Leaving France
Before leaving the Paris area, we stopped at the Palace of Versaille, at my request. There just isn't any way to describe one of the largest castles in the world. Palace of Louis XVI, it has 700 rooms, 67 staircases, 1250 fireplaces, 2000 windows and the Hall of Mirrors. Plus 1800 acres of gardens and parks. Nothing cold and damp in this castle. It had always been , and was still, fit for a King when I saw it. I'm sure it still is a main attraction in France. I believe the original building was a hunting lodge, but that was totally swallowed by additions added through the 1600's. I can't even imagine living like that, but I loved seeing it.
Next we headed for the coast of France. I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I would no longer be saying much about my maiden name being French. The people were not friendly. As soon as they heard an American accent, service ended. We had trouble getting served at restaurants or any other stop we made. B.B. didn't do much better, even thought she was trying to speak their language. I say trying, because her high school French and the different dialects were causing her more problems than she expected. And they were not willing to help her. From city to province, even in 1965, they just did not like Americans. If it hadn't been for the American Army Bases, we couldn't have gotten the gas to cross the country.
It was 20 years after WWII, and there were still so many left over war scars in the bombed buildings and land. They had made no effort to clean up or rebuild. Many towns just built beside the destruction. As if they wanted to remember every pain. And, they were certainly not appreciative of our having liberated them. They blamed us for the damage, and the bitterness still was very evident. I'll never understand why.
At the coast we found huge concrete bunker after bunker that had been used by the big guns to defent the coast. Some in pretty good shape and some showing the damage of being hit by bombs. Left alone, exactly as they had been walked away from, 20 years before. The mindset of it was incomprehensible to me. We followed the coast north to Calais, France, at the Straight of Dover, with the intention of crossing into England. We had ALL had enough of France.
Here, we had to change our plans. It would have been impossible for us to travel in England without our car and everything we had to carry for the baby. They wanted over $500.00 to ferry the car across the channel. A fortune to us. Not to mention another fortune to come back. We talked about it, but it wasn't gong to happen. Despite our disappointment, we didn't even want to try crossing without the car for just a day trip. It was too late in the day, and we needed the car. We decided to jump ahead to our next itinerary.
From Calais along the North Sea Coast and across into Belgium. We made it to Gent, Belgium and stayed there that night. I've already mentioned that no one traveled with a small baby back then. Everywhere we stopped, we found no cribs available at hotels. Or highchairs at restaurants. J was only five months old, so I was able to put him to bed in drawers from the furniture in the room. If that wasn't available, I had to empty out our the big suitcase and prop the lid up for his bed. I would put it on the floor by my side of the bed, so I could keep tract of him in all the strange rooms. I was grateful he wasn't old enough to get out and crawl away. He was awful close to being able to, but we took that trip just in time. Once we left France, there was always someone to fuss with the baby at the restaurants while we ate. He was such a happy, beautiful baby, (I can hear his brother right now saying, "What Happened?") that he was often passed around from table to table and played with. Times were so different then and the only thing I had to worry about, was what someone might be trying to feed him or give him to drink.
His own meals were often given to him while he sat in his little seat as we were going down the road. Both his Grandmother and Aunt liked to feed him in the car. We didn't even have to stop for his meals. Everything needed was in the deep area behind their seat. He seemed to enjoy his own little seat. It raised him up where he could see everything. We only had to hold him the few times he was fussy. Usually when he was too tired to sleep. That didn't happen often in the car. Diapers were changed outside the car. G had to stop every time we "smelled a good reason" to examine the countryside closer.
Next we headed for the coast of France. I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I would no longer be saying much about my maiden name being French. The people were not friendly. As soon as they heard an American accent, service ended. We had trouble getting served at restaurants or any other stop we made. B.B. didn't do much better, even thought she was trying to speak their language. I say trying, because her high school French and the different dialects were causing her more problems than she expected. And they were not willing to help her. From city to province, even in 1965, they just did not like Americans. If it hadn't been for the American Army Bases, we couldn't have gotten the gas to cross the country.
It was 20 years after WWII, and there were still so many left over war scars in the bombed buildings and land. They had made no effort to clean up or rebuild. Many towns just built beside the destruction. As if they wanted to remember every pain. And, they were certainly not appreciative of our having liberated them. They blamed us for the damage, and the bitterness still was very evident. I'll never understand why.
At the coast we found huge concrete bunker after bunker that had been used by the big guns to defent the coast. Some in pretty good shape and some showing the damage of being hit by bombs. Left alone, exactly as they had been walked away from, 20 years before. The mindset of it was incomprehensible to me. We followed the coast north to Calais, France, at the Straight of Dover, with the intention of crossing into England. We had ALL had enough of France.
Here, we had to change our plans. It would have been impossible for us to travel in England without our car and everything we had to carry for the baby. They wanted over $500.00 to ferry the car across the channel. A fortune to us. Not to mention another fortune to come back. We talked about it, but it wasn't gong to happen. Despite our disappointment, we didn't even want to try crossing without the car for just a day trip. It was too late in the day, and we needed the car. We decided to jump ahead to our next itinerary.
From Calais along the North Sea Coast and across into Belgium. We made it to Gent, Belgium and stayed there that night. I've already mentioned that no one traveled with a small baby back then. Everywhere we stopped, we found no cribs available at hotels. Or highchairs at restaurants. J was only five months old, so I was able to put him to bed in drawers from the furniture in the room. If that wasn't available, I had to empty out our the big suitcase and prop the lid up for his bed. I would put it on the floor by my side of the bed, so I could keep tract of him in all the strange rooms. I was grateful he wasn't old enough to get out and crawl away. He was awful close to being able to, but we took that trip just in time. Once we left France, there was always someone to fuss with the baby at the restaurants while we ate. He was such a happy, beautiful baby, (I can hear his brother right now saying, "What Happened?") that he was often passed around from table to table and played with. Times were so different then and the only thing I had to worry about, was what someone might be trying to feed him or give him to drink.
His own meals were often given to him while he sat in his little seat as we were going down the road. Both his Grandmother and Aunt liked to feed him in the car. We didn't even have to stop for his meals. Everything needed was in the deep area behind their seat. He seemed to enjoy his own little seat. It raised him up where he could see everything. We only had to hold him the few times he was fussy. Usually when he was too tired to sleep. That didn't happen often in the car. Diapers were changed outside the car. G had to stop every time we "smelled a good reason" to examine the countryside closer.
posted by LeeAnn | 2:45 PM
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