September 17, 2014
So, I had the most random day of my life in France today.
We are currently docked in Le Havre, which is a port city and that’s about it. To be honest, there’s just not much to do here. I have plans for the next two days (tomorrow I’m going to see some tower or something), but I had nothing planned today and neither did my friend, Bree. We checked on a bus that went to see the D-Day beaches of Normandy and after being told fifty different things by fifty different people, we realized that there was only one bus heading for that area, which we missed. Oh well. I’ll catch it the next time I’m in France.
So we decided to walk around Le Havre. We walked to the beach. We walked to the croissant bakery (excellent choice). We walked the entire perimeter of Le Havre. We walked and we walked and we… actually, come to think about it, we didn’t walk very far at all because Le Havre is just not very big. Quite frankly, it’s not much to look at either.
Nevertheless, Bree and I enjoyed the stroll and even climbed a nearby cliff to get an overview of the city. Still not very much to look at.
We also got to know each other better. For a brief description on Bree: she is from a small town in Canada, she can whip most guys’ butts in the hockey rink, she loves country music, and she basically has the same thought process that I have. She introduced me to Canadian country music on this stroll as well. I really didn’t know that was such a big thing, but apparently they can do it as well as the south in the FAR north.
Anyway, we were on our stroll and realized we were hungry so a hunt for le snack began. A conversation started about our favorite foods, which led to what American foods (or in her case, North American foods) we missed, which somehow prompted a deep philosophical discussion about pizza. Oh my gosh. I miss pizza.
So we debated getting a pizza, but decided that was not culturally acceptable because we were in France. But pizza just sounded so good, and after all, we are spending two more days in France. We knew we would have French food sometime. We finally came to the conclusion that if we happened to run into a pizza joint, we would eat there.
If we didn’t turn the corner and get smacked in the face by a Domino’s, I am not sitting here writing this.
Here was the conversation that was being had by the angel and devil on my shoulders: “It’s Domino’s though. I can’t. I’m in France. There are Domino’s all over the states. No. I will refuse. But pizza… sounds… so good. And Bre wants. No. I. Oh, forget it! Should I get extra cheese?”
With no convincing Bree agreed to have a pizza, but it was one of those Domino’s that are carry-out only. Unfortunately, there were also no seats anywhere outside. So we walked, carrying our pizza box to find a place to sit. Finally we reached a bus stop in one of the busier parts of town. We plopped down on the bench, placed the pie between us, and indulged in greatness. The moment got even better when Bree started playing a country song on her phone.
After half the pie was gone, I realized why we were getting so many questioning looks from the locals. A Kentuckian and a Canadian were in the downtowns of France, listening to country music while straddling a bus bench and eating a pizza.
But that was the beginning. We proceeded to walk on to view a church. Music could be heard from the outside and the door was standing wide-open which welcomed us with open arms. Once we walked inside, we discovered that a service was occurring, but decided to stand in the back for a moment to get a taste of how church goes down in France. The music was still playing and the congregation stood singing in unison.
Concentrated on the congregation, I began to notice a group of people in suits sitting in the back of the church. They were giving us agitated looks, which I assumed was due to the fact that I was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Bree must have noticed the same thing, because we looked at each other and slowly began to exit. It wasn’t until we were walking out the door, and the people ended their song to take a seat, that I saw the casket.