Everything about our visit to Normandy was a delightful surprise. To start with, I was stunned by its beauty. In Provence, I feel as though we’re living inside a Cezanne painting, but in Normandy, the scenery completely changed. It was like stepping into a Monet seascape. Artists have painted this area for centuries, and with good reason.
The palette consists of greens, grey-browns and whites. Bright green rolling fields are divided into small pockets by tall spires of trees and dense hedges – like a big patchwork quilt – dotted with rolled bails of hay and small herds of cattle. The grey-brown tones came from the stone and stucco houses and barns that filled the villages and farms with texture and warmth. Finally, there were the white shutters and window trim and, of course, the bright white crosses of the war cemeteries. The colors were combined in the black, brown and white cows that provided the butter, milk and cheese that this area is known for. And then there were the clouds – I loved the clouds. Where we have clear blue skies in Provence, the sky in Normandy is filled with tall fluffy clouds that sit heavy with moisture making them grey on the bottom but fringed with white lit from behind by the sun. No wonder artists painted the sky endlessly. With this backdrop, geraniums in reds and pinks tumbled out of windows and gardens. Even hydrangeas were still in bloom. This was the setting for our week of travel.
I found inspiration in the fishing villages like Honfleur, in the vision that inspired Mont-Saint-Michel, in the staggering expanse of the Normandy beaches the scene of the D-Day landings, and particularly in the stories of the individuals who were there.
We stayed for two days in the charming village of Honfleur. Honfleur is on the north coast of France with a port that opens to the sea. The village rings the old harbor – also the subject of paintings, many of which are housed in the local Egenie Boudin Museum. There were conveniently placed plaques around town with photos of noteworthy paintings. We stood in the exact spot of the painter and saw, in many cases, the same view they painted in the 1800s. The Boudin Museum was filled with the originals of these and more paintings of Honfleur.
We loved exploring the narrow cobblestone streets filled with the smell of baking bread, art galleries, restaurants serving fresh seafood from the boats docked in the harbor (oysters, mussels, whelk, sea bass, hake, red mullet, langoustine, sole), and specialty shops with local products (cider, calvados, tripe, butter, camembert). Hundreds of cyclists were in town having just biked from Paris to Honfleur - another type of inspiration! But it was the interplay of the buildings with the water that made the place memorable. We sat in the sun next to the centuries old Lieutenancy building soaking up the sun while we watched the reflections of the buildings ripple in the water. I could have relaxed there all day.
Many of the buildings were built in a post and beam style filled in with stucco. It’s what I associated with Switzerland, but it was a standard design in Normandy and they were lovely – white stucco between dark wood beams, slate roofs dappled with yellow/green lichen and streets lit with copper lanterns. Our hotel looked out over Place St. Catherine.
The bell tower, separate from the historic, wood-shingled church, stood just outside our window. It, too, was the subject of many paintings including one by Monet. It was fun to look out at this historic building, but the reality was that it chimed every 15 minutes!
We also took a boat ride to see the Ponte de Normandie – a huge cable stay bridge that set records when it was built in the 1980s. It is an amazing sight spanning the ship channel of the Siene River, but it can’t hold a candle to the small old harbor protected by locks and a little draw bridge.
We had a short visit to Mont Saint Michel. Mont Saint Michel, an abbey that was begun in 708AD, is built high on a rock cliff island surrounded at high tide by shallow water. Legend has it that a shepherd had a vision to build an abbey on this spot, and he actually did it! The abbey grew over the centuries into a maze of connected rooms.
Today, it is no longer a working abbey but it is one of France’s top tourist destinations with its breathtaking silhouette – recognized world-wide – and narrow winding streets lined with tourist shops. Even in September, the streets were packed so that we could hardly move. Nonetheless, we made the climb to the entrance and toured spartan rooms built out of stone and nestled into the rock. Nothing is left of the furnishings and tapestries, but there is a sense of monastic life particularly in the large refectory hall and chapel. We wandered along with tour groups who created a buzz of languages - like the Tower of Babel.
