Verdun 2.29.08

During World War One, something like a quarter of a million men perished at the battle of Verdun. It was an important battleground because that area is the only defendable high ground between the Germany and the plains of Champagne.

On a foggy, drizzly, day, depressing and evocative of war at the same time, we drove up a long slope to find a tangle of trenches, forts, graves and memorials. It was virtually empty...just a handful of tourists, including a squad of German soldiers.

A friend of a friend described a recent visit to Verdun in a waythat captured perfectly our impressions: "The weather was cold, grey, foggy, drizzly, windy...perfectly fitting for the most depressing place on earth."



The Ossuary, the building in the distance, contains the remains of more than 100,000 unidentified soldiers who fought here.



The Ghost Army was here over Christmas of 1944, after withdrawing from Luxembourg because of the Battle of the Bulge.

From Trevieres to Verdun: 2.28.08

Breakfast at the manor (would that every day could start out with that phrase) included fresh croissants with home-made jam, and many other delights. We said our goodbyes and headed off for Trevieres in…you guessed it…the rain.

Jeanine from the church office met us inside the church. She had as little English as we have French, but she was very gracious. She turned on the lights so that I could shoot inside, then left us alone. We stopped at the church office across the street when we were done to give her some money for the church as well as copies of a few of the paintings and sketches.

Then we set out on our very long drive across France. Back to Paris, through the traffic there, and out east toward our destination, the small town of Ancemont, a few miles from Verdun. A little over 300 miles. We experienced the joys of rest stops on the Péage, and I write those words with no irony. Good coffee and snacks, clean bathrooms, decent restaurants…definitely a step up from the Mass Pike. BUT NOT CHEAP.

It was about 5:30 PM that the GPS led us to the Chateau Labessiere. A tiny gate barely large enough for the car to fit through led us onto the grounds of a beautiful old house. It was once the home of a Duke, but the family fell into hard times and sold it to a lumber company that used it for a dozen years or so to house its imported Turkish workers. Back in the 80’s, Rene Eichenaur bought it and set about refurbishing it. He has operated it as a B&B for more than 15 years. I found it on the internet and booked it by email. The deal was that we had to pay by cash.



What a character! Rene’s day job is at a local trade school. More than a bit deaf, he makes up for it by talking a lot. We were, once again, the only guests in the place. Dressed in jeans and a work shirt, he escorted us to our (huge) room and said he would meet us at 7 PM for a drink before dinner. We dressed up for dinner, but when we went down Rene was still there in the same jeans and work shirt. He had two glasses prepared of some local concoction ("from the region") and gave us the rundown on nearby attractions, told us about his family, (his daughter works in Luxembourg, where she can make “twice as much” as she would make in France), shared his love of big American cars, and showed us the scrapbooks of the house restoration with pride.

AT 7:30 he led us into the dining room, and transformed himself from host to waiter,outfit staying the same. He served us a dinner that was prepared by invisible people who we never saw. I might add that this four course dinner was probably the single best meal we had in Europe. The first course was a petit soufflé. Then came duck filled, absolutely exquisite. ("The best part of the duck," Rene told us, running his hands up and down his sides. Not sure what part that is.) This was followed by a cheese course, and finally, desert, a pear tart with home-made vanilla ice cream. All accompanied by a bottle of wine “from the region.” After dinner, Rene morphed again from waiter to host, and we had a glass of brandy “from the region” in the library. “We” in this case means Marilyn and I, because Réne made point of letting us know that he never drinks alcohol, and has never drunk alcohol in the past, not even a little. Nonetheless he was happy to ply us with the stuff.

The following morning we set out for a place that haunted by the ghosts of tens of thousands of dead soldiers: The World War One Battlefield of Verdun.

On the Trail of the Ghost Army: Normandy

We set out from Paris early on a Wednesday morning, our tiny Peugot crammed with suitcases and video equipment. Our goal for the week long trip was to retrace some of the steps of the Ghost Army, to visit places they had been in order to get closer to their story. And to experience some other history along the way. The first step was to drive to Normandy.

It was still dark as we navigated the streets of Paris with the help of our Garmin hand held GPS, or as we referred to it during the trip, “Monsiuer Le Je-Pe-Es.” The device was occasionally frustrating; it evincied a love of “unpaved roads,” sometimes imagined highway entrance ramps that weren’t there. At one point while going around a rotary twice (I couldn't find the exit) it became convinced that we had a “Man Overboard”–I’m not making this up. But it proved an invaluable navigation tool, without which I doubt we could have found our way around the byways of Europe. The early start was due to my desire to flee the city before rush hour. Well before 7 AM we were working our way west of Paris on the “Péage,” the tollway. The first toll was 7 Euros, the rest smaller, but we dropped a small fortune at the tollbooths.

