 1,557. A bronze rosette beside a name shows that the remains were later recovered, identified and buried.
There is a set of symbolic statues at the west end - where I and J are located- two statues of Italian Baveno granite representing the United States and France. A chapel sits in the middle of the cemetery where E,F,G & H quadrants are- its mosaic ceiling depicts America blessing her sons as they depart by sea and air, and a grateful France (a woman) bestowing a laurel wreath upon the American dead. Finally the memorial at the east end features a 22ft. statue - The Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves - facing west toward the headstones. Around the small circle at the statue's feet are the words..."Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Coming of the Lord". There is a semi-circular structure around the statue and along the soffit are the words..."This embattled shore, portal of freedom, is forever hallowed by the ideals, the valor and the sacrifices of our fellow countrymen".
Everybody buried here is an American - only 4 civilians merited this honor - one of them a woman...a Red Cross nurse. There are 41 sets of brothers, several fathers and sons, 3 Medal of Honor recipients - 1 of whom was Theodore Roosevelt's son.
"If ever proof were needed that we fought for a cause and not a conquest, it could be found in these cemeteries. Here was our only conquest: All we asked...was enough soil in which to bury our gallant dead." - General Mark W. Clark
France is a place that sometimes makes you want to conceal the fact that you are an American. However, in Normandy - you can hold your head high, stick your chest out, speak your native tongue freely and feel proud that you are an American (cue Lee Greenwood...).
Off I went to Bayeux, to see the famous "Tapisserie" but that is for another posting...
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Le Petit Cite avec Caractere - Le Mont St-Michel
I finally had to leave lovely Carnac as it was time to resume my Western France journey (that, and the hotel bill!). I realized I was hitting the mid-way point of my France adventures but it is still hard to believe that I have only been out of the US for 3 weeks - and it is still only July...November seems a long way off. Especially when I consider my wardrobe - how am I ever going to keep wearing these same clothes over and over and over and over again?? I have done a little washing along the way, but I'm sorry to say - a sink and some travel detergent is not the same thing as a washing machine and dryer. I won't say I stink (b/c that would be totally unacceptable)...but I have felt fresher :)
There is an ebb and flow to travel. You can't possibly always be up on a "high" - your endorphins need time to recover so they can shoot through the roof again. Lovely Carnac was just the respite my poor little endorphins needed in order to truly appreciate the last couple of days.
As I was saying - I left Carnac on Thursday morning, after I took a last little walk along the beach and collected some seashells to remind me of my time there. The beach was littered with little gems, so I selected 3 kinds I wanted to collect and filled my pockets with only those. By the time I returned to my hotel, my shorts were sagging below my bum like a UNLV basketball player!!
I set off with the destination of Mont St-Michel in mind. This had been on my "maybe" list. I couldn't really get too excited about it b/c I've never heard anybody tell me that I "MUST" go here. But it looked cool in the guidebook and it was "on the way" to Caen....sort of. Caen is pronounced "Cahn" whereas Cannes (the glittering Southern France city) is "Can". I may end up going to "Can" in September, but for now..."Cahn" was my ending destination for the evening.
I bee-bopped along for a spell, taking note of the countryside and beginning to truly notice the differences that exist between French roads/cars and American roads\cars.....
1. No trucks in France - as in Ford F-150s, Nissan Rangers, Chevy pick-ups, etc. When I finally noticed this, I really noticed this. NO TRUCKS!
2. No cops lingering about trying to bust you for daring to allow the car to exceed the speed limit by 7 mph. They just get on with it here. Seriously, haven't seen a single cop in over 1500 km of driving.
3. Frenchies ACTUALLY use their blinkers to change lanes. I wish Americans would get on board with this.
4. Frenchies also ONLY use the left hand lane to pass, the way it was meant to be used. They don't really use it as the "fast" lane. They move into it, pass the car or cars they want to, and then move back over to the right lane.
5. There is no "personality" to French cars. They all pretty much look alike and are the same color - Renault, Citroen, Meggane, Audi, Volkswagon....blue, black and gray.
6. Billboards do not mar the view every 2 seconds - especially not ones asking "Where would you go if you were to die today"!!!
7. People do not ride your ass, make gestures, flash their lights, throw up their hands or shoot you dirty looks as they pass. They just don't care enough to do these things.
8. Just when you begin to get accustomed to the scenery, a distant sight will take your breath away.
9. There are always church/cathedral spires on the horizon.
Some things are the same though...like the signs "Bebe a Bord".
