Up to a beautiful day atop the hills of Normandy, with the rooster and cows calling out. We pack up and head to breakfast, the best part of which was chatting with the husband of the couple who own and run the inn. He chats about how his brother is working his ass off in finance, has a big house and big debts and hardly sees his children. Hugo, on the other hand, has decided to live a good lie and not worry. He and his wife are expecting their third daughter, work the inn while a farmer works the land, and has planted 4,000 christmas trees for future income. What a lovely man he is.
We’re off and driving again. Lance is really feeling under the weather from a cold, but he’s a real sport. We love the little roads we travel, and after less than a couple of hours, we are in the small town of Lisieux, which is home to the church with the second most pilgrimages in all of France. We missed it! Instead, we strolled through the local Saturday market, had tea, and our favorite: picnic from the trunk of the car. Pretty soon, we’re back in the car and on our way to Bayeux. We arrive at our wonderful old house:
with our big, royal-sized room:
and settle in before strolling into town for dinner. Evidently, seafood season just opened and there is Coquilles St. Jacques everywhere (not baked in creamy sauce as I knew it, but the whole scallop, sauteed in butter) and we enjoy.