A night in the Alsace

During our 2007 and 2008 annual autumn break in the French Alsace, we stayed at ‘Le Clos de La Garenne’ on the outskirts of the town of Saverne. It’s a lovely hotel built in the typical ‘chalet’-like regional style. It has only 15 bedrooms and is run by a charming couple with three small children. The husband, who’s a nephew of the Michelin-star holding restaurant ‘Le Soldat de l’An 2’ in the nearby town of Phalsbourg, is a very talented chef too.

September 2007: Clos de la Garenne, Saverne

On both occasions we had booked a room called ‘Forêt Noire’ (Black forest) located in a small outer building that accommodated only two rooms. It was a beautiful and very comfortable room, with rough wooden panelling and a large flat screen TV. The bathroom had a bath tub as well as a gigantic walk-in shower with a powerful shower head.

On our first night at the hotel in 2007 the room next door was occupied by three young people who were attending an international fair in the nearby city of Strasbourg. We had gone to bed around 11 p.m. after a delicious dinner prepared by the young chef.

My friend, who’s very fond of roasted pigeon, had ordered a ‘Pigeon Voyageur’ (A Roaming or Travelling Pigeon). It was served in the most original way, as it was brought to the table in a large brown envelope with the name of our room written on it. It was even stamped. The chef himself cut open the envelope using a large pair of scissors. Inside was the roasted pigeon, steaming hot and vacuum packed, floating in a rich dark brown sauce. I had a generous slice of pan-fried goose liver which was served on a piece of slate. With it came delicately roasted potatoes and a crisp green salad with slices of black truffle. We topped of our meal with a varied choice of cheeses from the impressive cheese platter.

By two in the morning we were awoken by our neighbours who came in from an apparently wild ‘night on the town’. They were pretty drunk and laughed and babbled till four, when they finally quieted down and went to sleep. At breakfast we told the landlady about the nightly bacchanal and she promised she would urge our young neighbours to be less noisy the following night.

Which they did … but then we were awoken by another noise … something we couldn’t identify …

(to be continued)

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Look-alike

The other day one of my blogfriends mentioned in her comment the restaurant ‘La Ridelloise’ in Azay-le-Rideau. And that reminded me of a funny event that took place in this restaurant during our 2002 Loire Valley trip.

June 2002 was definitely our worst holiday – weather-wise I mean. Lunch-time picnics were always a risky business because of the threatening rain clouds that had the nasty habit of moving in just when we were about to unpack our picnic hamper. We therefore mostly ate in little village restaurants like ‘La Lanterne’ in Huismes. I’ve already written a post about that lunch here.

June 2006: The pocket-size castle of Azay-le-Rideau

That same week we visited Azay-le-Rideau. We had been walking around for a while checking out the town’s restaurants. During our walk we had twice run into two local well-dressed businessmen. On the first occasion, one of them had politely said ‘bonjour’. Some ten minutes later we ran into them again. This time the man smiled broadly and said “There you are again.” We were slightly puzzled by his remark as it somehow indicated that the man, who was a complete stranger to us, thought he knew us.

After having examined the menu cards of the ‘Grand Monarch’, ‘L’Aigle d’Or’ and ‘La Ridelloise’, we decided to have lunch at ‘La Ridelloise’. The restaurant was already very busy when we arrived and there were only two empty tables left. We took off our wet coats and ordered an aperitif. While we were studying the menu card, the door opened and the two men we had met in the street came in. The waiter guided them to the last empty table which was situated right across from were we were sitting. When ‘Mr. Nice-guy’ -the man who had twice said hello in the street - saw us, he started to laugh and in a low voice said something to his friend. The latter stealthfuly glanced over his shoulder to look at us.

All through the meal I had the feeling we were being watched. And each time I looked up from my plate, ‘Mr. Nice-guy’ boldly stared back at me and next whispered something to his friend. At first we felt ill at ease, but in the end we decided to ignore the whole situation and just enjoy our meal. I can’t remember what we had, but I know it was very good.