The signs indicated I was getting closer to Mont St-Michel and as I came around a corner - still about 12 km away - a gasp was wrenched out of me with a full-on "OMG" as I caught my first glimpse of this place! I know I keep saying that "I don't have the words" or "Words don't do "this" justice"- but perhaps I just wasn't trying hard enough. HOWEVER - words REALLY can't begin to describe this place.....I'll try, though....
First - it looks like it is floating above the ground
Second - your brain just becomes confused by what it is seeing
Third - you can only wonder how this place came to be - a city and a "church" perched on top of a huge rock....???
and
Fourth - you can't wait to get closer to figure this mystery out.
I parked my car at the foot of this surreal place, had myself a quick little snack, chugged some water and threw my purse over my shoulder. I was only going to be here briefly......
Briefly is not a word this place understands. Once it has you within its grasp, it....or rather, the immense horde of people inside, are not letting you out easily. There were throngs of people stretching from one side of the street to the other - and as far as the eye could see. Ughhhhhh....it was like being at a religious amusement park. I could feel the hives wanting to break out!! Only, this place was not originally set-up with the 21st century crowd in mind. Think people with huge backpacks, families of 4 and 5 with large strollers, shuffling older people with walking aids and tour groups of 25-40 people.....in a place that originally held less than 200 people!!! Then add in some sun, a lot of body odor, tacky souvenir shops and simply...no place to move. You can't go left, you can't go right, you can't go forward and you can't go backwards. The only speed of ambulation here was "The Shuffle" with an optional bob'n'weave, if possible...much like trying to leave a festival. AND, since I haven't done an adequate job of describing its structure yet, allow me to do so....a winding place with only one way to go....up, u-P, U-P and UP. Climb, Climb, Climb.... - I finally got so fed up with the lack of movement taking place, that I channeled my old basketball self - particularly my "rebounding" self and began to throw elbows left and right...i.e. Boxing people out as I moved along. I felt bad for a hot minute and then just realized that I will NEVER see any of these people again, and as long as I say "Pardonez-moi", they will think I am French!!! No damage to the American reputation, thank you very much.
I finally saw a set of stairs out of the corner of my eye and busted a move sideways to get there as quickly as possible, probably knocking a kid or two over in my haste. I dashed up the stairs and into a small courtyard that offered a little shade and a lot of quiet. When I regained my equilibrium, I looked around and noticed I was in a "graveyard". Contrary to most people, I love graveyards. They don't creep me out at all. I like looking at the different headstones and the sentiments that people want to say about their loved ones. What struck me about this particular graveyard was how many of the dead were men, and the years in which they died. The years of World War I (1914 - 1918). I think we often get so caught up in the more "modern" drama of WWII, we forget about that awful war which took place only 25 years prior and was supposed to be the "war to end all wars". We also forget that it wiped out an entire generation of young men in Europe. I saw an art exhibit by John Singer Sargent in Portland with Mom a couple years ago that was focused on "children". The moving part about this exhibit is that more than 1/2 the boys depicted by Sargent, never grew into adults. They died in WWI.
This grave in particular struck me....I can't really say why....so sad.
Ici Repose - Albert Desdoity -
Mort au Champ D'Honneur le
15 Juillet 1918
a l'age de 32 ans
Regrets Eternels
After this short break, I started the C-L-I-M-B up to the abbey at the top. I paid my 9.50E and made my way through this incredibly impressive structure built on top of a huge hill and rock with a view to kill for. I just kept thinking to myself - how was this place built??!! I remembered reading the books by Ken Follett, "Pillars of the Earth" and "A World Without End" and felt like I was inside the cathedral he describes.
Mont St-Michel is thought to date back to 708, when Aubert, Bishop of Avranches, had a sanctuary built on Mont-Tombe in honour of the Archangel. The mount soon became a major focus of pilgrimage. It is hard to describe a "Mount" for Americans. It is like a giant rock, in the middle of nowhere, with no surrounding rocks or other structures for it to belong to. So, there is this little village that winds around the rock and continues upwards into this "church-like" structure at the top, capped with a giant spire. Like I said....words are hard. Anyways...
