SP and I are lucky travelers: We often stumble upon places of great
interest to us particularly when we least expect it. Our goal upon coming to France was to head
south to the warm beaches of Portugal as fast as we could. But knowing
that the ferry from England was already going to be a bit stressful, I booked
us for two nights into Camping de la Foret in Jumieges about 50 miles from
our landing point in Dieppe. One night
reserved simply to arrive and another to get our bearings (and cell plans) in
France. We ended up staying for four.
I selected the site because of its access to a forest
along the banks of the Seine so I was expecting the tree filled walks but was
thrilled to discover a charming town as well as a famous Abbey. The park also offered a “service complet”
option which provides, as we were hoping, a full hook-up pitch the
likes of which we haven’t seen since the U.S.
Now, almost deserving of a “Musings” in its own right was
our Big Talk about Group Think. We had
started using phrases like, “Would you like to stop for a coffee?” instead of,
“I would like to stop for a coffee, do you mind?” Such Group Think led us to spending our
first day walking five miles to and from a bus stop and spending upwards of 7 hours (seven hours) just to buy a cell plan. Oh My God. If I
haven’t already, I won’t bore you with the details, suffice it to say that if
one of us had spoken up, we would have been driving the Pepper into Rouen not
only saving time but also avoiding an exchange with the Gendarmerie on the
return bus route. (Sometimes it doesn’t
pay to acknowledge that you speak a little French . . . “Madame, les chien ne
sont pas permitter dans le bus” . . . but of course Les Noses are permitted on
the bus, as the bus driver explained to the Gendarmerie while I was busy saying how sorry
I was that I didn’t speak French.)
Anyway . . . after our talk about Group Think, SP declared that he would like to visit the beaches of Normandy, in particular a
site honoring the American soldiers. So
Day 2 was spent driving the Pepper to Normandy (about 1.5 hours each way) during
which we noticed that if you drive faster than 80 mph, the Pepper starts to
shake. Slowing down, and leaving the
repair of Pepper to another day, we stopped in Courseulles-Sur-Mer for an
outstanding lunch at Les Alizes (clearly a local favorite) opting for the plat
du jour (muscles for SP and salmon for moi) while drooling over the platters of
shellfish heading to the local’s tables.
After lunch we journeyed south along the Normandy coast, stopping for
a quick walk on the beach at Arromanches before eventually making our way to the
American monument at Omaha Beach. After
the free-wheeling (although not free parking) sites we experienced along the
coast, I was appalled at the bossy U.S. signage “no picnics, do not play in the
cemetery” and the metal detector screening required of anyone heading into the
visitor’s center. Nothing epitomizes the
freedom of the U.S. like a full body x-ray.
Forgoing the search, we headed out to view the beach, enjoying the
immaculately maintained grounds along the cliff. Then, before you can even prepare yourself,
you turn left and see row after row after row of white marble headstones.
The day had been very cold and windy causing my eyes to
water quite often while outside.
But coming around that corner and seeing those headstones, I could not
stem the tears at all, nor could I blame it on the cold wind. It was overwhelming to see the sacrifice that
the U.S. had made to help bring an end to that horrible war. It is a gorgeous and stunning stop, visually
and emotionally. Definitely a Don’t Miss
– and those of you who know me, know I am not fond of historical touring. Even as a naturalized citizen, I was
proud to be there as an American. I only
wish we had along my step-father Bob whose knowledge would have brought the
entire experience to life.
Given what we had learned about Pepper, Day 3 was spent
taking it into a Speedy tire service and trying to communicate our issue. I personally think I did an outstanding job
explaining (in French) that when we drive more than 125 KPM, the wheel begins
to (and here, not knowing the word for “shake” I did a whole body pantomime of
“shake”.) They got the idea, responded
with about three paragraphs of French, only a fraction of which could I understand: That it wasn’t a big problem. They pulled Pepper in, rebalanced the tires,
charged us nothing and wished us a safe journey. You don’t’ see that every day. (That’s what they said.)
And so we are back on the road headed south. No Paris this time—it’s just too cold and I
am sick to death of all my cold weather clothes. We are heading south as quickly as we can,
with maybe, maybe a stop-over in San
Sebastian, Spain, a town which I adore.
But only if it is sunny and more than 70/20.
-K
PS: Since my
Tweets come faster than my posts, you know that we are now holed up in a hotel
outside of Tours, France. Pepper’s drive
train busted and, miracles of all miracles, we limped off the A10 only a few
kilometers from a Porsche dealer. (I
told you we were lucky travelers!) We dropped Salt in a hotel parking lot before continuing our limping to
Porsche. They need a few days for the
part to come in and Porsche thought Pepper was too dangerous to drive so they rented
us a little car (mais bien sur, we tried for a Hybrid Cayenne but that is where
our luck ran out.) We are staying a few
nights in a hotel with a very sad view of Salt in the parking lot; she missing
one of her windows (we drove off and left it unlatched [and by “we” I really
mean “I”], so it is somewhere along the A28 or A10 . . . ) When it rains it pours and it happens to be
doing both right now. Literally.
Aventura, Baby!
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