The two businessmen finished their meal before us. They were obviously in a hurry to get back to the office. They paid their bill, put on their coats and were walking towards the door, when ‘Mr. Nice-guy’, suddenly turned round and walked towards our table. We both looked up, curious to know what he wanted. And then, to our complete surprise, the slapped my friend on the back and beamed: ‘Don’t worry old man, I won’t tell your wife!”. Then he turned towards me, gave me a wink and said: “Nice meeting you!” He dashed off, leaving us completely flabbergasted!

This was clearly a case of mistaken identity. My friend probably had a look-alike in Azay-le-Rideau who was married and who was an acquaintance of the man we had just met.

I wonder whether he ever confronted his friend with the fact that he had seen him ‘with another woman’. And hopefully he kept his promise and never told the poor man’s wife of her husband’s fake illicit ‘affaire’.

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Tale of two pigeons

During our Loire Valley trip in 2008 I shot these two similar photos.

Seen in Angles-sur-Anglin

Seen in Vouvray

There is one fundamental difference. Can you tell what it is?

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Always stick to your first idea …

… a wise lesson my mother told me in the early sixties when I was in first grade at our local primary school. I had just received my monthly school report and the marks for geography showed a disappointing 9 out of 10. Disappointing yes, because I usually got a straight 10 out of 10 (I just loved geography! I won’t tell you how I did on maths, as I hated those).When my mother asked me what had happened, I told her that I had hesitated on one question. After giving it some extra thought, I had erased my initial answer and had replaced it by something else … Afterwards it turned out that my first answer had been the correct one. Hence my mother’s wise advice: “Always stick to you first idea.”

And this is exactly what we should have done that day in March 2009 when we decided to forget about the ‘Quai 5-7’ restaurant in Dieppe and follow the barkeeper’s advice.

March 2009: The quay of Dieppe harbour lined with restaurants.
Notice the clear blue sky!

Following his recommendations, we walked into the nearby ‘Tout va Bien’. The place, although very large, was crowded and extremely busy. This was definitely a good sign, or so we thought. When we asked the waiter for a table for two, he desperately looked around. At that precise moment, a couple by the window got up and put on their coats. The waiter quickly guided us to the now empty table. He diligently removed the empty coffee cups and replaced them by new cutlery and glasses. Next he handed us each a menu card and bustled off to another table where people were calling for his attention.

Having seen some fresh Dover sole on the quay during our little exploratory walk earlier that day, my friend immediately decided to order his favourite dish ‘Sole Meunière’ (Miller’s wife style sole: sole lightly dusted with flour and fried in a lot of sizzling hot butter until golden brown).I had a tartar of beef (raw minced beef, flavoured with an egg yolk, capers, chopped onion and parsley, Worchester sauce, Tabasco, pepper and salt).

Whilst waiting for our order, we tried to catch glimpses of the content of the plates that were delivered to the other tables. All in all it looked very promising. And then came the sole! Instead of golden brown, it had a fade greyish-green colour. From the head – which is usually removed before frying the fish – a blank white eye stared into our faces. The side-fins had not been cut off and the dark top and white belly skin were still there, covered in a sticky and cloddy crust of hardly fried flour. When my friend removed the unappetizing skin and lifted the first fillet from the bone, he saw that the fish had not even been gutted! The only positive thing that could be said for it was that is was very fresh!

To make a long story short, my tartar was okay but not exceptional and we both left about 1/3 of our meal. We washed it down with a bottle of white Sauvignon wine and ordered a dessert, something we rarely do. We had a ‘trou Normand’, an apple sorbet drowned in a generous splash of Calvados. This somewhat made up for the lousy food.

Leaving the restaurant we walked back to our car which was parked near the ‘Quai 5-7’ restaurant. Just when we passed the door, three people came out and the delicious smell of freshly cooked mussels and French fries floated towards us. Inside we heard the happy clinging of glasses and cutlery.

The moral of this story? Always listen to your mother and stick to your first idea!

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About to crumble

This time last year we set out for our first visit to la ‘Haute Normandie’. As you may recall, we returned to the same place in November 2009.

One of the main reasons why I wanted to go there, were the ‘Falaises d’Etretat’ (the cliffs of Etretat). Some years ago a colleague of mine had read somewhere that, because of the increasing pollution and the severe erosion caused by the constant beating of the sea wind and water, the future of the unusually shaped cliffs was in peril. Some scientists even predicted that in fifty years the cliffs would collapse, depriving the Normandy coast and the village of Etretat of its main tourist attraction. Although I don’t expect being around in fifty years, I really wanted to see these cliffs before they collapse into the sea.