In the 10th century, the Benedictines settled in the abbey that was built (how they built this abbey on top of this huge rock....in the middle of NOWHERE...I'll never know or understand), while a village grew up below its walls. During the Middle Ages, it was regarded as a representation of the heavenly Jerusalem on earth, an image of Paradise (how is that for some description...alas; their words, not mine). By the 14th century, it extended as far as the foot of the rock. An impregnable stronghold during the Hundred years War, Mont St-Michel is also an example of military architecture, its ramparts and fortifications resisted all the English assaults and as a result the Mount became a symbol of National Identity.
Following the dissolution of the religious community during the Revolution (that is the French Revolution, mind you....with Madame le Guillotine) - and until 1863 (in the middle of our Civil War) it was used as a prison. Classified as a historic monument in 1874, it underwent major restoration work. Since then, work has gone on regularly all over the site. In 1979, it became listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Who is this "St-Michel" that the place is named after?? Saint Michael, head of the heavenly militia, was of great importance to Medieval religious sensibility. In the New Testament, Saint Michael appears in the Book of Revelation: he fights and defeats a dragon (oh what I could say about Biblical literalism here.....but I won't) - thought to be a symbol for the devil. To the Medieval man living in expectation and dread of the hereafter, Saint Michael was the one who led away the dead and put their souls in the balance on the day of the last judgement. This worship gained traction after the Hundred Years War and expanded rapidly with the Counter-Reformation, for in the eyes of the Church, it was the only warlike angel who could fight agains the Protestant heresy....yep, those pesky Protestants who wanted to experience God first-hand rather than through a Priest.
I concluded the tour through the church, the nave, the abbey, the crypt, the great hall, the kitchen, etc. and found myself in the Gift Shop. Like my mom, I have a magnet collection. They are affordable, portable and a great memory of the sights I have visited. I am going to have to make some room on the fridge at home, though. For anyone who has seen our fridge knows...there is not one spare centimeter available. What do you think I found in the Gift Shop...yep, you guessed it....Pillars of the Earth....in multiple languages. I knew I was on to something with that analogy!!
Out of the abbey I went, headed for the car. Only one way to get there....down, Down, DOWN!!! Back through the hordes. I will say this - I got an intensely, perverse pleasure on my way down seeing these poor fathers - literally - having to carry their strollers - WITH CHILDREN INSIDE OF THEM - up this mountain of a monastery!! And I'm not talking about 20-30 steps...I'm talking about hundreds of steps. HUNDREDS. The only phrase to describe these poor men is "Pissed Off". For my readers with children, possibly contemplating a trip to Mont St-Michel in the near future....let me give you a word of advice....Skip It. That, or leave the kiddos with a baby-sitter. This ain't the place for them. And not b/c of their behavior, etc....it is just very physical, very uncomfortable at times and not a child-friendly activity - i.e. no flashing lights, no cartoon characters and no music.
As I set off for Caen, and drove down the road away from Mont St-Michel - very satisfied that I had come to this place - I found myself constantly straining to get just "one last glimpse" of it. I nearly ran off the road several times trying to accomplish this "last sight goal"- so decided that I needed to find a "pull-off", drink in my fill of the sight and leave it there for others to hopefully see one day. So I did. Goodbye Mont St-Michel.
Next posting....my morning and afternoon spent saying "Thank You" to the men who stormed the beaches of Normandy on June 6th, 1944 in arguably the most historic battle in modern history - the D-Day invasions. I have goosebumps just contemplating trying to write about what I saw and how it felt to be an American. I was overcome numerous times.....
There is an ebb and flow to travel. You can't possibly always be up on a "high" - your endorphins need time to recover so they can shoot through the roof again. Lovely Carnac was just the respite my poor little endorphins needed in order to truly appreciate the last couple of days.
As I was saying - I left Carnac on Thursday morning, after I took a last little walk along the beach and collected some seashells to remind me of my time there. The beach was littered with little gems, so I selected 3 kinds I wanted to collect and filled my pockets with only those. By the time I returned to my hotel, my shorts were sagging below my bum like a UNLV basketball player!!
I set off with the destination of Mont St-Michel in mind. This had been on my "maybe" list. I couldn't really get too excited about it b/c I've never heard anybody tell me that I "MUST" go here. But it looked cool in the guidebook and it was "on the way" to Caen....sort of. Caen is pronounced "Cahn" whereas Cannes (the glittering Southern France city) is "Can". I may end up going to "Can" in September, but for now..."Cahn" was my ending destination for the evening.
I bee-bopped along for a spell, taking note of the countryside and beginning to truly notice the differences that exist between French roads/cars and American roads\cars.....
