By Rosemary Kluth
Sunday
Sunday dawned bright and clear, and luckily a whole lot warmer. We had not booked the all-day trip entitled “Fascinating Normandy”, which turned out to be a good thing, as the focus seemed mysteriously to have shifted entirely to war history, presumably at the request of the Allied karaoke gang, who piled into their coaches excitedly and set off for a day of pride and nostalgia. Our alternative plan for the day was to explore Caudebec-en-Caux on foot.
In its heyday, Caudebec was famous for the Mascaret – its own version of the Severn Bore. Boats had to be moored in the middle of the Seine in preparation for the wave, which reached up to seven metres at the sides, and four in the centre. People would flock here to watch the spectacle and ride the wave. In 1958, this still attracted 20,000 onlookers, but in 1963 the river was dredged to make Rouen accessible to seagoing ships, and nowadays the Mascaret is only just over a metre high.
Caudebec was once quite a popular tourist attraction – not least to British holidaymakers staying in Deauville close by. Now there is little left to see, since almost all of the old town was destroyed during World War II. The 18th century town hall still stands, as does the Maison de Templiers, the oldest building in Caudebec, which now houses a local history museum. The main highlight is the church of Notre Dame with its beautiful stonework façade and tower, described as “stone lace” by Victor Hugo, who lived nearby. In the afternoon, we finally had the opportunity to sit on deck and enjoy the sun, which had not been in much evidence so far. Perhaps we should have chosen the later trip at the end, rather than the beginning, of April!
At dinner, the leader of the “Fascinating Normandy” group – an American pastor – called a hush, and thanked the cruise director profusely for making their special itinerary possible. The members of his group were much moved, and many a tear was shed. We decided that many must have been visiting the graves of relatives who had been on the beaches during the D-Day landings. This cast a rather different light on the group, and we felt a little ashamed at having been uncharitable and resenting the change of itinerary earlier.
Monday
Monday involved another early coach trip, as we were going to make a quick detour to the ruins of Château Gaillard en route to Monet’s famous garden at Giverny. Chateau Gaillard was a mighty fortress, built by Richard the Lionheart after his release from imprisonment in Dürnstein on the Danube. The taking of the fortress by the French king’s forces after a long siege in 1204 marked the beginning of the end of English rule in Normandy. The ruins tower over the twin riverside towns of Les Andelys, creating a fabulous setting for souvenir photos, but we did not have long to enjoy the view, as the coach was waiting to carry us on to Giverny.
Arriving full of anticipation, we disembarked in the car park and walked a little way to the garden entrance. Although it was still only ten in the morning, the place was packed with sightseers from all over the world. Remembering that this was only April, we dreaded to think what it might be like in July! The garden itself was an absolute riot of colour, and heartbreakingly beautiful, with colour-matched flower-beds, weeping willows, rose arches, an orchard, and of course the lake with its green Japanese bridge. Sadly, the iconic water lilies were not yet in bloom, but the effect was still magical.
We soon reached Monet’s house, which was full to bursting with visitors, and quite a challenge to be in on such a warm day. Every inch of wall space in the former studio/living room was hung with large-format paintings. Opposite this living room was a spacious dining-room with a red-and-white chequerboard floor, its walls painted a bright, sunny yellow to reflect the light from the windows. At one end was an elegant fireplace framed by Japanese prints and decorated with tiny blue and white tiles, while above the fireplace stood a row of glass jugs in different sizes and varying shades of green. The crockery placed around the room echoed the blue and white colour scheme, and helped to create a calm and harmonious atmosphere. In the adjacent kitchen, a vast range with shining brass fittings took pride of place, backed with larger blue and white tiles, and flanked by shiny copper pans and other cookware.
The bedrooms upstairs, reached by a very steep and crowded staircase, were used by Monet’s wife and stepdaughters, while he and his sons and stepsons slept in the attic. It was his stepdaughter Blanche who eventually took over the house when he died, and she and her father are both buried a little way up the road in the village graveyard.
