Cruising Down Memory River

Just one year ago we were in Europe. I've been reading my travel journal, remembering, and enjoying the trip all over again. Today's post features photos taken during our Avalon river cruise up the Seine. I can't say enough good things about the cruise. It's a good thing we can enjoy it over and over again in memory. The sunflower bloomed in Monet's Garden. 

Close to where our ship docked in Vernon, this house, bordering on the river, had an "Â vendre" sign out front. The gate was open, and the front door, so my friend and I walked into the garden and up the stairs. We were not quite brave enough to walk in the door, but we did peer in a little. Were we brash? The idea of purchasing such a house and renovating it occupied an hour or two of pleasant conversation later. Our husbands were not so enthralled with the idea. 

Wrought iron fences are a weakness of mine, and this one, painted robin's egg blue, went to the top of the list. 

I think my favourite colour is blue. (Any family members reading this are rolling their eyes and saying, "duh.") Isn't this the prettiest window? Blue gingham curtains with a little ruffle, blue shutters, and a pot of white flowers. It just makes me sigh with satisfaction. 

Church steeples dominated the landscape of each village. There is such disdain for the Church in many places today, yet people forget that without it, much of our knowledge would have been lost, health care would not be where it is today, and society would be very different. I'm not excusing the injustices and atrocities committed, but I think that modern society has lost its compass. We have become so arrogant that we believe we hold all the answers ourselves. It doesn't seem to be working so well.

The old mill of Vernon straddles two piers of an ancient bridge. The waterwheel is long gone, but the mill has been preserved. It likely dates from the 16th century, and was painted by Claude Monet. An engraving of the mill is featured on the postal stamp of Vernon. 

The food on the Avalon Creativity was amazing! There was no standing in line at buffets, but instead very civilized dining with various beautifully presented courses, served by attentive waiters as the ship sailed along the river. Buffets were available for breakfast and lunch, but with only 80 people aboard, there was never a wait. 

There were always several choices on the menu, including vegetarian options. What really tickled my fancy was the option for a cheese course instead of dessert. The cheeses and accompaniments varied every night. Oh my, they were delicious!

One last photo of Monet's house as seen from the garden. 

Do you make vacations last long after your return home? What makes a vacation memorable for you? 

A Cultural Mix

Last spring I watched the Great British Bake Off via Youtube, and got all inspired to bake some British treats. Our trip to the UK last summer continued to fuel that obsession interest. The classic Victoria Sponge is one I've tried to replicate, but I've had a hard time finding a good recipe for the sponge. They turn out tough and chewy rather than tender. 

I've discovered that recipes that work in one country, with one set of ingredients, often don't work quite as well in another. I know that when we lived in Texas and Ecuador, my baking efforts required serious tweaking before I was happy with them. 

This Victoria Sponge is definitely not the classic. Instead of a sponge cake, I used a recipe for a Yogurt Cake (Gateau au Yaourt) that I've made for years. I baked it in two round cake pans and got two thin layers of cake. The raspberry jam is homemade from last summer, and made for a very delicious result paired with a cup of Lady Grey tea. 

A happy partnership between three cultures: British, French, and Canadian. Sometimes it takes global effort to be successful. 

Any recipes for Victoria Sponge that you've had great success with?  

Back to Normandy: Jumièges

Let's go back to France for a bit. There's still so much I haven't shared yet. I love history, and I hope you do, too. One of our excursions while on the river cruise was the Normandy Abbey Route. We visited two abbeys, one a ruin and one still operating. This post is about the ruin. 

The first monastery was built here in 642. Mind-boggling. A few centuries later, however, the Vikings came a-rampaging and destroyed the monastery. 

It didn't take too long before the Vikings themselves converted to Christianity and began building their own monasteries. Duke William of Normandy, aka William the Conqueror, aka King William of England, attended the consecration of the newly constructed abbey in 1067.

The towers still stand, reaching into the blue, blue sky. Our guide pointed out how different they are - deliberate asymmetry.  

Jumièges was an important place of learning in medieval times, and was also well-known for caring for the poor. 

Some of the early paint colours can still be seen in the vaults and arches. 

How lovely it was to wander freely through these ruins, to imagine the life of the monks, to stretch my neck back to see the tops of the ruins. 

Alas, the Abbey became a victim of religion - in the 16th century, the Huguenots destroyed much of the abbey. It was partially rebuilt, but after the French Revolution, destroyed once more. 

These are some of the beautiful details, mostly reproductions, seen in and around the abbey.

The Abbey was sold in the 19th century to a Frenchman who used the old buildings as a quarry, selling off the stones and bricks. This horrified others, who managed to purchase the site before it was totally decimated.

As with most buildings, renovations were carried out over the centuries. These two windows are probably the oldest there.