March 2009: Etretat - 'L'éléphant' (the elephant), one of the two
famous cliffs. It looks like the head of the elephant sticking out
of the rock, putting his trunk into the sea ...

We left Brussels fairly early one Thursday morning with the intention to stop on the way in a village called Villers-Bretonneux, East of Amiens, to have breakfast. At the end of WWI, the village in the Somme department was liberated on April 25th, 1918 by Australian and Commonwealth troops. It was pure coincidence that this heroic event coincided with Anzac Day. Today Villers-Bretonneux has become a ‘piece of Australia in Picardie’

The village is located smack on the A29 motorway and is marked by a small rest stop and gas station selling pre-packed sandwiches. We had lost quite a bit of time in a gigantic traffic jam caused by a large lorry lying on its side, blocking one of the motorway lanes. So when we finally arrived at Villers-Bretonneux it was almost 10 o’clock. As we wanted to get to Dieppe before noon, we decided to skip the planned visit of the village and the Australian war memorial and grabbed a fast snack at the rest stop.

By the time we reached Dieppe the sun was shining. We would be staying in a self-catering cottage near Saint Valéry-en-Caux, and therefore needed to do some shopping for our evening picnic: a baguette, three kinds of cheeses, some rilettes and a bottle of red wine. On the internet I had read several positive reviews about a restaurant called ‘Quai 5-7’ facing the port of Dieppe and I really wanted to try it. When we went to check it out, we were slightly disappointed by the overall look of it. Moreover, although it was well past twelve o’clock, there were no patrons inside and the two waiters were idly standing around.

The weather being sunny and reasonable warm, we decided to have an aperitif on the terrace of a nearby bar. If you’ve ever been to Dieppe, you know that the quays are lined with restaurants. Contrarily to the ‘Quai 5-7’, they were all rather busy, which worried us even more … Sitting in the early spring sun sipping our aperitif, we asked the landlord of the little bar if he could recommend a restaurant. When I mentioned ‘Quai 5-7’ he just shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t know, as I’ve never been there myself”, he replied. He suggested the ‘Tout va Bien’ (All’s well) just two restaurants further up the quay.

When we had finished our drinks, we returned to my first choice, to see if in the meantime any patrons had shown up. As the place still looked rather empty we thought it wiser to follow the barkeeper’s advice and have lunch at the ‘Tout va Bien’.

(to be continued)

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Silent Wednesday

2008: A tantalizing plate of fried frog's legs with garlic butter
and pasta ... souvenir of a delicous meal at the
'Mange-Grenouille' (the Frog Eater) in Saint-Aignan.

Tempted anyone?

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Cycling ... or almost

The banks of the Loire and its tributaries offer great cycling possibilities. However, be prepared to tackle some steep climbs once you’re leaving the valleys to explore the surrounding countryside. In Flemish we call these steep climbs ‘kuitenbijter’. This is a contraction if the word ‘kuit’, meaning ‘calf’, like the lower hind part of you leg, and ‘bijter’, meaning ‘someone who bites’. I’m sure there must be a similar word in English other than the literal translation ‘calf-biter’.

Over the years we’ve seen many cyclist cruising the Loire Valley’s country roads. On flat terrain, they usually move in large groups at a steady pace. On hilly roads, the groups automatically split up in small ones, with the most ardent and trained cyclists leading the way. In the worst case scenario the weakest riders are stumbling along, on foot pushing their bikes uphill, some two or three kilometres behind the leaders. I always feel sorry for these poor souls, as you can tell that they are not really used to riding a bike and have been talked into this ordeal by their weathered friends.

I think it is very unwise to start out on such a journey if you’re not used to cycling or of if you’re lacking the necessary physical training. Over the years, we’ve only made one attempt to cycle along a river path. It was in 2006 after visiting the Château de Nitray, located in Saint Martin-Le-Beau halfway between Amboise and Chenonceau. I had read on the castle’s website that the owners provided free bikes to visitors who, at the end of the tour and wine tasting, felt like peddling along the banks of the nearby Cher River.

