Midway through our week in France we took a train up to Caen, where E spent a semester in college. “They have a river here? I don’t remember a river,” he said, scratching his head in puzzled bewilderment, while his parents groaned remembering the thousands of dollars they’d wasted spent sending him to study abroad.

Across from the railway station we picked up our rental car and hit the road north. Our plan -- E’s plan -- was to stay in Bayeux, from which we would have easy access to the D-Day museum in Deauville and the invasion beaches.

It was a short drive, so after our bags were in our rooms at the Hotel Chateau de Bellefontaine, we hopped back in the car and drove into the center of Bayeux. I suggested we stop by the tourist information office for maps and recommendations. E’s parents seemed dubious of this plan, and chose to wait in the car. The information office told us that the D-Day museum closed after September 30 (why?!) and gave us suggested itineraries for seeing the beaches and the American cemetery.

We had planned on going to Deauville that afternoon, but since the museum was closed, we stayed in Bayeux. Aside from shopping and eating, there are two things to do in Bayeux: look at the church, and look at the tapestry. We went to see the tapestry.

I didn’t know what to expect but the Bayeux Tapestry is pretty amazing: not technically a woven tapestry, but a 70-foot cloth from the 11th century embroidered with the story of the Norman Invasion. The wag on the Audioguide (a Brit) explained the story as we walked slowly along the illuminated case, and made sure we didn’t miss the little gory details incorporated into the borders. We snickered out loud at the dry humor (or should I say, humour). You can’t say that about many Audioguides.

After we reached the end of the tapestry, we were forced through a maze that finally spit us out into an enormous gift shop, which easily covered twice as much square footage as the tapestry exhibit itself. This would happen over and over again on our sightseeing in France: pay 6 Euros (always 6 Euros!), view fascinating centuries-old works of art and architecture, be tricked into massive gift shop.

The rain let up a bit so we walked around town, stopping in one of the ‘gourmandise’ shops to pick up some chocolate and Calvados. They grow a lot of apples in Normandy; my favorite ways to consume them are in a salad with Camembert cheese, and as cider. They also make a liquor, Calvados, which smells deliciously of apples, but to my untrained tongue tastes disappointingly like every other brown liquor I’ve tried. The only way I liked Calvados was in a “pommeau” -- cider spiked with a shot of it.

Day two, we drove west and south to Mont St Michel.

I’ve wanted to go there ever since a friend told me about it in 1993. A cathedral on top of a tiny rock island that is periodically cut off from the mainland by the tide? Cool.

Of course there is a causeway now and a big parking lot, and, disappointingly, the city’s steep, narrow, and winding streets are packed with tourist junk and overpriced cafés.

But not as many tourists make the effort to climb all the way to the top and tour the abbey. It was built in the 10th century.

We took the scenic route home, stopping in a small city called Granville for a late lunch.

The last morning in Normandy, E and I were up early and went into town. We visited the church -- I know that’s a tedious touristy thing to do, but I really haven’t done it that much, so I find it interesting.

In the late morning we headed northwest, to the beaches. First we drove to Pointe du Hoc, where the land along the beach has been granted to the U.S. government in perpetuity. It’s situated between Omaha and Utah beaches, where US soldiers scaled cliffs and overtook a German base.

It’s been left pretty much as it was at the end of WW2. The bomb craters are smooth and grassy now, but the old German bunkers are still partly crumbled and destroyed.

From Point du Hoc we drove east along the coast to the American Cemetery, also granted to the U.S. in perpetuity. (Strange to be in all these American-owned places in France.) It’s peaceful, green, and extremely well maintained.

At the entry there is a monument and some maps detailing the invasions, which we studied for quite some time.

Down by the beach -- the cemetery is right on Omaha Beach -- there is just a single sign. The rest is left to your imagination.

The cemetery itself is beautiful, and reminded me of Arlington National Cemetery. I had no idea how many Americans died in Normandy and were buried in foreign soil.

After that, we headed back to Bayeux, picked up our bags and drove back to Caen. We had a train to catch.

More photos of Normandy on Flickr.