November | 2024 | Finding Our France

Fanciful 19th Century Ode to William the Conqueror in Falaise

This post has taken a few months to produce. Principally, because I am an arch-procrastinator. There is no task that I can’t put off until later.

Much later.

But, in my defense, it also took this long because the post covers two separate visits which – conveniently, for the purposes of stitching together this weak excuse – happened several months apart. Earlier this summer (June) we made a somewhat rushed trip to the town of Bayeux. Then, just a couple of days ago, we had a look around the town of Falaise. So, how could I have possibly written this post until today?

Erm … we’ll just ignore the fact that I could have simply done two separate blog posts. Arch-procrastinator, remember? Also, there is a through-line connecting these two town visits: the life of William the Conqueror. So let’s focus on that. Stay with me on this …

William (Guillaume in French or, commonly, Gulielmus, in Latin) was born in Falaise around 1027 or 1028. At the time, the town was the seat of power for the duchy of Normandie. A castle already stood on the rocky outcrop where the remains of the last fortifications exist today. After his father died while returning from pilgrimage to Jerusalem, little Billy became duke at the age of 7 or 8. Many years passed, during which the young ruler gained much experience in waging war and governing an expanding duchy. Finally, in 1066, he took a short sailing trip with a few buddies. On the way, they decided to conquer England and commission the stitching of the longest “Mission Accomplished” banner ever made. That banner ended up in Bayeux where boatloads of visitors (and their buddies) travel to see it firsthand. There. See? Through-line.

Bayeux is a small town of around 13,000 inhabitants, just a few kilometers northwest of Caen, in the département of Calvados. It’s also not very far from the D-day beaches. Interestingly, it is this relative proximity to the allied invasion landing sites that helped to spare the town from destruction. As a result, it is one of the very few villes in this part of Normandie to have retained its pre-war character.

Elegant Entrance to the Forecourt of the Tapestry Museum

We arrived in Bayeux on a beautiful day with only one solid objective in mind: the Bayeux tapestry. But that would come after lunch. We found a nice local bistro where we had a bite to eat and then made our way to Le Musée de La Tapisserie de Bayeux. Housed in a former 17th century seminary, this well-organized and well-presented museum houses excellent displays on the town’s history. But the star of the show is undoubtedly the tapestry itself. Actually, it is an embroidery: a linen textile base onto which wool thread of ten different colors is stitched.

The general scholarly consensus is that the “tapestry” was commissioned by William’s half-brother Odo, bishop of Bayeux (and proud new owner of massive parts of England, courtesy of brother Billy) in the 1070’s. Possibly created in southern England, it is thought to have been hung in Bayeux Cathedral (definitely worth a visit) after completion. The entire length (68.38 meters, or slightly over 224 feet) of the tapestry is displayed in a darkened room (to protect against damage from light) behind glass. We were happy to discover that one can get very close to the textile and see it in great detail. Absolutely brilliant to think that one is looking at an embroidery which is nearly a thousand years old.

Taking a Wander Through the Streets of Bayeux

Though relatively small, the center of town has a bustling high street. We were there in late June on a weekday and it was completely rammed with tourists – a good deal of them American or British. But, as is usually the case, the side streets are where few tourists dare to tread. And it’s there where we not only found a more peaceful version of Bayeux, but also some beautiful scenic gems. The narrow medieval streets of the old town are hedged in by lovely old buildings, many of which display interesting architectural facets which seem to be unique to the area. We spent an enchanting afternoon wandering aimlessly, willingly following the timeless cobblestones whither they wished to lead us.

We continued our Conqueror’s Trail – he was also called “the Bastard”, but Bastard’s Trail doesn’t quite have the same ring to it – by pulling into the even smaller town of Falaise. It was mid-November by now so there were almost no other visitors apart from us. I imagine, though, that the place can be thronging in the high season. I mean, one look at the magnificent, chalky ramparts, towers and donjon of the château standing watch over its town is more than enough to get your tourist juices flowing.