The crowds can’t take away from Mont Saint Michel but they certainly are a distraction. I enjoyed going back early the next morning, running (yes, running!) over the narrow causeway that, since 1879, connects the mainland with the island. Even in the haze of a grey morning, Mont Saint Michel was a stunning sight. Better yet were the empty streets that show off the old village at the base of the abbey.
It was just me, a few photo-seekers, and a couple of delivery men - one of whom tried to visit with me in French but, frustrated, just gave me a French kiss (not that kind - rather, a peck on each cheek). Flocks of small brown birds filled the air with their constant chatter and they swarmed up and around in unison when startled. I climbed the stone stairs, like others’ feet have done over centuries to see the sun break through the gloom giving the rocks a warm glow.
From the heights of the abbey, I could see the sands (it was low tide) glisten in the morning light as far as I could see. Sheep graze these salt marshes giving their meat a unique flavor that we enjoyed our one night there. The buses were beginning to arrive as I left. I hope others leave with a bit of the inspiration that caused this abbey to be built and overlook the jumble of tourist knick knacks. With a final look across the marsh at Mont Saint Michel with the tide coming in, we left – without a snow globe.
In our journeys between towns we were able to enjoy short visits to Giverny - the site of Monet's home and garden.
Of course, we took many photos of the pond that was the subject of his well-known paintings. We also stopped in Villedieu-les-Poeles where copper pots and pans are made. You know the outcome of that stop! We are the proud owners of two gorgeous copper pots. Mike can't wait to cook in them. My job is to eat whatever he cooks...and polish the pots.
Our visit to Normandie started in Bayeux. We’ve seen many wonderful things since we’ve been in France, but the one place that Mike specifically wanted to visit was the site of the D-Day invasion. I confess that I was largely clueless about D-Day and not very intellectually curious about it at that. It was, however, worth every minute and something I’d recommend to anyone. I'm very glad I was there.
We choose Bayeux as our base simply because it was the meeting place for our tour, but it turned out to be an inspired choice. As we discovered, Bayeux was one of the first towns liberated on D-Day and suffered no damage. Consequently, their stunning cathedral stands unfazed with its three tall spires. The cathedral looms over the town, visible from all corners. I never tired of seeing it. Like many large cathedrals, it was built over the centuries and, as a result, there are varying styles of architecture. Two of the towers are austere and textured so that you see the rough outlines of the stone blocks topped with finer textured stone roof shingles on the steeple. At night and in the mornings, the sunlight accentuated the texture making it appear almost soft. The other spire was all lace and frills – pretty, but I preferred the simplistic design. Organ music was playing as we went inside and wandered through the towering arches to see the rich colors of the stained glass windows – remarkable for surviving the war.
As we walked we noticed a small, older woman tugging on a vacuum cleaner. Think about it – a vacuum cleaner. To start with, where did she plug it in? It wasn’t some big industrial strength machine either. It was a household version with a regular length cord. As we discreetly watched, she pulled it along, found a plug in a side corner and proceeded to use the attachment normally used for sofa cushions to vacuum the groves at the base of the fluted stone columns. And she did this all the way around the cathedral! I hope it wasn’t too disrespectful but we had to laugh!
We had a day to spend in Bayeux which we filled by walking through the streets – gaping and staring – at the beautiful village. I couldn’t get enough of the stone houses with white shutters, white window and door trim, and black roofs.
It was so different from the warm colors, blue shutters and red tile roofs of Provence. Overhead, grey sea gulls squawked as they flew by – another change from Provence. I felt as though we were in a different country. Gone were the vineyards and olive groves, replaced by vast corn fields and peacefully grazing cattle. And the food was different, too. We learned that Normandy is the home of camembert and brie cheeses, crepes and quiche. I couldn’t resist one of the local camembert cheeses. We wrapped the remainders in a plastic bag and stuffed it in my backpack. For the rest of the day, Mike could locate me by smell before he saw me! Their other specialty comes from the many apple orchards.
