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I keep finding myself wishing I were back in Caen.
Caen...We all complained about it while we were there because everything seemed to close by 8:00. But everything smelled so fresh in Caen, and we could walk the little curvy streets and peer into shop windows forever because it didn't get dark until at least 11. The restaurants were the only places open at night and from our hotel-room's window we could hear people jabbering loudly in French, dishes clanking, the occasional car radio...I miss the night where Hannah, Lizzy, Anthony, Peter and I went up to the walls of William the Conqueror's chateau and stared at the curvy roads and parks and church-steeples that stretched out before us. I miss the warm breezes and the smells in the air. I miss the night when we first pulled into Caen in our huge double-decker bus; France had just beat someone in a World Cup game and everyone was cheering and hugging each other and we screamed and hugged, too, even though we had just spent five hours on a boat and were exhausted. We got stuck on a steep cobblestone street and the buildings were so close it felt like they'd scrape the sides of the bus. I miss getting home from an exhausting day of running curiously through the tiny towns on the Normandy beaches and going shopping, letting ourselves get lost in the throngs of people, ice-cream shops, and signs in French. I miss sitting in the hotel with Hannah eating cookies and making fun of deoderant commercials. There was something beautiful about that small city, something beautiful about that small French city--it was peaceful and calming, and after just a night there I felt like it was mine, a place where I could go and feel buoyant. Caen, I miss you. Normandy, I miss you. I don't know if I miss Paris, but I miss Normandy.
A few pictures. I have so many pictures, and I'm waiting for some more in the mail.
Caen from the walls of the chateau. These were taken at...oh...9:45 PM?
The Brittany Ferry's wake. The Brittany Ferry was the boat we took across the English Channel, from Portsmouth in England to Ouistreham in France. (Ouistreham is a cool name.) The ride was five hours long, and the boat was HUGE--9 stories. It looked like a cruise ship.
This is pretty.
The English Channel being beautiful at Gold Beach (British landing beach during WWII).
The view from a German bunker.
Amazing little Normandy houses in a tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny town on the way to the German bunker site.
Yay.
Caen...We all complained about it while we were there because everything seemed to close by 8:00. But everything smelled so fresh in Caen, and we could walk the little curvy streets and peer into shop windows forever because it didn't get dark until at least 11. The restaurants were the only places open at night and from our hotel-room's window we could hear people jabbering loudly in French, dishes clanking, the occasional car radio...I miss the night where Hannah, Lizzy, Anthony, Peter and I went up to the walls of William the Conqueror's chateau and stared at the curvy roads and parks and church-steeples that stretched out before us. I miss the warm breezes and the smells in the air. I miss the night when we first pulled into Caen in our huge double-decker bus; France had just beat someone in a World Cup game and everyone was cheering and hugging each other and we screamed and hugged, too, even though we had just spent five hours on a boat and were exhausted. We got stuck on a steep cobblestone street and the buildings were so close it felt like they'd scrape the sides of the bus. I miss getting home from an exhausting day of running curiously through the tiny towns on the Normandy beaches and going shopping, letting ourselves get lost in the throngs of people, ice-cream shops, and signs in French. I miss sitting in the hotel with Hannah eating cookies and making fun of deoderant commercials. There was something beautiful about that small city, something beautiful about that small French city--it was peaceful and calming, and after just a night there I felt like it was mine, a place where I could go and feel buoyant. Caen, I miss you. Normandy, I miss you. I don't know if I miss Paris, but I miss Normandy.
A few pictures. I have so many pictures, and I'm waiting for some more in the mail.
Caen from the walls of the chateau. These were taken at...oh...9:45 PM?
The Brittany Ferry's wake. The Brittany Ferry was the boat we took across the English Channel, from Portsmouth in England to Ouistreham in France. (Ouistreham is a cool name.) The ride was five hours long, and the boat was HUGE--9 stories. It looked like a cruise ship.
This is pretty.
The English Channel being beautiful at Gold Beach (British landing beach during WWII).
The view from a German bunker.
Amazing little Normandy houses in a tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny town on the way to the German bunker site.
Yay.
