Adventures in Europe

And now for something a bit further afield than Hopkinton…

As our readers know, this July we took a break from the local news to travel through France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Guernsey, Spain and Iceland. Although we’ve been to some of the big cities in western Europe we were eager to explore the rural areas on this trip.

The French and Belgian countryside is a panorama of natural beauty and tranquility. Dotted with canals that reflect the blue skies, these areas are also notable for their lush, rolling hills that stretch far and wide. Life here is marked by a slower pace, where the rush of modernity seems to take a back seat to the rhythm of nature.

Bruges

After landing in Paris, we rented a car and headed north to Belgium.

Bruges is small, charming, well preserved and civilized. The Markt is the central square where everyone gathers. On this day they were setting up a stage to host Bavik Super Dagen, a 3-day festival of music and comedy. The Markt teems with tourists, horse drawn carriages, restaurants and shoppers. 

A carol of bells erupts on the hour from the belfry, powered by a 9-ton steel drum believed to be the largest in the world. It is the largest music box I’ve ever seen. 

In Bruges, tourists are confined to a relatively small portion of the city, which is surrounded by residential areas and bisected by canals. This has the effect of keeping the chaos quarantined so residents can go about their business largely uninterrupted. In these quiet areas coffee shops and small grocery stores pop up, people dine early and always with a nice glass of wine. 

Speaking of food, let’s talk about the chocolate. It’s everywhere and it’s incredible. Artfully designed, rich and velvety, it is superior in every way. Waffles are a big thing too. Near the Markt it smells of breakfast everywhere you go. 

It’s very easy to walk but one must be aware of speeding bicyclists who appear out of nowhere and are gone just as quickly. 

A policeman cannot be found, nor will the sound of sirens. The city is quiet and clean and orderly. At half past noon two fighter jets passed, the only show of force in this otherwise peaceful, happy country. 

Holland for an Afternoon

What better way to start your day than with a bike trip along a picturesque canal to Holland? Windmills dot the landscape and farmhouses are kept tidy. A small pub here and there exists for weary travelers to enjoy a pint. 

Sluis is a cute little Dutch town with a thriving shopping center and good restaurants. We sat outside across from the canal and enjoyed mussels, chicken and a pork dish.

After a little window shopping we were back on the bikes for the return trip, and we had to move quickly as we had a reservation to keep. A couple of derailed chains along the way were easy to mend. 

Dinner was memorable. It is the #1 rated restaurant in Bruges for a reason. Bij Koen & Marijke – In’t Nieuw Museum is small establishment with a confusing name that sits on a corner in an unassuming residential neighborhood across from a primary school. Step inside and you are greeted with warm hospitality by the proprietors, Koen & Marijke. She waits the tables and he cooks the meals, backed by an assistant that has a friendly smile but possesses limited English. Koen tends to an open fire, cooking the most perfect steak and seafood on it. The beer and wine menu is notable and extensive. The room is cozy. We committed a Polaroid to the wall of framed pictures. 

We walked off our dinner, returned to the hotel, sent the kids upstairs to pack and enjoyed a nightcap. Tomorrow we press on to Dunkirk. 

Dunkirk and Deauville

The drive from Bruges was long but beautiful, through rolling hills and fields, tall bridges and toll plazas. The transition from Belgium to France is seamless; if there was a “Welcome to France” sign we missed it. 

We met Emmanuel at the Operation Dynamo museum in Dunkirk. He was a friendly French chap with a shock of messy white hair that added ten years to his look. Tourism has exploded since the movie, he said, which grossed more worldwide than Saving Private Ryan. Curiously, Emmanuel seems to loathe giving tours to French people. “They don’t like the movie because there were no French soldiers in it,” he said. Some 338,000 soldiers were evacuated over 9 days in 1943, but thousands of Frenchmen were left behind, forced to march to Germany to work camps and leaving the French bitter for generations.

He took us to the port of Dunkirk where we saw a still sunken ship in the harbor and German reinforcement batteries, bringing the stories to life with his flipbook. Later we visited a residential neighborhood and the beach where the famous movie was filmed. 