There was apple juice, apple cider (lightly fermented and used for kir Normand – wonderful!), calvados (an apple liquor like cognac), and apple jelly (served at breakfast with their local butter and brioche). Caramels are another specialty which I did all I could to enjoy! I had caramel candies, caramel ice cream, caramel sauce on deserts, and even a tea lightly scented with caramel. Many of the menus included English translations. These are always helpful and sometimes amusing. Tripe is a local favorite and was tantalizingly described as "stomach, guts, and foot." We didn't have any. While we wondered through the streets of Bayeux, I looked up to see Doug Rose, a colleague who I worked with when he was with Maryland State Highway Department. It was such a surprise to see a familiar face! He and his wife, Louise, were in town to visit the D-Day beaches as well. They were on vacation in Paris – their first visit in France – and took the excursion to Normandy. We caught up on mutual activities and shared experiences in France. What a treat!
The other noteworthy site in Bayeux is the Bayeux tapestry. This tapestry - 70 meters long – was commissioned in 1070. It is a historical depiction of the feud between William and his brother, Harold, culminating in the battle of Hastings in 1066. He thus became William the Conqueror, the King of England and Duke of Normandy. Now – this did not sound like a particularly exciting thing to see but I was very wrong – again. It was both impressive in its execution (crewel needlework), informative as a way to convey history to an illiterate public, and beautiful in its art. Both Mike and I were moved by it – surprisingly so.
As a prologue to the next day's tour, we visited their war museum - one of a countless number of war museums in this area.
Once again - it was informative and eye-opening. Thankfully, I learned the basics of the invasion and the following days, plus there were photos of the local towns and the destruction left in the wake of the occupying and advancing armies. A day later we would drive through some of these same villages and see the devastation that was still evident. The city of St. Lo was 95% destroyed. The cathedral in particular was shot to pieces. it was a jarring difference from the beautiful Bayeux cathedral.
Detailed sculptures that had taken years of skilled craftmanship to create were blow to bits in a day. It was a disturbing sight. The museum inside the cathedral referred to it as the "disasterous day in June 1944." It was a reminder of the unintended consequences of the D-Day invasion that we were to learn more about on our tour.
Our tour was with Battlebus, a company that provides a 1 or 2 day tour of the beaches and other historical sites. We opted for the one day tour that focused on the U.S. participation. There were only six of us in the bus and our guide, Sean, provided a wealth of factual information about the war, the sites, and personal stories of some of the people who lived the experience. It brought that day to life in an all-to-real way.
Our first stop was outside a small grey-stoned church surrounded by an old cemetery. The stone crosses leaned this way and that just outside the door. Sean told us of two kids (19 and 21 years old) who had holed up in the church to treat the injured. With little training and fewer supplies they treated anyone who was brought in regardless of nationality. As hand-to-hand fighting raged just outside the door, they saved Americans, French and Germans. Mortar holes were still in need of repair on the roof and blood stains marked the wooden benches.
Outside, the village residents, at their own expense, erected and maintain a monument to the two American medics. This was the first of many examples of the appreciation expressed by residents. Mike noted the numerous American flags – more than we would see driving through the U.S. And it seemed that at each village stop, we were treated to church bells ringing – somehow appropriate.
Next we visited Sainte-Mere-Eglise. This is where U.S. paratroopers landed in the middle of the night – on top of houses (in one case, crashing through the roof startling frighten residents), shops and the church.
