Category: Uncategorized

On the left in this picture is the abbey at Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, our first stop last weekend on our tour of the Normandy region. It’s quite spectacular and I encourage you to learn more through Wikipedia or this link.

As you can tell, it was raining (just lightly) as we arrived. It had just started to fall as we neared the abbey and since it was getting much darker outside than it had been, I thought it appropriate to start humming the theme to the Munsters TV show. I can’t be sure, but I think Melinda got a chuckle out of that.

After parking (by the way, that’s Bernard’s & Christine’s mini-van in front of us), we walked into what is the tiny town, built in circular fashion around the foot of the abbey. It’s unlike anything I have ever seen before. You wind your way around through the town toward the abbey, ultimately arriving and then paying your admission fee to enter. As you can imagine, it’s quite historical inside and the views are spectacular.

Perhaps that’s putting it a little strong but Chloe has been living it up in Paris the last couple of days with her friend Alex. And while I don’t have a fattened calf to provide her, I am fixing one of my favorite meals in France, duck, for dinner tonight. Since Chloe really doesn’t care for duck (Melinda, either), she’ll be having pasta, unfattened. And while we don’t have servants (I’m not counting Melinda, who’s doing the laundry right now), we have hired Christine’s son, Théo, to mow the lawn which he is doing right now. Nor does Ella seem to be expressing the belief that she is getting the short end of any stick. Heck, she likes duck.

I snapped this picture with my cell phone as Chloe climbed off the train in Nantes early this afternoon. You might not be able to tell, but she did see Melinda and me and was heading our way. She even “bisoused” each of us. Examining the photo closely, you may see the coffee cup in her hand, as well as an art print she purchased in Paris for either her room at home or in the dorm at college. On her back is her wonderful backpack, which made traveling easy for her.

Chloe reported that traveling with a friend is different than traveling with one’s parents. By different, I’m pretty sure she meant better. There may be more traveling in her future…

As Melinda, Ella & I were waiting for the tram today a man came up and starting talking to us. It was a little uncomfortable, given his forwardness, his alcohol-laced breath, and him speaking in French, saying something about Melinda’s shoes (I think). I told him that I didn’t understand him and for a minute he switched to speaking some sentences in English, then Italian. After that, he went back to French.

Standing there chatting away, he took out a pad of paper and began to draw my portrait. The tram arrived, what I thought would provide us our separation. Surprisingly, though, he followed us on in order to continue drawing. I stayed near the door with him so Ella and Melinda could have some space. He drew for several stops, people brushing past us to get on and off. In the end, he asked my name and wrote it on the picture, then tore the picture out of his book and gave it to me (that’s me holding it in today’s picture). I tried to give him a Euro but he scoffed, saying, “Gratuit, gratuit (Free, free).”

It was an odd experience, to say the least. Like I said, it was uncomfortable but there was also something relaxing about it as he drew me, almost meditative. He was highly focused on his task and seemed intent on pleasing me. And he was quite insistent about not taking a coin, something that helped make the whole exchange more pure, if that makes sense. I learned something here, although I’m still trying to figure out what it is.

Melinda, Ella and I were on the tram to go get lunch, eating at a crêperie in the center of town. The three of us did a small amount of shopping, too, picking up a new swimming suit for Ella and a scarf for Melinda. Chloe continues to be in Paris with Alex. Last night she and I exchanged text messages, Chloe reporting they had a nice dinner sitting outside the Sacré-Cœur and how beautiful the Eiffel Tower looked, all lit up at night. I responded with something about how I’ve heard people love Paris in the springtime.

You may need to click on the photo to see it better. Doing so enlarges it, a picture taken yesterday of our rental car’s GPS screen. And before going any further, let me just tell you how infatuated Melinda and I became with this nifty little tool. It’s like driving and playing a video game at the same time, which, incidentally, I’m not advocating anyone do on a literal basis…

Anyway, Angerville. So there we were, driving in Normandy to Bernard’s parents’ house on Saturday, and up on the video game, err, GPS screen came the word “Angerville.” It made me laugh out loud. As Chloe said, we spent some time in Nice, why not Angerville? Turns out, though, that it never really worked into our plans to make a stop. I kept picturing the four of us next to a sign of the town name, each of us with an angry scowl on our faces. The blog posting title would have been something like, “If this isn’t Angerville, I don’t know what is.”

But in hindsight, it’s probably best we didn’t go to Angerville. I mean, we probably go there metaphorically often enough, right? So not visiting this town can have a metaphorical purpose, too. “Hey, Melinda, you aren’t planning on making a stop in Angerville, are you?”

Think about it. Wouldn’t YOU rather go around Angerville than making a stop there? Program your personal GPS accordingly.

Last night I was struck by the realization that the experience we were having right then was exactly what Melinda and I wanted for our family when we first imagined the sabbatical. There we were, in the cozy living room of a delightful French family, sipping wine in front of a fire, having spent the better part of the day with them acting as our tour guides. It was just prior to dinner. Chloe and Ella were playing cards with a couple of sweet French girls. In our imaginings Melinda and I couldn’t picture this exact scene, of course, or others like it that we’ve had. Living it, though, is like having a dream come true.

We’re back in Nantes now. I’ve updated the last two days with my reactions to our visits to two of the D-Day beaches. What I haven’t done is express our appreciation for the Bertail family, the people who have made this particular dream come true. Their kindness to us and their generous hospitality is something to behold. To try to hint at the depth of our appreciation, I present this photo of Monsieur and Madame Bertail, Bernard’s parents, outside of their home in Normandy, the place where we spent the last three days/two nights, as a lasting tribute. When we are back in Seattle and enjoying this record of our experiences, we will look at this picture with great warmth and appreciation.

