Of Mustard and Tea Towels

We are informed that the Soane river is too swollen to navigate, so we go to Lyon via Dijon.  An unexpected bus ride of six hours took us by flooded farm fields ... and we hear the farmers could not plant. Anticipate high food prices this summer, as much will have to be imported.
Dijon is a sweet village, but we have a tour guide who charges us through the charming, narrow streets like we're running from the bulls in Pamplona!
 We have a quick lunch and go out to the practically empty square.  Today is Mother's Day in France, and a Sunday...so most shops are closed. One is open, and it turns out to be a mustarderie!  I made up that word.  With a tea towel and jars of unique mustards in my arms, and some anise tins, I greet the happy shop keeper, who, like everyone here has a wool scarf wrapped jauntily around his neck.  Just a few euros later we return to our "motor home" only to find some angry women who couldn't keep up with "Madame Pipsqueak," the inexperienced tour guide. Who forgot that she must count her chickens before taking off.
In Lyon, all is different.  The sister ship to the Viking Spirit is the Viking Europa.  Although identical, there are noticeable differences. The crew seem more connected, the introductions more thorough. It is an adjustment for us because our cabin is a flip from the previous one, so a bit like being in a mirror.
And, dear ones who did a sun dance for real.. we owe you!  There is sunshine out the window. Though risking being risqué we kept our curtains opened while changing this morning.  Dressing while watching people walk or bicycle to work on the granite street was, well, unusual, with the feel of being in a film.
Well, off to see Lyon.  Keep dancing!

A river is a river is a lot of water!

It has not stopped raining since we arrived!  In fact, this is the coldest, wettest May ever. And so it is we leave Paris today and cannot board the Viking Europa until Lyon. The Seine was swollen, trees were up to their knees in water, and, apparently the Soane River is too high to handle the ships. So we are off to Lyon by bus and then to get back in the drink. Got to go before I loose the connection. Somebody do a  sun dance!

Beaches of Normandy; Impact of Rouen

It has struck me before that WWII still permeates the rivers, valleys and cities of France, but yesterday's experience of Normandy was most moving. To stand at the head of the beaches at low tide, 69 years later, almost to the day, could bring you to tears. In fact, it did that for me.  Even the weather was similar...the invasion was delayed because of a storm, and yesterday the cold wind was unmerciful, the sea choppy, just as then.  But now it was quiet.
We took a special side trip to Utah Beach, not on our itinerary. This is where Kevin's father, Jim Culley, came ashore. He was part of a group of guys from Oklahoma and Texas... So they called themselves the "Tough 'Ombres" ... which could then include the Brooklyn guys.  Kevin wore his father's patch on his hat and stood in homage at the site.

I was moved once more in Rouen, to see the site where this little teenager, Jeanne D'Arc, was burned alive in the village "marche."  Now she is the soul of French piety.  Even as she was relegated to flames, a soldier broke ranks and placed a cross he'd made of wood at her feet.  I'm sure their eyes met. What words can express the agony of the powerlessness of people as they watched this desecration of justice?

I will try to understand how to add the photos. So far, no good!  I'll have to eat some Camembert for comfort!

Rain, rain, go away...

Well, even if it doesn't and it doesn't look like it will, Paris, Giverny and the medieval city of Vernon are nothing short of charming. The tour leaders are apologizing profusely for what they call their "extended winter."  Imagine, I have been kvetching about winter in New England for the past several months, and I understand it's quite lovely in North Kingstown. Hopefully there will be enough rain to coax the seedlings to do what Claude Monet taught his Nasturtiums to do: they are planted on either side of a pebbled lane, and grow toward each other until they meet in the middle and appear to be a moving river of flowers.
They say this weather is good for your skin...then they say it makes the grass happy, the cows happy..the human beings, not so happy. But Kevin and I are very happy!  Monet's gardens at Giverny  are breathtaking, even the drooping tulips...they resemble a sad woman in a painting; an ancient church in Vernon anchors lines of houses built from local white stone and oak...six hundred years old and  leaning into each other like drunks on the way home from a wild party.
Now we are having a lecture on the French food culture. Presented by a Young German woman who would do well in a Woody Allen movie...maybe Midnight in Berlin.  She claims croissants came  from Austria ... and in the morning you should eat it dunked in hot chocolate.
Well, maybe tomorrow, in Rouen, we'll try that. Au revoir!