The Ryndex

Our rental car was magically upgraded to a Citroen C3, a bubbly yet sleek convertible. It wasn’t the most powerful, and it’s Sensodrive(tm) transmission was a bit confusing — if they had seen us trying to get it out of the parking stall, they might have gently plucked the keys from our hands, and suggested the train.

I’m not allowed to drive in France, of course. I never did get my French permit, and I seriously doubt that I ever will. So I was the navigator for the trip, and I was perfectly competent, thank you very much. Anyone that says I occasionally announced necessary lane changes after they had passed is a filthy liar and probably on drugs, I think I heard, so you can ignore them.

Our first stop was Bayeux, to see the famous tapestry that tells the story of William the Bastard, who eventually became William the Conqueror by winning the Battle of Hastings in 1066.

This is the way to learn history — the tapestry is nearly a thousand years old. There’s an interpretive centre built around it, explaining the important actors, the events and the details. You can see where Bishop Odo eats fish instead of meat at a feast, because it’s Friday, or the frightening appearance of Halley’s comet. There are decorative elements both elegant and vulgar, and some interesting technical details about the embroidery from the era, such as the Bayeux stitch, and the eight colours of wool available.

It’s all very well thought out preparation, and it adds enormously to the value of the tapestry. The real thing is arranged behind glass along a darkened corridor — you get an audio guide and it takes you along the numbered scenes at a fair pace. There’s no pause, no restart, so pay attention and move along.

The gift shop is equally well designed, and you’ll probably spend a good moment there picking up oddly intriguing items plastered with tapestry scenes. Neat.

It’s easy to find the cathedral where the tapestry used to hang on special occasions, but there’s a also a path of markers just in case you want to pretend you are Pac-man.

There are two instances of Canada’s coat of arms in the Cathedral, one in a plaque and the other in stained glass. The funny thing is that I can’t remember ever seeing the Canadian coat of arms before, and since I didn’t recognize it, I assumed it had been changed — it’s a shield with a banner of leaves at the bottom point, and the rest divided into four: three lions lying horizontally, one lion en rampant (standing), a harp, three fleur de lis in a triangle. You’d think I’d remember a crazy symbol like that if I’d ever seen it before, like on the front of my passport or something.

There’s also a sculpture representing the litanies of the virgin: jacob’s ladder, a lily among thorns, a rose without thorns, a well of lively water, an unstained mirror. You know, the litanies. If you don’t know, you can always google them. If you can’t be bothered just yet, you can always promise yourself that you will one day.

We left Bayeux to head to one of the most important beaches in Normandy. Arromanches is where the Allies landed and built, in three days, a port sufficiently large and equipped to launch the liberation of France in World War II. It was built from scuttled ships or prefabricated concrete blocks, towed from across the channel and assembled into a 12km span. Many of the pieces are long gone, but you can still make out how grand and daring the project was. There’s also a museum on the site, which was well worth visiting on my first trip here, but unfortunately closing this time around.

We watched the beachgoers, and horse buggy riders, kite flyers, and kids digging, and then had some chocolate crepes among the tourist shops. Finally, we climbed to the top of the cliffs for a panoramic view. We didn’t get to Juno beach like we wanted to — we had to race to our hotel in Hardcore Saint Hilarious to get checked in before the restaurant closed.