It was on this church steeple where one paratrooper hung for over an hour. There are a variety of stories about the incident but what is consistent are the heroics and deaths that occurred that night. The church is speckled with marks from small arms fire. Outside we stood in the same spot as a photo taken in 1944 of the troops standing by the church. Sainte-Mere-Eglise was one of the first towns to recover its economic footing. The church was built in the 1300s. There is a Roman obelisk more than 1000 years old in the church yard. But all around shops and restaurants relived 1944. Even the church had a model soldier hanging from the front of the steeple (not historically accurate as the paratrooper landed on the back of the steeple - but that would not have been visible to tourists).
Utah beach was our first look at one of the infamous beaches. Confined on either end and relatively lightly defended, it was the place to be on June 7 - if you wanted to live. From Utah beach we drove through the marshlands, which were flooded by the Germans to limit access. The hedgerows were also a problem to advancing troups. They are high and thick - enough to cover soldiers and equipment. It took weeks longer than expected to move through this beautiful but difficult terrain.
Our next stop was Pointe du Hoc which has sheer cliffs on the ocean’s edge. The top of the cliff was lined with remains of German gun placements. Huge chunks of broken concrete lay scattered around, the ground covered by bomb craters. This was the landing point for Lt. Col Rudder’s forces. Their task: navigate their small landing craft from the ship several miles from shore, land on a rocky beach, scale a 100’ cliff, and disable German gun placements – all while being shot at. It didn’t go as planned. They were off course, the rope ladders for scaling the cliff didn’t work (metal ladders which had to be assembled while climbing – and being shot at – was the backup plan), and they were 40 minutes late.
Amazingly, they were successful - partly because the large guns had been removed previously and were replaced by telephone poles. As I learned, Lt. Col. Rudder was from Texas A&M. Duh. I have been inside the Rudder Center many times but never realized who it was named after.
Finally, we made it to Omaha beach – NOT the place to be on D-Day. It was a suicide mission for those landing first. Omaha beach is about 5 miles long as well as very deep. They had to run – through waters laced with explosives – 400 yards to get to the rock wall that lined the road at the base of the cliff. Concrete bunkers for gun placements are still visible up and down the beach.
It is only through shear power and numbers (and probably confusion on the part of the Germans) that made this a successful effort. We stood on the beach where so many died trying to imagine the scene and the fear that must have gripped each person. As we stood there, a family played on the beach, their black cocker spaniel chasing a ball along the water’s edge, two older women changed out of their swim suits, and sail boats floated just offshore. I all seemed a bit surreal and yet, that’s what it was all for, I suppose – allowing a country to move on with their future. Sean told us that there is still a bomb squad who, last year alone, handled more than 1000 calls. A live bomb had recently been found and made the local news because disarming it tied up traffic. Finding the bomb was not noteworthy but tying up traffic was. Remains of soldiers, mostly German, are still found when new buildings are put up. There is an organized process for handling these remains in accordance with the policies of each country.
That brings me to the Collesville U.S cemetery on the shores of France. Even now, my eyes sting as I think of it.
There are more than 9,000 buried here – about one third of those who died in the Normandy area. The others, at the request of their families, were moved to local cemeteries in the U.S. On a beautiful sunny day – a rarity in rainy Normandy – we walked through row after row of gleaming white crosses, the sun reflecting off their smooth surfaces. The grounds, immaculately kept, were bright green and neatly edged. It smelled of fresh cut grass and pines as the wind softly rustled through the needles. The site gently slopes to the sea so that blue water sparkles between the pines. I walked along watching the crosses. What looked like a single white cross, opened to reveal a row of countless crosses dropping over the lawn to the water. The graves are intentionally uniform and non-descript, depicting the equality of contribution that all here share. While we saw the graves of those whose stories we’d heard on the tour, there were stories, known only to the families, for each of the 9,000 crosses. As Sean said, the little stories make the big story. So, what do 9,000 crosses look like – too many.
As I now appreciate, Normandy is where art, beautiful landscapes, good food and history merge. The people were wonderful and they clearly love "beau Normandie." It seems that Normandy remains an inspirtation for them, too.
