aimez-moi, aimez mon chien (Caen)

ok, for those who can't use google translator it means, 'love me, love my dog' (c1975). In a big way. We know the French love their dogs, we see them everywhere - and if you're not careful, you'll step in the evidence of where they've been. It's not against the law here to allow your dog to, um, do it's business, wherever. What we have found problematic is that most French people live in apartments. So, where do the German Shepherds and the Labradors spend their time? Especially if they get wet walking in the park, or when it rains for days and you can't get out. Wet dog smell. Ewww.

So, Sunday morning, we have been to Mass (more on that later) and we see a queue of people. That is curious. Most Europeans don't queue. It's every person for themselves. It turned out to be the line for the cinema and towards the front of the lone was a man and his best friend -  a Golden Retriever. No he wasn't blind. Do you pay extra for the dog? Curiouser and curiouser.

And then later that day, we are walking around the local chateaux (pictures below) and there is a couple walking their silky-terrier-dog-imitation in front of us. We walked up the ramp to the battlements and on the way down, it was obviously too much for the puppy, they caught the lift.

When we arrived in Lille (last week), on the superfast train thing, a man came to meet wife and small child, on the platform, movie style. He brought both dogs. The dogs were carried up the escalator by husband and wife. The child was left to fend for herself on a very crowded platform.

Mass

We decided to stay local on Sunday and to begin with Mass - the earliest available was at 10am.

It was our first Mass in France.  It’s always interesting attending Mass at a church that is not your own.  Aside from the usual quandary of where to sit – we all sit in the same seats every week and as visitors, we wouldn’t want to sit in some one else’s seat, there are always slight differences in how things are done.

 The church is actually that of St Etienne (St Stephen), Caen, built by William the Conqueror around 1083.  We braved the grey skies, drizzle and cold winds and walked 40 minutes to the church.  Needless to say it was a very different experience from our regular Parish church that was built in the 1990s.  For a start it is built in typical cathedral style, in the shape of the cross, so, parishioners are able to sit in four separate alcoves.  As visitors (who had arrived way too early) we weren’t quite sure where to sit.  Eventually we opted for the larger area, despite the fact that one of the smaller areas was more populated.

 We sat down and Jayne began to read the weekly notice with the front page message - a political one reflecting France's current pre-occupation with Presidential Primary elections.  It was from the parish priest - Father Fromage (I kid you not - for those not sure what the joke is, fromage is cheese and a word we use a lot since cheese forms part of any Frenchman's daily diet). We had ventured into a fully-sung, Gregorian Mass.  The area we had considered sitting in was actually the Gregorian choristers!  Jayne would have been fine, but anyone who has heard me sing … and in French? Let’s not dwell on that either.

 Last year as a World Youth Day pilgrim, I experienced Mass in Spanish, Portuguese and Italian.  It is easy enough to follow what is gong on despite the language differences.  Today was similar, although we really couldn’t participate in the responses – but the final hymn was the universal, Ave Maria, well the chorus remains in its original Latin.

After Mass, we wandered around the church where William the Conqueror's tomb is found in the choir cloister we mentioned earlier. The church is part of a huge complex built by William as an Abbey for men - we could get into a guided tour till late in the day because Sunday's it is free to all but we really didn't want to spend hours there so settled for a wander around the outside and then off for some coffee to get out of the cold and rain.  We ended up in the only cafe that seemed to be open in the old part of town - Cafe 101 (this is a big university town).  All the shops we had wandered past amid thronging crowds on Friday night were closed - Sunday is still a day of rest for many here in France. 

 Sunday Markets

Then we went in search of some shops that might be open and happened upon the biggest street markets we have seen - would give Haymarket a run for their money.  Same concept but up and down a whole bunch of closed off streets. Here we found the throngs of people missing from Friday night no doubt all doing their weekly shopping unlike us who go to the supermarche each afternoon to deliberate on what to have that night.   Many stalls were packing up by this stage of the morning but there was still a vast array of stalls to see. 

 

They sold everything from flowers to plants, fruit and vegetables, all sorts of fresh seafood and meats, breads and pastries, clothes, shoes, handbags, antiques and the usual market style junk.