1. No trucks in France - as in Ford F-150s, Nissan Rangers, Chevy pick-ups, etc. When I finally noticed this, I really noticed this. NO TRUCKS!
2. No cops lingering about trying to bust you for daring to allow the car to exceed the speed limit by 7 mph. They just get on with it here. Seriously, haven't seen a single cop in over 1500 km of driving.
3. Frenchies ACTUALLY use their blinkers to change lanes. I wish Americans would get on board with this.
4. Frenchies also ONLY use the left hand lane to pass, the way it was meant to be used. They don't really use it as the "fast" lane. They move into it, pass the car or cars they want to, and then move back over to the right lane.
5. There is no "personality" to French cars. They all pretty much look alike and are the same color - Renault, Citroen, Meggane, Audi, Volkswagon....blue, black and gray.
6. Billboards do not mar the view every 2 seconds - especially not ones asking "Where would you go if you were to die today"!!!
7. People do not ride your ass, make gestures, flash their lights, throw up their hands or shoot you dirty looks as they pass. They just don't care enough to do these things.
8. Just when you begin to get accustomed to the scenery, a distant sight will take your breath away.
9. There are always church/cathedral spires on the horizon.
Some things are the same though...like the signs "Bebe a Bord".
The signs indicated I was getting closer to Mont St-Michel and as I came around a corner - still about 12 km away - a gasp was wrenched out of me with a full-on "OMG" as I caught my first glimpse of this place! I know I keep saying that "I don't have the words" or "Words don't do "this" justice"- but perhaps I just wasn't trying hard enough. HOWEVER - words REALLY can't begin to describe this place.....I'll try, though....
First - it looks like it is floating above the ground
Second - your brain just becomes confused by what it is seeing
Third - you can only wonder how this place came to be - a city and a "church" perched on top of a huge rock....???
and
Fourth - you can't wait to get closer to figure this mystery out.
I parked my car at the foot of this surreal place, had myself a quick little snack, chugged some water and threw my purse over my shoulder. I was only going to be here briefly......
Briefly is not a word this place understands. Once it has you within its grasp, it....or rather, the immense horde of people inside, are not letting you out easily. There were throngs of people stretching from one side of the street to the other - and as far as the eye could see. Ughhhhhh....it was like being at a religious amusement park. I could feel the hives wanting to break out!! Only, this place was not originally set-up with the 21st century crowd in mind. Think people with huge backpacks, families of 4 and 5 with large strollers, shuffling older people with walking aids and tour groups of 25-40 people.....in a place that originally held less than 200 people!!! Then add in some sun, a lot of body odor, tacky souvenir shops and simply...no place to move. You can't go left, you can't go right, you can't go forward and you can't go backwards. The only speed of ambulation here was "The Shuffle" with an optional bob'n'weave, if possible...much like trying to leave a festival. AND, since I haven't done an adequate job of describing its structure yet, allow me to do so....a winding place with only one way to go....up, u-P, U-P and UP. Climb, Climb, Climb.... - I finally got so fed up with the lack of movement taking place, that I channeled my old basketball self - particularly my "rebounding" self and began to throw elbows left and right...i.e. Boxing people out as I moved along. I felt bad for a hot minute and then just realized that I will NEVER see any of these people again, and as long as I say "Pardonez-moi", they will think I am French!!! No damage to the American reputation, thank you very much.
I finally saw a set of stairs out of the corner of my eye and busted a move sideways to get there as quickly as possible, probably knocking a kid or two over in my haste. I dashed up the stairs and into a small courtyard that offered a little shade and a lot of quiet. When I regained my equilibrium, I looked around and noticed I was in a "graveyard". Contrary to most people, I love graveyards. They don't creep me out at all. I like looking at the different headstones and the sentiments that people want to say about their loved ones. What struck me about this particular graveyard was how many of the dead were men, and the years in which they died. The years of World War I (1914 - 1918). I think we often get so caught up in the more "modern" drama of WWII, we forget about that awful war which took place only 25 years prior and was supposed to be the "war to end all wars". We also forget that it wiped out an entire generation of young men in Europe. I saw an art exhibit by John Singer Sargent in Portland with Mom a couple years ago that was focused on "children". The moving part about this exhibit is that more than 1/2 the boys depicted by Sargent, never grew into adults. They died in WWI.
This grave in particular struck me....I can't really say why....so sad.
