Without bothering to shower, we woke up and immediately left our seedy room. Geoff had picked the town for the new day - Bayeux. Having learned our lesson, we decided to make the first stop a prospective hotel. So I successfully navigated us to Chataeau de Sully, featured in two of our guidebooks. We drove up to the impressive driveway towards the grand mansion. The outside was much like the one from the night before, but obviously this house had been lovingly restored and maintained. Initially, we figured we would book a room and have lunch.The friendly man at reception spoke to me in English and feeling lazy, I answered the same. He suggested dinner instead since the menu was the same, which actually I thought was a great idea. It sounded very relaxing to be able to enjoy a wonderful meal, and then simply walk back to your room. The hours of driving to and from each place had definitely stressed us a bit, so that would be a welcome change. So we booked a room. It was more expensive than the previous night, but Geoff reasoned that it's really about how many showers you get in a room, not nights of sleep. And since we'd be getting two each in our new room, it was quite a good deal. Per the receptionist's instructions, we headed away from the town for lunch. It was quite a fortuitous turn since in Port-en-Bessin we found a Sunday market still in full swing. Enamored with the local offerings, we decided to get a picnic lunch and bought some peaches, delicious peppered salami, slightly salted raw milk Normandy butter, a loaf of bread, and, less than 24 hours after our formal cheese education, the official Camembert.
Geoff had wanted to see some of the World War II sites in Normandy, some of which his grandfather had told him about. Normandy had been devastated in the war since it had been a critical point of entry for both the Germans in overtaking France and for the Americans and British in liberating her. We began by stopping at the Musée des Epaves Sou-Marines du Débarquement where there were several tanks which had sunk in the war and had been dredged up in the last few decades. What we discovered in the Museum's video (an obligatory component of all small museums in France), was that this was the work of one man who had spent his life scuba diving to retrieve tanks and memorabilia from the war. He never touched any tanks that still contained the remains of drowned men, but in the others he had retrieved compasses, watches, letters, and other personal items from the soldiers. Geoff tried to convince me this was the same man who now worked at the museum, but I wasn't sure.
We also went to the American Cemetery, eerie rows of nearly 10,000 white crosses in memory of soldiers who died. It was hard for me to imagine sacrificing your life for your country. But I also thought of all the people who had suffered at the hands of the Nazis and thought how amazing it was that humanity does find a way of stopping such grave evil - even if it was later than it should have been. I also thought about the sarcastic comment that seemed to be a favorite among Americans embittered at the French - if it wasn't for us, they'd be speaking German. Maybe it was true. But I realized now that most importantly this comment minimized the greatness of what these men had done and sacrificed. I thought about Geoff's grandfather and wondered what it must have been like for him. I also thought about all the men who died who never got a chance to have children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Although it was enormously brave, it was such a waste to die in war.
We paused for awhile to gaze at Omaha Beach, and decided maybe that would be a good place for our picnic lunch. So we drove down and found a spot where we laid out our spread and savored every bite. With butter that good, who needed bread? And the camembert lived up to its esteemed reputation. Creamy with a crumbly center and firm casing, it tasted nothing like stinky ripe cheese, but rather more like brussel sprouts.
We went to one more museum - Musée D. Day Omaha - built in a musty metal building used in the war. In it, the French man that worked there told us that he was 10 years old during the war and it became his life mission to collect and maintain all of these objects - uniforms, weapons, propaganda, photographs. Geoff talked to him about his grandfather's war contribution of building a special machine that attached to the tanks and cut through the thick brush. The man knew about them and earnestly looked through his books and photos for something related. He said how grateful he felt to the men like Geoff's grandfather who had freed the country he loved.
We wanted to press on to other sites, but after wearing ourselves out the day before, we decided not to push ourselves. So we went back to the hotel. Our lovely room had padded walls papered in a dark pink floral print and thick drapes which covered a grand window facing the front of the chateau. A nap seemed like a fine idea, so I curled up in the enormous bed and went to sleep. When it was almost time for dinner, Geoff woke me up and I got ready to go. I was glad that we had only to go downstairs. We were surpised to discover a modern dining room with a skylight tucked at the back of this old mansion. Unfortunately, I had a pretty bad headache and wasn't feeling well at all. I thought maybe the culprit was the wine from the night before so maybe some more wine would help? We ordered and they brought us our appetizers. I had a delicious vegetable risotto with mushrooms and some rich red wine. Then our main course came - fabulous tenderloin. But something hit me - suddenly the prospect of eating this hunk of meat made me quite nauseous. Geoff asked if I wanted to go, but I didn't. Two years ago in Paris I had missed enjoying a fabulous Michelin three-star meal because I had gotten violently ill in Spain and it had lingered. Now that I was at a Michelin one-star, I didn't want to miss that too. So I did the best I could on my steak. But soon enough it became clear that the imminent cheese course was out of the question. That clammy feeling of nausea had swept over me and I felt sure I was going to throw up. I didn't know what had brought it on - maybe all the raw milk butter and cheese earlier. But it clearly wasn't fading, so I had to forgo the rest of my dinner. Determined not to get sick, I went back to the room and tried to relax. I knew I couldn't go back downstairs, so I got undressed, got into bed, and fell asleep. When Geoff came, I asked if he would go get me some Tylenol at the front desk. Reluctantly (because of his fear of speaking French), he went and returned with some pills which I gladly took. Thankfully that seemed to do the trick because I woke up without having gotten sick and feeling rejuvenated.
The next morning we would have to leave Normandy, but I had a strong feeling it wasn't for forever. It was a French good-bye "au revoir" meaning literally until we see each other again.
Leave a comment