Le Chateau

After the markets, we visited the Ducal Chateau, also built by William as his stronghold in this town which he made his homebase.  This also was free entry - a stark contrast to Ireland where we were charged for everything. Parking is also mostly free - we are yet to pay to park anywhere including in a large city like Rouen.  Although, like Ireland, they park anywhere and everywhere, on the footpath, in the middle of the street and it doesn't matter which way you are driving - if you see a spot, dive in. As a driver with not a lot of confidence it is freaky to turn into a street that you believe has traffic flowing both ways to be confronted by all parked cars facing you. At home, that means a one-way street and you're going the wrong way.

The chateau is stategically built on high ground and while it provided 360 degree views of the town, we also almost got blown off the ramparts by the wind. Despite risking life and limb, Brad got the photos he wanted. 

Not that she was competitive 

 We moved onto the reciprocal Abbey for women, built by William's wife, Queen Mathilde. This abbey also has a church attached to it which holds her tomb in front of the tabernacle.   Both impressive buildings, although William wins the competition because his is larger, although Mathilde's is better looked after.

when the war is over got to start again (Caen)

and so we did. We left the First World War behind and jumped forward a few years - too few really - and started on the Second World War. Normandy has a particular place in history because this is where the D-Day landings occurred.

The Memorial Caen-Normandie
It was an amazing living museum, and is a centre for history and peace. It was a collection of artefacts from the war, commentary and news real footage. Although there was a special display that focused on Normandy and the D-Day invasion, the main exhibition followed the beginning of the war through to the Nuremburg Trails.

While it was informative (even if Australia didn't get a mention, so I'm not sure why our flag was flying outside), it lacked that personal touch that Andy Thompson provided for us on the Western Front battlefields. We are going to get to the beaches, if it ever stops raining, so maybe we'll pick up a tour there that will do that for us.

Tourists
We have been very careful to attempt to speak to the locals in French before asking if they parlez-vous Anglais? And as a result, we feel, the people have been lovely and welcoming, even when our French and their English is un peu. Not so everyone we met on the Western Front tour, and they had found people to be unaccommodating.

I even went to the boulangerie all be myself this morning and ordered our croissants and a couple of pain du chocolat in my pathetic French. I'm sure the man was smirking at me, but that's cool. I did it.

Today at the Memorial the ticket-seller dude asked if we were American? Mon Dieu!! How embarrassing. And Jayne even had her French-Australian flag of friendship on her lapel. No, Australian we replied. We paid and then he asked, would you like your audio guide in English or American! WTF! How long has American been a language?

And, we spent nearly 5 hours at the Memorial today. In that time we were overtaken by a couple of bus tour groups. It seems that if it doesn't speak to them they can't be bothered reading the information. And, no, these weren't generation Y, they were baby boomers.

The Ugliest Tourist Of The Day Award (UTOTDA) goes to the insensitive clown who answered his mobile and had a conversation while newsreel footage of holocaust victims was played on the screen.

Wine
You know, I really expected better from the French with regard to their wine. Apart from the fact that I broke our first cork screw. Shoddy workmanship, but my skill still managed to extract the cork. The cork screw at our place in Caen has, so far, destroyed two corks. The first crumbled in the bottle and resulted in the wine being filtered through a handkerchief. The second crumbled too, but I managed to prise the cork form the bottle, no decanting required. I will purchase a new cork screw tomorrow, but I fear the problem is that (a) their wines are not screw caps and (b) regardless of this they stand the botttles on the shelf so that the corks dry out.

That aside, around 5 Euro can get you a very nice bottle to have with dinner. So while buying the requisites for our first really home cooked meal tonight, we also picked up the happy hour supplies. Nice. And dinner? Fresh fetticine with chicken in a basil and tomato sauce. Mmmmm.

A demain.

there's got to be a morning after (Lille to Dieppe)

OK, so it wasn't a total disaster, but the theme song from The Poseidon Adventure was the best I could do. I HATE DRIVING ON THE RIGHT HAND SIDE OF THE ROAD!!!!! Why? Because it changes everything. Suddenly I can't seem to judge where I am and I keep drifting towards the gutter - which frightens Jayne. The roads are narrow and the locals speed - red rose speedway style.

