MY TRIP TO FRANCE. Part Seven: The Muellers

Saturday, June 2, 2012  

Day Seven.

A sycamore tree in the parking lot of Shopi, the local grocery store.

Another fantastic day!  Again we awoke, showered, dressed for another day of adventures.  We found ourselves at our favorite café again where the server woman knows no English but knows us and what we want!  She is so sweet.  Black short hair, glasses and a great smile.  Hot cocoa for me.

On the dunes at Utah Beach.

We walked up to the post office and bought ten stamps.  Later I wrote on three postcards and mailed them home.  I dropped them in a yellow letterbox a few steps down the street from our Hotel.  It was attached to a stone wall.  I also ate my first éclair in France.  Chocolate pudding inside a pastry and chocolate frosting along the top (it looked like a hot dog).  It is so fun to eat French treats in France!

Looking West on Utah Beach.

Our visit to Utah beach was another sobering and unforgettable experience.  We didn’t spend a great deal of time on the beach but it still was amazing looking around and soaking up the realization of the battle fought there that day in 1944.  The battle was more successful on this beach as Germany focused more attention on Omaha.  The sand was a bit tanner than Omaha Beach.  The sun was out and the wind was hard, the tide out. 

Another view of Utah Beach.

 At length, we met at the little café and Rachel and I ordered an omelet naturale.  It was not like the first one we had, but still delicious.  We were eating right next to the war zone, maybe on it!  I ate my French fries with horseradish mustard, which got on the omelet.  Very good.

Beside the museum are these artifacts.  Very sobering.

Tonight we went to dinner at the Mueller’s home, a former castle which had been torn down long ago and a chateau was built.  The chateau was there during the war.  It is a very beautiful, mansion-like home with flagstones as a floor of the main room and entry, wood in other rooms.  The ceilings are at least 12 feet maybe 15 feet high, each wall has panels edged in carved wood painted in pastel green or blue, or tan.  Curtains are so sumptuous, windows tall and abounding and thrown open!  The furniture would be utter treasures in any antique store in America.  Velvet in mint condition stand beside worn couches in style.  A grand piano was in the corner like a sulking child in trouble, unplayed for some time, but I could see that the brown wood held its beautiful luster. 
 

One of the many re-enactments in the towns of Normandy.

Under the chateau was an underground kitchen and quarters used in the castle times to keep the cooking smells out of the living quarters.  It has been unused for a long time, yet it still had the old stone stove.  The grounds were amazing, consisting of evidence of the castle period, the war, which very much happened around it.  Stone walls, horse and carriage paddocks, pigeon house, meadows and fields were so impressive, although devoid of modern development.  It was as if it all had stopped time so we could see into another age.

We called this the Walmart of France.

Going into Super U for a few things.

The Mueller family consisted of Father, Christian (Swiss German), Mother Isabella (French), Irina and Louis both in university. They spilled out of the house to greet us warmly and enthusiastically introducing themselves and welcoming us.  They ushered us into an entry which overwhelmed us with its retro-time travel!  They then seated us in the main room (parlor maybe) next.  Pale blue walls, the piano and many chairs and seats.  My comfort was sought first then the rest. 

Driving up to theMueller's home.

We immediately learned that Christian was not only well versed in the World War 2 history of the region and the property, indeed the very chateau, but he also loved to talk.  Stories poured forth and were lapped up by us all, each story so fascinating.  He spoke in a German/French English.  The Muellers knew how to laugh and the air was filled with their good-natured warmth. 

The backyard that had been the scene of battle.

During the next 40 minutes at least three conversations were going on simultaneously, for Irina and Louis were as well versed and outgoing as their father.  They were both on holiday from college, Irina working on her Masters Thesis on decorations of the seventeenth century, pointing out her advantage of growing up in that house.  Louis was studying history, having wanted at one point to study medicine.  We were served wine (or orange juice) and crackers while we chattered away.  Isabella had recently broken her foot and was in considerable discomfort, though we never suspected until later.  She was so gracious and cheerful, bringing us crackers and potato chips while we talked.  I said very little, enjoying the toast, the welcome and cheers, and the conversation with relish.

The paddocks.

We were given a tour of the beautiful grounds, snapping photos and continuing the lively conversation.  As we walked, I talked briefly with Irina (tall and gregarious with a ready and beautiful smile, and with large, knowing, dancing sharp eyes and plenty of long hair).  She said to me how lucky she is and that she realizes every day how wonderful her parents are and that she could grow up there and they have given her all these stories and so much love.  Later at dinner, one of the guys, who noticed the close friendship between Irina and Louis, asked if they had always been such good friends.  Irina and Louis said together, “Oh yes! Always.”  Their parents also said that when Louis was born, Irina played with and cared for him.  Louis said he always had two mothers.

There were many places in the Mueller's yard for awesome photos.

As we came into the dining room, I was seated first by our host then everyone else sat down.  The kitchen table was large enough to accommodate all twelve of us comfortably.    Isabella and Irina had salad waiting for us at our places.  More wine was offered and cider.  I accepted the cider, but as Christian poured it I realized that cider in France may not be like cider in America.  Indeed after Rachel’s gesture of warning and a brief sniff on my part, I was left with it sitting before me the entire dinner.  Amy was nice enough to switch glasses and take mine. So Christian, seeing that I had “finished” my cider, kept offering me some red wine, which I humbly declined.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I don’t drink. 

Christian and Louis sharing more stories and information.

The dinner menu was an adobo type chicken, escalloped potatoes and green beans wrapped in a slice of bacon, like a bundle of sticks and baked.  Dessert was an apple/strawberry crumble.  It turns out that Irina had done almost the entire dinner herself.  No doubt she insisted on giving her mother’s feet a rest.  As they were clearing our plates we returned to the first room we sat in and were served tea or coffee (again, I graciously declined).   Conversation resumed and it was then that gifts were exchanged and we all were presented with a can of cider.  I accepted it and thanked them.

The view from the backyard.

Irina next to the wall as it stood in the aftermath of WW2.

As we sat down before saying goodbye, Isabella said to us with her arms over her heart, “This house is empty.  Tonight it is full and warm.  I will never forget you.”  Christian, Irina and Louis expressed the same feelings.  Choking back the tears I just gazed at this special family.  We hugged, expressed our joy at having had this amazing evening together, tried unsuccessfully to take pictures in the dusk of 10pm on their porch, and with cider can in hand waved our goodbyes as we drove away.  On the way home we all agreed that that was the best evening any of us have had ever.  One that none of us will ever forget.

Under the house still exists the kitchen used during the years as a castle.

Stairs leading up into the house.

There is bad news brewing on the horizon.  A storm has come in, mild but may be a problem for tomorrow’s jump.  There are at least four “bump plans” (plan a, b, c and d) to deal with the contingencies.  We are tandem jumping with the US ambassador to France, Charles Rivkin.  A storm is the last thing we want.  Rachel and the team leave at noon tomorrow, Amy and me at 1:00.  We’re all praying!!!

This is an entry from my travel journal.