We struggled to find a suitable restaurant in Dunkirk as many are closed while Western Europe is on holiday. We pressed further south to Calais and parked at Hotel de Ville, their city hall. A few blocks away we found a small tourist trap that served a slow but suitable meal. 

After a final hour in the car, we checked in to the Hotel du Golf Barriere in Deauville, a sprawling chateau set upon a 27-hole course. Our rooms adjoined and overlooked the 18th green. In the distance the beaches of Deauville and Trouville-sur-Mer shimmered. 

We left out for dinner around 6:30, visiting a modest cathedral and the downtown area on our walk to the restaurant. The fish was fresh but the dessert was the real star of the show. The kids devoured the gelato while we enjoyed the mousse. Afterward we walked to the beach and watched the sun set on the horizon. 

German Bunkers, Race Day and Caen

In the morning we took a walk through a posh neighborhood on the backside of the hotel to see the Batteries du Mont Canisy, where German bunkers remain and can be explored.

Deauville is known for its Hippodromes and later we decided to take in a race. It was a challenge to learn how betting works in France but it turns out my girls are lucky in any language.

Afterward we ventured south to Caen for a tour of the Chateau de Caen, a castle built by William the Conqueror. It sits on a rock and covers ten sprawling acres, giving it an unparalleled view of the city. Caen was heavily bombed during WWII so much of it has been rebuilt. Thankfully the castle and churches were mostly spared and we enjoyed seeing those after the tour.

D-Day

We met our guide Francois in Bayeux and hopped in his van for an all-day D-Day tour. After exchanging pleasantries, Francois launched into a speech in his English voice that can only be described as “performative”. His volume was raised and he pronounced every syllable as if his tongue were the point of a knife. He was expressive and passionate and had instant recall of precise numbers of casualties and dates of key events. We were taken aback at first but he won us over with his knowledge and excitement about the topic.  

Our first stop was La Cambe, a German cemetery. Francois likes to stop here to emphasize that not all German soldiers were fanatics. Some were regular kids, and some were even soldiers from occupied France or captured Russian soldiers. 

The weather did not cooperate so we moved part of the tour indoors to a museum that commemorates the US Airborne divisions in Saint Mere Eglise. Later we visited Utah Beach and grabbed a quick bite at a restaurant decorated with memorabilia. Although it was a tourist trap it still served a good meal. This is France, after all.

What impressed me most about this area of France is how appreciative they remain to the Allied forces that liberated them. There are statues and monuments around every corner, with US, British and Canadian flags flying. The statue below is of Dick Winters, who led Easy Company, made famous by the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers.

Standing on Omaha beach it is easy to see how the German artillery was able to kill so many Allied forces on D-Day. They had an excellent view and their machine guns reached the beach easily. Three thousand casualties in 24 hours is staggering to consider; the ocean ran red those two days. 

In 2 1/2 months of Battle of Normandy, the US suffered 30,000 casualties. 9,387 are buried here. No matter where you stand you will only see straight lines.

Guernsey

We split from Deauville and headed south to Cherbourg to return the rental car and catch the ferry to Guernsey, a small island in The Channel. We learned from Francois that they don’t call it the English Channel – it is simply “The Channel“. Why give England the credit, he asked?

The sailing was quick and uneventful, we passed the time playing cards.

Pulling in to the harbor at Guernsey there was a sense that we were someplace special. People and cars move about in an orderly fashion. The signs made sense again and no one was in a hurry. Even the Customs agent was friendly. 

After checking in to our hotel we left to explore Saint Peter Port in search of dinner. Many shops were closed on Monday, but after searching around we discovered Dhaka, offering Bengali cuisine. It’s close to Indian, which the kids like, so it might be OK? Turned out to be a major hit with everyone. The food was off the charts and the service was even better. After what can be a monoculture of food that rural France offers Dhaka was a welcome relief.

After that huge dinner everyone was in need of a good walk. We went north up the coast, walking along the road which skirts the sea wall. The wind picked up considerably as we rounded a corner but the kids found some stairs that lead down to the water and bolted ahead to explore. The tide in the Channel rises and falls 30 feet each day, which is perhaps the largest anywhere in the world. The harbors are dotted with boats tied to their mooring but stuck on dry land, waiting for the next high tide.