The grounds are extensive and peaceful for walking. It's preserved now as an historic site, as are other abbeys in the area. If you go to Normandy, take the time to visit one of the abbeys and take a tour. We were so glad we did. 

This pretty house sits outside the abbey walls and I couldn't resist taking a photo. Doesn't it look like something from a fairy tale? 

Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life. 

It's All about the Hat

Sports leave me cold. I have no interest in watching them, playing them, nor do I really care who wins. Oh, I can drum up some national spirit if Team Canada is vying for the gold medal in hockey at the Olympics, but that's about it. 

As you may remember, the Euro Cup 2016 took place earlier this month. In France. In fact, the final matches were the week we were on the cruise boat. Team spirit ran high. When the final came down to France vs Portugal, most people had strong opinions one way or the other. Our boat docked in Paris that night, and the Eiffel Tower was visible from the top deck. Big screens played the game to the crowds at the Tower. We weren't certain if the smoke visible in the photo was from fireworks or tear gas - both of which played a part in the evening. Off-duty crew were able to watch the match from a small television on deck. 

I didn't really care about the outcome, although if someone asked me, I'd say I'd like France to win. What I really wanted was ...

...a hat. Like this one, seen on the captain of the ship. I thought it would be a great addition to my French classroom. There were lots of hats being worn that week, but I couldn't find any in the stores. Perhaps we were in the wrong stores. 

The night of the big game, I spoke to the captain and he told me that if France won, I could have the hat the very next day. 

You might know how that turned out. France lost to Portugal. In overtime. I said nothing to the captain the next day. He looked very, very glum. Devastated, I heard someone say. 

No hat for my French class. Dommage. 

As Tim and I trundled our bags away from the ship on the last day, a group of crew members chatted a little distance away. One of them came over - it was the captain.

"Do you still want the hat?" he asked. 

Mais oui! 

He asked me to wait and brought me his hat. He apparently recovered from his "devastation" for he's smiling here.

"Next time, perhaps France will win," I suggested, in my best French.

"I hope so," he replied.

As a bonus, there's a music box in the hat that plays the Marseillaise - the French national anthem. Won't this be a great story to tell my Grade 8s? 

PS. The other gentleman in the photo is our cruise director. He cared as much about who won the game as I did, but thought the hat incident great fun. 

Found While Wandering

I awoke early this morning and something on Facebook sent me to the news. I am so shocked and saddened to read of this latest attack in France. Should I write about lovely things when so many are hurting? Yes, I shall. For if we stop living our lives in the old ways, if we become creatures who scurry into isolation and suspicion, then those depraved terrorists have won. I will pray for France and for those who are hurting. I will be vigilant. But I will not hide away in fear.

On Tuesday morning we left our floating cocoon of luxury and took the Paris Metro up to the Gare du Nord. We had hours before our flight to London and so we put our luggage in storage at the train station. 

Paris is a huge city with plenty of pavement and tall buildings. But tucked away behind some of the massive doors that attract my eye are little gardens. A Parisian tour guide told us that if the doors are open, we should feel free to wander in. So we did. Several times. Peaceful green oases. Some formal, some intended as playgrounds. 

Bright flowers, usually just one kind. Red geraniums in one garden, pink hydrangeas elsewhere. Roses in yet another.

This garden is not behind doors, but tucked away at the end of a winding narrow street. It's really three garden rooms, each leading into the other. The first room has a plaque - this is the Anne Frank Garden, and there is a tree, grown tall now, that began as a shoot from a chestnut tree she could see from her hiding place. 

The next room contains the rose walkway and trellis seen above, with benches for contemplation, and a green lawn area where a yoga class was happening. 

Further in, a playground rang with ... not the sounds of children at play, but workmen with noisy machinery making improvements. 

Perhaps Anne Frank's example would be a good one to follow today. She maintained her curiosity about life and people. In the midst of fear, she found the ability to see beautiful things.

Let's Take a Walk

We'll begin on the main street of Auvers sur Oise, beside a park. A statue of an emaciated man with paintbox and easel slung on his back and shoulders dominates the little park. Yes, it's Vincent Van Gogh. 

Let's walk together through this town where he spent the last 70 days of his life.

On this sunny July day, flowers look their best. We slowly wind our way upwards through narrow streets, taking time to admire the colours and textures along the way.

Looking down, we notice metal circles set into the pavement, providing direction to many of the artist's more famous haunts.

There's an unconfirmed, but persistent, piece of history in my family that we are related to Vincent Van Gogh through his mother's family. We often refer to the artist as "Uncle Vince."

