We take a voyage…visit to Cherbourg...coming home to Courtomer

Dear friend,

We went away to Ireland, driving up to the ferry on the Cotentin Peninsula, just two and a half hours from the Chateau.

Que d’émotions! Monsieur and I fell into silence as we drove out the gates of the Chateau in the trusty old Nissan Patrol. We were like shipwrecked voyagers. After months of waiting to escape, the rescue ship was sailing into port…and one was torn between a desire to step back into the wide world and a growing attachment to one’s desert island.

So much has happened at the Chateau over the last year and a half, since we started writing to you. And so much is happening now! Behind us we leave the upcoming moissons, the last four calves yet to be born, the new gardener, archives to explore…and not least, planning those wedding bells to come. On the other hand, ahead of us is a longed-for reunion with our family in Ireland, and a new grandson!

Monsieur stepped on the gas, and I turned on an edifying lecture, a podcast from France Culture titled “A qui apartient la beauté?” It is a fascinating series about how art ends up in museums. This section was about the creation of the Louvre with works requisitioned from Italy, Germany and Spain during the Napoleonic conquest of Europe.

“To whom does beauty belong?!” exclaimed my companion. “Do we have to listen to this?”

"Relentlessly intellectual,” he sighed.

We settled for the Rolling Stones and headed down the road.

An old hand-painted sign on a shop in the historic center of Cherbourg. Here are cobbled streets, lively boutiques and humming cafés, with the ferry port and railroad station a stone's throw away.

The croisière, 19 hours long, was perfect – a sea of glass. The ship, newly outfitted two years ago, and then mothballed, was spick, span and even luxurious. In our suite were three types of Irish whiskeys and two glasses inviting us to taste and admire the amber liquids. Our steward, Polish like the rest of the crew and known to us from earlier voyages, seemed on the brink of le fou rire as he took our reservations for dinner and breakfast. Paulus could barely contain his delight at having passengers under his wing again. The waiter in the Lady Gregory Restaurant hung over us like a hen over her chicks, making sure we had enough bread and butter and tempting us with elegiac descriptions of the menu.

And on arrival, Ireland was basking in its ephemeral summer. Our family reunion was the occasion for many joyful tears from this writer and perhaps for others…And at last, with sorrow at parting and promises of swift return, we turned homeward. We will have much to recount about Ireland’s close connection to France and to Normandy in particular…in letters to come.

Meanwhile, it was drôle to touch French soil again, and to discover Cherbourg. This is the ferry port for Ireland, England and the îles anglo-normandes, as the Channel Islands are known in France. It is also a fortified naval port.

En terrace, sitting outside in a brasserie at the foot of a cobbled street, we felt the hot summer sun and had a proper croissant. Boutiques in the small centre ville were selling the liberty-print sun dresses in style this summer, along with straw hats and tropeziennes – the classic sandales d’étémade famous in 1930s Saint Tropez. In another shop, we were successfully tempted by conserves of wild-caught tuna, sardines and mackerel. And we were amused by an umbrella factory and store, selling sturdy umbrellas and parasols made by hand. Of course, it does rain often in Cherbourg. But the name refers to the French musical, Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, which won a Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival of 1963 and stars Catherine Deneuve.

But what made Monsieur smile was that the umbrella factory is housed in a former Banque de France.

“How have the mighty fallen!” he remarked with – si j’ose dire – dry humor. Monsieur has written extensively on the economic crises of the past decades.

La fabrique du Parapluie is where umbrellas are hand-made by the family Yvon, who in previous generations were leather-tanners in the town of Cherbourg. It is housed in a former Banque de France.

Cherbourg was already a port of commerce in gallo-roman times, importing from Britain woolen cloth, mineral ore, baskets, and hounds for hunting, and sending fruits and vegetables in return. Under Louis XIV, work began on transforming the port into a naval base with an eye to perfidious Albion; under Louis XVI, construction began on what is still the largest man-made “rade” or basin in Europe. The French Revolution halted the works, and it was Napoleon 1er and his nephew Napoleon III who brought them to fruition. There’s an equestrian statue of Napoleon 1er near where we had our coffee. On the base are inscribed the curious words, 
 
“J'étais résolu de renouveler à Cherbourg les merveilles de l'Egypte.”
 
“I was resolved to renew at Cherbourg the marvels of ancient Egypt.”
 
Looking around Cherbourg, it is not evident what Napoleon meant. The city was bombarded in World War II’s Normandy invasion. Outside the charming and tiny city center, the newer buildings are “sans intérêt,” without interest, as the dismissive French expression puts it.
 
But it is marine works to which the Emperor referred. Workmen dug into granite rock to create a deep harbor that could anchor 25 warships. Napoleon intended to enlarge the harbor enough to concentrate all France’s marine force – and to engage battle with the English navy. Then, he recounts in Le Mémorial de Sainte Hélène, his long memoir written in exile, “j'eusse terminé par une bataille d'Actium.” (I would have finished with a battle of Actium.)
 
The naval battle of Actium pitted the Roman Republic of 31 B.C. against Cleopatra of Egypt – and launched Roman world hegemony.

El Galeón, with Spanish flag flying and under the protection of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, glimpsed in this photo on the stern.

“Hmm!” commented my companion, “As the bard said, vaulting ambition often overleaps itself."

We gathered up my new straw hat and sandals, and walked back to the quai. A Spanish galeón – the replica of a 17th-century armed cargo carrier -- is anchored in the port, and we hope to visit it.

And we are eager to take up the road to Courtomer. Among other attractions, Monsieur Jean-Yves has invited us to ride with him in the new moissonneuse! We have observed the big harvester already, rumbling through the fields of grain like a great ship gliding over a golden sea -- the galleon of the farming world. We look forward to gazing down from the control cabin to the big blades slicing through the colza, for our crop of rapeseed is ready to harvest in La Chienne, the big field between the Chateau and the bourg of Courtomer.

But perhaps most of all, we look forward to another happy family event -- a birthday today!

Bonne semaine à tous!

Until next week!

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PPS. We are taking reservations for the Chateau and the newly restored and decorated Farmhouse for 2022 and 2023. Some dates are available for this year, too. Please write to Heather or Béatrice (both are bilingual in English and French), or, of course to me, at info@chateaudecourtomer.com.

We look forward to hearing from you!