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| Dieppe to Caen to Mont-Saint Michel to St Brieuc, France |
A cold shower motivated us to leave the awful stuffy hotel and emerge into the humid light of day. The imposing Chateau de Dieppe overlooks the beach and stands at the terminus of the waterfront near the memorial to the thousands of Canadian lives that were lost on 19 August 1942 in the aborted Dieppe Raid. I learned that despite the Allied retreat that there was a level of electronic intelligence achieved and this raid influenced the preparations for Operation Overlord - the future Allied Normandy landings a few years later.
Not wanting to give any money to the shitty so-called four-star Mercure, we enjoyed petit dejeuner at a neighbouring hotel after walking the length of the waterfront. Tanks once rolled over this beach where kiosks are now erected selling ice cream, coffee and souvenirs. It is easy to become sullen when you consider the history of the area whilst shoving ham, cheese and half of a croissant into your gob.
The organ was being played at the gothic Saint-Jacques Church. The dulcet sounds reverberated through my body as I wandered the medieval streets of the fishing port. My only regret was not sitting outside of the Cafe des Tribunaux at least for a coffee before we collected our bags and drove away with the motorcar windows down.
We pressed on to Caen via the toll road. Traffic moved relatively quick at 130 km/hr. The highway was in the same state that you would find in Australia, however, you would be publicly tarred and feathered in the press and labelled a potential baby killer for "speeding" in that country at that rate of travel. You would also be fined heavily - an amusing thought as we got on down the road unencumbered and sweating whilst sipping from the bottles of water purchased from the Dieppe Carrefour.
I was keen to have a wander around the city of Caen which was a battlefront between the British and Germans in WW2 during the Battle of Normandy. I drove up to the War Memorial which is actually a large museum where they charge 20€ for an entry pass per person. Normally on the first Sunday of each month, access to museums in France are free but this one must be an exception. I learned that this city was bombed to rubble and the population decreased from 60,000 to 17,000 over a short time. The former Church of Saint-Etienne-le-Vieux remains in ruins in the centre of Caen, a timely reminder of the savagery of war. It is worth a visit, along with the Hotel de Ville across the road.
With the windows down and now sporting my Lancashire Cricket Club hat, we motored along the expressway towards Mont Saint-Michel. I stopped at the German War Cemetery en route. I was surprised that such an imposing structure was built, including vaults to house the remains of the dead. The only other German war graves I had previously visited were in Belgium and the plot of land looked in disarray in comparison to this site which has a marvellous view of Mont Saint-Michel from the top of the hill.
We abandoned the motorcar in the parking area near Mont Saint-Michel and took a ride on the free bus along the bridge to the island commune. Not being tourist virgins to this site, we grabbed an overpriced cheese toasty and wandered around and didn't pay to go to the top. Hot, sweaty and fatigued, we wanted to retreat down the motorway one last time and meet our destiny at the next hotel which was pre-booked in St Brieuc. I was delighted to find air-conditioned bliss along with a room upgrade. A much-needed cold shower was enjoyed before enjoying the delights of the local wines, all which arrived corked.
Life is good.
Not wanting to give any money to the shitty so-called four-star Mercure, we enjoyed petit dejeuner at a neighbouring hotel after walking the length of the waterfront. Tanks once rolled over this beach where kiosks are now erected selling ice cream, coffee and souvenirs. It is easy to become sullen when you consider the history of the area whilst shoving ham, cheese and half of a croissant into your gob.
The organ was being played at the gothic Saint-Jacques Church. The dulcet sounds reverberated through my body as I wandered the medieval streets of the fishing port. My only regret was not sitting outside of the Cafe des Tribunaux at least for a coffee before we collected our bags and drove away with the motorcar windows down.
We pressed on to Caen via the toll road. Traffic moved relatively quick at 130 km/hr. The highway was in the same state that you would find in Australia, however, you would be publicly tarred and feathered in the press and labelled a potential baby killer for "speeding" in that country at that rate of travel. You would also be fined heavily - an amusing thought as we got on down the road unencumbered and sweating whilst sipping from the bottles of water purchased from the Dieppe Carrefour.
I was keen to have a wander around the city of Caen which was a battlefront between the British and Germans in WW2 during the Battle of Normandy. I drove up to the War Memorial which is actually a large museum where they charge 20€ for an entry pass per person. Normally on the first Sunday of each month, access to museums in France are free but this one must be an exception. I learned that this city was bombed to rubble and the population decreased from 60,000 to 17,000 over a short time. The former Church of Saint-Etienne-le-Vieux remains in ruins in the centre of Caen, a timely reminder of the savagery of war. It is worth a visit, along with the Hotel de Ville across the road.
With the windows down and now sporting my Lancashire Cricket Club hat, we motored along the expressway towards Mont Saint-Michel. I stopped at the German War Cemetery en route. I was surprised that such an imposing structure was built, including vaults to house the remains of the dead. The only other German war graves I had previously visited were in Belgium and the plot of land looked in disarray in comparison to this site which has a marvellous view of Mont Saint-Michel from the top of the hill.
We abandoned the motorcar in the parking area near Mont Saint-Michel and took a ride on the free bus along the bridge to the island commune. Not being tourist virgins to this site, we grabbed an overpriced cheese toasty and wandered around and didn't pay to go to the top. Hot, sweaty and fatigued, we wanted to retreat down the motorway one last time and meet our destiny at the next hotel which was pre-booked in St Brieuc. I was delighted to find air-conditioned bliss along with a room upgrade. A much-needed cold shower was enjoyed before enjoying the delights of the local wines, all which arrived corked.
Life is good.