2006: 'Pigeonnier' at the Château de Nitray.
Three dummies ... or just two?

Arriving at the Château, we were greeted by a young student who had been hired to collect the entrance fee and to hand over a leaflet explaining the history and main features of the castle. We were informed that the tour didn’t include a visit of the interior, but that we were free to explore the chapel and the ‘pigeonnier’ (round building housing the dove tills). As the next wine tasting session, which was to be hosted by the lord of the castle himself, was scheduled at four o’clock, we had ample time to have a look around. We were also invited to use the bikes that were stalled in the courtyard … which we did or at least tried!

Not being an outdoor person, I hadn’t ridden a bike in 30 years or so and I immediately felt ill at ease. All the available bikes were of the mountainbike type, with the handlebars pointing downwards. The saddle was hard and uncomfortable. But you know what they say: “You never forget how to ride a bike.” I therefore mustered all courage and set out on my heroic journey. My friend rode ahead of me. With the handlebars pointing downwards, I had the funny feeling of sitting with my nose on the front wheel.

After ten minutes I had enough of it. I felt too uneasy to really enjoy the landscape. In fact, I hardly saw it as the dust road was rather bumpy and I kept looking downwards, trying to avoid the many potholes. I stopped and called my friend who was already well ahead of me, further down the road. He turned round, worried.

When I told him that I was too insecure to continue and that I was afraid I would fall, he agreed that we’d walk back to the castle. We were just in time for the wine tasting. This somewhat steadied my nerves and quickly made me forget about my wobbly cycling adventure.

Do you feel like taking a bike ride along the Cher River? Just drop in at the Château de Nitray as it has lots to offer: culture, wine and sports!

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Yet another affordable place to eat

Weather-wise our Loire Valley trips have always lived up to our expectations, except perhaps once, in June 2002. Usually the weather pattern goes like follows: we arrive on a blistering hot Sunday, overnight we get a gigantic thunderstorm and on Monday morning the air is chilly and the sky overcast. By 3 p.m. the sun breaks through. From then on, the weather gets hotter and sunnier by the hour, until Thursday afternoon, when the clouds move in again. By evening, it is too cold to sit outside after dinner and when we get up on Friday morning, a light drizzle is falling. This makes the parting a lot easier and our return journey is very often a race against the clouds with us speeding up north, trying to keep well ahead of them!

2002 was different though. Sunday was as usual. Monday was more or less okay, except that the weather never cleared up completely and the temperatures hardly climbed over 20°C. There were some sunny spells, but when I look at the photos I shot that year, we’re always wearing long-sleeved sweatshirt or even an extra jacket. I can’t remember us picnicking and in fact I only found one photo of me by a picnic table on the banks of the Loire River North of Chinon.

2002: The Ussé château on a cloudy June day.

On Thursday we visited the weekly Chinon market in the morning and, as it wasn’t raining, bought a baguette, some goat’s cheese and twelve large cooked prawns for our picnic. We found a picnic spot and started to unpack our hamper when gusts of cold River wind suddenly hit us in the face. Shivering with cold we decided to sit it out, the time to eat our lovely fresh prawns, after which we packed up our things again and started looking for a little restaurant to have a meal in order to get warm again. Halfway between Chinon and Ussé, in the village of Huismes, we came across a nice country ‘auberge’, called ‘Auberge de la Lanterne’. It looked cosy, inviting and, above all, nice and warm inside.

When we walked in a few patrons were drinking at the bar and there were two tables with people having the daily special. We got a small table close to the chimney where a gas burner was spreading a lovely warm glow into the room. We settled down and asked for the daily special. I can’t remember what it was, but am quite sure that it wasn’t to our liking as we both ordered a main course from the menu, having had out prawns as starters.

My friend had an extremely tender ‘Coq au vin de Chinon’ and I had a juicy leg of rabbit with mixed vegetables and a light mustard sauce. We drank a robust Chinon with it and topped of our meal with some goat’s cheese and a small coffee.