Day 1 was difficult. It was like being a driver for the first time. I don't like my car. It's a Citroen C5 with one of those automatic-I want to be a manual gearboxes-so everytime it changes gears we have a slow down issue. And then the roads! One way streets, people parked on the road, on the footpath, wherever. The GPS in the car, despite having a soothing female voice, provided information about turns to make, or roads to take, too late ... so we drove the same roads in Lille for 30 minutes or so before we worked her out. THEN, we stopped and plugged our GPS in and resorted to the calming voice of John Cleese, but at least he provides road advice early enough.  Most of the time.

So, for those that know me well, you'll know what a control freak I am. Here I am in a plethora situations where I have no control. I don't really know where I'm going, I don't feel comfortable in the car I'm driving, I don't know the road rules and in some cases can't work out the speed limits. NOT A HAPPY CAMPER.

For example: driving down a major motorway, I know there will be a toll, but what are we confronted with? A monstrous sign that says 'ticket'. I don't have a ticket. Was I supposed to get one? From where? Jayne is flicking through guide books trying to find out what to do. Finally, I coast into a toll booth, unpersoned, to find that you push a button to take a TICKET! That would have been useful information in the Lonely Planet Guide.

Road speed limits change, but much like Ireland, they don't feel the need to signpost them. Obviously they have some other sign that reverts to a seriously faster speed limit than the one I'm travelling at because everyone wants to overtake me.

It was a REALLY STRESSFUL DAY FOR BOTH OF US. I've always thought Jayne deserved a medal for tolerating me for all these years, but she deserves the highest honour for the first day of driving.

Anyway, we stopped at Boulogne-Sur-Mer for coffee and respite. It is a very pretty little town with a castle and medieval wall, and like so many towns in northern France, a military history, although this time it is World War 2.

The town square

Notre Dame

The castle

And so, we arrived at our destination, Dieppe, a pretty little sea port. Our room had been upgraded. That was the best news of the day. A large room with views over the sea. We decided to walk into town to find a supermarket. No rush, it's light till late, the rain has gone, although it is still windy (and cold). We wander to the far end of the beach, but two streets back in the township.

Nice sand, eh?

Finally, we found a marche and bought our requisites. On the way home it began raining. The wind was cold and it was like being back on the Somme again. Then the hail started. It was only small, but we had no umbrella because we had left in sunshine. Once again we arrived home wet and cold.

Today was day 2 behind the wheel. I was better, still not 100% comfortable, but getting there. We stopped at Rouen on the way to Caen. This will be our base for the next 5 days to explore the Normandy area.

Rouen was a fascinating stopover. There was, of course, the ubiquitous Notre Dame Cathedral, but the real point of interest was the church dedicated to Joan of Arc.

Church de Jean D'Arc

The site of her executuion

A one-handed clock. Go figure.

St David

Inside Notre Dame, Rouen

And so tonight we are resting in Caen after cooking for ourselves for the first time since we left home on April 9th. Dinner and two bottles of French wine cost around 12 Euros which is about $15. Nice!

when I'm away I'll skype home every day, and I'll send all my lovin' to you (Western Front)

Well, we skype home almost every day; it just depends upon net access. And limited access has meant no postings for a couple of days. This post focuses on the Western Front tour. We have spent some time discussing what we would write and in the end we decided to let the pictures speak for themselves, although they will be bracketed under four song references. But first, a few words on our experience.

Our guide, Andy Thompson, was absolutely fantastic. His knowledge was incredible. For someone who has taught WW1 history, there were so many things that I had never seen in the textbooks. In particular, the fact that the Allies dug mines underneath the German positions, filled them with explosives and then detonated them (there are pictures of a couple of craters below). The statistics were one thing, and anyone can google those, but Andy provided personal stories for the sites we visited. It made some distant piece of history really live. It was a very emotional experience.

