Bonjour: this past February Meme surprised me on Valentine’s Day with… well several things, but the most astounding was a Viking River Cruise on the Seine from Paris to Rouen the last of Sept. and early Oct. Since Justin’s b-day was in that time-block he was invited too, of course in a separate stateroom. If you’re unfamiliar with in what country these are located, I won’t be betting on you to be a Jeopardy contestant anytime soon.
Since this was our first long international over-the-pond hop since the pandemic (and my health challenges- Belize for the arch. Field School as Cal Poly Humboldt grad invitee didn’t count as it was a short SWA flight from Houston), we decided to upgrade seats to premium and get two aisle seats directly across the aisle from each other (Justin & I) and a window (Meme). We selected and paid for the trip within days making February an interesting money transfer merry-go-round. Flying out of Albuquerque to Atlanta early on a Sunday morning was a breeze. All went according to plan, being in the front row of the premium section we had plenty of room.
Our passage took us through another 6 time zones and early Monday morning we arrived at our destination: Paris- La Ville Lumiere (City of Light – from its role in the Age of Enlightenment). Viking folks met us and started whipping us into shape: apparently, we’d have a lot of rowing to do ahead of us. They (
#MyVikingStory) made everything simple enough that even this ol’ Park Ranger could do it. They put us in a van with a couple (Frank & Laura) from New Jersey, and I thought: “How nice, they even put us with Frankish folks. Long live the Holy Roman Empire!”.
Arriving at the Pullman Paris Montparnasse (Hotel), across a boulevard from a well-used railroad station, our rooms were ready before 10AM and we had time to unpack and stretch-n-rest before a 1PM orientation tour & walk around the neighborhood.
Our orientation started with familiar safety & well-being cautions: guard your passports and money as pickpockets thrive on the unsuspecting (especially on the Metro [subway] and certain busy features of which Paris has a plethora), stay hydrated and the tap water if safe and potable, and importantly take it easy- don’t push yourself while you acclimate to the time zone. One of our first encounters with the hustle and bustle of this mass of humanity was a local mature gent that greeted our group’s “bon jour” with a colorful euphonism that, roughly translated, encouraged us to have a nice day. A more exact translation would be “Go the f@#$ home”. Fortunately, this would be the only negative exchange we had during our entire trip, until later with Air France during our departure.
Just a couple blocks from the hotel we found several blocks of Asian restaurants & cafes, many Vietnamese. Considering the history of southeast Asia this made perfect sense. The meals in France were delicious, and at one eatery we experienced in Paris (Le Petit Sommelier) I experienced a Boeuf/Beef Bourguignon not only “worth writing home about” but so good I’m telling you now. The cafes too were wonderful respites from the Autumn rain showers.
There were so many Viking arranged tours we availed ourselves to while in Paris: Marais District,
the Metro (subway), Notre Dame Cathedral (in & outside) is a must, and a Paris by bus trip with Arc de Triomphe, Avenue des Champs-Elysees, and of course that large perpendicular piece of metal that was only supposed to be marring the historic cityscape for a few decades when built 136 years ago. Now it is communications tower as well as a tourist destination, and a UNESCO site meaning… well not much actually as far as regulations and laws go in that those sites worldwide are protected by that nation’s statutes. We did see many unmasked police out-n-about, both local and national, no ICE though (yet). We found that the language skills of many we encountered included English: more on that later, but for now think about how they acquired their proficiency in same. It surprised me.
Embarking onto our boat the “Skaga” (a headland or peninsula, also a name of a Valkyrie in Norse mythology) on Thursday at noon we got to explore the neighborhood district around our mooring on the River Seine at 2PM with Christian, who was born & raised in Paris but spoke with an English accent due to his British mother. He had been our guide for the earlier tours too. We’d be spending the next week with the 226 souls onboard, forty of which were “ship’s crew/company”. Before steaming downriver Meme & Justin partook on a nighttime “French Wines & Cheeses” excursion that was reported as being “I’m glad I did it” by Meme. The Montmartre Hill neighborhood trek also got thumbs-up: once a favorite “hood” for artists, their contemporaries can no longer afford to reside there.
Saturday morning found us at La Roche-Guyon for unescorted shore walks around town and learning about French Chateau life. This is when I started looking at real estate listings, as they’re often posted in clusters at strategic street corners.