Exploring Guernsey

We set out early for Castle Cornet, a medieval fortress that guards Saint Peter Port. We walked along the lengthy sea wall and were afforded a view of the busy harbor. Inside the castle is a small museum and several interesting relics. Ownership changed hands many times through the years, with the English, French and Germans laying claim to it. The Nazis fortified parts of it during the occupation as was evidenced by a small swastika carved into concrete on an inner wall. 

Our walk continued south on the island and meandered through neighborhoods of beautiful homes with even better views of the ocean. Life is tidy and civilized in Guernsey; lawns are well-kept, there is very little litter, and people seem to behave. We set the Little Chapel as our destination, which we had seen in a guidebook. Along the way we passed a car park with a sign “German Underground Hospital”. Knowing nothing about it we ventured in.  

The building was dug into the side of a hill, more than 75’ below the surface, and the network of tunnels was built to protect injured German troops while they recuperated. It took them four years to build – with forced labor from local residents – and only operated 9 months, until the Channel Islands fell to the Allied. It was a spooky, damp place and worth the journey. 

We continued on our march to the chapel, through open fields and small neighborhoods. Space is a commodity on this island but the landscape remains diverse. 

The Little Chapel abuts a cow pasture and was built in 1914. It spans 16’ 9’ and is decorated with a mosaic of broken china and seashells. There is not much more to say about it but it served as a good turnaround point on what would be an 11.5 mile walking day. 

St. Malo to Nantes

We were sad to leave Guernsey and all agreed it was our favorite spot on the trip, wishing we could have stayed a few days more. 

We took a brief walk around Saint Peter Port before heading to the ferry. The Condor Ferry makes an impressive 42 knots and we were in Saint Malo quickly. Our driver met us at the terminal and was kind to take us by 4 Rue Vuaborel, the only place we all know in Saint Malo, it being the house in which Marie-Laure and her father seek shelter with her reclusive great-uncle in Doerr’s masterpiece All the Light We Cannot See. 

The 2 hour drive the Nantes was uneventful and efficient. We arrived at the hotel, dropped our bags and left out for dinner. 

Nantes is full of young people chatting, drinking coffee, having dinner and generally carrying on. We enjoyed our meal and made our way back to the hotel for an early night. On to Madrid in the morning. 

Madrid

Madrid is a city that’s alive. It has so much energy it practically buzzes as the streets and paseos teem with people and cars. It was a bit of a shock coming from the tranquility of Guernsey. 

Madrid is also disorderly. There are a hundred statues and another hundred monuments, yet none are connected in any logical way. In a predominantly Catholic country the cathedral isn’t that old, just finished in 1993. The palace – the centerpiece of Madrid – is filled with treasure and gifts from Spain’s colonies and talented neighbors. Ironically, save the Goya room, almost nothing came from Spain.

We walked everywhere, discovering many great restaurants along the way. The Spanish know how to do food – it was the best of the trip. We had an AirBnB that was centrally located which made walking easy. Every restaurant serves sangria, which we learned is just for the tourists, but it didn’t make it any less refreshing in the 100 degree heat.

Iceland

Flying in to Reykjavik at 2:30 am we were treated to a volcano exploding in the distance. Just another day in Iceland, I suppose.

After a small hitch with the rental car we were on our way to the nearby hotel to catch a few hours of sleep. We woke early to have breakfast in town and explore a bit.

Compared to Madrid, Reykjavik is no more than a village, filled with only 137,000 inhabitants who brave the darkness for six months and perpetual light for the other. But it is peaceful and life moves slowly. They are friendly people who speak perfect English, many without the slightest accent. 

The Sky Lagoon was just what these weary travelers needed. Fed by a geothermal spring, we soaked in the giant lagoon and relaxed with a drink. Then we enjoyed the cycle – a cold plunge followed by the sauna, salt rub, steam room, and shower before returning to the lagoon. It was entirely refreshing and a beautiful scene. 

We all agreed Iceland deserves a week of our time. There is so much to explore. 

And now, back to the local news.