We reached the Normandy town of Bayeux shortly after 9 AM. We were there four years ago, and never managed to see the Bayeux tapestry, so we decided to rectify that. The tapestry is amazingly long, about 270 feet, and it is, in essence, a medieval movie telling the whole story of how William the Conqueror leads a Norman army to England to contest for a crown that he believes to be rightfully his, and wins it in a battle against his cousin Harold (who is killed by an arrow in the eye from a Norman archer)
Talk about your mini-series potential.


You'll notice that underneath the main story is another layer of information, which runs along the entire length of the tapestry. Marilyn pointed out is perhaps the earliest predecessor of CNN’s ticker at the bottom of the screen.

From Bayeux, we drove to Arromanches, where we sought inspiration by watching the “in the round” film about D-Day that we saw on our visit four years ago. The movie plays on 8 screens that surround the audience. It juxtaposes modern day images with archival footage to recreate the experience of the battle. There is no narration, and no interviews, but wonderful music and amazing sound design. It was breathtakingly emotional the first time we watched it. This time I was more focused on technical details. The thing that stood out to me is how evocative the audio design is, how much it does to put the viewer in the environment, washing over them with the experience. I also really like the way the filmmakers would take an archival still or bit of footage, and then dissolve to the same scene today, with people and cars and all. This technique makes the grainy black and white images more real by tying them to familiar close by the theatre’s Normandy location.

After lunch we drove to Trevieres, site of the church in numerous Ghost Army drawings and paintings. We took wandering route and found ourselves on a back road by the ruins of an another church, this one abandoned. I also shot some video of Norman cows that may find its way into the film. It was drizzling—rain would dog us for much of the trip –but the church was still dazzling. Not in itself—it is a fairly ordinary medieval Norman church—but because it is such a touchstone to the Ghost Army story.
The door was open, and we went inside, There was no one there—were all alone. It was spooky and moving at the same time. We found some pamphlets in there describing the church (it was built in the 1200's) and the restoration after WWII (it wasn't complete until 1953.)



We took some pictures, but I really wanted to get permission before videotaping anything, so we grabbed an information sheet with the parish phone number, and left for Manor Quesnay.

Once again we were retracing our steps from 2004. Jacques and Alex Fourcade run this fortified Norman farmhouse as an elegant B&B, and we stayed there on our last visit. It was after 4 when we pulled into the courtyard. Jacques greeted us in his pleasingly accented baritone, and Alex showed us up to our room. Honestly, we stayed with them one night four years ago, and they treated us as long lost friends.

We were the only guests staying in the Manor. Marilyn didn’t feel well (still suffering from her infection) and went right to sleep. I eventually went downstairs and began chatting with Jacques, who was trying to find us a good restaurant that was open (it being the off season.) I told him about the Ghost Army story, and asked his help in contacting the “presbytare,“ the church office. He and Alex put their heads together (should we talk to the church or should we call the Mayor) and he went to work. Alex clucked over Marilyn’s health and insisted on making a pot of wonderful tea, along with some traditional tea biscuits (molasses sugar cookies), that proved to be quite a restorative for both of us. Meantime Jacques connected with Jeanine, who ran the church office, and she agreed to meet us there the following morning.

Since Jacques was striking out on restaurants, Alex made a suggestion. Jacquies seemed loathe to consider this place, since he had never eaten there himself) but eventually called and made a reservation. All the time he was saying things such as: “Well, this is Alex’s responsibility.” The restaurant was called L’Assiette Normand, the Norman Plate. It was in a picture perfect location (as if out of a movie) just a few steps from the Bayeux Cathedral. Marilyn ordered the Plat du Jour, I had the Poisson du Jour, and it was a wonderful dining experience. Then it was back to the Manor and bed.

Another Rainy Day in Paris: 2.26.08

After sleeping late, Marilyn and I toured the Musee de Arts et Metiers, where we saw numerous examples of French technology, including a splendid Focault pendulum,an early Daguerre camera, and the Caselli Pantelegraph (the first fax machine)
Part of the museum is housed in a an old church, which provides a dramatic setting, and also seems to offer an enigmatic commentary on the historical (and current day) conflicts between science and religion.