Early that afternoon we cruised on to Vernon and a featured trip to Monet’s House and his two Gardens at Giverny.
Madames & Monsieurs, boys-n-girls don’t miss this one. It is an easy daytrip from Paris and usually busy during “the bloomin’ season.” Ironic, in that Claude developed it as a place for quiet and contemplation. When Monet moved in with his Parisian-Bohemian ways into this conservative farming community he created a stir by using water for flowers vice crops. He was considered a “water hog” much like those in northern New Mexico (read or see “The Milagro Beanfield War.” The gardens were reconstructed in the late 70’s (fifty years after Monet’s death) when Gerald Van der Kemp brought his experience & talents from decades at Versailles to this notable project that offers visual stimulation with every bend in the path, glance, or turn of your head.
The next day, since this was Sunday, of course we’re in Rouen the city of many churches (at one time 70, now down to 30) and active grain shipping port. When Americans think of Normandy most likely the continental invasion of WW II comes to mind. To the French, it is as likely that Joan of Arc is what they’ll first think. Joan is the patron saint of France. A backer of Charles VII in the 100 Years War, she was a zealous defender of the nation. The cathedral in Rouen is where Joan d’ Arc was tried and sent to her martyrdom for the crimes of wearing men’s clothes and partaking in men’s work by fighting in battle. She also heard voices directing her actions, which of course her enemies attributed to the devil. She-sus, she didn’t stand a chance against that stacked deck at trial: it was game, set and match for the oligarchs of the day.
The gothic cathedral, famous for its three spires, is also the resting place of Richard the Lionheart’s heart: he was King of England and Duke of Normandy (more later). Medieval architecture is abundant as you walk around the city center, with narrow allies that were streets a thousand years ago.The saintly images on the cathedral's side display what was acceptable and PC due to social change. The beheaded one is from the Protestant Wars, the one totally missing was from? You guessed it, "The Revolution."
Normandy Monday was a trip to the Beach and the Caen Memorial Museum thrown in for context. I have wanted to make this pilgrimage for a long, long time: in Junior High when I saw the movie “The Longest Day” I was so touched, I went back the next day and saw it again. Majoring in history as an undergrad, I didn’t study Europe past the Middle Ages or U.S. in the 20th Century (except a course in California History, which was way cool), but having been a full-services Park Ranger at heritage areas, two of which were battlefields containing a National Cemetery, the U.S. Cemetery at Omaha Beach has been high on my “wanna-go-there” list for a long time.
Meme knew this when she popped this trip out of the box on Valentine’s Day. I have a maternal cousin (Steve Riley) that described the place as “somber”, I chose “solemn:” the Program Director for Viking arranged for a formal wreath placement. We remembered and gave thanks to all those that struggled and sacrificed to liberate western Europe. This was followed by the military veterans in our group being asked to step forward, which I did: we were thanked for our service. It made me proud to stand there, of all places, to be with fellow vets.
The cemetery is the resting place of 9,389 soldiers, sailors, and airmen from battles in western Europe. In many casualties counts they present U.S. losses, or the various Allied numbers. I remember both sides: both lost 10,000+ in the Normandy campaign, and thousands of civilians and structures lost. Some cities, like Caen, have been totally rebuilt since WW II because the allied bombing achieved its objectives. The rows of crosses and stars pay homage to freedom and let dictators know “Momento mori” (Remember you are mortal). I like “Sic semper evello mortem tyrannis” or “Thus always I cause death to tyrants.”
As I walked-n-pondered that day I kept hearing Jackson Browne sing:
“I have prayed for America, I was made for America, It's in my blood and in my bones, By the dawn's early light, By all I know is right, we’re gonna reap what we have sown.”
By now some of you are wondering: What about the food and entertainment? Strictly dried, salted fish, hard tack and porridge which often fermented for some navigational challenges. Of course, the 21st century version included full bar and wine selections. The meals were varied with every dinner offering a choice between a standing menu or nightly Chef’s suggestions (they were yummy). The vegetarian of our group was visited the first night by the dietician who asked if she would eat fish (nope) and when she learned I was allergic to walnuts (minor irritation to the windpipe really) they barricaded me from carrot cake while serving Meme carefully prepared dishes wrapped in… salmon. Seriously, the meals were wonderful, and the evening entertainment shared local sounds and traditions. One evening we thought we were getting some rock, as the band tuned their instruments and sound systems to Little Feat’s “Willing”, but they settled into 30’s-50’s Parisian favorites – no Johnny Hallyday (“the French Elvis”).
