France - Au Revoir

Viewed from ten kilometers out, the abbey of Mont Saint Michel looks like a hazy medieval mirage.  We had seen pictures of this place in books and watched one of Rick Steves’ excellent travel programs that included the abbey, but viewing it in person is altogether different.  It seems like a giant Benedictine monk planted a brick, watered it, and watched as a place of pilgrimage and worship grew straight up from the rocks to soaring heights and straight out until it reached the edges of the island.  Medieval pilgrims had to time their visits carefully with the tides in order to make it out to the abbey safely and not get stuck there until the tides receded.  The Bayeux Tapestry depicts a scene where William the Conquerer stopped at Mont Sainte Michel to receive blessing for his quest and lost several men in the quicksand surrounding the abbey at low tide.  Fortunately, there is a wide causeway and free tram service for modern pilgrims; we stepped onto the island and began a steady climb to the top of the abbey.  

It took about two hours to drive to Mont Sainte Michel from Couseulles sur Mer; so the visit to the abbey was our only activity of the day, and we took our time strolling slowly up the narrow cobbled streets lined with small museums, restaurants, and shops.  This part of the island is touristy, but because all the shops are contained in original buildings, their presence does nothing to diminish the grandeur of this place.  

In the early 700s, the Bishop of Avranches commissioned a sanctuary to be built on Monte Tombe to honor the archangel, Michael.  Building continued slowly until the 10th century when the Benedicitne monks moved in and ramped up the activity.  Over the next few centuries, a village grew around the island as the abbey was enlarged and improved.  Each section was built to support the section above or beside, and the construction was very technical for its time and military in design.  Mont Sainte Michel resisted every English assault over the years and became a national symbol of France as pilgrims have continued to come to this New Jerusalem—paradise on earth.  We waited in a long ticket line near the front of the abbey, but once we gained entrance, we had plenty of time to take a winding, self-guided tour that led from one wonder  of the abbey to the next.  Our two favorite parts of the buildings were the refectory where the monks ate their meals in silence on long wooden tables and the great pillared crypt built in the 1400s to support the abbey chancel above.  From one side of the ramparts, we could see the walls of the abbey thickly covered with dark brown moss blending seamlessly with the rock foundation.  The view from the other side stretched out across the rock-strewn tidal flats to the pale blue sea several miles away.  

We made our way back down into the village and stopped for some snacks to stave off the hunger produced by our pilgrimage.  I wonder how the medieval pilgrims made it without gelato and frites.  Monte Sainte Michel is a unique and special place, and I’m glad we made the drive out to walk its streets and climb its many stairs.  Tomorrow will be our last day in France as we make our way to the Beauvais Airport by way of the town of Rouen.  We’ve taken in a lot of history in Normandy, and we’ve enjoyed our time here together in our place by the sea.

Mont Sainte Michel

Next day, we were up a little earlier to start the packing ritual and hit the road for Barcelona, Spain.  We left Courseulles sur Mer around 11:00, a bit later than we had hoped, but we needed to stop at a market for lunch supplies.  By 1:00 we turned off the motorway into the busy streets of Rouen, where we had hoped to spend a couple of hours walking around the city center and checking out the famous gothic cathedral in the main square.  Traffic was insane in this vibrant city—we were expecting a sleepy town like Bayeux, but this place was intense.  People  were walking everywhere and into the street at all times with cars rushing into the lanes from every direction.  We passed a few empty parking spaces going down a steep hill on the way to the cathedral,  and they were probably the only empty ones in the entire city—unfortunately we didn't take one.  We spent the next twenty minutes attempting to retrace our way up the hill dodging cars rushing around in a French hurry.  We found the spaces again, and I displayed my parallel parking wizardry to the delight of my passengers.  We ate a quick lunch in the car before striking out toward the cathedral, but we were concerned that our parking spot might require payment—the markings on the street were ambiguous, and we didn’t want to risk being towed three hours before the rental car was due back at the airport.  We walked to the cathedral anyway, and admired the front of the building that Claude Monet spent a whole year painting in a classic series.  The stonework was beautiful, but I thought the whole facade could use a good pressure washing.  We were too worried about the car to enjoy anything else, so we hoofed it back up the hill before a local gendarme could spoil our day.  We had hoped to spend more time in Rouen, but we hadn’t planned well enough to pull it off—lesson learned.  There were also no public restrooms to be found, so we had to get back on the road with two more hours to drive to the airport in Beauvais, and my back teeth were floating.  Somehow the rest of my crew can go to the bathroom once during the morning, and they are good for the day.  How is this possible?  They drink the same amount of water that I do.  To make matters worse, they make fun of me in the cruelest fashion.  

Rouen Cathedral

The little Citroen hummed along on the rural roads on the way to Beauvais, and I tried every Zen trick in the book to keep my mind off my distended bladder.  The Citroen was very fuel efficient, and we still had half a tank left after traveling close to 600 kilometers—I’ve been told this efficiency is due to the diesel engine, something about which I have no knowledge.  It’s a good thing the cars in France are so stingy with fuel because there are no gas stations anywhere to be found.  Not only did I need a "rest stop," but we were obligated to bring the rental car back with a full tank or suffer the wrath of the Hertz agent who wields power over credit card limits. We passed through no less than seven towns with nary a gas station to be found, but the local bar was always in plain sight.  A road sign advertising the proximity of a McDonald’s gave me hope for a bathroom, but it turned out to be a cruel lie.  

We finally made it to Beauvais and bypassed the airport in order to find a gas station, which we did after getting lost and driving around for fifteen extra minutes.  Good thing we bailed on Rouen.  The gas station attendant was  a nice young man who was eager to use his English skills, and we showed our gratitude by loading up on Cokes and Snickers bars after dominating the rest room, whew!  The airport wasn’t far away, but none of the signs were in English, so it took a while to get the rental car returned.  The Hertz agent solemnly walked around the Citroen with her clipboard as we held or breath.  To our complete joy, she released us with her blessing and charged us the appropriate rate.  I’m officially one for two in leaving rentals with my pride undamaged.  I asked one of the rental guys where we could pick up the shuttle to the terminal, and he looked at me quizzically.  I asked again, and he pointed across to the parking lot to the building that said “terminal" and said, “You walk.”  He left off, “stupid American.”  We hefted our bags on our shoulders and made the 200 meter walk to the terminal where I’m sitting typing frantically after consuming a moyen Americano, the first good coffee I’ve had in a week.  It’s really good.  Really, really good.  This airport is the smallest we’ve encountered, and it looks a lot like the interior of the Sears auto-service bay without the air conditioning.  It smells like sweaty, frustrated tourists, but at least it doesn’t smell like tires.  We board the plane for Barcelona in one hour with an expected landing around 11:00pm.  France has been fun, educational, and not as expensive as we had feared—we’ll miss it.  Au revoir!