Bayeux

Bayeux is the place we wanted to be. Madame Google took us right to our hotel. This is actually the view from the rear, in the garden. It was a delightful little place. Our rooms were in a separate building on the left, the view of which is blocked by the trees.

I thought parking might be an issue; it wasn't I found a place on the street about 30 yards (Yards are like meters but a few inches shorter--which is strange, because meters don't have any inches. Of course, I'm referring to meters as units of distance measurement, not as in parking meters, or gas meters, which also measure things, but not in meters...which is strange, since they're called meters.) up the street from the hotel. We walked back to the hotel to discover, as had been promised on the website, that there was parking within the gates. I moved the car.

Our hostess was an interesting lady with shoulder length reddish hair, and large glasses. She spoke pretty rapidly, equally comfortable in French or English. Of course, I opted for French, so that my wife would be impressed with me; I don't think she was. Our hostess gave us a little map and circled restaurants and various sites of interest. One of those restaurants was, if I remember correctly, Le Petit Normand. We chose it for two important reasons: She recommended it, and it was nearby.

After we put our backpacks in our room, and figured out how to get our room door--which opened directly to the gravel courtyard/parking area--to lock and unlock, which was much more difficult than I had anticipated (requiring the precise and well-timed turning of the key while holding the door and knob just so), we walked to the restaurant. This edifice reposed across the street from the dining establishment:

Initially, we decided to eat at the tables outside the restaurant door by the street. We had just sat down when a car drove past. I didn't want that as part of my dining experience. I apologized for our change of heart, and asked for a table inside. I'm not so sure about the older lady behind the counter, but the young lady who served us was very pleasant. She seemed interested in everything that we did, even watching me from behind as I pulled apart the camembert nuggets in my salad. My wife thought maybe the young lady wanted to come back to the U.S. with me. Wisely, I didn't make that inquiry. I had the duck with black currant sauce. It was delicious. We also had some bread and more camembert. The server laughed when, after she asked if I was going to share it with my wife, I said, "Peut etre." She also acted amused when I protested as she gave my wife a spoon with which to share in my dessert. My wife's order didn't include the cheese, or the dessert--thus my mock protest. As for the dessert: Small cream puffs swam in a cool pool of chocolate sauce. We chased them with our spoons, dismembering, and devouring them with glee. That dinner, and the breakfast the next morning (I already related that experience here) were the two best meals, outside of the home-cooked meal at the Joly's (as told here), that we had during our visit. Our worst meal was yet to come.

I've already related the rest of the Normandy experience, including the stunning but somber American Memorial at Coleville-sur mer, at the link above. But here's a picture of a Norman warrior from the era of William the Conqueror as encounted at the Bayeux Tapestry Museum:

 It was no easy task getting him to pose in the sunshine right in the museum like that. Incidentally, I recently finished a book, The Norman Conquest: The battle of Hastings and the fall of Anglo-Saxon England. I gave it 5 stars for being highly informative, extremely interesting, and somewhat exciting.

After we left the memorial, where my wife shot these school kids,

we drove back toward Paris.

My wife got this picture of an interesting house in Normandy.

And, you can double those loyalty points on Tuesdays.

Next time (maybe), the adventure that is returning a rental car at Charles de Gaulle Airport.