Our day in northern France near Caen started off well when Michelle and I, along with our three sons, visited the D-Day beaches on what turned out to be the coldest day we had experienced since we arrived on the shores of northern France. Joel, like a true Canadian, didn’t mind the icy waters of the English Channel and wanted to go swimming. He figured that if there was no ice on the water, then it would be perfect for swimming. Mom and Dad disagreed, but let him run along the beach in bare feet and splash in the surf while the rest of us laughed and watched him in amazement.
When Michelle and I were planning our four-month trip to Europe we had visions of eating delicious meals at local restaurants, enjoying drives through the European countryside, and staying at quaint inns where we could immerse ourselves in the culture while we introduced our sons to new cultures and adventures. That morning in France epitomized what we had hoped our trip to be, but reality soon struck and the day spiraled downward.
In our planning, we did not foresee that our sons would be constantly hungry, especially Brett and Keegan, who were teenagers with enormous appetites. During our five-day stay in London, the measly breakfast provided by the hotel had them hungry and grumpy within an hour. To complicate matters, meals cost twice as much in England as in Canada, so to feed them without emptying our wallets, we often ended up eating cafeteria food at a Marks and Spencer department store.
We were also getting tired of the endless driving. When we left our home in Red Deer, we drove for three days straight to get to Ontario for our flight to London. It began as an adventure, but the novelty wore off and the long driving days became boring for the boys, and stressful for Michelle and me, especially in England, where the driving rules are opposite to those in Canada. I feared for our lives when I saw the traffic from the London airport where we picked up our rental, and we decided to skip our visit to Bath and Stonehenge and drive directly to France. Driving in France was easier, but we still had to keep our eyes glued to the map and the road.
Our stress was compounded each day as we searched for accommodation for the night. Back then, we didn’t have cell phones to book rooms and no Google Maps for directions. Internet was available but difficult to find. Instead, we drove around, searching for a hotel with vacancies that were also affordable, clean, and had room for five. Not a simple task.
Also, we had to deal with a language barrier. Originally, we planned to have Keegan and Brett help us communicate in France as they had been in French Immersion since kindergarten. However, on our first evening at a restaurant, Keegan asked the server a question about a menu item, listened intently to her reply, and nodded knowingly. But when Michelle asked Keegan to translate her answer, his face turned red, and Brett’s face turned even redder; she spoke too fast for them to understand. There went our plan to use our sons as translators.
After that experience, Michelle took over enquiring about rooms, since she studied French until her first year of university. She alternated taking Keegan or Brett along for backup and would say to the hotel receptionist, “Je voudrais une chambre pour cinq personnes pour une nuit.”, complete with hand signals. Unfortunately, this resulted in a barrage of French from the receptionist that was beyond Michelle’s ability to understand, but with Brett or Keegan’s help, we always eventually found rooms.
Even with the translation problem solved, we still experienced difficulties booking rooms. Two day before we drove to Caen, Michelle and I had wanted to book a hotel room as soon as we reached Dieppe because the previous day, we had waited too late and ended up paying a fortune for two rooms. Unfortunately, the inexpensive ETAP hotel we found was closed from 11:00 am to 5:00 pm. To make matters worse, the automated machine wasn’t working, and we couldn’t find an internet connection to book online. When the hotel finally opened at 5:00 pm, we were told it was fully booked. The receptionist referred us to a Formula I hotel, a cheaper version of the ETAP, and we booked two rooms there for the next two nights.
Formula 1 is a budget hotel, an even cheaper sister to the budget ETAP, often found on the outskirts of cities next to busy freeways. The small rooms have a sink in one corner, a television hanging from the ceiling, and bunk beds: double on the bottom, single on top. There are definitely no cushy mattresses, linen sheets, or room service. The ETAP rooms have private bathrooms, while the Formula 1 has shared washrooms. Although we would have enjoyed staying in authentic French hotels near the centre of town, our reality of traveling cheaply with three boys made the ETAP/Formula 1 hotels a necessity.
I really disliked the two nights in the Formula 1 hotel in Dieppe. I didn’t enjoy sharing a washroom and smelling cigarette smoke in the hallway. Also, the housekeeper was rude, scolding Michelle for not knowing to return towels to the laundry basket outside the washrooms. That night, both Michelle and I were wishing we were sleeping at home in Red Deer. In her journal entry for that day, Michelle wrote that home was looking better and better. Amazingly, our boys liked the hotel, especially Joel, who took one look at our tiny basic room and said, “I feel rich!” I guess sleeping on a bunk above Mom and Dad was all he needed.
I had been glad to leave Dieppe and drive to Caen, and the day seemed promising that morning as we visited the beach. But things started to take a turn when we left the beach, as Brett became hungry. It was Sunday, and Michelle and I learned the hard way that everything was closed on Sundays in France, so by the time we found a convenience store, Brett had reached the grumpy stage–not fun for any of us. We saw nothing appetizing on the shelves, and as a result, we ended up having lunch at MacDonald’s. By this time, everyone was feeling homesick. All the traveling, the bad weather, staying in hotels, and eating at restaurants had finally caught up with us. As we ate our hamburgers we talked about what we missed the most about home: home-cooked meals, our own beds, our dog Shadow, and two cats, Slurpee and Crookshanks, and doing activities with friends.
To cheer ourselves up, Michelle suggested we go back to our hotel room and play cards. Soon we remembered how lucky we were to be taking this trip as a family and began looking forward to traveling to Paris in the morning. Michelle had already booked two rooms in advance close to a subway station. We were also looking forward to finding a nice Parisian restaurant to celebrate Brett’s fifteenth birthday.
Paris, here we come.
One Last Kick 