The best place to judge a restaurant is the state of the ‘sanitary facilities’. In this case they were extremely small and narrow. A big person would have had a lot of difficulties getting in and out of them, but they we unusually clean and fresh … which is a lot more than what can be said for a lot of places in France …

If I had to rate the ‘Lanterne’, I would give it a 7/10 for food and 8/10 for service and cleanness. It’s eight years ago and I don’t know if the light in the ‘Lanterne’ is still glowing, but at the time, it was certainly a very pleasant experience. If ever you go there, don’t expect ‘grande cuisine’, but a simple, honest and well prepared meal at a very affordable price.

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River cruise

Last weekend we’ve fixed the dates for our annual trip to the Loire Valley. Exceptionally we’ll be travelling in the second half of May. This leaves me another two months or so to prepare our trip.

We will be staying at our usual chambres d’hôtes in Vouvray. The necessary bookings have already been made and confirmed by our hostess. We’ll be visiting some of our all-time favourite places: Candes St.Martin, of course, Crissay-sur-Manse, the markets of Amboise and Bourgeuil, a.o.
We’d also like to take a look at some lesser known Châteaux, such as Valmer, Troussay and Villesavin … considering that we’ve seen most of the great classics at least once!

For years we’ve been thinking about taking a short ‘Loire’ cruise. But we’ve never had the opportunity or the time to do so. This year, however, we will definitely try to realize this project. There are several possibilities. First of all there is the St. Martin de Tours which is moored at Rochecorbon, between Vouvray and Tours According to the information on the internet:

“The Saint-Martin-de-Tours is the only passenger boat in Touraine offering unique views of the limestone cliffs and troglodyte houses of Rochecorbon and the surrounding landscape declared World Heritage Beauty site by UNESCO (source: www.naviloire.com).

Photo: www.panoramio.com/photo/13373869

The cruise first takes you upstream for about half an hour. Near Vouvray and the Château de Montcontour the boat turns around and navigates downstream again to its mooring place in Rochecorbon. The whole trip takes about 50 minutes. Not long, I admit, but we Belgians are not a ‘sea faring nation’. So I don’t really feel the need for an extended all-afternoon cruise.

Moreover this ‘river cruise’ is one of the three sites in the Touraine region to have obtained the quality label ‘Qualité Tourisme TM’. The other sites are the Château of Villandry and the’ Vallée troglodytique des Goupillières (Azay-le-Rideau). To know the criteria which are required to obtain this label, check out the website of ‘Qualité Tourisme TM’ of the French government.

Another option is a cruise on the Cher River, from Chisseaux to the castle of Chenonceau. The boat makes his way through several locks and passes under the archways of Chenonceau castle. The view of the Château from the water is said to be breathtaking and unique.

There are other possibilities with boats leaving from Amboise and Candes St. Martin, but I haven’t had the time to look into them more closely. Maybe you have already taken one or several of these cruises? If so, I’m curious to know your impressions and recommendations.

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Meeting people – part two

In order to fully understand the gist of today’s post, it is advisable to read yesterday’s entry first.

In September 2008, three months after our annual stay in the Loire Valley, our office department was thoroughly reorganized. People from other departments were attached to ours and we welcomed several new colleagues in our midst.

Being an early bird, I usually get to the office by 7 a.m. One morning I shared the lift with a lady who looked vaguely familiar. We both got out on the same floor and she even followed me into our wing of the building. We said hello and wished each other a pleasant day. The same thing happened the next day, and the next.

On Monday we shared the same lift again and we started chatting. She told me that over the weekend she had attended a large family gathering in the Château de Beloeil. And so, for several days, every morning we shared a little more information about our lives and interests.

2008: Terrace of our chambre d'hôtes.

When I told her that I like travelling in France and that my favourite region is the Loire Valley, she rummaged through her handbag and produced a black and white leaflet. “In that case you should go and stay with my cousin who owns a Chambre d’hôtes near Loches.” She said handing me the leaflet. Although this sounded familiar, it didn’t immediately ring a bell. But, in the evening, when showing the leaflet to my friend, it was beginning to dawn on me. Could this colleague be related to the elderly couple we had met in June? Is that why she had looked familiar when I first met her some weeks before? I shared my ‘suspicion’ with my friend, who thought it to be very unlikely.