Odd Camouflage – WWII Sherman Tank on Display Near the Centre-Ville Car Park

But first things first. As per usual, we arrived in town at lunchtime. We were hungry. And those tourist juices don’t just create themselves. So we nipped into a brasserie just opposite the castle and grabbed a bite to eat, stuffed in like sardines with locals who, I think, found us to be a curious diversion while they loudly bantered with each other over their meals. We all seemed to have a nice lunch and, by the time we walked out the door, they were laughing with us instead of at us. It was fun. And that little spark of connection between two cultures is always a rewarding feeling. So, we’ll take that as a win. Off to the château!

The illegitimate offspring of a duke and a local tanner’s daughter, William spent much of his early years in Falaise. In the very castle which we were privileged to visit that day. There has been a stone fortification of some kind on this rocky mound since circa 960. You can wander freely around the outer ramparts but there is a fee charged to enter the hub of the château-fort: the donjon. The square, imposing form of the principal surviving stone structure inside the walls has been restored – in some areas quite heavily. For some reason, the restorers erected a gargantuan concrete and steel-beam structure in front, apparently in an attempt to reference the original entrance but in a very post-modern, brutalist manner. We both found it to be a bewildering choice.

In the Rooms Where it Happened – Inside William’s Childhood Home

Once inside, we discovered that the main hall of the Norman keep has also been handled in a very strange way. The best way we could think to describe it is “early 2000’s exhibition hall chic”. But the good news is that the rest of the donjon has been much more sympathetically restored. There are several levels to see, even up to the rooftop for some nice views of the town and surrounding countryside. Overall, it’s a rewarding place to visit and worth the price of the ticket.

We are always keen to visit a nice church and there are two within easy walking distance from the castle. Our favorite was the most ancient and interesting L’Église de la Trinité. The current edifice stands facing the lovely Hôtel de Ville and the château beyond. It originates from the 13th century and after, but there has been a church on the spot since at least the 9th century. So, yeah, kinda old. La Trinité was heavily damaged during World War II but lovingly and expertly rebuilt. Of special note are the substantial portions built in the French Renaissance style (porch, various chapels). Quite special and beautiful. But the whole church is a gem and definitely a must-see.

Châtelet of Our Dreams – *La Porte dés Cordeliers*

Falaise has retained many vestiges of its 12th century town defenses. One special point along this circuit is the Porte dés Cordeliers. A picture-perfect châtelet guarding one entrance into the medieval town, this charming remnant completely entranced us both. It is sadly empty and seemingly abandoned, but so incredibly beautiful to our eyes. As we took our many photos, we madly schemed with each other as to how one could purchase it and make it the perfect home. This poor, neglected piece of history is crying out for help. We really hope it receives some attention soon.

We liked Falaise. Though small, and having suffered horribly during the last war, it is bursting with history. We ran out of time so we were unable to visit the museum dedicated to the experiences of the citizens of Falaise during the war (Les Civils dans la Guerre) but we hope to return to see it someday soon. A thriving commercial district lines the axis of the town too. So there are plenty of shops to browse. It was a fun time. And our only regret was that we didn’t have more time to spend there.

Bayeux and Falaise. You should visit them. We’re certainly glad that we did.

It’s been a long, soggy summer in Bretagne. Being mossy children of the misty Pacific Northwest of the United States, we don’t really mind it so much. In fact, we prefer it if the alternative is excessive heat. A strange sentiment to many of you, I know. A good many people spend their lives thinking about ways to escape to sunshine and warmth. A rational inclination, I suppose.

But I maintain that living in rainy climates builds character. It engenders discipline, breeds endurance, teaches patience – in most people, that is. I, myself, acquired none of those qualities. I just got wet. A lot.

Yuck! The *Cave* Entrance Before Pressure-Washing (obviously)

One consequence of the rainy weather this year is that many of the north-facing, shaded areas of our home quickly acquire a green sheen of mosses and algae. Surfaces get slick. As a result, I’ve become even more well-acquainted with our trusty pressure-washer. It’s either that or risk the very likely chance of falling to my doom in our courtyard or terrace or, even worse, down the long stone staircase to our garden. Pressure-washing could be seen as a nice, zen-like activity. Slowly, methodically sweeping the jet of water back and forth; the gradual but satisfying reveal of a pristine surface; a place cleansed of the detritus it has accumulated over time. A metaphor for refreshing one’s soul. Mostly, it’s just dirty, cold, backbreaking drudgery. At least the way I do it.