We continue upwards and round the corner. There it is - the church made famous by Van Gogh in his painting l'Eglise d'Auvers sur Oise. It looks less impressive to me than the painting. Here it seems to be just a rather ordinary Gothic church. Van Gogh imbued the scene with tortured emotion with his brush strokes and colour choices.

Let's continue on up the road, past the church. Soon we come to the edge of the village. Wheat fields stretch golden into the horizon, almost ready for harvest. Many of the last paintings of Van Gogh feature these fields.

Look to our right. There is a cemetery, surrounded by stone walls, with a metal entrance gate. We enter and make our way to the back of the cemetery. There, against the outer wall, are the graves of Vincent Van Gogh and of his brother, Theo. They loved each other very much, and many, many letters passed between the two of them. Theo was a successful art dealer, Vincent an impoverished painter. Theo supported Vincent throughout his life, and encouraged him in his work. Although Theo had a wife and child in the Netherlands, his wife knew how much the two brothers loved each other and brought Theo here to rest beside Vincent.

Out into the fields we go again, here to stand where Vincent set up his easel and painted the wheat fields with those ominous skies and black crows. Skies are blue today, and the fields empty of crows.

A copy of the painting marks the scene. We make our way back towards the village along a narrow footpath.

Back through charming streets where houses wear brightly painted shutters,

  where alliums bloom against stone,

and roses creep into windows.

We enter the Auberge Ravoux where Vincent boarded in a tiny room reached by a winding dark staircase. No photos are allowed of the room. It is empty save for a single chair. 

Instead, we'll sit for about 10 minutes in another room and watch a movie, wordless, that entwines Van Gogh's paintings with quotes from his letters. It's lovely.

Poor Vincent Van Gogh suffered terribly throughout his short life. Mental illness, loneliness, and poverty dogged him at every turn. Yet, like all of us, he determined to express his thoughts and emotions. Unlike most of us, he did it through his paintings. 

And so, we finish our walk, thinking about love and beauty as people have done throughout time. 

Beside the Auberge Ravoux a tangled garden drowses in the sunlight.

A Visit to the Beaches of Normandy

Historical events of monumental proportions occurred in Normandy. From here rose the medieval king who conquered England, and this land was the rope in a tug-of-war of power between England and France for generations.

More recent history is commemorated in the World War II memorials of D-Day, June 6, 1944, when 156,000 men landed on the beaches of Normandy and began the liberation of France and the downfall of Nazi Germany.

It was a sobering day. The rows and rows of tombstones in the Commonwealth graves (there are 18 graveyards dedicated to the Commonwealth which includes Great Britain, Canada, Australia and New Zealand). 

Roses grow between the graves along with lavender, poppies and other flowers. They are beautifully maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. 

The headstones are identical white stone made unique by the emblem at the top - here a maple leaf for the Canadian troops. 

There was so much to see and to absorb at these sites. A one-day visit is hardly enough. 

I learned much about the preparations for D-Day and how it all began with 6 gliders, each filled with 30 men and two jeeps who were to land and secure two bridges, just 400 metres apart, so that when the landing of troops occurred, they would be able to cross the rivers with ease.

Above is the original Pegasus Bridge, taken just 15 minutes after the gliders landed. The Pegasus Museum gave a great overview of the event. 

This photo of the new Pegasus Bridge looks much the same as the original (both are counterweight bridges), but is larger. The first glider landed shortly after midnight at the site of the first monument. Incredibly accurate. Gliders were silent (until they landed), so the surprise was a success. 

Once the bridge was taken, it had to be held until the troops arrived. Shots were fired from roof of the chateau in the distance, but those shots could not be returned, for the chateau was a maternity hospital and the Allies did not want to harm the mothers and children there. 

This house and coffee shop, right beside the bridge, was the first house liberated by the Allied troops. It belonged to the Gondree family and the daughter still owns the house and lives there.

More shots were fired from the tower of the church, and these were returned. 

How peaceful it all looks today. A young man fished in the river just below the bridge. Patrons enjoyed coffee and ice cream at the house/coffee shop. Young families strolled by. 

The water is so blue. People lie on the beach, sunbathing, while children run in and out of the water. 

These caissons were towed over on D-Day to form an artificial harbour at Arromanches. It was to this harbour that the materiel for continuing the advance into France arrived.

I was struck by this juxtaposition of war and peace in the square overlooking the sea at Arromanches. A gun memorializes the soldiers who fought there. Next to it is a carousel with merry voices and cheerful music. 

On to Juno Beach, the landing site for the Canadian troops. There is a museum here, and a preserved German bunker. 

Tim on Juno Beach, now a peaceful place of pleasure and play. I am proud to be a Canadian, and never more so than after seeing the role my country played in the war. 9% of Canada's population at the time took direct part in the war - the highest contribution per capita of any nation.

Let us not forget the sacrifice of so many.