The best thing was to ask. So the next day, when she came to my desk for our daily morning chat, I said: ”Do you happen to have some relatives who live in ‘town X’ on the outskirts of Brussels?” She looked puzzled and intrigued. “Yes, why?” she enquired. So I explained about our meeting in June. Not knowing what her relationship with the couple was, I didn’t mention the gentleman making unpleasant remarks. “That sounds like my parents!” she said. Her next question took me by surprise. “Did my father behave himself?” Outch! That was awkward. I therefore changed the subject and asked whether her cousin who had a Chambre d’hôtes near Loches was called Mrs. P. “That’s her name, indeed.” she answered.

Once I knew her well enough, I gave her a ‘light’ version of what had happened that morning in June 2008. It didn’t really surprise her, as apparently her father is quite a character who has a bit of a reputation when it comes to making unpleasant remarks. When she told her parents about us meeting in June 2008, her mother more or less remembered us. Her father didn’t!

But guess what? Last autumn the father suddenly asked his daughter whether she would ask me if I knew a nice chamber d’hôtes or hotel in the region of Verdun. I recommended the 'Château de Jaulny' (I wrote a post about it called 'The other Joan of Arc') and they stayed there for two nights. They just loved it. Since then, I have been ‘officially’ appointed as their personal trip advisor.

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Meeting people – part one

When you travel, you meet a lot of interesting people. Yesterday I already told you about our brief meeting with Major John Howard, a D-Day hero. In the Alsace we ran into a former Belgian Prime Minister and in Tours we shook hands with the French actor Claude Brasseur. And then of course there are the ‘ordinary’ people, who often are just as interesting as or sometimes even more fascinating than these celebrities. It becomes even more intriguing when you meet somebody new who happens to be related to or knows somebody you know too.

This happened to us in 2008, the first time we spent an entire week in a Chambre d’hôtes. On arrival we noticed two other cars with Belgian license plates. Our hostess, a Finnish lady, confirmed that one of the cars belonged to an elderly Belgian couple. The other car was a rental and the people who drove it were Finnish.

2008: Carpark and breakfast room of our Chambre d'hôtes in Vouvray

The next morning at breakfast we met the other Belgian couple. It was not a very pleasant encounter as the man immediately started talking politics, something we like to avoid. At the time Belgium was going through a political crisis which was enhanced by some extremist politicians who wanted to exploit the cultural diffrences between the Flemish speaking part in the North and the French speaking part in the South to split up the country in two independant republics (Belgium is a monarchy!). But I won't bore you with the details ...

The husband, who was oblivious of the fact that I’m Flemish speaking, started to make some rude remarks about the Flemish. I tried to ignore them by changing the subject. His wife, who must have sensed that there was something wrong, joined me in my efforts to talk about the weather and sites to visit in the area. My friend, who’s normally very talkative, was unusually quiet and simply nodded or mumbled something from time to time.

We were relieved when breakfast was over and the couple got up to fetch their luggage from their room. While we finished our coffee and orange juice, we heard them chatting with our hostess. They explained that they were driving to a village near Loches where their cousin, Mrs. P., had a Chambre d’hôtes. They were to stay there for a couple of nights before returning to their hometown on the outskirt of Brussels. They returned to the breakfast room to shake hands with us and we parted as ‘friends’. Nevertheless, we were relieved that they had gone because, although the lady was very friendly and courteous, the husband was not someone I wanted to share my breakfast with every morning whilst on vacation.

End of story? No not really. The most amazing part is yet to come!

(to be continued)

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Meeting a War legend

Over the years we spent several vacations in Normandy. In the early days we mainly visited the Basse Normandie and the beaches where the Allied troops landed on D-Day, June 6th 1944, to liberate Western Europe from Nazi rule. Our first stay goes way back to 1984, when we stayed at the Lion d’Or hotel in Bayeux.

We returned to the region in 1992. As usual, we travelled in June. Our hotel was located in Bénouville, the first French village to be liberated in the early hours of June 6th in 1944. A gliderborne unit of the British 6th Airborne Division, commanded by Major John Howard had landed in the nearby fields.