My favorite exhibit there was an airplane that I have never heard of before: The Avion 3, built by a frenchman named Clement Ader airplanes in the 1890's, and claimed to have made a flight on one of them in 1890, some 13 years before the Wright Brothers.


The Avion 3 is remarkable because it's wing structure is based on that of a bat--it looks, quite literally, like a bat plane. Ader claims to have made a flight of 900 feet with this plane in 1897, although few believe that he actually succeeded in any kind of prolonged powered flight with any of his machines. He remains quite well known in France, where he is considered the father of French aviation. I am amazed that in all my work on "The Wright Challenge" I had never come across him.

After visiting the museum, we went to the Budget office to rent a car for our trip. This required a tremendous amount of xeroxing of various forms by the woman in the office. The car we rented is a Peugot 107, which makes a Volkswagon Beetle look like a Hummer. We fearlessly (?) braved the rush-hour streets of Paris (the scooters are enough to drive you batty) to bring the car to a parking lot near our hotel, positioned for an early start the next day.

Bobbie joined us for dinner at a restaurant near the hotel that Marilyn had eaten at before, Le Noces de Jeanette. (The Wedding of Jeanette) Bobbie ordered something called an Andouillette AAAA, which she assumed would be some kind of sausage. I guess it was, in a manner of speaking. We found out later that it was a pig colon filled with pig intestines. The AAAA means it was given the highest rating by the people whose job it is to rate such things, but it still seemed virtually inedible to all of us. We decided the AAAA is the sound people make when they try to eat it. Sorry if we are offending any andouillette fans or raters, but we call ‘em like we see ‘em.)

Off to Normandy tomrorrow!

Laundry

In her last post, MRB failed to mention that while she was out gallavanting with Bobbie, I went to a laundromat and did the laundry. I just want to make sure i get credited for that.Laundromats in France seem very expensive...about 10 euros (15 dollars) to do a large load.

Grey Monday, Paris, 2.25.08

(Entry by Marilyn)

Sunday night, the glories of Cerise – four cherries in each little cup – at Lapin Agile gave way to a foggy morning on Monday. The fog in our heads matched the atmosphere; none of us had slept much.

Bobbie, a tremendously good sport guiding her old mom around gay Paree, got up early enough to meet me at L’Institute Nationale de Jeune Aveugnes (National Institute for Blind Children), the world’s first school established to educate children who are blind. I’d made an appointment for a tour of the place with Marie-Renee Hector, who it so happens, manages foreign exchange programs for the school and is the English department head – so, no worries language wise! Bobbie was thus released to go back to her dorm and rest. Marie-Renee and her adorable guide dog Bishka showed me the historic campus where Louis Braille, himself, had been a student of A. Valentine Hauy.

We all rendezvoused at Aux Saveurs du Marche in the posh Pont Neuilly section for lunch with a Dartmouth chum, Anne Bagemary, and her family. A true high point: at Bob’s recommendation, I had the “duck burger” or “tartare de canard” for lunch. In fact, every item we tasted would qualify as a gastronomical high point!



As if that wasn’t enough food and great company for one day, we met up with the Snell family back in the Marais, Yes, that’s right, Bobbie’s friend since 7th grade, Carolyn and her mom, Diane, and sister, Katie. All the way from Lexington to have dinner with the neighbors! Strolling down the street, we ventured into a falafel joint and had terrifically fresh pita wraps stuffed with amazingly crisp ingredients including, well, falafel!

Back to the hotel to crash…sleeping until we were good and ready to get up on Tuesday morning.

Au Lapin Agile

There was a critical error in the last post. I left out the wonderful and memorable evening we spent at Au Lapin Agile. This is the oldest nightculbin Paris. Located on Montmartre, just behind Sacre Coeur, it has been in business since the 1860s, and one gets the impression that the show has not changed too much. The audience sits around tahbles in a small, dark room (perhaps 60 people in the audience). A man comes in and starts playing on an old upright piano, then the singers come in, and they too sit around one of the tables. The waitress brings everyone a glass of Cerisis (I think I am spelling it right) a cherry liquor, and the show begins. Traditional french songs, bits of musical comedy, the audience joining in on many numbers. Marilyn had been before, and had been dying to take us for years, and it truly was great. All sorts of famous artistic and literarz types used to hang out here. Steve Martin afficionados will note that he wrote a play in which Einstein and Picasso meet at the cabaret. Definitely a throwback, and definitely worth seeing.