An Epic Weekend in Normandy: Part 1

This past weekend, Heidi and I voyaged to the northern city of Bayeux with two goals in mind:

1. See the Bayeux Tapestry, an embroidery which commemorates William the Conqueror's victory at the Battle of Hastings - over 900 years ago!

2. Visit some of the D-Day Beaches, museums, and the American Cemetery

With help from my Lonely Planet France guide, it didn't seem too difficult to plan. We booked the first train leaving Saturday morning and the last returning Sunday night. I called the youth hostel during the week to make a reservation. I checked what times the museums were open, and that there were buses heading right to the beaches. Everything seemed to be set.

But what an adventure it turned out to be. (Prepare yourself for several installments... I wasn't sure what could be left out without taking away the rollercoaster effect!)

Part 1: Initial Difficulties

Our very first train was 10 minutes late. If it had been our only train that day, this wouldn't have posed a problem. But since we had two changes to make, this small delay meant that we would only have a minute to get to our next train. And if we missed that, it would mean a mess of re-scheduling, waiting, and losing time.

But luck was on our side. When we jumped out of our train, we quickly realized that our next train was just on the other side of the platform. We literally stepped on just before the doors closed and we took off.

A few hours later we arrived in Bayeux. The town looked grey and sleepy, with only the cathedral's steeple piercing the the overcast sky. But as we followed the road into town, we were greeted by several cheerful looking houses, then a series of American and European flags dancing over hotel entrances, and finally an over-friendly French man ( which is not an oxymoron!) who made sure we knew exactly where we were going - he gave us directions to the hostel three times, and even followed us for a block or two, as though expecting we'd go in the wrong direction!

We couldn't wait to get to the hostel so that we could put down our overloaded backpacks and freshen up after the early start. But as we were walking up to the hostel, a younger man crossing from the other side of the street looked over at us and said "On est complet." In other words, "We're full."

To say the least, I was a little flabbergasted. I immediately retorted by telling him that I had made a reservation this week and that he must be mistaken, but he just kept shaking his head as we followed him inside. Already my mind was racing to alternatives, but in fact there were few. This was the only hostel in town, with rooms at 20 euro; all the other hotel rooms in Bayeux started around 45 euro. Thus, we didn't really have a choice.

Once inside, it seemed as though a tiny part of the wall opened up and we were looking into the messiest office I've ever seen and two wide-eyed wrinkled faces. I again insisted that I had made a reservation, but the woman laughed at the word as though I had told her my father was Nicolas Sarkozy. After some negotiating on their part, the younger man took us up to a room which in fact turned out to be occupied. When it was clear that the hostel was indeed complet (as far as we could tell, anyway), we were ushered back into the messy office for their attempts to ameliorate the situation. Apparently the hostel had other houses at the edge of town where school groups go to stay, and they insisted that there would certainly be rooms there. They also insisted that it would not be far to walk, and that someone would be there to greet us.

This was feeling more and more like some cruel joke. We walked for about half an hour with nothing to please our empty stomachs but a dwindling supply of cookies. And then the place was deserted, and all the doors were locked.

We actually found out the next morning that there's something of a legal war going on between the people that run these "Sablons" and the woman and the hostel in town (followed by her lawyer, the other person present when we arrived, at all times). We called a number posted on the door and were assured that someone would arrive soon - then right after I hung up, a car pulled up and out stepped this same woman and her lawyer, who eventually got us keys, showed us a room, and drove us back into town. It was the least they could do. But we were happy to have that affair over with for the moment.

After finding the hostel, the next item on the agenda was to locate the tourism office, in order to find out the times for buses heading to the D-Day beaches the next day. Not wanting to waste any more time, I went up to the desk and asked about the buses, only to find out that there weren't even any buses running on Sunday (contrary to what my travel book had listed). And while there were private tours leaving in the morning, it was unlikely that there would be spots left on any of them.

I was crushed. If we had come all this way and we couldn't even get to the beaches, what then? With a list of tour companies in hand, I started calling them one by one. And miraculously, the LAST company I called had spots after all! I think I was a little too overjoyed on the phone, because right after I was given an affirmative response, all these words came out at once to express my relief, explaining that we were two American students only there for the weekend and all the other companies had been booked. The man from the phone even remembered me when I paid for the tour the next day - Ah, the American girl! - but he did tell me that my French was very impressive. If only my grammar teacher had been there to hear him!

We found our way there , we found a place to sleep, and we found a way to the beaches. It was finally time to see the first site on our list - the Bayeux Tapestry!