Of the many things for which we have to thank the Bertails, one involves making sure Chloe got her Caen-Paris train ticket yesterday and then to the Caen train station on time today. I’m pleased to report that Chloe is safely and contentedly in Paris right now with her friend Alex. She returns to Nantes on Thursday.

Thank you, Christine. Thank you, Bernard, Thank you to all the Bertails, our friends.

One comes and it finds you in whatever way it does. You find it, too, like partners in some strange kind of a dance, or round one fighters in the ring. Because that’s how it feels here, like you and it are tapping into something deep and natural, something scary but secure, something simultaneously good and bad. It’s the best of you. It’s the worst of you.

It’s that part in each of us that wages epic battles with ourselves and with those we love most. It’s both my inner and outer responses to Melinda when I’m angry. Am I calm and loving? Am I spiteful and mean? When Chloe or Ella leave their dirty dishes in the sink, do I respond with raised voice and ire or with understanding and patience?

I lose more of these battles than I care to admit.

But perhaps each marker here represents an opportunity to start over again. When I lose one of these battles, I can think of this place, tap one of these markers and forgive myself. Failing that, I can start again. Failing that, start again. There, a success! Build on it. Oh, but another failure. Start again. There are so, so many markers placed so carefully in ordered rows over so much ground. So many opportunities to start again. Always more, always enough. Each one represents opportunity, hope. A success. Now another.

Just what IS it that dies for one’s sins?

With my back to the water at Utah Beach, my feet in the incredibly soft sand, with families lounging on towels and tourists quietly walking, I look up at the bank. It’s hard to imagine that 67 years earlier one of the fiercest battles in military history partially took place right here. I can’t wrap my head around that.

There are tributes, of course, but they pale in significance to what took place then. Perhaps that is as it should be. There is no way to fully memorialize a place like this. As Lincoln said at Gettysburg, the consecration of such a place happens DURING the event, not in the words and memorials that follow.

I wander among the tributes, taking photos, feeling so fortunate to be doing my shooting here with a camera and not a gun. How many people, like me, perhaps BECAUSE of what happened at places like this, get to be tourists with no worries of being attacked or needing to defend? Do the ghosts mock us? Are they offended? Or are they proud? What roll of the dice places me here in 2011 and others here in 1944?

I’ve chosen this photo to further summarize our introduction to the D-Day beaches, taken inside the new Utah Beach Museum. Here is what the card says:

“The first American flag raised on Utah Beach, on the first enemy bunker captured at dawn on D-Day. It continued to fly up to the 11th of November 1944, the day the 1st Engineers Special Brigade memorial was inaugurated. Donated by General Eugene M. Caffey, 6th June 1954.”

Inside this photo try to find:

A rear view mirror
A driver
Two passengers
Two visors
A windshield
The hint of a steering wheel

How did you do?? Did you notice anything about these items? That’s right, they’re all parts of a car, specifically the one we rented today! You see, tomorrow we are following Christine & Bernard (and kids) to Normandy to see, among other things, the D-Day beaches. Bernard’s parents live nearby and we’ll all be staying with them until Monday. I’m really looking forward to it!

One thing of which to be aware, there is no Internet at the house so there may be a delay in posting to the blog. We’ll see how that all shakes down once we’re there. Worst case – I get caught up with my postings on Tuesday. But I promise to write them every day all the same. Deal?

Oh, that second passenger? There’s me in the passenger seat, of course (where would Melinda be but behind the wheel?). And Chloe, the photographer, can be seen in the rear view mirror.

Meet one of my French professors in Nantes, the auto-cashier at the nearby U Express grocery store. I had a funny realization while checking out there just a few minutes ago. How much better would my French be if every time I buy groceries I interact with a real live human being (a real live French person, no less) instead of scanning my items myself and interacting with a machine?

Digging deeper into this philosophical question, I wonder if using my computer as much as I have (to blog, of all things, and in English, no less!) has also hampered my French language acquisition. Another question, how different would my experience be if we were living here 20 years ago?

Clearly, there are positives and negatives to this. 20 years ago I could not have gone online to look up the local bus schedule, or used a translator to help me understand things better. But each of those interactions with a machine is one less potential interaction with a human being.

Still, I will report that I can say, “Passer les articles devant le lecteur.” At least that’s what I think the machine is telling me when I’m scanning things too slowly.

And, oh, the woman (French, I presume) who cut my hair today told me my French was very good. That came after I told her, “Je ne parle pas très bien le français.” Ironic, huh?

I mean, something about this photo just says rural France to me. It’s the color, the blue of the sky mixing nicely with the greens and browns of the grasses. The presence of horses adds to it, as does the bike. Then there is the beautiful girl, always an important component of a classic French photo.

Yes, Melinda & Ella returned last night with a camera full of photos. Indeed, as Melinda had been reporting to me by text and phone, the Île de Ré looks beautiful. As the picture provides testimony and as I mentioned earlier, they rented a couple of bikes and rode all over the island. It’s reputed to be extremely flat, making bike-riding a breeze. I caught Melinda hard at work earlier today, busy counting on her fingers and toes. I think she was doing what Jethro Bodine called cipherin’.

When she was done she announced that she thinks they biked over 61 miles in the two days they were on the island. That’s something!