A Postscript from MikeWhen we visited Omaha and Utah Beaches our guide Sean recounted some of the stories of American soldiers who landed there on June 6, 1944. His historical account reminded me of an oral history interview I did with Howard Dignen on March 1, 2000.
Howard “Digs” Dignen landed on Omaha Beach that fateful morning in the second wave of infantrymen from the 29th Division, 1st Maryland Infantry, US Army, Company M, Maryland National Guard. They followed the 1st Division which incurred substantial causalities. Digs was 21 years old on the day of the Normandy Invasion.
He described the landing and how frightened he and his fellow soldiers were at the time. “The only way I can describe it, well, it was just like the opening scenes from the movie Saving Private Ryan. Men were disoriented; explosions all around and the water was purple. That’s what it was like.” He said.
As a platoon leader he saw ten of his men who were fatally wounded on the beach in the early hours of the landings. There is a group photo of Company M taken in Saint Lo, a town in the region that was almost completely destroyed by Allied and German bombings.
Digs also recounted the many men from Maryland and Annapolis in particular who served in the armed forces and the others who landed on the Normandy beaches on D-Day. One of his friends from Eastport was a paratrooper from the 82nd Airborne who survived a glider crash farther inland.
I can remember during the interview how emotional he was even 56 years later recanting those hours on the beach before, during and after the landings. During the course of his deployment in the Normandy Campaign he received three Purple Hearts. “Damn good thing they were lousy shots otherwise I would not be here.” He said.
I met Howard Dignen in the early 1970s when I owned the service station in Eastport. He was a member of the Annapolis City Council – elected in 1965. His son Howard Jr. worked for me pumping gas, and learned some early lessons about how to operate a business. He went on to college at the University of Maryland.
I always enjoyed talking with Digs. He was a mild-mannered man; had a great family; and made valuable contributions to his country and community.
Every time, the response was the same, “You don’t want to do that.” They would go on to explain that the grape harvest is very hard work, back breaking work with long hours. Still…I was undeterred. It was something that I wanted to experience, and so I persisted. It was my French teacher, Catherine, who was able to connect me with another student, Irene, whose husband, Antoine Kaufman, manages an organic vineyard nearby – Chateau Duvivier. Chateau Duvivier was one of the first organic vineyards in this area. Today 10-20% of the vineyards use organic methods. The wines produced here are sold mainly in Germany and Switzerland. Chateau Duvivier is owned by many shareholders who have the first options to stay on the property. The chateau itself is a lovely building of pale pink stucco with green shutters shaded by plane trees and surrounded by beds of lavender and set in the vineyards. It's a captivating place. Antoine very graciously permitted me - an unknowledgeable American - to join in their harvest which is a critical time for their business. 
We didn’t know at the time that the spacing between the rows was uniform to accommodate the harvesting equipment. We watched as buds developed that grew into bright green leaves. 
Clusters of tiny grapes came next which we watched grow and ripen over the hot, dry summer months. Now the red grapes are a deep blue-purple, the white grapes are a mottled green-gold, and both are plump and sweet. The nights are becoming cooler, the leaves are turning reddish brown. You can tell its harvest time by the steady stream of tractors on all the local roads with trailers bouncing along behind that you can hear before you see them.
Before I knew that I would have an opportunity with Chateau Duvivier, we were watching other harvest operations. Some are done by hand and others my machine. We realized from the noise that something new was happening in the area. It was like a soft low rumble, humming in the distance. I mixed up the two words – rumble and hum – came out with “rum.” The “rum” was coming from the harvesting machine. Mike says the machine looks like something out of War of the Worlds. 
It straddles the vines and has big teeth that pull off grapes…somehow – and it moves fast. I don’t quite understand how it works. There aren’t many machines due to their expense. We were told that some vineyards pool their resources to buy a machine and share it during the 2-3 weeks harvest time. The machine dumps the grapes into a tractor drawn trailer which takes the load to the local cooperative. Through some formula of weight and sugar content, the farmer is paid while the grapes are combined to become the area's local wine. 