Early the next morning we did a 180 and from Rouen we cast off headed upriver towards Paris. While “rollin’-on-the-river,” the wheelhouse was open for inspection: of course, there no longer is a wheel, having been replaced by a joystick. Good to see the radar and sonar in action though.
Our next port-of-call was an afternoon at Les Andelys, where we joined a tour to Chateau Gaillard. The castle was strategically built overlooking the river in 1196 by the Duke of Normandy (Richard I, the Lionheart). Richard was King of England and at the same time Duke of Normandy, making him a vassal of the King of France (Philip II or Philip Augustus). It is rumored that Richard and Philip had a very close relationship (very, VERY close…) that soured.
Richard was known for his military experiences and knowledge. He built the chateau/castle without windows, to be more secure. Richard I’s wife, Berengaria of Navarre, was noted as the only Quenn of England to never set foot on English soil. After Richard’s death, his successor King John (known to the French as “John the Simple”, and we say “Magna Carta John” or Robin Hood’s Prince John), put in windows to better view the beautiful Normandy countryside. I think you can guess what feature was exploited by the siege of Philip’s forces.
Estelle, our afternoon tour guide at Les Andelys, was excellent: she helped paint the historic scene. As a nurse (her normal “day job”) she was certainly prepared to take care of any unforeseen needs of our group. Demographically, we had one (Justin) not on Medicare. She brought us to a better appreciation re: the life and times of this important location in western Europe’s history: the social and the political. Looking out at the surrounding landscapes, I was transported in time to feel the pull of those journeying to experience the magic medicine of the area. It too had a miracle event of turning water into wine that brought religious pilgrims there for centuries. Merci beaucoup Estelle.
The next morning our mooring allowed a visit to Napoleon’s Chateau de Maimaison, that became Josephine’s as part of the d-i-v-o-r-c-e. It is said that Napoleon was very generous, he could afford to be, and he still loved her deeply, but being an emperor he needed an heir, which she was incapable of providing. The chateau’s estate was 1,800 acres at the time but is down to 1% of that now (200+ years later). Tastefully decorated (if you like gold and displays of excess) I can see how Josephine was comfortable receiving high ranking guests, etc. This peak, as Justin ascends the staicase, into the other side of life prepared us for the afternoon’s journey to The Palace of Versailles and the Hallways of Excesses.
Versailles is an ode to overt & overwhelming opulence. It is the “Forbidden City” of the west. I can see why by the final years of the 18th Century many were fed up with the excesses of the aristocracy in France, feeding and leading to revolution. At its height there were 25,000 people employed there (ministers, servants, artisans, and specialists galore). Now the site still sees that many visitors each day. A museum conservator’s dream-job and nightmare. Our leader, Bruno, an eight-year veteran of shepherding groups around the extensively tended grounds, well person-i-cured gardens, and palace did a wonderful job or imparting insights as we strolled.
During the week of tours with Viking’s guides we’d had one that attributed their abilities in English language skills to cinemas and three to music. Two of those loved Classic Rock-n-Roll. As Bruno noted when asked: “I love Bob Dylan, Jerry Garcia & the Grateful Dead, and… even more than The Beatles and Stones, the Kinks.” While the location hosts concerts and operas, I was thinking a rock concert venue stretching to the redirected river entrance. What The Who could have done with that back in the day (I’m glad they haven’t done that) . During our last hour of “free time” before returning to ship we found some chairs at a café outside the Palace area, that certainly would’ve been part of the royal complex in the 17th and 18th centuries. As I gazed upon the Palace I thought about “The Palace of the Governors” back home, in Santa Fe, that we’d be flying home too the next day. What a difference in size, scope and yep: opulence.
We had one more event that evening: Paris by river at night. Justin made it, but Meme & I did not, as that cruise started when I was crashing into la-la land. Au voir shipmates and fellow passengers. The entire trip had been wonderful. What could go wrong? Enter Air France. I’m not going there, as I prefer to remember the many wonderful times of this great trip.
C’est le vie, and Au revoir France…