The pressure-washing was inspired during an entirely different activity: installing gates. My primary activity this summer was to fill two gateways to our jardin. First on the docket was to address the smaller opening at the top of the jardin stairs. This was the more urgent task as this gateway mediates between our rampart terrace and the precipitous tumble of stone steps leading down to the garden at the bottom of the tower. Saxon (our dog), now thirteen years old, walks unsteadily past this opening every day on his way to the area where he relieves himself. He can sometimes be a little shaky on his feet these days. His eyesight is not so good either. Cherie lives in terror at the thought of the poor guy taking a wrong step and careening into the open stairwell. A scary thought.

The Finished Gate for the Rampart Terrace

One side of the opening at the top of the stairs is quite irregular, so there were some challenges to the design of the gate. I opted to construct a picket-style gate with regular proportions rather than trying to match the sloping angle of the low wall on the side where it latches. The construction is pretty basic so I added some decorative scalloping to the tops of the pickets and chamfers to the rails. After fumbling around for a week or so, I managed to produce the results you see here. Not particularly dramatic, but much more secure for Saxon.

The Jardin Gateway in Ruins with the Ruelle to the Left

The gate at the bottom of the jardin was an altogether different prospect. It’s a large opening – over two meters tall – and it opens out onto a public path (known locally as la ruelle) that follows the line of the ramparts on the north side of the old town. When we bought the place, the old gate had already rotted and been bashed in by vandals. So, the new gate needed to be big and secure. The resulting gate was so heavy and large that we opted to lower the beastly thing over our sun terrace wall and down two floors to the ruelle below. [For those of you who are climbers, riggers or arborists, we employed a simple Munter hitch to provide the necessary drag to lower the load safely. It worked like a dream.] Lots of beefy timbers, large, hand-forged clinch-nails and three big hinges resulted in a strong gate that should serve for many years to come.

Rebuilding the Jardin Entrance and Steps

Cherie was the true star of the summer. In a fit of inspired masochism, she decided to subject herself to not one, but two prolonged rituals of French administrative hell. Firstly, she wanted to get a French driving license. Bewilderingly, there is no general agreement for exchange of driver’s licenses between the U.S. and France. Instead, there are individual agreements between some U.S. states and the government of France. Unfortunately for us, the state where we hold licenses maintains no such agreement. Brilliant. And so Cherie enrolled in a driving school to receive the requisite training instruction. It was a months-long, arduous process involving a massively intense knowledge test followed by a driving test. Both were administered entirely in French. True to form, Cherie passed them both on the first attempt. Also brilliant (but without the sarcasm). She’s now the proud holder of a French driving license.

We have now lived in France long enough to be eligible to apply for citizenship (or, permanent residence – but where’s the fun in that?). Once again, Cherie dove head-first into the breach and applied. The first thing one must do when applying for citizenship is prove that your French language abilities are sufficient. Currently, this means at least a CEFR (Common European Framework of Reference for languages) B1 level in speaking, reading and oral comprehension. Cherie studied hard and, again, passed her test on the first try. Amazing. Truly, I have no idea how I ended up in marriage with such a smart and capable partner. It’s one of those miracles I try not to question for fear of breaking the magic. Currently, the love of my life is awaiting her final citizenship interview where she will submit the reams of supporting documentation she has had to procure and answer questions on a wide range of topics including French history and civics. She’s ready. And I have no doubt she will soon be the proud holder of a French passport.

Saxon Meeting the Other Poodle in Town – Our Boy is 13 Years Old and Still Game to Play

Well, that’s just a sample of the many small tasks we’ve been up to over the summer. France continues to surprise and amaze us. Life is good and we love it here. We hope to be taking more time to explore and visit new places with more posts to come!

Finding Our France

A New Life in the Old World

Monthly Archives: November 2024

From Bastard to Conqueror – William in Bayeux and Falaise

Minding the Gaps