This past week, I was on fall break. I chose to spend my free time on a journey to the northern region of Normandy, famous to Americans for being the location of D-Day. But I wasn’t there to see Omaha beach; I wanted to see the Bayeux Tapestry, a thousand-year-old piece of art. That merits, its own post, coming soon. This post is about everything else I did in Bayeux.
On the first day, I exited my Airbnb and meandered around looking for food, much like a raccoon or a mouse. In small French villages, the day doesn’t really get going until noon, so most shops and restaurants were closed. Reminded me of Jonesborough, honestly.
I found the entrance to the village’s central cathedral before food. Hard to miss, it being the largest structure for thirty miles. Pretty good, as cathedrals go, especially considering its ten miles from Omaha beach and was under heavy shelling from both Allied and Axis forces for weeks during Operation Overlord. The nearest town, Caen, bore the worst of it; every inch of that place was razed to rubble.
The cathedral had two notable aspects: one, some fun wooden statues, which you don’t usually see (mostly statues are stone, but wood artisans get more expression out of their work), and two, modern stained glass. The cathedral wasn’t completely spared, and restoration recently got around to some missing glass panels. Instead of recreating what was lost, an artisan made something new. I like it! There’s no need to pretend that new things are old things, and besides, that cathedral is a living, active church, and should be seen as such.
Directly across the narrow street from the cathedral was an adorable pink tea shop. The breakfast price was good, and the atmosphere looked bomb dot com, so I had to try it. In the teeny tearoom with me were some exhausted-looking American women discussing the day’s unresolved travel plans.
To my surprise, one of them turned to me and asked, in a defeated voice, if I spoke any English. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m from Tennessee.”
All three of them turned to look, blink a couple times, and start blitzing me with questions. Turns out they were tourists from Chicago, staying in Paris, and all they wanted to do was see Omaha beach. I helped them figure out a bus and gave them some area tips and language tips.
It was really cool to meet them. I told them I was visiting the tapestry, which they hadn’t yet factored into the travel plans (I strongly encouraged them to do so). One of them said she recently got into sports betting and was following the Vols closely, so we got to talking about that. (Don’t gamble, kids.)
I realized as the days went on that I kept hearing American voices. In the museums, the shops, the streets. It was the most English I’d heard in a while. Brits, too, were everywhere, and the occasional German. This place is deeply historical for all of us — French, Brits, Germans, and Americans have died by the thousands for this land over the years. Although I suppose the wounds from the William the Conqueror’s time have healed a lot more than the ones from World War 2.
I started listening in for any American accents, especially if they sounded agitated, exhausted, or confused. If it sounded real bad, I would approach the group of lost Americans and help them figure out where they were, where they were trying to go, and how to get food. Can I just say, that was one of the coolest parts of this vacation. I loved seeing their relief and being helpful. I remember times in France where I would have given anything to speak American (not just English!) with someone, so being that person for others just felt great.
Anyway, the next day while getting lunch, I ran into the American women again, the ones from the pink tea shop. We had tiny coffee together and chatted, and it was really, really nice. We ended up exchanging Facebook information! Just goes to show, you can make connections anywhere.
My fellow Americans, take this as advice when travelling abroad: if you hear an American accent, start up a conversation. It’s definitely worth it.
Cordialement,
Allison
Flan in France 