The reason that we originally booked this particular cruise, and one of the reasons we were lucky enough to have Paul and Julie join us was inching closer. I was definitely surrounded by World War II scholars. My amount of scholarship on war is slim. This includes the Hundred Years’ War. My knowledge of Joan of Arc before this was that she dressed in men’s clothing and was burned at the stake – end of knowledge. I love trips for the beauty, for the culture, but also for learning. These days in Normandy were GREAT for all of that.

The Bear is the only one who cooks at our house, and he LOVES it. It’s a passion for him, so I always know if a trip into the market is a possibility he will be there, so in Rouen, we began our day taking the walk to the market. Rouen is a LOVELY city. You can see the mix between English and French influence everywhere as Normandy went back and forth and back and forth over the years between each country. The market was small, but the food was so fresh it glistened. Since we were in France, we were again eating cheese in the morning, and it was wonderful! We got to hear the story of the heart-shaped cheese of Neufchatel and how love can be a little salty…

We returned to the boat to spin right back around and go back again to learn a little more about the history of the lovely town of Rouen. The major landmarks in the small city are Notre Dame de Rouen and the Gros-Horloge-which is a big, beautiful clock. Then, nestled in this very charming town there is a spire that marks the place where Joan of Arc burned to death. Up until this point, this cruise had not felt like an “ABC” cruise -which many tourists had dubbed the “another bloody castle” or “another bloody church.” In Rouen, we doubled up on the gothic cathedral and then the modern and very Scandinavian Joan of Arc church. I thought Rouen was adorable. I also thought it was significantly more geared towards tourists and shoppers than some of the other places we had been to this point on the trip.

We stopped at Richard’s cafe (Apropos, since the Bear’s name is Richard) and had lunch. Then, we had some exploration time. Our guide had mentioned a Joan of Arc museum that included some interactive elements and that she said was different than what you would normally expect from a museum. I knew it was in the Archbishop’s palace, and it sounded really interesting, so I suggested that we try that for our free time.

We did, and I was DELIGHTED. However, I may have been the only one in our group who was. Ha! it ended up not really being a museum. Instead, you watched a movie projected on walls in several different rooms. In each room, you would watch approximately a 10 minute clip where the trials of Joan of Arc were reenacted. (Spoiler alert: so that she could be canonized, she was found “not guilty” after her execution.) You move from room to room in the palace. It was very corny, and very Disney, and totally up my alley.

In my favorite moment of the day, after you see her burned, you ascend to a small watchtower at the top of the palace. Turns out there is only one way out from the watchtower, and it’s the same way you go in. I neglected to mention that when we entered the first room, there were the four of us and three other adults in the room. Just before the lights went off, two teachers and about 30 young school children – third grade or so- entered. Hahahahahahah. NONE of us have children or planned on vacationing with them. To be fair, the children were very well behaved. At one point, we had to ascend MANY stairs on a winding staircase to go towards the top of the building. Then, even more to the watchtower. I was near the back of the group- one man was behind me. When I entered the watchtower, I saw the panicked faces of Julie, Paul, and the Bear. Around them were thirty yelling children. Julie yelled to me “turn around!” I tried to, but the man was still behind me, and he had to be able to go up to go back down. She yelled again, “Turn around!” with so much panic I almost pushed the poor man down the stairs. It was definitely a highlight of my day! I’m still sad I didn’t get a picture.

We spent time sailing through the salt cliffs again that afternoon until we got to our docking spot for that evening in Duclair.

That evening, we had a five minute bus ride to the Chateau de Taillis for dinner. It was definitely a hot night, and we met the owner outside for a cocktail reception. Many of us started grabbing chairs and tables and looking for shade. It was a lovely spot, but the heat was unprecedented in this part of France where it is more often cold and rainy than hot and steamy. Still, dinner was quite good, and we had a chance to meet some new people at our table. One of the couples had been traveling for 35 days! It’s amazing to me how many people will string several trips together. The grounds were lovely, and they had friendly goats and other animals that we were able to greet after dinner.

The next day would be a long and emotional one with the two hour ride to the D-Day beaches.

We had our earliest departure at 7:45 as we set off for yet another hot day. Our first stop was at a convenience store/ rest stop- The Bear called it the “Buc-ee’s of France” before we picked up our amazing guide, Florent “Flo” Plana. I’m not sure about the guides the other groups got, but I feel so fortunate he was ours. He has a mission of telling as many stories of as many World War II veterans as he can, and he seemed to simply know EVERYTHING. He’s not just a guide. This is his life’s work. During the summers, he guides. During the winter, he seeks out veterans in the United States and Canada to hear more stories.

We started our day at Pont du Hoc. It was impossible for me not to visualize the soldiers as they made that climb. Looking at the bunkers and the collapsing walls just added to the emotion of the day. From there, we went to Omaha beach. It was surreal to see families spending the day enjoying the unusually warm weather. In my mind, I pictured the ships and heard the guns. Carl Sandburg’s poem rang in my head while I looked out in awe:

Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo.
Shovel them under and let me work—
I am the grass; I cover all.

And pile them high at Gettysburg
And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun.
Shovel them under and let me work.
Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

We had a break in the day as we went to a lovely lunch at Chateau le Cheneviere. I can definitely see myself wanting to return there to spend more time in Normandy. I know the Bear would really have loved a chance to go to more museums and see more history than we could during the time that we were there.

Our final stop for D-Day was at the American cemetery. We stopped at the wall of the missing. As Flo was telling us the story of one of them men, bells began to play the Star Spangled Banner. Everyone paused and listened. That was followed up by Taps. I just let the tears roll down my face as I thought of where I was, and I what I was seeing. Then, some young American service people ran out of the gates, and I felt such gratitude. It was an interesting time to be in France. I will say that everyone we encountered in Normandy still talked about how grateful they were for what the Americans did in the 1940s. Our guides told us how parents taught them to respect and thank us. The whole day was emotional and remarkable. Seeing all of those crosses in such a silent and sacred place. It was truly an unforgettable experience.

We took the two hour drive back to the boat and saw that most of the very small town had been taken over for a music festival. We cleaned up and went to dinner for a seafood buffet then listened to the sounds as we sailed away for the next day in Les Andelys. It was hard to believe it was getting to be the end of the trip already!