It was a tough 2 days and there was a great deal of ground covered visiting various cemeteries and battle fields. There are war cemeteries dotted all over the country side and we had only enough time to stop at a few. Our first day concluded with the Last Post at Menin Gate in Ypres, Belgium, where we met a contingent of NSW school students (and one was from Campbelltown - there's a news story Deputy Editor) who were representing the Premier. We returned home around 10pm and then were up at 1:30am to get to the dawn service on time.

I found the Menin Gate service more moving than the dawn service, although it was a wonderful experience. It didn't rain, but the morning was bitterly cold and there was a biting wind - and this is spring! It provided a very small window into how difficult it was for the soldiers. All these years on, you can argue about the reasons people enlisted and you can argue about the reasons the war started, but that doesn't really matter. What matters is that they were there and they were fighting for what they believed was right, and regardless of side, they put their lives on the line. The world changed as a result of those four years.

As the day wore on, the temperature continued to drop, the wind grew stronger and the rain came down. So by the time we boarded the bus for Lille in the early afternoon, we were wet, cold and tired, and we all appreciated a little more the sacrifices made by those men and their families almost 100 years ago.

Everyone who has been fortunate enough not to have experienced war should have to visit an area where war occurred and should have to hear the stories that make it personal. Maybe that way, we would not be so keen to take up arms.

VC Corner and Pheasant Wood
1st song reference: he ain't heavy, he's my brother

The Cross of Sacrifice

Cobber's Memorial, "I knew you'd come"

 Hill 60, the craters and German cemetery
2nd song reference: no words to say, no words to convey

Crater - Fromelles

Resistance fighters' grave

German cemetery

Crater - the Somme

Polygon Wood, Tyne Cot Cemetery, Menin Gate and Villers-Bretonneux
3rd song reference: if you tolerate this, then your children will be next

One quarter of Tyne Cot

Menin Gate

the Campbelltown boy

Villers-Bretonneux Primary School

Villers Bretonneux, the Dawn Service
4th song reference: the darkest hour is just before dawn

Lest we forget

you're just somebody I used to know (Lille)

and that was the song playing as we walked around the supermarket trying to find museli bars - they don't exist here. The closest we could find were those Special K bars, so they'll have to do as snacks on the ANZAC Day tour where food stops are limited.

Lille
Lille, including surrounding towns has a population of over 1,000,000 so it is no small concern.

St. Maurice

We had a big sleep-in this morning, although not on purpose. The tragic French miss in the room next door came home in drunken tears at 6:30am and took some calming down. Many loud discussions, tears and slammed doors later things went quiet and we drifted back to sleep until after 9:30. It was just like being at Uni again. Well for me, perhaps not for Jayne.

Obviously we missed breakfast, but neither of us were hungry. It must have been that awesome microwave dinner we had last night :-( After struggling out of bed and getting ready for the day, we dutifully skyped home and then went wandering the streets of Lille. The old section of town is beautiful.

The Chamber of Commerce

This morning we re-acquainted ourselves with an old friend - cafe noire grand. Ah, coffee, how we missed you. We gave up in Ireland. Tea was a safer bet at the B&Bs and after trying what should have been a long black, Americano in Ireland, I even thought the coffee on the plane was looking good. So it was truly a momentous occasion for us to have a real coffee, the first in two weeks. It won't be our last.

We knew we were back in the city again because of all the beggars. We were accosted on the first corner from the hotel, but he gave up when we spoke in English. The beggars in Ireland used to rattle a cup as you walked past, the ones we have seen here just sit quietly with a cup in front of them. I find it difficult to deal with and it saddens me to think that is how some people survive. Although they are prepared as well, as the rain began falling this afternoon one of them whipped out an umbrella.

Tonight we meet the other Fanatics on the Western Front tour. Tomorrow is a full day - we are off to Ypres in Belgium and then to Tyne Cot and Messines. It is a late finish and then we need to be on the bus for the ANZAC Day service at 2:45am the next morning. Every time I say that, Jayne whimpers. Can't wait to disturb next door's diva as we leave.

So, all of that means no posts for a couple of days.

A bientot.