We watched the process at the cooperative in Cotignac and Federic showed us how machines separate the leaves and stems from the grapes and then press the grapes leaving behind a sticky pile of pits and skins. With a few months to ferment it’s bottled.
We also visited Carpe Diem, a local winery that harvests their grapes by hand. We’ve been by there several times trying to catch the pickers in an area that was easily accessible. The staff was even kind enough to call us. We finally saw their team of pickers in action. 
There were about 12-15 men and women picking away and hoisting the plastic buckets brimming with grapes into the back of the tractor. They let me cut a few bunches, too. We followed the tractor to their cave (the buildings were the grapes are processed into wine) and watched as they unloaded the grapes and started their wine making process. 
Here I met Antoine and the other pickers. There were about twelve of us. All but me were young and experienced. That should have been a clue. We were all bundled up in sweat shirts, hats and jackets – mismatched knowing that we’d return grubby at the end of the day. There were no manicures here!
Then, as I soon realized, grapes are vines, meaning that they entwine themselves around things such as the wires running through the rows. Rarely would a bunch neatly fall into my waiting hand. More often I had to struggle to disentangle it, squishing grapes between my fingers, and sometimes dropping them. The other trick is to clip the stem and not your finger or the finger of the person picking opposite of you – not as easy as you might think with leaves hiding everything. Also, grapes tend to grow in dry, arid places. The other plants that grow in similar terrain include thistles and prickly wild berry vines. I remembered this as I kneeled down and felt something sticking me through my pant leg. It was a wild berry vine. Since this is an organic vineyard, no pesticides or herbicides are used and plants are encouraged between the rows as they keep the soil soft and healthy. That’s great for the soil but I had to be more careful where I put my knees. And the clipping goes fast! My full bucket was whisked away and replaced with an empty one. No one stopped until the end of a row – a very long row- was reached. 
The buckets were dumped into rectangular plastic tubs and stacked five high into the trailer. The tractor would move to the next set of rows and we’d start again. Between four and five rows were worked at a time – the best I could tell from my little vantage point. We stopped for a short break at mid-morning. Everyone gathered into small groups around their cars for a snack of baguettes, camembert, water – and a smoke – rolled while they stood. In a few minutes, everyone was back at work. I was relieved when lunch time rolled around and we had a longer break. 
This time, everyone gathered on the grass under a large tree and broke out whatever they’d brought - more baguettes, cheese, pastas, cans of mackerel and pate, rice and fruit. Antoine brought by some bottles of wine which was very popular with the crew. The sky grew more cloudy and a wind blew in making it cool enough for a jacket – a good thing once the work commenced again.
Finally, I think they gave up and let me pick where ever I happened to be. No one complained, I just kept busy and did my best to keep up with their fast pace. I think I did okay but I’m no pro. 
We saw them sorting the grapes we’d picked that day to remove over ripe and not ripe bunches that would have impacted the flavor of the wine. It's a busy time so Irene was on hand as well to help with the sorting. A machine separated the grapes from the stems and sent them to be pressed for white wine. Rebecca showed us the stainless steal vats used for the red wines and other vats for the white wines. 
We saw the wood and concrete casks that age some of the wines before bottling. The big treat was tasting the wine that Rebecca had made herself – her first cask. I got to taste it straight from the cask! Wow. AND – it was great – a deep, garnet red that filled my mouth with rich, silky flavor and a lingering fragrance on my tongue. My day at Chateau Duvivier was almost complete. 
Before we left, Irene gave us a bottle of freshly squeeze juice from the grapes I'd help pick that day. We couldn't wait to get home so we took swigs straight from the bottle! As we were leaving Antoine presented me with a bottle each of their white and red wine. I'm looking forward to tasting their well-loved finished product.
