Rouen
Rouen
The train from Paris to Rouen gave us the first instance of the 2 doppelganger dodue (of a certain age and from New Zealand) getting away with something. We had bought 2nd class tickets so duly found a carriage labelled 2nd class on the platform and boarded. We went down with our suitcases to the lower part of the carriage and put Sarah's suitcase in the luggage rack. Jenny's was way too big (all the Italian cheese and olive oil she is bringing home had to go somewhere), so had to be heaved onto the 2 seats opposite us with the table inbetween. Fifteen minutes into the trip we suddenly realised that we were sitting in first class, and that 2nd was through the glass doors in front of us. We realised this just as the conductor came to check tickets. As the conductor checked the woman sitting behind us we wondered whether we should get up and move, but the size and weight of the suitcase whispered "no" to us. We heard the conductor tell the woman behind us that she was in 1st class but only had a 2nd class ticket so needed to move out of this part of the carriage, which she did. Our turn was next.
He said "Bonjour mesdames" and asked for our tickets. We smiled and handed them over. He looked at us, looked at the tickets, looked at us again with an almost discernible sigh, looked at the suitcase, and asked where we were from. We smiled sweetly (as little old ladies can) and replied "New Zealand". He sighed again and said, "thank you have a nice trip". It was a sign of things to come.
Walking in Rouen, but which doppelganger is it?
Rouen should be on everybody's bucket list. It was on mine because my great, great, great etc grandfather was from there. He was a well-to-do reverend monsignor who escaped Rouen to England during the French revolution. It felt amazing walking down the same streets he had, looking at the same buildings nearly 400 years later. But Rouen has so much history to it and you can't escape it. It is in every cobblestone, doorway, archway, wooden beam, facade and building.
Joan d'Arc was burnt at the stake here (not for heresy as is often written- but officially for wearing men's clothing- the only thing they could get her on). Richard the Lionheart also lived here, and his heart is in the Notre Dame cathedral in the middle of Rouen. One of the most spectacular cathedrals in France! The columns, the light through the stained glass, the sheer height and size of it, not to mention the carvings and paintings.
Notre Dame Rouen
External Notre Dame Rouen
Our hotel was right in the heart and very literary. Each room had a book to read and quotes from famous authors on the wall. It also had renovations going on, fire alarms going off in the morning and lovely French men coming in to the room to clean it while we're standing there in our knickers!
Our hotel
Two days happily walking around Rouen soaking in the atmosphere quickly disappeared. The art gallery was worth visiting, having my favourite artist- Caravaggio- featured.
The lunch one day of a traditional Landaise salad had me excited as I had made it myself for cooking classes with lovely local walnuts and pieces of warm duck confit on top. I knew it should also have a few pieces of gizzard as well, but this one was ONLY gizzard. Surprisingly tasty.
We had rented a car for the next 9 days travelling the coast of Normandy. Just a little Toyota Yaris, knowing the big cases may need to take up the whole back seat and then some. Turning up at the rental office the lovely young man looked at us, our cases and then the computer and then asked "where are you from?" We smiled the sweet doppelganger (of a certain age) smile and said "New Zealand". He upgraded us to a brand new hybrid SUV with heaps of boot space and all the mod-cons. We called her Aggie, after St Agatha (who has made an impression on both of us- read her story). We didn't realise Aggie would be a little bossy- telling us off for veering in our lane slightly or not putting on the seat belt immediately. But we have brokered a truce with her!
Aggie
Our attempt to get back to our hotel to pick up our big suitcases and leave town turned into a lesson on French politics and unity. All of France went into general strike over the possibility that the retirement age may raise from 60 to 64! Sacre Bleu! The protest march through Rouen was a sight to behold. Thousands of people marching with signs, smoke bombs, horns and actually a general sense of joie de vivre. But we couldn't get past the snake of people 20 abreast walking up the street near our hotel. I parked Aggie in a towaway while Sarah went to get the bags. Her first attempt to lug a suitcase back to Aggie and I went slightly astray as she could not get through the marching crowd so decided to drag the case 5 blocks down to the Seine to avoid them. But no, they were still coming through in their hundreds.
Eventually after 40 minutes Sarah turned up at Aggie with the first lot of luggage, looking (shall we say) frazzled. Then it was turn around to get the second lot. Of course when she got back to the car this time, the march had finished. Alors allons-y