The French do have some cute trains. I spied this one while waiting at St Lazare.
Taken two days later, when the sun was shining. The photographer asked if I was German.
Metro to St Lazare, St Lazare on a lonely train to Bayeaux. Looking for the Auberge du Family Home, a local drove me a little ways up the hill toward the cathedral, dropping me off across the street from Family Home. I thanked him and gave him .60â‚¬ for the trouble. While it wasn’t very far at all, it seemed polite to chip in a few cents for gas, and I certainly appreciate not wandering around lost in the rain.
I hung out alone in the Family Home reception area, until the lady got back from wherever she had been, and hooked me up with a room. Then off to the Bayeaux Memorial Museum of the Battle of Normandy, which held a large collection of newspaper clippings, uniforms, soldiers paraphenalia and military hardware, and descriptive labels in French and English, as well as a half hour film made of period newsreels.
I was most fascinated with the posters telling soldiers how to identify different tanks, and how to disable an enemy tank if you should encounter one in the field. Of all parties to the battle for Normandy, I most readily identify with the technical concerns of a young American field soldier. I felt a great deal of gratitude to be growing in a world of peace. As a traveller, I also had to be grateful for a world of plastics; No heavy iron binoculars in a canvas sack for me, but light-weight, synthetic fibers with plastic zippers!
Back at the hostel I got to practice my French with a gaggle of Parisienne school girls.