Ici Repose - Albert Desdoity -
Mort au Champ D'Honneur le
15 Juillet 1918
a l'age de 32 ans
Regrets Eternels
After this short break, I started the C-L-I-M-B up to the abbey at the top. I paid my 9.50E and made my way through this incredibly impressive structure built on top of a huge hill and rock with a view to kill for. I just kept thinking to myself - how was this place built??!! I remembered reading the books by Ken Follett, "Pillars of the Earth" and "A World Without End" and felt like I was inside the cathedral he describes.
Mont St-Michel is thought to date back to 708, when Aubert, Bishop of Avranches, had a sanctuary built on Mont-Tombe in honour of the Archangel. The mount soon became a major focus of pilgrimage. It is hard to describe a "Mount" for Americans. It is like a giant rock, in the middle of nowhere, with no surrounding rocks or other structures for it to belong to. So, there is this little village that winds around the rock and continues upwards into this "church-like" structure at the top, capped with a giant spire. Like I said....words are hard. Anyways...
In the 10th century, the Benedictines settled in the abbey that was built (how they built this abbey on top of this huge rock....in the middle of NOWHERE...I'll never know or understand), while a village grew up below its walls. During the Middle Ages, it was regarded as a representation of the heavenly Jerusalem on earth, an image of Paradise (how is that for some description...alas; their words, not mine). By the 14th century, it extended as far as the foot of the rock. An impregnable stronghold during the Hundred years War, Mont St-Michel is also an example of military architecture, its ramparts and fortifications resisted all the English assaults and as a result the Mount became a symbol of National Identity.
Following the dissolution of the religious community during the Revolution (that is the French Revolution, mind you....with Madame le Guillotine) - and until 1863 (in the middle of our Civil War) it was used as a prison. Classified as a historic monument in 1874, it underwent major restoration work. Since then, work has gone on regularly all over the site. In 1979, it became listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Who is this "St-Michel" that the place is named after?? Saint Michael, head of the heavenly militia, was of great importance to Medieval religious sensibility. In the New Testament, Saint Michael appears in the Book of Revelation: he fights and defeats a dragon (oh what I could say about Biblical literalism here.....but I won't) - thought to be a symbol for the devil. To the Medieval man living in expectation and dread of the hereafter, Saint Michael was the one who led away the dead and put their souls in the balance on the day of the last judgement. This worship gained traction after the Hundred Years War and expanded rapidly with the Counter-Reformation, for in the eyes of the Church, it was the only warlike angel who could fight agains the Protestant heresy....yep, those pesky Protestants who wanted to experience God first-hand rather than through a Priest.
I concluded the tour through the church, the nave, the abbey, the crypt, the great hall, the kitchen, etc. and found myself in the Gift Shop. Like my mom, I have a magnet collection. They are affordable, portable and a great memory of the sights I have visited. I am going to have to make some room on the fridge at home, though. For anyone who has seen our fridge knows...there is not one spare centimeter available. What do you think I found in the Gift Shop...yep, you guessed it....Pillars of the Earth....in multiple languages. I knew I was on to something with that analogy!!
Out of the abbey I went, headed for the car. Only one way to get there....down, Down, DOWN!!! Back through the hordes. I will say this - I got an intensely, perverse pleasure on my way down seeing these poor fathers - literally - having to carry their strollers - WITH CHILDREN INSIDE OF THEM - up this mountain of a monastery!! And I'm not talking about 20-30 steps...I'm talking about hundreds of steps. HUNDREDS. The only phrase to describe these poor men is "Pissed Off". For my readers with children, possibly contemplating a trip to Mont St-Michel in the near future....let me give you a word of advice....Skip It. That, or leave the kiddos with a baby-sitter. This ain't the place for them. And not b/c of their behavior, etc....it is just very physical, very uncomfortable at times and not a child-friendly activity - i.e. no flashing lights, no cartoon characters and no music.
As I set off for Caen, and drove down the road away from Mont St-Michel - very satisfied that I had come to this place - I found myself constantly straining to get just "one last glimpse" of it. I nearly ran off the road several times trying to accomplish this "last sight goal"- so decided that I needed to find a "pull-off", drink in my fill of the sight and leave it there for others to hopefully see one day. So I did. Goodbye Mont St-Michel.
Next posting....my morning and afternoon spent saying "Thank You" to the men who stormed the beaches of Normandy on June 6th, 1944 in arguably the most historic battle in modern history - the D-Day invasions. I have goosebumps just contemplating trying to write about what I saw and how it felt to be an American. I was overcome numerous times.....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)