Tuesday 8 October

We savoured each bite of our last delicious Normandy cheese breakfast, with the chewy yet crisp sour dough baguette, reminiscing over our time in Normandy. We checked out with the assistance of the happy Martin. The trip to Caen is about an hour and we were scheduled to return the car at 14:00. This gave us 2 hours to fit something in. The sun was smiling, albeit with a gentle cool breeze so we committed to the walk Pont de Normandie.

Vern absolutely loves Honfleur; it is his kind of place with the basins, boats, lochs, seaside, parks, historic and small but homely atmosphere. I have enjoyed the slower village life equally and also the wider experience of Normandy starting with Ouistreham, the Payes d’Auge region, Rouen, the countryside, villages, art and gardens. My highlight strangely enough was the second day, when we had our intimate cheese experience in Camembert, and the lovely villages we drove through afterwards. Secondly, the historic centre of Rouen is very impressive, the atmosphere relaxed, and the dining excellent.

Overall Normandy has been an enjoyable visit and we believe we have seen the cream of it, no pun intended – with both this visit and our prior one when we stayed in Bayeux and visited the D-Day beaches down to Mont St Michel. It has its unique personality and Norman charm, however, there is not a lot of variation in the area in what you see, if you compare it to other regions such as Brittany, Provence and others. Notwithstanding that, we have indeed had a lovely and memorable stay.

On the way out of Honfleur around the corner from our street there were some workmen parked. We got past one ok, but the next did not look promising. The owner of the van was loading wood and clearly did not want to shift his car, instead, he directed hand signals and spoke in French to us to come through. At one point he stopped us with a look of anxiety and we had to reverse ever so slightly and reposition, however, we got through – only just and with side mirrors closed. Holy moley, that broke a sweat – we stopped around the corner to double check no scratches were incurred. Seriously – we have never gone through such a narrow space with tyres doing a screech against the cobbles…

It took a bit of work finding the walking access to the impressive bridge, but find it we did. We walked 3km return to the halfway point and got a real bonus meeting the engineer who designed and over saw the building of it! When we were just on our return lap of the bridge there was part of one of the car lanes blocked off with cones and three vehicles parked. We had wondered why, and then saw some people come up from a mobile inspection platform, and Vern started a conversation with them and was introduced to the Engineer, Dr Michel Virlogeux. They had a bit of a chat, with Vern complimenting him on his work. What a buzz to meet such a man of talent, who happens to have friends in New Zealand. It made the walk extra memorable for us.

Feeling pleased with ourselves and with obligatory selfie completed we set the nav for Caen. We had an easy drive, stopping for a coffee and shared apple custard flan in Pont L’eveque (the place of our favourite cheese’s origin. I mentioned to Vern that I hoped to see some European giant storks again, and low and behold I did see two in the field as we were driving by, unfortunately there was no place to stop to get a photo. As with a paddock with an excellent herd of the attractive spotty-piebald cows of the region.

We handed over the car keys happily with no damage incurred to the vehicle. Hi-fived each other on team Latham job well done and had a cup of tea in a cafe across from the Gare, a couple of doors down from the Avis office, whilst we waited the 2 hours for our train. It is a bit of a grotty area strangely enough, with a lot of dark coloured people and French locals the latter being either off their chops, high as a kite or mentally ill or a combination. There was some altercation between them, and the military just observed, hands on machine guns, without interfering. I think that this must happen often, and they would only intervene if the general pubic was at risk. Sometimes these kerfuffel are a distraction for some other petty crime. I was surprised as Caen is not a large city, and we were across from the main entrance of the Gare, so I thought there would not be that sort of vibe in your face there. Having thought about it further, I recall in front of Milan station it is a bit of a rough hangout too.

At times we saw the military or police patrolling, including dog handlers. I googled the risk level, and apparently France is on high alert for terrorism. We have seen them on previous visits in the main tourist areas and transport hubs. A reminder of the times we live in, and something we are conscious and respectful of, however not overly fearful. What will be, will be, and we accept the risks of travel as we do hopping in the car at home.

When we arrived in Paris it was raining – not too hard, but enough for our raincoats. I booked the Uber and we had a bit of fun working out which road to meet him on. For some reason the map app often is not clear around train stations, especially where there are a lot of intersecting roads. It cost 46 euro for our trip to our Ibis Styles hotel at Charles De Gaule airport. If we had taken the airport train, we would have had to got to another metro station a few blocks away (Madeline) and the tickets were around 13 euro each – 26 euro total. Further more, it would not get us right at our hotel and could take up to an hour or more. In the interests of time and ease, we chose the Uber.

It was a good decision, nightfall had set in under the rainy Paris skies. The colourfully lit streets were busy with activity; people moving about and socialising, the roads Paris crazy. Our driver had a modern Toyota hybrid and was familiar with the driving rules infamous for the city. For example if one wants to move into the traffic you indicate, and just poke in. The driving car will stop within centimetres of your car nose and let you in. This is done at good pace and I had to shut my eyes a couple of times. Added to this, the roads are either one way or dual carriage, with each lane being approximately 1.5 car lanes wide with no marking. The tricky thing is that the one lane roads transition between two lane and one lane with the cars jostling for the lead constantly. Organised merging does not exist. This becomes even more fun at roundabouts and intersections!

As Vern and I sat in the back we had the most romantic and evocative journey as if we were the opening scene in a movie, showing a taxi ride of a couple driving through the 18th Arrondissement of Paris. The driver was playing lovely old jazz standards and French cafe style music, the raindrops intermittent and gentle on the window as we delighted in the unfolding street scenes passing through neighbourhoods. Small restaurants filling with patrons engaged in intimate conversation, a florist shop open for the evening trade, the dashing man in a coat leaving the boulangerie with a fresh baguette for the evening meal, a rotisserie chicken stand with glistening golden birds rotating and customers lining up.

The driver wove in and out of the traffic with the ease of expertise. In congested areas the tooting of horns communicated to the less confident to move along. The Moulin Rouge stood out with its red neon windmill. The passengers smiled and kissed; Paris is ageless.