We then made a lengthy visit to Monet’s huge barn studio, which is now a shop bursting with all kinds of tempting memorabilia, from T-shirts to pencils, all emblazoned with Impressionist motifs. Once all the members of our coach group had finally been located and gathered up, we returned to the boat, almost overwhelmed by all the impressions we’d received.
Tuesday
Next morning, we woke to find ourselves back in Paris. After such a lot of walking the day before, we were glad to be on the morning coach tour of the city. This proved to be more like an exercise in negotiating city traffic on a workday mid-morning. The traffic was tumultuous, but surprisingly unaggressive. We travelled too fast past most of the best known Parisian highlights to be able to take much in, much less take any satisfactory photos. We caught glimpses of the Louvre, the gardens of Les Tuileries, the Place de la Concorde, the Opera, the Arc de Triomphe, the Latin Quarter, the Petit and Grand Palais, and our old friend the Musée d’Orsay, to mention just a few. The driver encircled the Eiffel Tower at least five times, presumably for photographic purposes, but as all you could see from the coach were its huge legs, there seemed little point to this exercise. At the first of two short stops, there was not enough time to make the eye-wateringly high entrance fee to see Napoleon’s tomb worthwhile, so we sat on the wall in front of Les Invalides, enjoying the view instead. Having seen pictures of the crypt later, we now rather regret this decision, but will put it high up on the list for our next visit. The second stop was at last a proper photo opportunity for the Eiffel Tower, so we obediently scrambled down from the coach and did what was required. As we crossed the road from the coach park, we were accosted on all sides by friendly gentlemen selling cheap metal replicas of the tower, dubious looking scarves and wall hangings. These were things we decided we could live without, much as we hated to disappoint them, so we boarded the coach empty-handed, and returned to the boat for lunch.
The afternoon’s entertainment was an excursion to Montmartre, where artists such as Monet, Renoir, Picasso and Matisse gathered in the past to live and work. The quarter still has an arty vibe with many little cafés and shops selling paintings and other handicrafts. The coach stopped outside the famous Moulin Rouge, which was recognisable, though no doubt would have looked more exciting in the evening when neon-lit. Sadly, at this time of day there were no cancan dancers in evidence.
The group boarded another of those rickety little tourist trains and was borne away to the top of the hill, where the basilica of Sacré Coeur thrones majestically over Paris. The view from the top is spectacular, and would even have made it worth climbing the 237 steps to the church on foot – one alternative to the rickety train. There was also a funicular railway for the less faint-hearted to ride up the hill.
Sacré Coeur itself is famous for the grandeur with which it towers over Paris, but its interior is not thought to be particularly attractive. Emile Zola even described the church as ridiculous in its nationalistic pomposity. We were impressed by a huge mosaic in the apse, showing Jesus with arms outstretched and a crown of thorns around his heart. We also admired a solid silver statue of the Virgin Mary and Child, and the colourful stained glass windows. Outside the church various street artists vied for the attention of passing tourists – painters, performance artists and musicians, all contributing to the flair of Montmartre. We found and reboarded our little train, which wound its way down the hill and back to the coach.
The highlight of the evening was the Captain’s Dinner – a festive meal to round off the journey. Captain, crew and service staff were introduced individually, and enthusiastically thanked and applauded for their friendliness and helpfulness throughout the trip.
After a final night on board, we shared our last breakfast with new-found friends, said our goodbyes, and took a taxi to the Gare du Nord, where a high-speed train waited to take us home.
Our week on the Seine was an eventful one, and we are still poring over our photos, and reading up on items we missed at the time. We would like to do the trip again someday, this time choosing the alternative excursions: a cider farm, an art museum, a Benedictine abbey or the Château de Malmaison – perhaps even “Fascinating Normandy” (the standard version!). Our one tip for anyone considering doing the trip would be to book later in the year, in order to get the full benefit of the sun deck, but otherwise the whole thing was very enjoyable and much to be recommended.