‘Their mission was to seize the bridges over the Caen Canal in Bénouville and the Orne River in Ranville, to prevent their destruction and to hold them until relieved. The successful taking of the bridges played an important role in limiting the effectiveness of an enemy counter-attack in the days and weeks following the invasion (source: Wikipedia)’.

1992: Pegasus Bridge in Bénouville, Normandy.
I still have the picture postcard, but am not allowed to scan it
as the editorial rights belong to the Gondrée family.

Later the bridge over the Caen canal became known as the Pegasus Bridge, referring to the shoulder patch of the 6th Airborne depicting the mythical figure of Pegasus. Almost as famous as the Bridge is the first French house that was liberated on D-Day: the Café Gondrée, the local bar. Even today the bar still exists and is visited by tourists and war veterans.

We stayed at a hotel called ‘Le Manoir d’Hastings’ at a stone’s throw from the Pegasus Bridge. And this is where we met one of the legendary men of D-Day: the above mentioned MajorJohn Howard. One morning, when we arrived at the reception desk to hand in our key the girl behind the desk was talking to an elderly white-haired gentleman who wore a military beret with the Pegasus emblem on it. When I heard her calling the man Mr. Howard, I got out the postcard that I had prepared to send to my parents. As my father was a war veteran too, I thought it would be nice to have the card signed by Major Howard.

Timidly I approached the gentleman and asked him whether he would mind signing the card. He looked surprised. For a while I thought he was going to refuse. But then he smiled with glistening eyes. “Of course, I will sign your card” he beamed. With a firm hand, in spite of his great age (he was 82 at the time), he put his signature on the back of the picture postcard. I thanked him and wished him a pleasant stay.

Major Howard died in May 1999, 5 years after we had met him and almost 55 years after the heroic assault on the bridges. After my father passed away in 1997, my mother gave me the postcard as a souvenir. I still keep it at page 96 of the nineth edition of the famous novel  'The Longest Day' by Cornelius Ryan, after which the classic film with the same title was made starring a.o. John Wayne and Van Johsson. Why page 96? Because that's were Major Howard's exploits and those of his troops are described!

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Trespassing!

During one of our early travels to Normandy in the early 90-ties, we only had a general Michelin road map covering the whole of France. Compared to today’s standards it was very rudimentary. And yet, in spite of these limited means of navigation, we hardly ever got lost. Except this one time.

We were driving around through the countryside and I was doing the map reading. My friend, who has a solid military background, has taught me how to do it and over the years I have become quite good at it. It was a nice and sunny day and we were looking for Balleroy castle. Maybe you know it or have visited it yourself. We had been following a ‘route Nationale’ (N) for a while when a signpost with the name of the château instructed us to turn right. The large ‘route Nationale’ became a ‘Départementale’ (D), which very soon turned into an even narrower ‘route Communale’ (C). Pretty soon it became a dust road that let us straight into the woods and fields.

The neatly trimmed and manicured gardens of Balleroy castle in Normandy.

By then we had lost track of our position on the road map and only had two options: to continue or to turn around and try to find our way back. The sides of the road being very muddy and unstable, we quickly discarded the second option … We had no idea of where we were and where the road was leading to. Finally we reached a kind of clearing in the woods and at a distance saw a large white villa and a line of stables.

We ventured on … realizing that we were probably trespassing. From the stables came the noise of neighing horses and the stamping of hooves. In the house nothing stirred. We stopped by the end of the driveway leading to the main house. A high wall with a wooden gate surrounded the whole property. There was no way of getting out of there, except by the gate.

We were just starting to panic, when a van towing a horse trailer rounded the corner of the stables and drove in the direction of the gate. My friend put the car into gear and slowly followed the van at a distance. It stopped by the gate and the driver got out. He typed a code on the small keyboard by the side of the gate. When he turned around to get back into his van, he noticed our car. He signalled and mouthed “Vous voulez sortir?” (you want to get out?). When we nodded ‘yes’, the guy signaled us to follow him. The gate opened automatically and we quickly did as instructed, before further questions were asked.

Apparently we had missed the turn to the château’s main entrance and had involuntarily ventured into its ‘haras’ (horse stables). This, however, was private property and definitely not open to the public. After this little incident, we easily found the entrance to the castle and spent a lovely time exploring the neatly trimmed and manicured gardens.

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