16 May, 2007:

Le Havre, France

We arrive in this Normandy harbor under dark grey skies and with a strong breeze coming in cold off the North Atlantic. We load our tour buses and strike out from the port of Le Havre on time and without delay. Today the French are inaugurating a new President and so everyone who is anyone in the French labor movement or professional demonstrator class has converged on Paris for the day, leaving Le Havre relatively free of any disturbances. As we depart the port, our French guide, Florence, tells us that the weather forecast is “Good” for the day......as she utters the last syllable of that statement rain begins to spatter the windshield. So, moments later, she clarifies her prediction by saying that it only rains in Normandy two times a year: from 1 January to 30 June and from 1 July to 31 December. It is a wet and fertile area and it seems that leaden skies, occasional light rain and gusty winds is what constitutes a “Good” weather forecast.

The night before at dinner our waiter mentioned that nearly every passenger will be exiting the ship today, only a very few will not be touring....somehow the waiters know these things. He is right. There is a long line of buses to accommodate the tours and dozens of taxis and vans for those planning private transportation.  From our beachhead at Le Havre, we spread out; much like other Americans and Brits did more than 60 years earlier.....many of my fellow travelers, like those men from that earlier time, are headed to destinations at beaches called Omaha, Utah, Gold, Juno and Sword. Others are going to towns named Honfleur, Rouen, Giverny and Paris. But among our shipboard comrades are many who made that earlier tour....the one to the beaches of Normandy 60 years before. They have come back, in ever thinning ranks....a shrinking cohort of the aged and infirm to revisit the destinations that defined their youth.

The green landscape, dotted with tree lines, hedge rows, rolling hills and meadows show no sign of the extraordinary suffering, sacrifice and drama that played out here all those years ago. It is a solemn and emotional occasion – even for the most unworthy of travelers, such as me. I silently salute those rheumy-eyed octogenarian returnees. They have earned their place on this trip.  

However, my trip today is not to the landing sites of D-Day, I will let those older men have a private reunion with those beaches and cliffs. I will save my visit for another trip. So my bus heads inland in the direction of Rouen, Giverny and the gardens of the painter Claude Monet. Once we leave the industrial district near the port of Le Havre, we enter the farms and dairy lands of Normandy....we cross and re-cross the Seine River as it snakes through Normandy as it makes its way from Paris to the Atlantic. During the drive the rain turns to mist and then just goes away.

We visit the house and gardens where Monet painted many of his works. The house is well preserved, but not terribly interesting to me. I don’t get any sense of who Monet was from his home and the uninspired reproductions of some of his works that are on display. But, the gardens are different. You can begin to feel a little of what Monet must have felt at his easel. There is a riot of color. Think of thousands and thousands of blooms...in all colors.....then double it.....that is the Monet garden. Then I walk over to the Japanese garden when so many of the Water Lilly painting were done.....peaceful and serene. This is where you find a link to Monet. Even with hundreds of tourists walking the path around the garden, when you look into the shadows, you can see the artist sitting on a bench painting his water lilies.

After Giverny, we drive a few minutes out into the countryside and have a French lunch at a country inn. I say it is a “French” lunch because....first, we are in France (duh!) and second because we start with a Kir as a before dinner drink and we have 2 bottles of wine on our small table and third because we have several courses during lunch and finally because at the end of the meal we are served coffee in a cup the size of a thimble....very strong coffee, which it turns out is excellent.

We continue on in a contented, wine induced, glow towards the town of Rouen. Whose main claim to fame is that it is the site were Joan of Arc was put on trial, convicted of witchcraft and other high crimes of the time and then burned at the stake in the old town market square. They also boast the large Cathedral of Notre Dame of Rouen which is the final resting place of Richard the Lion-Hearted’s heart.

In Rouen, we are told that demonstrators will be protesting the new French President and we should be prepared to adjust our return schedule as needed to avoid contact with any confrontation between police and demonstrators. As it turned out, nothing worth noting occurred during our visit to the city center. We enjoyed a pleasant visit under clouds that threatened, but did not deliver rain. During my stroll through the town I find a wine and pate shop...not to be confused with the wine and cheese shop which was next door....and purchase a bottle of 2001 Chateau Hermitage Mazeyres, a Pomerol proudly displaying the phrase “Grand Vin De Bordeaux” in gold lettering across the label. I also pick up a tin of pate and a small bottle of Calvados, the apple cognac that is produced in the area. I am a happy camper with my new treasures and I plan a private wine and pate party very soon.

I am very pleased with this visit to Normandy. The people are friendly and efficient. The countryside is attractive. The history is deep, rich and bloody.  

We return to the ship....late....the Star Princess is supposed to sail at 7:00pm....and we don’t get back to the cruise terminal until 6:30pm where we find a line of nearly 500 people standing in the now cold and windy parking area. It seems that all the tours are late and with the tide having gone out, we now only have one gangway available for boarding. By the time we get to the room it is nearly 7:30pm and well past our dining room seating......so, reluctantly and with a heavy heart we must forego the pleasant dinner time conversation of James Bond and Mr. SuperGlue.